The Fall of Toulon

by Bernard Ireland

  At Toulon, I think that they will have plenty of fighting this winter … Shot and shells are very plentiful all over the Harbour. I wonder more damage has not been done … not that I think Toulon is in the smallest danger. At all events, we can destroy the French Fleet and Arsenal in a very short time; one Fire-ship will burn the Fleet and Arsenal. They are some of them the finest Ships I ever saw …

  On the following day, he wrote one of his many letters to his close friend and confidant, the Duke of Clarence, son of George III. It was addressed as from ‘Agamemnon. Off Corsica, Decr 2nd 1793’. In it he reiterated his belief that the threat to Toulon was slight and that ‘whatever may happen’ the French fleet and arsenal could be quickly destroyed. He made the further observation that ‘… unless we can have an army in the field we cannot prevent the enemy possessing some of the heights which will annoy the harbour and posts near it …’

  Good news arrived at Toulon on 16 December with the frigate Ariadne. She had on board a small detachment of artillerymen from Gibraltar; even better, her despatches reported that the planned military reinforcement of the West Indies had been deferred and that two whole regiments, possibly more, would be sent to join the coalition forces as soon as possible. ‘Urgency’, however, was a word imperfectly understood by Gibraltar’s governor. The troops duly arrived at the end of the month, too late to be of any possible use.

  Further hopes were raised in Hood’s command when, at about the same time, the Emperor of Austria finally announced that the long-promised 5,000 troops would be sent ‘immediately’. The seemingly endless prevarication had been due not only to a lack of commitment to crushing of revolution but also to less than cordial relations with other coalition partners, notably Prussia and Sardinia. Joint operations with the latter to recover Nice had been brought to a standstill by French opposition. On this front there was now an effective stalemate which, for the Austrians, was a cheaper option than active warfare, but which soaked up available manpower. Winter stalemate also suited the French republicans, for it allowed significant strength to be diverted from the Army of Italy to operate against Toulon.

  Continuous diplomatic pressure had finally stirred Austria into making at least a cosmetic start to assembling a force with which to meet its coalition commitment. It, too, would prove to be too late to be of use, but the ultimate blame must lie squarely with the British government which, as ever, had over-committed an over-reduced army, and which preferred to believe over-optimistic reports from Toulon rather than taking no chance and solidly reinforcing the British presence there.

  ON THE EVE OF the republican assault, the coalition’s military strength stood at an estimated 18,700, comprising 7,000 Spanish, 6,200 Neapolitans, 2,000 British, 2,000 Sardinians and 1,500 royalist French. About 4,000 were reported to be on the sick list yet, according to Major General David Dundas, there remained only about 11,000 effectives who could ‘bear a musket’. These were spread around the same long perimeter of about 15 miles, a perimeter which, to give reasonable protection from artillery to both town and anchorage, could not be shortened.

  Where considerable forces of seamen could once be put ashore quickly to meet an emergency, this reserve had been greatly reduced as increasing demands on Hood’s Mediterranean fleet saw ever more ships absent on detached duty. Of the British fleet, only the Victory and the two divisional flagships, together with a pair of frigates, lay off the Grande Rade while, in the inner roads, were three 74s and two more frigates, usually deployed against the enemy batteries. Why Admiral Langara’s Spanish fleet, present in force, could not be prevailed upon to act in lieu remains something of a mystery.

  At the latest count, the republican French numbered 38,000 effectives, comprising 36,000 infantry, 1,650 artillerymen and a cavalry squadron. A further 3,000 were listed as either sick or absent. Dugommier had to attack soon, for inactivity was resulting in an increasing number of incidents of breakdown in discipline in his largely citizen army, already paid and victualled somewhat haphazardly. The general also claimed that many of his peasant detachments were, as yet, only crudely armed, lacking muskets.

  December 1793 in Toulon was dark, wet and windy, depressing for defender and besieger alike. On the 14th Dugommier visited his forward units opposite Fort Mulgrave and received a briefing on the local situation. Satisfied, he gave the order to commence what, today, would be termed a softening-up bombardment. Eleven batteries, in a deadly arc stretching from the Sans-culottes near Brégaillon in the north-west, to Faubrégas, located next to the Saint-Mandrier isthmus in the south-west, targeted Mulgrave, Malbousquet and the allied camp at Saint-Elme (covering the isthmus) at ranges from 250 to 2,000 yards. The general’s orders were to maintain steady fire throughout the 15th and to double the intensity (‘très vif’) for the whole of the 16th.

