“A few days ago I thought myself one of the happiest men in the empire. Your highness had renewed to me your promise of friendship, and the empress had assigned me a command of a nature to occupy the most active and enterprising genius.
“A bad woman has accused me of violating her daughter. If she had told the truth, I should have candor enough to own it, and would trust my honor, which is a thousand times dearer to me than my life, to the mercy of the empress. I declare, with the assurance becoming a military character, that I am innocent. Till that unhappy moment, I have enjoyed the public esteem and the affection of all who knew me. Shall it be said that, in Russia, a wretched woman who eloped from her husband and family in the country, stole away her daughter, lives here in a house of ill-fame, and leads a debauched and adulterous life, has found credit enough on a simple complaint, unsupported by any proof, to affect the honor of a general officer of reputation, who has merited and received the decorations of America, of France, and of this empire?
“If I had been favored with the least intimation of a complaint of that nature having found its way to the sovereign, I know too well what belongs to delicacy, to have presented myself in the presence of the empress before my justification.
“I thought that in every country, a man accused had a right to employ advocates, and to avail himself of his friends for his justification. Judge, my prince, of my astonishment and distress of mind, when I yesterday was informed that the day before, the governor of the city had sent for my advocate, and forbidden him, at his peril, or any other person, to meddle with my cause.
“I am innocent before God! and my conscience knows no reproach. The complaint brought against me is an infamous lie, and there is no circumstance that gives it even an air of probability.
“I address myself to you with confidence, my prince, and am assured that the friendship you have to kindly promised me, will be immediately exerted in my favor; and that you will not suffer the illustrious sovereign of this great empire to be misled by the false insinuations and secret cabals of my hidden enemies. Your mind will find more true pleasure in pleading the cause of an innocent man whom you honor with your friendship, than can result from other victories equally glorious with that of Oczakow, which will always rank among the most brilliant of military achievements. If your highness will condescend to question Monsieur Crimpin,[[I]] (for he dare not now even speak to me), he can tell you many circumstances which will elucidate my innocence. I am, with profound respect, my lord, your highness’s devoted and most obedient servant,” etc., etc.
The proof of the admiral’s innocence of this atrocious charge was soon made out beyond all possibility of question. Count de Segur, the long-tried and disinterested friend, wrote an account of the affair. This document, which was perfectly conclusive, was published in all the leading papers of Europe, for the abominable slander had been spread far and wide. Justice to the memory of the admiral demands that this document should be given with but slight abridgment.
“The American rear-admiral was favorably welcomed at court; often invited to dinner by the empress, and received with distinction into the best society in the city. On a sudden, Catherine commanded him to appear no more in her presence. He was informed that he was accused of an infamous crime; of assaulting a young girl of fourteen, and of grossly violating her. It was said that probably he would be tried by the Courts of Admiralty, in which there were many English officers who were strongly prejudiced against him.
“As soon as this order was known, every one abandoned the unhappy American. No one spoke to him. People avoided saluting him, and every door was shut against him. All those by whom but yesterday he had been eagerly welcomed, now fled from him as if he had been inflicted by a plague. No advocate would take charge of his cause, and at last even his servants would not continue in his service. And Paul Jones, whose exploits every one had so recently been so ready to proclaim, and whose friendship had been sought after, found himself alone, in the midst of an immense population. Petersburg, a great capital, became to him a desert. He was moved even to tears at my visit.
“‘I was unwilling,’ he said to me, shaking me by the hand, ‘to knock at your door, and to expose myself to a fresh affront, which would have been more cutting than all the rest. I have braved death a thousand times, now I wish for it.’