As few of the ouvriers had been involved actively with the secessionists, few had felt the need to leave and, indeed, few had been punished directly. The arsenal’s workforce was, therefore, largely intact and was expanded rapidly, rising to a strength of nearly 10,000 in the following six months. This was due largely to the exertions of Saint-André, who was always ready to import the necessary skills. His own technical appreciation of matters maritime may have been suspect but, as a mainspring for action, he was highly effective. At Brest he had recognized the genius of Jacques-Noël Sané in the areas of both ship design and dockyard management.
As reorganized, the arsenals were now intended to have more specific core roles. That at Brest would be fleet repair and maintenance. Ships of the line would be constructed primarily at Rochefort and frigates at Lorient. Toulon, having been brought back to its previous first-class standard, would retain its multi-purpose capability, due to its comparative isolation and its requirement to support alone the French Mediterranean squadron.
By the autumn of 1794, ten months after Hood’s departure, Toulon’s workforce had reached 12,000, and four line ships and a frigate were under construction there. Progress was still slow, however, due to a continuing shortage of essential materials. Most keenly felt was the dearth of major structural timber, supplies of which had been most efficiently destroyed.
Although the vengeance of a thwarted republic had been adequately demonstrated, and similar powers remained within the gift of the omnipresent Jeanbon Saint-André, there is no reason to suppose that the workforce toiled in anything other than its normal manner. Certainly, the levels of drunkenness, disobedience and absenteeism caused complaint at high management level, but appeared to indicate a workforce hardly in fear of draconian punishments.
Jeanbon Saint-André, determined to get a grip on this sturdy insouciance, strictly regularized working hours, with rolls being called. Those who worked well now qualified for incentives: those who did not, or absented themselves from their place of work, were liable for a range of punishments. Pilfering, previously viewed as a perquisite, was ruthlessly stamped upon. Had he been in a position to see, Jeanbon Saint-André would have encountered exactly the same problems in any English dockyard.
Superficial study of surviving records of Toulon may give the impression of a town that had fully returned to normal business. Closer examination, however, indicates that the majority of recorded activities, such as births and marriages, concerned individuals from outside the town. So many of Toulon’s influential citizens were now in exile, scattered between Elba, mainland Italy, Corsica or Spain, that their town had been essentially repopulated by a new middle class, and also by an influx of workers, mainly from Provence but including a significant number from other regions of France.
The Revolution continued along its variable and troubled course and, in time, the young republic began to develop a kind of normality. In April 1795 an amnesty was announced for specific classes of émigré, but few dared to return to Toulon. Those that did found their homes and estates sequestered, and encountered the lingering, deep divisions that would persist for a generation. The lasting legacy of the affair at Toulon lay in the extent of its permanent repopulation.
WE NOW NEED TO backtrack to the morning of 19 December 1793 when, the evacuation completed, Admiral Hood sailed a few miles down the coast to anchor off the Iles d’Hyères. Accompanying his squadron were those French ships that had been seized, ordered in two divisions under the continuing command of Rear Admiral Trogoff, and each defiantly wearing the white banner now almost eliminated on French soil.
The purpose of the stop was to identify and to redistribute, on an ordered basis, the thousands of troops and refugees, the sick and the wounded. It was also necessary to allocate an armed British party to each French ship to ensure against non-compliance. Several allied store ships, unaware of the loss of Toulon, were intercepted (although even as late as 11 January HM frigate Juno, all unsuspecting, entered the Petite Rade, spoke to the French, ran aground, was refloated and escaped with no casualties, some damaged rigging and two 36-pound balls in her hull).
During its stay at Hyères the fleet was struck by a considerable storm which resulted, however, in only one casualty. This was an auxiliary xebec, still laden with injured, which had to be assisted with some urgency. The craft herself was so damaged that she was burned.