  Darkness fell early in the afternoon of 16 December, with a cold, driving rain cloaking the assembly of 7,000 conventionnels in and around the village of La Seyne. So violent was the weather that the représentants, the prime movers of the operation, were inclined to postpone it. Dugommier, the experienced campaigner, would have none of it, as standing down such an assembly would have lost him the element of surprise. Buonaparte added that it would be a waste of an extended artillery barrage that had already consumed the bulk of available powder and ammunition.

  Their arguments prevailed and, at one o’clock in the morning of the 17th, under the tactical control of Captain Muiron, the assault forces moved off in two columns. The left-hand column, under Victor, followed the line of the coast to take Mulgrave from the left and rear, cutting off its communications by water. Simultaneously, Brûlé’s column, on the right, advanced along the centreline of the peninsula to attack the fort head on. A third of the total number of troops was held back as a mobile reserve.

  With Dugommier in the van, and four représentants keeping close watch, sometimes ahead or behind, sometimes on the flank, the columns stumbled through the stormy gloom. Not surprisingly, the leading elements lost their sense of direction and, in a touch of farce, the two groups encountered each other. In the prevailing conditions, each assumed the other to be the enemy. A measure of panic firing ensued, but thanks to robust leadership, the situation was quickly resolved.

  Suitably rallied, the republicans were in numbers that simply flowed over the fort’s two outposts. One had been held by British troops, the other by Spanish but, almost to a man, they died by the bayonet. Resistance at the fort itself was fierce, one chef de bataillon later reporting:

  Our progress was slowed, but not stopped, by the numberless difficulties in our path and the heavy fire from cannons and muskets. [There was] the chevaux de frise, obstacles to get over; the cannons to avoid; the parapet to clear; the multiple intersections which formed in effect a second and unexpected enclosure. All slowed us down. The deadly musket fire obliged us to gain entry through the embrasures. Again and again we went in and out. At last a third and final charge gave us victory and the formidable redoubt was ours.

  It had been a violent encounter. The first wave had been repulsed by a combined British and Piedmontese defence. A second assault was mounted and this, too, suffered – so badly that Dugommier was heard to express concern that the attack was faltering. He summoned the reserve column, which appeared promptly, led by Buonaparte and Mouret.

  The assault was renewed and this time the parapets were successfully scaled and the allied artillerymen cut down at their guns. Sensing victory, the invaders swarmed into the fort, where they were engaged hand to hand. No quarter was given, none asked. The dead were piled in heaps (‘les morts s’entassent par monceaux’).

  On the right, the Spanish defenders were reinforced by further British and Piedmontese but, despite a backs-to-the-wall resistance, were simply overwhelmed. At this stage, the British reserve was committed, led by elements of the 18th (Royal Irish) Regiment. For a while the defence stabilized once again, but the Spanish then broke and fled, leaving the Irish and Piedmontese to hack their way out, a
nd the position was lost.

  Sited between Mulgrave and the forts at the tips of the promontory was a camp that accommodated a further Spanish force, commanded by Brigadier Izquierdo. Through his pointedly ignoring a pitched battle only a few hundred yards distant, Izquierdo is often blamed, even by the French republicans, for the loss of the fort. He, in turn, cited problems caused by a mass of Neapolitans who, having retreated down to the shore at the first assault, had to be restored to order.

  Into this chaotic scene arrived some 400 men, boated across by Dundas and Gravina, only to find the situation beyond resolution. Commander Cooke, ever in the thick of things, was later scathing in criticism of his allies, speaking of the British twice rallying the Spanish, but to no effect. He reported them as determined to escape and firing at those who sought to stop them. His worse condemnation, however, was for the Neapolitans, whose conduct he described as ‘unspeakable’, their officers ‘the most notable cowards who ever shouldered a gun’. A separate account by Sir Gilbert Elliot speaks of the total breakdown in their morale following the earlier death of four to a mortar bomb. The remainder claimed to be sick and sought to be relieved of their duty. Unsurprisingly, their posts were easily taken by the enemy.

