Kléber made an intensive study of Bonaparte, trying to account for his astonishing career: he noted down his opinions, his gestures, the effect he made on Kléber himself and on other people, and he added his own comments. When they were discussing the naval disaster at Abukir Bonaparte said: ‘I, who play with history, can weigh these events more coldly than another.’ That evening in his note book Kléber wrote:
To play with events of this kind is to play with the lives of men, with public and private fortunes, and with the happiness and prosperity of the country.
When he learned that he was not, after all, to be given command of the projected expedition, and that Bonaparte would lead it himself, he commented: ‘Nothing decided beforehand, plans frequently changed, no adequate preparations...’ He decided that Bonaparte’s genius lay not in foresight, not in staff work, but in making decisions on the spur of the moment and, in an emergency, always the right decision.
‘What is his great quality?’ Kléber asked himself, ‘For he is, after all, an extraordinary man — it is to dare, and dare again, and in this respect he goes on even to rashness.’ He began to see him as more dangerous than Caesar, more rash, and much less generous. ‘This little fellow, no higher than my waist,’ he wrote, ‘will enslave France.’ He had too much faith in the Republic to believe that the enslavement would be permanent. He compared Bonaparte’s personal glory to the great obelisk, seventy feet high, erected for the seventh anniversary of the founding of the Republic celebrations, not a column of granite but of wooden slats covered with painted canvas.
After the fête [he wrote] the soldiers made a hole in the pedestal and went inside — they found it convenient for their sessions with loose women, and soon it became a centre for vice and debauch. Finally the envelope of the pedestal disappeared entirely, and the edifice, once threatening the sky, was nothing but a ridiculous and hideous false doorway, making one expect and hope for its early fall; either I am making a big mistake or the history of this monument, so pompously announced to Europe, will be that of Bonaparte himself.
Chapter Six – Minister at the Porte
The naval battle in the Bay of Abukir, christened by Nelson ‘The Battle of the Nile’, had had important repercussions in Europe: it was generally assumed that Bonaparte and his formidable army were now marooned in Egypt and would perish there. French prestige was lowered, and Austria and Russia were encouraged to form a new coalition with England to continue the war.
In Turkey, although feeling ran high against the French, the government had been temporising, and there had been reason to fear that it might accept the situation and agree to a proposal of Bonaparte’s that he should govern Egypt on behalf of the Sultan, guaranteeing to him the same annual income that he had formerly derived from the Mamelukes. The British representative at the Porte, however, had countered this by negotiating a Treaty of Friendship with Turkey, and also a commercial treaty. The drafts of both were waiting in London for approval. As soon as news came that the invaders’ fleet had been destroyed, the French Ambassador in Constantinople was politely conducted to The Prison of the Seven Towers (three of which had already fallen down), and Turkey declared war on France.
In England, before the news of the victory arrived, Lord Grenville, Secretary for Foreign Affairs, had proposed to the First Lord of the Admiralty, that a British squadron for the Eastern Mediterranean should be formed as a separate command, or sub-command, under an officer qualified to co-operate with the Turks, and possibly to take command of their fleet should the opportunity arise. This officer, he thought, should be Sir Sidney Smith because he had already been employed on a mission to Turkey and knew the country, ‘not really out of partiality to him, but thinking that his name is better known both to Russians and to Turks, and his character best suited to act with them, than that of many other officers whom possibly you would prefer for a Channel cruise.’ Sir Sidney had remained on good terms with the Sultan, and had continued to correspond with agents in Constantinople, so that even while cruising in command of the Diamond he had been able to give warning of the French designs on Egypt. ‘As the work of the officer appointed would be largely diplomatic,’ Grenville continued in his letter to Spencer, ‘it would be expedient to give him plenipotentiary powers.’ In the case of Sir Sidney this could be done without appearing in any way to censure their present representative in Constantinople, who had done extremely well in negotiating the Treaty of Friendship: he was Sir Sidney’s brother, John Spencer Smith, a guards officer who had transferred to the diplomatic service.
