The Entrance Of The Russian Fleet Into Toulon Harbour, October 1893.
13 October 1893. The Russian Mediterranean squadron sailed into the port of Toulon under the flag of Rear Admiral Fedor Avelan to fanfare and ceremony reported across the globe. The French military squadron had visited the Russian base at Kronstadt two years previously, and this reciprocal event in Toulon marked a key moment in the rapprochement between the two countries, helping to forge the vital Franco-Russian alliance that was under negotiation at the time. Since his ascension to the throne, Alexander III had been determined to strengthen the Russian fleet and doubled its annual allocation to over 50 million roubles, which in terms of sheer combat power allowed Russia to close the gap with the British and French navies by the turn of the century.
Over 300,000 people flocked to Toulon to attend the festivities and glimpse the Russian sailors, thousands sleeping in the city’s parks or sailing into the harbour in small launches and yachts to circle the ironclads. Grand balls, luncheons, speeches and processions were held for the Russian officers in both Toulon and Paris; a commemorative medal was struck and Avelan was presented with numerous formal gifts includinga beautiful leather-bound book Le livre d'or produced by artisans from Lorraine and an inlaid table by Emile Gallé.
According to contemporary newspaper reports, cries of ’Vive la Russie! Vive le Czar!’ filled the air and Russian flags, prints, trinkets and souvenirs filled the capital’s streets. As Tolstoy drily noted: ‘It happened that not only the men who ate, drank, and talked, but even those who were not present, hearing and reading of it in newspapers - all these millions of Russians and Frenchmen - suddenly imagined that they were somehow particularly in love with one another. All the French loved all the Russians, and all the Russians loved all the French’.
Le Soleil Royal, 104 guns, launched 1669, by Pierre Puget (1620 -1694)
She was the flagship of the French fleet du Ponant and of Admiral de Tourville. On 12 May 1692, the Soleil Royal led a fleet of 45 ships heading for Barfleur. On 29 May, those ships met the combined fleets of the English and Dutch with a total of 97 ships. After a twelve-hour battle, the combined fleets fled with heavy losses. Damaged by the battle, three French ships, including the Soleil Royal, were towed onto the beach at Cherbourg for repairs. On 2 and 3 June 1692, the defenceless ships were set on fire and destroyed by the English and Dutch.
Side rant: this gorgeous painting shows EXACTLY why the ‘flapping of the sails’ is not a beautiful or poetic thing - if your sails are flapping, like the foretopsail of this ship, you’re doing something wrong
An anchor for the future - a gift for my friend from Zaporozhye. Before the war we talked about naval history and folklore, and I came up with the idea about swallows. In nautical folklore swallows are believed to be either psychopomps or the souls of sailors who died at sea, and a symbol of return. So here it is - the souls that are finally back at their port, and an old friend, who comes to the shipwreck graveyard to talk to them.
My friend is now safe, evacuated from Ukraine and is now in the UK, and it’s one of the few really good news. Small favors of our time - to be happy and grateful at least one of my best friends is not in mortal danger now. I hope this atrocious war will end soon, I’ll manage to find a way to get out of the Mordor my country has become, and we’ll meet
Something not war-related, to distract myself a little. Transferred one of my sketches to lazurite, the sailor and the wind. Loosely inspired by Lorca and the song about marrying the wind
The Toy Ship, by Septimus Edwin Scott, late 19th - early 20th century
Whether it is a father giving his son a homemade ship or a sea daddy giving his protégé a handmade treat is impossible to say, but the latter seems to be the case.
A Napoleonic French prisoner-of-war bone and wood domino box, early 19th century
The lid is adorned with a three-decked warship, engraved below with a fashionable couple, possibly Napoleon and Josephine, and the whole box has been decorated with coloured ink and gold leaf.
Nelson’s flagships at anchor (detail), by Nicholas Pocock, 1807
Broadside is HMS Vanguard, 74 guns, his flagship at the Battle of the Nile in 1798 flying a blue ensign of the Rear-Admiral of the Blue at the mizzen.
In front of her is HMS Elephant, 74 guns, his temporary flagship at the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801. She is flying the blue ensign from the stern and Nelson’s flag as Vice-Admiral of the Blue at her foremast.
The sea broke over as we lay in the trough, deluging us with water from the forecastle, aft, to the binnacles; and very often, as the ship descended with a plunge, it was with such force that I really thought she would divide in half with the violence of the shock. Double breechings were rove on the guns, and they were further secured with tackles; and strong cleats nailed behind the trunnions; for we heeled over so much when we lurched, that the guns were wholly supported by the breechings and tackles, and had one of them broken loose, it must have burst right through the lee side of the ship, and she must have foundered.
— Frederick Marryat, Peter Simple
A frigate heeling in an offshore gale, Nicholas Pocock (1740-1821).
In the meantime, it was dark; the cutter flew along the coast; and the Needles’ lights were on the larboard bow. The conversation between Cecilia, Mrs. Lascelles, and her father, was long. When all had been detailed, and the conduct of Pickersgill duly represented, Lord B. acknowledged that, by attacking the smuggler, he had laid himself open to retaliation; that Pickersgill had shewn a great deal of forbearance in every instance; and, after all, had he not gone on board the yacht she might have been lost, with only three seamen on board. He was amused with the smuggling and the fright of his sister; still more, with the gentlemen being sent to Cherbourg; and much consoled that he was not the only one to be laughed at.
— Frederick Marryat, The Three Cutters
Cutter running through the Needles, drawing by Lt. Edward Bamfylde Eagles, circa 1840.
The French fleet used to come out and manoeuvre within range of their batteries; or, if they proceeded further from the shore, they took good care that they had a leading wind to return again into port. We had been in-shore about a week, every day running close in, and counting the French fleet in the harbour, to see that they were all safe, and reporting it to the admiral by signal, when one fine morning, the whole of the French vessels were perceived to hoist their topsails, and in less than an hour they were under weigh, and came out of the harbour.
— Frederick Marryat, Peter Simple
Three French Frigates & a Gun Vessel aided by a Battery on the Shore, close in with Belleisle April 9th 1799 (detail), 1801 print after Nicholas Pocock.
But as the second evening closed in, the sky was loaded with heavy clouds — the scud flew wildly past them — the sea increased to mountains high — and the gale roared through the rigging of the schooner, which was now impelled before it under bare poles.
When the hands were turned up to muster, the number of killed amounted to nine, and wounded to thirteen. When this was made known, there seemed to be a general smile of congratulation at the number fallen, rather than of their regret for their loss. The vanity of the officers seemed tickled at the disproportionate slaughter in a frigate of our size, as compared to what they had heard the ships of the line had suffered.
— Frederick Marryat, The Naval Officer (Frank Mildmay)
Engagement between His Majesty’s Ship Amelia… and L’ Arethuse French Frigate… off the Isles of Loss, on the Coast of Africa… 7 February 1813, 1817 print.