  Even allowing for the habitual overstatement of British virtues by native chroniclers of the time, it is evident that the multi-national structure of Fort Mulgrave’s garrison was a considerable factor in its loss. On the other hand, it is doubtful if a brigade of guards could have contained the mass of republicans who, fired with Revolutionary enthusiasm, hurled themselves at the defences, regardless of cost. Buonaparte himself had a horse shot from under him, then, fighting on foot within the bastion, took a bayonet thrust into his right calf.

  With Fort Mulgrave gone, the situation facing the essential positions of Balaguier and L’Aiguillette was hopeless. Designed to be formidable from seaward, they were protected only weakly from the rear. Again, their mainly Neapolitan garrison was to face allegations that they were more interested in a rapid evacuation than in covering the retreat of those falling back from Mulgrave.

  Rather unrealistically, Admiral Hood still deemed it unnecessary to commence full evacuation of the promontory, but he was persuaded by General Dundas that the situation there was irretrievable. Fortunately for the allies, the victorious republicans were content to mill around the scene of their success, for a while, rather than regroup and sweep the disorganized coalition forces into the sea. These were thus given precious time to withdraw in comparatively good order in boats provided by the royalist French flagship Commerce de Marseille and the two-decker Pompée, supported by three Spanish frigates, the evacuation being from beaches below the Tour de Balaguier.

  About 2,500 men were thus successfully taken off by ships which, by the end, were exchanging a lively fire with republican mobile artillery. So hot did this exchange become that the last ship out was obliged to cut her cable.

  Much of the artillery in the forts remained unspiked and there is no evidence that any attempt was made to blow the magazines. Such was the general disorder, however, that little could immediately be put to use. Supported by warships, a British force still retained the Croix-de-Signaux position on the Saint-Mandrier peninsula, but this was of little consequence with the vital western promontory now firmly in the enemy hands.

  For the few British warships remaining at anchor in the roads, the din and stabbing flashes of battle were necessarily remote, but the uncertainty of it all was the cause of some anxiety for those ashore. With the reluctant and miserable dawn of 17 December, however, the reality of the situation was all too evident, the republicans swarming over the height of La Grasse that frowned above the stone fortifications of Balaguier and L’Aiguillette, whence the sounds of violent confrontation still emanated.

  Daylight revealed the presence on the beach of many more allied troops, who had continued to filter down, hoping for rescue. They had done their best and the navy could not desert them. As the log of the Windsor Castle recorded laconically:

  … at 5 found the Enemy was in possession of Fort Mulgrave and they began to fire cannon on the ships. Observed the Enemy had also taken possession of the heights of Ferron [sic]. All our Boats employed in bringing off the Troops from Fort Mulgrave. Came out of the inner Harbour the Terrible, Robust and Sincere [the last-named being the French sloop Sincère under British colours].

  The number of allied troops lost in the savage fight for Mulgrave is not known with any certainty. About 300 British and 70 Spanish died but casualties to others are not known. Some 250 were listed as missing and the French claimed 400 prisoners. It is possible, however, that this number included those captured on Mont Faron, whose reoccupation had also been noted from the Windsor Castle. For the French, Dugommier’s report was more precise. As was customary, their commanding officers led from the front and counted among the wounded were General Delaborde, Colonel Buonaparte and Captain Muiron. There were about eighty dead.

  Throughout the struggle for Mulgrave, Fort Malbousquet was kept under a continuous bombardment as Mouret and Garnier ostentatiously drew up their forces for attack. It was, of course, no more than a demonstration but it succeeded in its objective of preventing any force being sent to the assistance of Mulgrave.