This project was dropped when the news of Nelson’s great victory reached London. For a few weeks the British government shared the common delusion of the European powers that the Egyptian problem was solved; but then the ugly cold facts obtruded themselves upon their councils that the enterprising General Bonaparte was strategically placed on the route to India, that he had a staff of scientists and agriculturalists to develop his potentially wealthy conquest, and a magnificent army, unbeaten in Europe, with no one in the East to oppose it except their allies, the Turks, about whom they knew very little. They came back to the idea of sending Sir Sidney Smith to Constantinople to make the alliance effective, because they had no other officer with the necessary qualifications and experience.
The difficulties were firstly that the appointment should have gone to an admiral, whereas Sir Sidney was only a junior captain; and secondly that the whole pattern of his career had aroused both the envy and, in some cases, the active dislike of other serving officers, and of some of my lords of the Admiralty. The prolonged adulation being lavished upon him for his sensational escape increased their dislike: he loved to tell the story of his adventures to an admiring circle; poems were written in his honour, and ladies shed tears over his suffering and his gallantry; engravings of his portrait were on sale at the print shops in the Strand — they depicted a handsome young man with wavy hair, dark eyes, side-whiskers and a distinctly Hebraic profile; a play was running at Astley’s Theatre entitled The Lucky Escape, or The Return to the Native Country, ridiculing the French Police, which was an enormous success.
But he found that being a hero was an expensive pastime. He had sent 500 louis to the Comte de Rochecotte, and he was entertaining at his own table the conspirators who had come to London with him — Phélippeaux, de Tromelin, Le Grand and Viscovitch. Pitt had assured him that their maintenance would be a sacred national obligation — but in the meantime he had to foot the bill. For Madame de Tromelin, who was still in France with her infant son, he secured a pension of 12/- a day from the secret service funds. His family’s resources were rather limited. His father had long ago retired from active service as a protest against the dismissal of Sir George Sackville after the Battle of Minden; his mother, daughter of a wealthy merchant, had been disinherited for marrying against her father’s wishes. The inheritance had gone to the younger daughter who married Thomas Pitt, Lord Camelford, cousin of the Prime Minister.
His financial position was relieved on 24th July by his appointment to the command of The Tigre, a fine ship of the line mounting eighty guns, then refitting at Portsmouth: she was a French prize, taken by Lord Bridport off L’Orient on 23rd June, 1795. At the end of September he was entrusted with the mission to Turkey: it was assumed that he would give up the command of The Tigre as his duties would be mainly diplomatic, but he pleaded with Lord Spencer to be allowed to keep her in order to be able to instruct the Turks in modern fighting not only by precept but by example.
He was to go out, therefore, with two masters, the Foreign Office and the Admiralty. Firstly he was to be the supreme representative of Great Britain in the Near East, jointly with his brother, with power to act in the name of his sovereign, and secondly he was a junior captain in command of a ship of the line. He judged, rightly, that both the diplomatic and the fighting commands were essential to the success of his mission, but awkward questions of seniority were bound to arise; the arrangement could only be made to work if everyone tre
ated it in a tolerant spirit. He could not, according to the regulations, be given a naval rank commensurate with his task over the heads of a hundred more senior officers.
As soon as his appointment was confirmed he wrote to General Frotté inviting him to leave Normandy where, it seemed, nothing could be accomplished for the present, and sail with him to the East where they could wage war more effectively against the common enemy. Frotté replied that until Louis XVIII decided that his position in Normandy was untenable he would stay there, but he asked if his young half-brother, Charles Frotté, might go instead. Sir Sidney replied that he would look after him as if he were his own brother, and give him every opportunity to distinguish himself.
On 30th September, 1798, he received his high-sounding credentials, written in Latin, to be presented to the Sultan. He had an interview with Pitt, discussed the prospects with cabinet ministers, and was instructed by Lord Grenville to add his signature to that of his brother on the Treaty of Friendship, should he arrive in time, and to cooperate with the Turks ‘to provide for the full execution of the agreements to be entered into’.
