TOULON
When Buonaparte left Corsica for the coast of Provence, his career had
been remarkable only for the strange contrast between the brilliance
of his gifts and the utter failure of all his enterprises. His French
partisanship had, as it seemed, been the ruin of his own and his
family's fortunes. At the age of twenty-four he was known only as the
unlucky leader of forlorn hopes and an outcast from the island around
which his fondest longings had been entwined. His land-fall on the
French coast seemed no more promising; for at that time Provence was
on the verge of revolt against the revolutionary Government. Even
towns like Marseilles and Toulon, which a year earlier had been noted
for their republican fervour, were now disgusted with the course of
events at Paris. In the third climax of revolutionary fury, that of
June 2nd, 1793, the more enlightened of the two republican factions,
the Girondins, had been overthrown by their opponents, the men of the
Mountain, who, aided by the Parisian rabble, seized on power. Most of
the Departments of France resented this violence and took up arms. But
the men of the Mountain acted with extraordinary energy: they
proclaimed the Girondins to be in league with the invaders, and
blasted their opponents with the charge of conspiring to divide France
into federal republics. The Committee of Public Safety, now installed
in power at Paris, decreed a _levée en masse_ of able-bodied patriots
to defend the sacred soil of the Republic, and the "organizer of
victory," Carnot, soon drilled into a terrible efficiency the hosts
that sprang from the soil. On their side the Girondins had no
organization whatever, and were embarrassed by the adhesion of very
many royalists. Consequently their wavering groups speedily gave way
before the impact of the new, solid, central power.
A movement so wanting in definiteness as that of the Girondins was
destined to slide into absolute opposition to the men of the Mountain:
it was doomed to become royalist. Certainly it did not command the
adhesion of Napoleon. His inclinations are seen in his pamphlet, "Le
Souper de Beaucaire," which he published in August, 1793. He wrote it
in the intervals of some regimental work which had come to hand: and
his passage through the little town of Beaucaire seems to have
suggested the scenic setting of this little dialogue. It purports to
record a discussion between an officer--Buonaparte himself--two
merchants of Marseilles, and citizens of Nîmes and Montpellier. It
urges the need of united action under the lead of the Jacobins. The
officer reminds the Marseillais of the great services which their city
has rendered to the cause of liberty. Let Marseilles never disgrace
herself by calling in the Spanish fleet as a protection against
Frenchmen. Let her remember that this civil strife was part of a fight
to the death between French patriots and the despots of Europe. That
was, indeed, the practical point at issue; the stern logic of facts
ranged on the Jacobin side all clear-sighted men who were determined
that the Revolution should not be stamped out by the foreign invaders.
On the ground of mere expediency, men must rally to the cause of the
Jacobinical Republic. Every crime might be condoned, provided that the
men now in power at Paris saved the country. Better their tyranny than
the vengeance of the emigrant _noblesse_. Such was the instinct of
most Frenchmen, and it saved France.
As an _exposé_ of keen policy and all-dominating opportunism, "Le
Souper de Beaucaire" is admirable. In a national crisis anything that
saves the State is justifiable--that is its argument. The men of the
Mountain are abler and stronger than the Girondins: therefore the
Marseillais are foolish not to bow to the men of the Mountain. The
author feels no sympathy with the generous young Girondins, who, under
the inspiration of Madame Roland, sought to establish a republic of
the virtues even while they converted monarchical Europe by the sword.
Few men can now peruse with undimmed eyes the tragic story of their
fall. But the scenes of 1793 had transformed the Corsican youth into a
dry-eyed opportunist who rejects the Girondins as he would have thrown
aside a defective tool: nay, he blames them as "guilty of the greatest
of crimes."[20]
Nevertheless Buonaparte was alive to the miseries of the situation. He
was weary of civil strifes, in which it seemed that no glory could be
won. He must hew his way to fortune, if only in order to support his
family, which was now drifting about from village to village of
Provence and subsisting on the slender sums doled out by the Republic
to Corsican exiles.
He therefore applied, though without success, for a regimental
exchange to the army of the Rhine. But while toiling through his
administrative drudgery in Provence, his duties brought him near to
Toulon, where the Republic was face to face with triumphant royalism.
The hour had struck: the man now appeared.
In July, 1793, Toulon joined other towns of the south in declaring
against Jacobin tyranny; and the royalists of the town, despairing of
making headway against the troops of the Convention, admitted English
and Spanish squadrons to the harbour to hold the town for Louis XVII,
(August 28th). This event shot an electric thrill through France. It
was the climax of a long series of disasters. Lyons had hoisted the
white flag of the Bourbons, and was making a desperate defence against
the forces of the Convention: the royalist peasants of La Vendée had
several times scattered the National Guards in utter rout: the
Spaniards were crossing the Eastern Pyrenees: the Piedmontese were
before the gates of Grenoble; and in the north and on the Rhine a
doubtful contest was raging.