  GENERAL LAPOYPE’S ASSAULT to secure the Faron Ridge for the second time was synchronized with that on Fort Mulgrave and, owing to the elongated nature of the objective, again involved several separate forces. The largest of these, led by the general himself, assembled in the grounds of the Château Baudouvin, near what was then the village of La Vallette. Having fought the wind and rain all the way up the zigzag track from Beaulieu, the troops then formed for an assault on Fort Faron at the ridge’s eastern end. This strongpoint is, however, located on a spur and easily defended. The attack was repulsed. Nothing daunted, Lapoype regrouped and tried again, with the same result. A third attempt was ordered but again failed, it being noted that many of the citizen soldiers were by now more concerned with their own safety. Despite the efforts of both Fréron and Barras, the représentants accompanying the operation, the force could no longer be rallied, with rain-sodden groups of men finding cover wherever they could.

  At the western end of Mont Faron, meanwhile, the fort of Saint-Antoine also held out, barring the main route up from Le Jonquet. Here, however, the massif is incised by deep valleys offering alternative, if more difficult, routes. Following in the tracks of ‘une compagnie de pionniers et de 600 travailleurs’ (‘a company of pioneers and 600 workers’), a column commanded by Adjudant-Général Micas surprised a Spanish force dug in around the Pas de Leydet and carried the position without much difficulty.

  Just to the east is located the higher, and key, point of Pas de la Masque, now held by a British detachment. Already alarmed by events close on its right, this force was attacked by a third republican column, led by Commandant Argod. This had toiled up the north face of the ridge from its assembly point near Le Revest. A British casualty list exceeding 300 was evidence of the stout defence, but the post was eventually overrun and the survivors scattered for their own salvation. The senior British officer succeeded in making his way down to Fort Saint-Antoine, where his request for shelter reportedly gave the Spanish commander considerable satisfaction.

  With the centre and western end of the Faron Ridge now secured, the combined French forces moved eastward against the allied garrisons still in control of Fort de la Croix Faron and the lower Fort Faron. The former was also defended robustly but, lacking supporting artillery, the republicans dismantled their small cannon, manhandling the heavy component parts over rock and gully to secure commanding positions. Now under fire seemingly from the front, flanks and above, the defenders wilted, finally giving up when their commanding officer, the Piedmontese Lieutenant Colonel de Germagnan, was killed.

  With this position in their hands the elated French looked down on Fort Faron from superior locations. They were in such numbers that the garrison perceived its task as hopeless a
nd capitulated with only token resistance. With daylight, as the watch aboard the Windsor Castle had noted, republican forces were signalling their triumph from the length of the Mont Faron Ridge.

  In Toulon, confirmation of the loss of the critical forts of Balaguier and L’Aiguillette came at about 4 a.m. on 17 December. Even before hearing of the news from Faron, Admiral Hood called an emergency council of war (‘that sure herald of discomfiture’). Meeting that afternoon were Hood, his second-in-command Rear Admiral Sir Hyde Parker, Sir Gilbert Elliot and Admirals Langara and Gravina, together with the senior field commanders, Dundas, Valdés, Forteguerri, Pignatelli and Thaon de Revel.

  Sending for their artillery specialists they asked their opinion on whether the further defence of the town was practicable with both the western promontory and the major heights under enemy control. With allied forces falling back, and with reserves of only l,500 troops in the town, there was no immediate prospect of effective counter-attack. What were the possibilities of controlling the anchorages from new batteries established on the Saint-Mandrier peninsula?

  The response of the artillerymen was predictable. Prospects for holding the outer ring of strongpoints – Pomets, Saint-Antoine, Sainte-Marguerite, even Malbousquet – were unattractive. Heavy batteries located on Saint-Mandrier could, supplemented by naval gunfire, dominate the coastline from the Grosse Tour (the present-day Tour Royale), at the eastern entrance to the inner roads, as far east as the Cap Brun position, but the forts on the western promontory could not be thus suppressed and would continue to make it impossible for ships to use either the Petite Rade or the port itself.

  Hood still clung to the fiction of the imminent arrival of the Austrian contingent or substantial reinforcement from Gibraltar. The ever-willing Gravina, hardly recovered from his recent wounding, offered to lead a counter-attack with what was available. It was obvious, however, that the one could never be in time and the other could serve no useful purpose on such an extended perimeter. Dundas and Elliot both made it clear that they considered that insufficient numbers of reliable troops remained. The Neapolitans had completely lost heart, while Revel was known to have been against the venture from the outset, having, on more than one occasion, already advised his king to recall his forces.