He had long ago urged Lord Grenville to send specialists to Turkey, particularly artillery officers, to assist the Sultan to modernise his army. It was now decided to send a Military Mission to Constantinople consisting of seventy-six officers headed by Lieutenant-Colonel Koehler who was given the acting rank of general.
A naval architect, Mr. Spuring, and a number of shipwrights were added to the complement of The Tigre. Phélippeaux was offered the rank of Brevet-colonel in the British Army, but he preferred to ally his fortunes to those of Sir Sidney. He embarked in The Tigre together with de Tromelin, Le Grand, Viscovitch and young Frotté. Le Grand, who had impersonated the Captain of the Voltigeurs in the escape from the Temple, wrote enthusiastically:
I am happy in frequent opportunities of seeing Sir Sidney Smith, who is a brave and generous-hearted man with a fine countenance and eyes that sparkle with intelligence.
At the last moment Phélippeaux remembered a Royalist friend, Comte de Las Cases, an exiled naval officer. He asked permission to bring him too, rushed round to his lodgings — but he was away from home.
The Tigre had a complement of 640 including 125 Royal Marines. More than forty of her crew were from Sir Sidney’s old ship, the Diamond, including the coxswain, William Gilchrist of Newcastle, and Midshipman Beecroft who had been wounded on the unhappy day on which their prize Le Vengeur had surrendered at Havre de Grace. John Wesley Wright, who had shared the captivity in the Temple, signed on again as Midshipman and was promoted Temporary Lieutenant. Further supplies and ammunition for The Tigre, and for the Turkish gunboats it was hoped to employ, were to follow in the Charon, frigate, which was commanded by the second Lord Camelford, who was Sir Sidney’s cousin. Both he and Lord Spencer accompanied Sir Sidney to Portsmouth, and The Tigre sailed on 21st October, with orders to report to the C. in C. Mediterranean, Admiral Lord St. Vincent, to whom Lord Spencer had addressed a confidential letter, on 9th October, informing him of the cabinet project.
Lord St. Vincent was the sternest disciplinarian in the navy. He had suppressed the mutiny of 1797 ruthlessly when it spread to the Mediterranean Fleet; and the country was largely indebted to him for the unrelenting vigilance of the blockade of the French ports. Under his leadership a group of captains whose names resound through history had learned their business. He liked his officers to be entirely dependent on him for their promotion, and yet he was constantly complaining that few of them were willing to accept responsibility. When he did meet an independent spirit he sometimes didn’t like it. Even with Nelson, who had taken his ship out of the line, contrary to his standing orders, at the Battle off Cape St. Vincent, it had been touch and go. He had forgiven him, and publicly embraced him; but he left him out of his despatch describing the battle, although Nelson’s action had converted a modest success into a resounding victory that gained the admiral his earldom and a pension of £3,000 a year.
Lord Spencer, long familiar with the admiral’s virtues, and with his prejudices, had gone to considerable pains in his letter to justify the unconventional appointment. He explained that on the strength of Nelson’s victory at Abukir a great effort was to be made to obtain Turkish co-operation in blockading Alexandria and cutting off Bonaparte’s army from all communication with France. As the work of the officer who undertook this duty would be largely diplomatic, it was deemed expedient to give him plenipotentiary powers, which in Smith’s case would be especially suitable as the Ambassador at Constantinople was his brother.
I am well aware [he continued] that there may perhaps be some prejudices, derived from certain circumstances which have attended this officer’s career through life, but, from long acquaintance with him personally, I think I can venture to assure your lordship that, added to his unquestioned character for courage and enterprise, he has a great many good points about him, which those who are less acquainted with him are not sufficiently apprised of, and I have no doubt you will find him a very useful instrument to be employed on any hazardous or difficult service, and he will be perfectly under your guidance, as he ought to be.