Such was the condition of France when Buonaparte drew near to the
republican forces encamped near Ollioules, to the north-west of
Toulon. He found them in disorder: their commander, Carteaux, had left
the easel to learn the art of war, and was ignorant of the range of
his few cannon; Dommartin, their artillery commander, had been
disabled by a wound; and the Commissioners of the Convention, who were
charged to put new vigour into the operations, were at their wits' end
for lack of men and munitions. One of them was Salicetti, who hailed
his coming as a godsend, and urged him to take Dommartin's place.
Thus, on September 16th, the thin, sallow, threadbare figure took
command of the artillery.
The republicans menaced the town on two sides. Carteaux with some
8,000 men held the hills between Toulon and Ollioules, while a corps
3,000 strong, under Lapoype, observed the fortress on the side of La
Valette. Badly led though they were, they wrested the valley north of
Mount Faron from the allied outposts, and nearly completed the
besiegers' lines (September 18th). In fact, the garrison, which
comprised only 2,000 British troops, 4,000 Spaniards, 1,500 French
royalists, together with some Neapolitans and Piedmontese, was
insufficient to defend the many positions around the city on which its
safety depended. Indeed, General Grey wrote to Pitt that 50,000 men
were needed to garrison the place; but, as that was double the
strength of the British regular army then, the English Minister could
only hold out hopes of the arrival of an Austrian corps and a few
hundred British.[21]
Before Buonaparte's arrival the Jacobins had no artillery: true, they
had a few field-pieces, four heavier guns and two mortars, which a
sergeant helplessly surveyed; but they had no munitions, no tools,
above all no method and no discipline. Here then was the opportunity
for which he had been pining. At once he assumes the tone of a master.
"You mind your business, and let me look after mine," he exclaims to
officious infantrymen; "it is artillery that takes fortresses:
infantry gives its help." The drudgery of the last weeks now yields
fruitful results: his methodical mind, brooding over the chaos before
him, flashes back to this or that detail in some coast fort or
magazine: his energy hustles on the leisurely Provençaux, and in a few
days he has a respectable park of artillery--fourteen cannon, four
mortars, and the necessary stores. In a brief space the Commissioners
show their approval of his services by promoting him to the rank of
_chef de bataillon_.
By this time the tide was beginning to turn in favour of the Republic.
On October 9th Lyons fell before the Jacobins. The news lends a new
zest to the Jacobins, whose left wing had (October 1st) been severely
handled by the allies on Mount Faron. Above all, Buonaparte's
artillery can be still further strengthened. "I have despatched," he
wrote to the Minister of War, "an intelligent officer to Lyons,
Briançon, and Grenoble, to procure what might be useful to us. I have
requested the Army of Italy to furnish us with the cannon now useless
for the defence of Antibes and Monaco.... I have established at
Ollioules an arsenal with 80 workers. I have requisitioned horses from
Nice right to Valence and Montpellier.... I am having 5,000 gabions
made every day at Marseilles." But he was more than a mere organizer.
He was ever with his men, animating them by his own ardour: "I always
found him at his post," wrote Doppet, who now succeeded Carteaux;
"when he needed rest he lay on the ground wrapped in his cloak: he
never left the batteries." There, amidst the autumn rains, he
contracted the febrile symptoms which for several years deepened the
pallor of his cheeks and furrowed the rings under his eyes, giving him
that uncanny, almost spectral, look which struck a chill to all who
saw him first and knew not the fiery energy that burnt within. There,
too, his zeal, his unfailing resource, his bulldog bravery, and that
indefinable quality which separates genius from talent speedily
conquered the hearts of the French soldiery. One example of this
magnetic power must here suffice. He had ordered a battery to be made
so near to Fort Mulgrave that Salicetti described it as within a
pistol-shot of the English guns. Could it be worked, its effect would
be decisive. But who could work it? The first day saw all its gunners
killed or wounded, and even the reckless Jacobins flinched from facing
the iron hail. "Call it _the battery of the fearless_," ordered the
young captain. The generous French nature was touched at its tenderest
point, personal and national honour, and the battery thereafter never
lacked its full complement of gunners, living and dead.
The position at Fort Mulgrave, or the Little Gibraltar, was, indeed,
all important; for if the republicans seized that commanding position,
the allied squadrons could be overpowered, or at least compelled to
sail away; and with their departure Toulon must fall.
Here we come on to ground that has been fiercely fought over in wordy
war. Did Bonaparte originate the plan of attack? Or did he throw his
weight and influence into a scheme that others beside him had
designed? Or did he merely carry out orders as a subordinate?
