As an expose 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 Vendee 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.