When The Tigre arrived at Gibraltar, the admiral had taken up his quarters ashore, and he received Sir Sidney cordially at Rosia House. He was a stocky thick-set figure, slightly stooping as though he was conscious of carrying the whole weight of the war at sea upon his shoulders. On being informed of the cabinet project he had written to the Secretary of the Admiralty raising strong objections to it. He was not at all pleased to find that his objections had been disregarded, but of this he gave no sign. His manner was affable, a line of sardonic humour relieved the sternness of his features, and there was almost a twinkle in his eye. Besides the correspondence from the Admiralty, he had received a copy of a letter from Lord Grenville, stating that Sir Sidney’s instructions would ‘enable him to take command of such of his Majesty’s ships as he may find in those seas, unless, by any unforeseen accident, it should happen that there should be among them any of his Majesty’s officers of superior rank.’ He therefore asked Sir Sidney which officers he would like to serve under him in the Levant Squadron, and mentioned that Captain Hood was then in command of the ships blockading Alexandria. Sir Sidney assured him that he could not have named anyone he should be more happy to serve with, and he mentioned also that he would like Captain Miller of the Theseus to be with him, as they had long been on terms of intimate friendship.
The admiral said that he would pass on his wishes to Lord Nelson who should furnish him with the ships he should require. He cautioned him against passing messages about his mission except in code, and gave him a special code book with a copy to be given to Nelson so that they could communicate freely with each other in security. He gave him Dispatches for Captain Alexander Ball who commanded the squadron blockading Malta, and dispatches also for Nelson to be delivered to him at Syracuse, in Sicily. Finally he gave him his sailing orders: to proceed with all possible speed to Constantinople, as he had been instructed to do by the Admiralty, and advised him to keep close in to the Barbary Coast in order to benefit from the land breezes by night and the sea breezes by day. As soon as The Tigre had completed with fresh water and supplies she sailed for Malta, the admiral sending Sir Sidney a farewell note wishing him all manner of success in his mission.
On 11th December he delivered the dispatches to Captain Ball, and learned from him that Nelson, who was to allocate the ships for his squadron, was not at Syracuse, that he was not expected there, and that he was probably at Naples. Being under orders to proceed to Constantinople with all possible speed, he could not follow him there; so he wrote to St. Vincent asking for further instructions, adding that he presumed meanwhile he was ‘at liberty to dispose of the force he should find in the Levant’ (in accordance with Lord Grenville’s letter), ‘all the captains there being junior to him.’
He wrote to Lord Nelson also, enclosing the code book and copies of his orders from Lord Spencer
, Lord Grenville and Admiral St. Vincent, and explaining his mission as well as he could while observing the admiral’s warning regarding security. He modesty described his important diplomatic appointment as
dictated by a delicacy due to my brother, who has already brought the affairs in question to a favourable issue, rather than to any undue preference of me to older and better officers who have had the honourable advantage of distinguishing themselves under your orders.
He ended by describing the enthusiasm in London that had greeted the news of the Battle of the Nile, and added his tribute of admiration and gratitude to that of the rest of his countrymen ‘for the most perfect naval victory that ever was gained by any country in any age’. Finally, in case Nelson should after all not be in Naples, he wrote to Sir William Hamilton, British Ambassador there, explaining his mission. Then he entrusted Nelson’s dispatches to Captain Ball and sailed for Constantinople arriving there on 31st December.
As soon as The Tigre dropped anchor in the Golden Horn Sir Sidney’s brother, John Spencer Smith, came on board and told him that he had arrived just in time for the ceremony of signing the treaty which he had been instructed not to delay. Among the papers and correspondence that he brought with him there was a pitiful letter from a French prisoner who was languishing in chains with about forty of his countrymen in a dungeon under the Bagnio — the prison in which the galley slaves were kept at night.
This letter appealed at once to Sir Sidney’s sense of chivalry, with the ideal of humanity it implied, and to his generous recognition of an opponent’s rights. His hero was the famous Elizabethan, Sir Philip Sidney, with whose family he liked to think his own was in some way distantly connected. His first act in Constantinople was to send Lieutenant Wright with an answer to the French prisoners under the Bagnio assuring them that he would do everything in his power to help them. Then he went ashore with Phélippeaux and his other Royalist friends, and a guard of Marines, and took up his residence in the beautiful Palace of Bailes that had been the Venetian Ambassador’s house before the destruction of that republic by Bonaparte in the previous year.
Beware of Heroes Page 6
