‘In short, when I recollect Napoleon entering the courtyard of the Hotel de la Tranquillité in 1793, with a shabby round hat drawn over his forehead, and his ill-powdered hair hanging over the collar of his great-coat, which afterwards became as celebrated as the white plume of Henry IV., without gloves, because he used to say they were an useless luxury, with boots ill-made and ill-blackened, with his thinness and his sallow complexion; in fine, when I recollect him at that time, and think what he was afterwards, I do not see the same man in the two pictures.’ He was fortunate in obtaining a higher rank in the army, being promoted to be commandant of artillery, and he joined the army besieging Toulon on September 12, 1793. He found his chief, General Cartaux, incompetent, and, from representations made to Paris, Cartaux was superseded. There was very hard fighting at Toulon before it was taken, Admiral Hood, and General O’Hara, commanding the British forces. The latter being taken prisoner, much disheartened the English, but, at the final assault, when the town was retaken by the French, the English and Spanish gunners died fighting at their posts. [Illustration: NAPOLEON WORKING THE GUNS AT TOULON.] Our metrical History of Napoleon says,-- The first shell ’gainst Toulon, ’tis said, The hand of Bonaparte had sped. The vengeance of the French, on entering the town, was terrible; but many thousands had taken shelter on board the British ships, leaving only a few hundreds to be executed ‘according to law.’ Our poem somewhat exaggerates. One of the Jacobins, whom Hood Had sent to prison for no good-- A noted character indeed-- By the republicans was freed. As vengeance he on all design’d Who to the English had been kind, Or in their dreadful situation Promoted the Capitulation, This miscreant selected then One thousand and four hundred men, Whom they determin’d to assassinate-- A testimony of surpassing hate; And Boney was, with general voice, For executioner their choice. Indeed the choice was very good, For Boney was a man for blood. In sets, it was these wretches’ lot, To be brought forward to be shot: Nap gave the order with composure, The loaded guns were pointed so sure A dreadful carnage soon ensued-- A carnage--horrible when view’d. Yet, _gallant_ Boney, with delight, Remain’d spectator of the sight. Nay, more, himself vers’d in hypocrisy, He thought he might perhaps some mock’ry see: So ‘Pardon! pardon!’ loud he said, To know if they were really dead; Some, who had counterfeited death, Rose up, and were deprived of breath! Poor souls! they knew not when he said it His word was not deserving credit. However two there were more wise, } Who, having put on death’s disguise, } Could not be tempted thus to rise, } But tarried till the wolves were gone, And then--a father found his son! CHAPTER V.