Admiral Langara and the Spanish fleet sailed on 21 December, but the weather was so severe that he ordered its return. Four days later he was able to leave again for Port Mahon in Minorca, where he landed about 1,000 refugees. Thence proceeding to his Cartagena base, Langara put ashore the remainder, some 2,000 in number.
The Spanish king graciously allowed all expatriate French naval and military officers to join his own armed services in their equivalent ranks, the significant number of clergy to find employment in the archbishopric of Toledo, the artisans to settle and practice their professions, and all the orphaned children and the sick to be cared for from public funds.
Some contemporary French accounts record falsely that those refugees embarked on British ships were dumped on the Iles de Hyères and left to the eventual mercy of the republicans. This was pure fabrication, as was another story that Hood and Langara quarrelled to the extent that the two fleets were on the verge of combat. Many of the inhabitants of the islands had also declared for the royalist cause, and these were all taken aboard. Sir Gilbert Elliot wrote to his wife that he had become ‘the guardian of numerous widows and a number of orphans who have scarcely a friend but me … I will do my best to ensure that we do all we can for them …’ The assurances that he gave these and the remainder were all honoured by the British government.
Some 400 refugees were landed at Naples by a local merchantmen. They included the ex-governor of Toulon and the previous commander of the National Guard, both of whom were accepted into local society. As reward for their support, the Sardinians had been allocated two French frigates in exchange for their own. These, the Victoire and Alceste, carried their unhappy émigré cargoes to Oneglia and Spezia.
Captain Elphinstone, in the Robust, left Hyères on 6 January in company with the French First Division (Puissant, Pompée and Aréthuse), bound for Gibraltar via Porto Ferraio in Elba. Having thus distributed his refugees, he was to escort a homeward-bound convoy. Besides the Toulonnais, the ships had aboard several hundred royalist French troops, who became most unhappy at the news that they were to be landed at Gibraltar. In the face of open revolt, Elphinstone diverted to Corsica to put them ashore.
More problems, however, waited at Gibraltar, where the small local community viewed with some apprehension a large influx of French refugees. The three French warships had aboard nearly 1,000, although this figure included their greatly under-strength crews. Many were sick, while the women and children required immediate attention.
The French Second Division (Commerce de Marseille, Topaze, Perle, Poulette, and Tarleton) sailed with Hood’s main fleet. The admiral had sent word to Lord Hervey, the British ambassador at Florence, to request the assistance of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. Permission was thus obtained to land refugees at Leghorn (Livorno) and more at Oneglia.
The major warships, except Victory, sailed on Christmas Day, Hotham’s Britannia recording: ‘29th December. Arrived Oneglia …Hoisted out all the Boats and employed them landing the Sardinian Troops … Standing off and on the Town of Oneglia, in company with the Windsor Castle and Commerce de Marseille, landing the troops as before …’
The squadron then proceeded to Porto Ferraio, where the town of some 2,000 inhabitants was swamped by a similar number of émigrés. This local generosity of spirit was underpinned by a British guarantee regarding supplies and support.
Having destroyed the fortifications and magazines on Hyères, Hood also sailed for Elba, where the over-crowded conditions were already resulting in epidemics. One notable victim was Admiral Trogoff, who was interred with considerable ceremony. Never a royalist, the
admiral had always fought to preserve the independence of the fleet from Jacobin influence and, could he now have been in Toulon, he would have found a nice irony in Jeanbon Saint-André echoing his own sentiments that ‘Discipline must reign’. The difference was that Jeanbon Saint-André enjoyed the necessary backing of the Convention to enforce the demand, assistance that the various ministers of marine could, or would, never render Trogoff.
IF BUONAPARTE HAD been the main career beneficiary among the French, it was Elphinstone who profited most from among the British that were involved. He had demonstrated courage and leadership in the field as well as considerable tact and firmness in his various governorships. Above all, he was totally reliable, thus alleviating the great load shouldered by the commander-in-chief.