According to the Commissioner Barras, the last was the case. But
Barras was with the eastern wing of the besiegers, that is, some miles
away from the side of La Seyne and L'Eguillette, where Buonaparte
fought. Besides, Barras' "Mémoires" are so untruthful where Buonaparte
is concerned, as to be unworthy of serious attention, at least on
these points.[22] The historian M. Jung likewise relegates Buonaparte
to a quite subordinate position.[23] But his narrative omits some of
the official documents which show that Buonaparte played a very
important part in the siege. Other writers claim that Buonaparte's
influence on the whole conduct of operations was paramount and
decisive. Thus, M. Duruy quotes the letter of the Commissioners to the
Convention: "We shall take care not to lay siege to Toulon by ordinary
means, when we have a surer means to reduce it, that is, by burning
the enemy's fleet.... We are only waiting for the siege-guns before
taking up a position whence we may reach the ships with red-hot balls;
and we shall see if we are not masters of Toulon." But this very
letter disproves the Buonapartist claim. It was written on September
13th. Thus, _three days before Buonaparte's arrival_, the
Commissioners had fully decided on attacking the Little Gibraltar; and
the claim that Buonaparte originated the plan can only be sustained by
antedating his arrival at Toulon.[24] In fact, every experienced
officer among besiegers and besieged saw the weak point of the
defence: early in September Hood and Mulgrave began the fortification
of the heights behind L'Eguillette. In face of these facts, the
assertion that Buonaparte was the first to design the movements which
secured the surrender of Toulon must be relegated to the domain of
hero-worship. (See note on p. 56.)
[Illustration: THE SIEGE OF TOULON, 1793, from "L'Histoire de France
depuis la Révolution de 1789," by Emmanuel Toulougeon. Paris, An. XII.
[1803]. A. Fort Mulgrave. A'. Promontory of L'Eguillette. 1 and 2.
Batteries. 3. Battery "Hommes sans Peur." The black and shaded
rectangles are the Republican and Allied positions respectively.]
Carteaux having been superseded by Doppet, more energy was thrown
into the operations. Yet for him Buonaparte had scarcely more respect.
On November 15th an affair of outposts near Fort Mulgrave showed his
weakness. The soldiers on both sides eagerly took up the affray; line
after line of the French rushed up towards that frowning redoubt:
O'Hara, the leader of the allied troops, encouraged the British in a
sortie that drove back the blue-coats; whereupon Buonaparte headed the
rallying rush to the gorge of the redoubt, when Doppet sounded the
retreat. Half blinded by rage and by the blood trickling from a slight
wound in his forehead, the young Corsican rushed back to Doppet and
abused him in the language of the camp: "Our blow at Toulon has
missed, because a---- has beaten the retreat." The soldiery applauded
this revolutionary licence, and bespattered their chief with similar
terms.
A few days later the tall soldierly Dugommier took the command:
reinforcements began to pour in, finally raising the strength of the
besiegers to 37,000 men. Above all, the new commander gave Buonaparte
_carte blanche_ for the direction of the artillery. New batteries
accordingly began to ring the Little Gibraltar on the landward side;
O'Hara, while gallantly heading a sortie, fell into the republicans'
hands, and the defenders began to lose heart. The worst disappointment
was the refusal of the Austrian Court to fulfil its promise, solemnly
given in September, to send 5,000 regular troops for the defence of
Toulon.
The final conflict took place on the night of December 16-17, when
torrents of rain, a raging wind, and flashes of lightning added new
horrors to the strife. Scarcely had the assailants left the sheltering
walls of La Seyne, than Buonaparte's horse fell under him, shot dead:
whole companies went astray in the darkness: yet the first column of
2,000 men led by Victor rush at the palisades of Fort Mulgrave, tear
them down, and sweep into the redoubt, only to fall in heaps before a
second line of defence: supported by the second column, they rally,
only to yield once more before the murderous fire. In despair,
Dugommier hurries on the column of reserve, with which Buonaparte
awaits the crisis of the night. Led by the gallant young Muiron, the
reserve sweeps into the gorge of death; Muiron, Buonaparte, and
Dugommier hack their way through the same embrasure: their men swarm
in on the overmatched red-coats and Spaniards, cut them down at their
guns, and the redoubt is won.