Hood rewarded him appropriately, signalling on 4 January (1794): ‘With this you will receive an order [to hoist] a distinguishing pendant [i.e. commodore] … and [I] am very happy in giving you this proof of the regard and esteem with which I have the honour to be most truly, your faithful and humble servant. Hood.’*
With respect to the Toulon operation itself, British objectives had never matched those of the French royalists. Among the nation’s military commitments it was regarded by the British government as something of a sideshow. By the standards of the day, British casualties were not excessive, while the damage done to the republican cause went a fair way to justify the expenditure in money and matériel.
That neither Hood nor the British government really learned any lesson from their defeat at Toulon was demonstrated by the former immediately turning his attention to assisting Paoli’s insurrection in Corsica. Operations were again successful to the extent that, in June 1794, the French administration was again deposed. At the islander’s request, King George III accepted its crown, and Lord Hood and Sir Gilbert Elliot again found themselves commissioners.
The British government’s military preoccupations were still predominantly elsewhere, however, and Corsica failed to be exploited as a secure base for major operations in the Mediterranean. Buonaparte, as he rose to become France’s general, harboured a desire to regain the island of his birth and, in addition to enjoying a string of military successes, found time to organize the underlying forces of rebellion that were ever a feature of the Corsican scene.
Intimidated by developments in Europe, Spain, that unreliable ally, concluded a peace treaty with France in July 1795. Supping with the devil, however, requires a long spoon and, where Spain wanted only to enter a defensive alliance, adopting a neutral stance with respect to the coalition, particularly Britain, the French Directory forced the state into active opposition. Offering in return to cede Louisiana, and to assist in the taking of Gibraltar and Portugal, France succeeded in having the Bourbons declare war on Britain in September 1796.
With the coalition itself showing every sign of disintegration, the British government ordered the new commander-in chief, Admiral Sir John Jervis, to evacuate the western Mediterranean. Corsica and Elba, thus abandoned to the French, became further examples of the general strategic incompetence of the British ministers of the time.
UPON ADMIRAL HOOD’S ability to make clear and correct decisions had rested the conduct of the campaign. He could, of course, do little about the unwillingness of the various coalition governments to provide him with adequate resources. All he could reasonably do was to use what he had in the manner best calculated to achieve his government’s objectives. He can be accused of dissipating his naval strength in various expeditions of varying success but, even had he kept its strength concentrated, it would hardly have affected the outcome, which was decided militarily.
Hood suffered from his government’s vacillating policies but, if his campaign was thereby continually underrated, he again must shoulder some of the responsibility for writing to Henry Dundas in over-optimistic terms, regarding both the general allied situation and Anglo-Spanish relations. The government certainly needed no further encouragement to sit on its hands. A week before Hood even entered Toulon, a youthful but perceptive Captain Horatio Nelson could observe that ‘it seems of no use to send a great fleet here without troops to act with them [sic]’.
Later military historians have argued that, as a leader, the admiral displayed a contemptuous attitude toward the enemy, encouraging his officers to do likewise. This is probably acceptable criticism, but was a feature of attitudes of the time, where overt displays of almost foolhardy indifference to enemy fire were the norm, as was the common display of almost courtly manners toward a beaten enemy. Customs have simply changed.
Fortescue, in his great thirteen-volume history of the British Army, makes a considerable case of Hood’s alleged arrogance toward General David Dundas and his successors in the Corsican campaign. This criticism accords ill, however, with David Dundas’s own communication with Henry Dundas, immediately after the Toulon evacuation, where he speaks of the ‘most perfect harmony and zeal’ which had characterized the cooperation between army and navy. He speaks, too, of the efficiency with which seamen compensated for non-existent troops, particularly in the specialist field of artillery and in general, day-to-day labouring. ‘It was’, he said, ‘the constant attention of Lord Hood to relieve our wants and to alleviate our difficulties.’