This event was decisive. The Neapolitans, who were charged to hold the
neighbouring forts, flung themselves into the sea; and the ships
themselves began to weigh anchor; for Buonaparte's guns soon poured
their shot on the fleet and into the city itself. But even in that
desperate strait the allies turned fiercely to bay. On the evening of
December 17th a young officer, who was destined once more to thwart
Buonaparte's designs, led a small body of picked men into the dockyard
to snatch from the rescuing clutch of the Jacobins the French warships
that could not be carried off. Then was seen a weird sight. The galley
slaves, now freed from their chains and clustering in angry groups,
menaced the intruders. Yet the British seamen spread the combustibles
and let loose the demon of destruction. Forthwith the flames shot up
the masts, and licked up the stores of hemp, tar, and timber: and the
explosion of two powder-ships by the Spaniards shook the earth for
many miles around. Napoleon ever retained a vivid mental picture of
the scene, which amid the hated calm of St. Helena he thus described:
"The whirlwind of flames and smoke from the arsenal resembled the
eruption of a volcano, and the thirteen vessels blazing in the roads
were like so many displays of fireworks: the masts and forms of the
vessels were distinctly traced out by the flames, which lasted many
hours and formed an unparalleled spectacle." [25] The sight struck
horror to the hearts of the royalists of Toulon, who saw in it the
signal of desertion by the allies; and through the lurid night crowds
of panic-stricken wretches thronged the quays crying aloud to be taken
away from the doomed city. The glare of the flames, the crash of the
enemy's bombs, the explosion of the two powder-ships, frenzied many a
soul; and scores of those who could find no place in the boats flung
themselves into the sea rather than face the pikes and guillotines of
the Jacobins. Their fears were only too well founded; for a fortnight
later Fréron, the Commissioner of the Convention, boasted that two
hundred royalists perished daily.
It remains briefly to consider a question of special interest to
English readers. Did the Pitt Ministry intend to betray the confidence
of the French royalists and keep Toulon for England? The charge has
been brought by certain French writers that the British, after
entering Toulon with promise that they would hold it in pledge for
Louis XVII., nevertheless lorded it over the other allies and revealed
their intention of keeping that stronghold. These writers aver that
Hood, after entering Toulon as an equal with the Spanish admiral,
Langara, laid claim to entire command of the land forces; that English
commissioners were sent for the administration of the town; and that
the English Government refused to allow the coming of the Comte de
Provence, who, as the elder of the two surviving brothers of Louis
XVI., was entitled to act on behalf of Louis XVII.[26] The facts in
the main are correct, but the interpretation put upon them may well be
questioned. Hood certainly acted with much arrogance towards the
Spaniards. But when the more courteous O'Hara arrived to take command
of the British, Neapolitan, and Sardinian troop, the new commander
agreed to lay aside the question of supreme command. It was not till
November 30th that the British Government sent off any despatch on the
question, which meanwhile had been settled at Toulon by the exercise
of that tact in which Hood seems signally to have been lacking. The
whole question was personal, not national.
Still less was the conduct of the British Government towards the Comte
de Provence a proof of its design to keep Toulon. The records of our
Foreign Office show that, before the occupation of that stronghold for
Louis XVII., we had declined to acknowledge the claims of his uncle to
the Regency. He and his brother, the Comte d'Artois, were notoriously
unpopular in France, except with royalists of the old school; and
their presence at Toulon would certainly have raised awkward questions
about the future government. The conduct of Spain had hitherto been
similar.[27] But after the occupation of Toulon, the Court of Madrid
judged the presence of the Comte de Provence in that fortress to be
advisable; whereas the Pitt Ministry adhered to its former belief,
insisted on the difficulty of conducting the defence if the Prince
were present as Regent, instructed Mr. Drake, our Minister at Genoa,
to use every argument to deter him from proceeding to Toulon, and
privately ordered our officers there, in the last resort, to refuse
him permission to land. The instructions of October 18th to the royal
commissioners at Toulon show that George III. and his Ministers
believed they would be compromising the royalist cause by recognizing
a regency; and certainly any effort by the allies to prejudice the
future settlement would at once have shattered any hopes of a general
rally to the royalist side.[28]
Besides, if England meant to keep Toulon, why did she send only 2,200
soldiers? Why did she admit, not only 6,900 Spaniards, but also 4,900
Neapolitans and 1,600 Piedmontese? Why did she accept the armed help
of 1,600 French royalists? Why did she urgently plead with Austria to
send 5,000 white-coats from Milan? Why, finally, is there no word in
the British official despatches as to the eventual keeping of Toulon;
while there are several references to _indemnities_ which George III.
would require for the expenses of the war--such as Corsica or some of
the French West Indies? Those despatches show conclusively that
England did not wish to keep a fortress that required a permanent
garrison equal to half of the British army on its peace footing; but
that she did regard it as a good base of operations for the overthrow
of the Jacobin rule and the restoration of monarchy; whereupon her
services must be requited with some suitable indemnity, either one of
the French West Indies or Corsica. These plans were shattered by
Buonaparte's skill and the valour of Dugommier's soldiery; but no
record has yet leaped to light to convict the Pitt Ministry of the
perfidy which Buonaparte, in common with nearly all Frenchmen, charged
to their account.
* * * * *