The military strategist General C. E. Callwell none the less states that General Dundas had few gifts in military leadership and that Hood had no confidence in him. He had, however, a thorough appreciation of matters military and Hood should have respected his opinion (according to Callwell) when he advised a general withdrawal ‘some days before this had to be carried out in hot haste under pressure from the Republican army’. This implies that Dundas counselled evacuation at some point between the capture of O’Hara on 30 November and the opening of General Dugommier’s offensive on 17 December. As, during this period, the situation was as stable as it had ever been, it is scarcely surprising that Hood chose to ignore his advice, for this would have been to evacuate in the face of just the threat of a French attack. No senior commander could have been expected to act thus, not least because it would have been professional suicide.
Keeping the coalition forces working in reasonable harmony, and worrying about and resolving the endless quibbles and hollow promises of fellow officers and statesmen, certainly took their toll of the 69-year-old Hood although, during October, Nelson was able to record that ‘Lord Hood is now quite as he used to be, he is so good an Officer, that every body must respect him. All the Foreigners at Toulon absolutely worship him; were any accident to happen to him, I am sure no person in our Fleet could supply his place …’
However well he held his forces together during those months at Toulon, Hood failed badly over the matter of the French fleet, the fundamental reason for the Royal Navy being in the Mediterranean in the first place. What appears to have been an over-developed sense of honour, bordering on naivety, resulted in his finally failing to observe the requirements of his orders from the Admiralty to attempt ‘some decisive Blow against the Naval Power of France … and use [his] best endeavours to seek the French Fleet and bring it to action’. Having had a quarter of the enemy’s total naval strength delivered to him without a shot being fired, Hood placed too much import on holding it in trust, ignoring the fact that, should the worst have happened, it should have been beyond the republicans’ reach.
The campaign in Corsica soured the last few months of Hood’s service with the navy to which he had devoted fifty-four years of his life. Like that at Toulon, the operation was dogged by lack of resources, but was made worse by the army being ravaged by disease. Inter-service disagreement flourished in a situation where, in Fortescue’s words:
A great part of the Navy was constantly ashore … doing the work of soldiers, and a great part of the Army was on the fleet doing the work of sailors. Such a condition of things rarely fails to bring about friction, since it means that constant placing of seamen under the command of Generals and of soldiers under the command of Admirals.
In September 1794, his health deteriorating, Hood decided to anticipate his recall by the Admiralty and to request his relief in order to retire from the service. Nelson typified the manner in which the services had become polarized, writing: ‘When Lord Hood quits … I should be truly sorry to remain … what can be said against him, I cannot conceive, it must be only envy … But this comes from the Army, who have poisoned some few of our minds.’
Early in November, having handed over his command to Hotham, Hood sailed for home in the Victory, accompanied by the ex-French frigate Sibylle, now commanded by the newly promoted Captain Edward Cooke. They docked on 21 November, seven days after Cosby had arrived at Spithead with the French Second Division. For Lord Hood it marked the beginning of twenty years of contented retirement.
* Eventually being made 1st Viscount Keith, Elphinstone rose to become Admiral of the White. Although he served in turn as Commander-in-Chief Mediterranean, North Sea and Channel Fleet, he was never fortunate enough to be able to demonstrate his worth in pitched battle with the enemy.
Epilogue
THE BRIEF OCCUPATION of Toulon by coalition forces inflicted a severe reverse on the French fleet. It should, however, have been nothing less than a catastrophe, a fact apparent when one examines the number of ships involved.
Anchored in the Grande Rade and fully ready for sea when Lord Hood arrived were seventeen ships of the line (one 120, one 80 and fifteen 74s), five frigates and eleven corvettes. In various stages of refitting in the New Basin were four ships of the line (one 120, one 80 and two 74s) and a frigate. Mainly in the Old Basin and, for the most part, awaiting middling or large repair, were eight ships of the line (one 80 and seven 74s), five frigates and two corvettes.
The Fall of Toulon Page 35
