DEPARTURE FROM PALERMO—LEGHORN—JOURNEY
HOMEWARDS—ALFIERI—HAYDN—KLOPSTOCK—RECEPTION OF NELSON—ENGLAND—SOCIETY
THERE—LORD AND LADY NELSON.
WE sailed from Palermo on the 23rd of April, 1800, on board the
_Foudroyant_, of eighty guns, with the flag of Lord Nelson, and
commanded by Sir Edward Berry. The party consisted of Sir William and
Lady Hamilton, another English lady and gentleman, an old Maltese
nobleman, and myself. The officers of the ship were in their turns
invited to dinner: the table was good, but unostentatious. In the great
cabin were many new publications, sent from England by Lady Nelson to
the admiral. A carving in wood of an immense three-coloured plume of
feathers, which ornamented the cap of the figure of William Tell, when
the ship so named struck to the _Foudroyant_; four muskets, taken on
board the _San Josef_, by Nelson, in the battle off Cape St. Vincent,
and the flag-staff of _L’Orient_,[81] saved from the flames when that
ship was blown up in the battle of the Nile, formed the chief ornaments
of the cabin, and gave occasion to the following lines, which were sung
by one of the company, to the old tune of “Hearts of Oak.” They were
addressed to a lady who was leaving Sicily with great reluctance.
Come, cheer up, fair Delia![82] forget all thy grief;
For thy shipmates are brave, and a Hero’s their chief.
Look round on these trophies, the pride of the Main;
They were snatch’d by their valour from Gallia and Spain.
Behold yonder fragment: ’tis sacred to fame;
’Midst the waves of old Nile it was saved from the flame—
The flame that destroy’d the new glories of France,
When Providence vanquish’d the friends of blind Chance.
Those arms the San Josef once claim’d as her own,
Ere Nelson and Britons her pride had o’erthrown.
That plume, too, evinces that still they excel—
It was torn from the cap of the famed William Tell.
Then cheer up, fair Delia! remember thou’rt free;
And ploughing Britannia’s old empire, the sea,
How many in Albion each sorrow would check,
Could they kiss but one plank of this conqu’ring deck.
Owing to the contrary winds, we experienced some difficulty in threading
the Straits of Messina, but on the 1st of May we landed at Syracuse, and
spent two days in seeing all that is interesting in that ancient city.
Late in the evening of the 3rd we joined the blockading squadron off
Malta, on which island we remained till the 20th, occasionally dining at
the governor’s, Captain Sir Alexander Ball’s, and sometimes at the
quarters of General Graham, afterwards Lord Lynedoch.
On the last day of May we were again in the harbour of Palermo, but on
the 8th of June we sailed for Leghorn, having on board the Queen of
Naples, her three unmarried daughters, and the young Prince Leopold. The
Duc de Berri accompanied the royal party on board, and shed tears as he
took leave of them. It was said that he had come to Palermo in the hope
of marrying the eldest princess, but I know not how the affair came to
be broken off. On the anchor being weighed, her Majesty exclaimed with
delight, “Leghorn! Leghorn!” no doubt as being on the way to her native
land (Austria). But, for my part, I left Sicily with great pain, for it
was also severing myself from Italy, where I had spent so many years of
happiness.
Before landing at Leghorn the queen presented Lord Nelson with a
medallion, on one side of which was a fine miniature of the king, and on
the other her own cipher, round which ran a wreath of laurel, and two
anchors were represented supporting the crown of the Two Sicilies,
designed by her Majesty herself. This device was executed in large
diamonds, and was therefore of great pecuniary value. The queen also
gave a very handsome snuff-box, set with diamonds, to Sir Edward Berry,
and was always very liberal in her presents to our officers.
While the queen was yet undecided as to the route she was to take, news
arrived of the battle of Marengo, and of the consequent surrender of
Genoa. Our situation soon became very alarming, for the French army,
under General Bonaparte, kept steadily advancing, and at last occupied
Lucca, whence one night’s march might have brought them to Leghorn. It
must be owned, to the credit of the inhabitants of that city, and
especially of the common people, that they were most anxious to take up
arms against the French, and repeatedly solicited the Austrian governor
to allow them to do so. They also pressed him to permit the
disembarkation of General Abercrombie and the English troops from
Minorca, but he would not give his consent, as the Austrians had
concluded a truce with the French after their defeat at Marengo. The
enemy, however, did not scruple to pass the limits assigned to him; but
the Emperor of Austria was at that time very ill served, and the
consequences were fatal to Italy.
The people after a while became infuriated at not being suffered to
defend their city, and, breaking into the arsenal, got possession of a
quantity of muskets and other arms. They also called upon Lord Nelson to
place himself at their head, but at length he succeeded in pacifying
them, and then caused the queen’s jewels and other valuables to be
carried on board the _Alexander_, to which he had transferred his flag
on the departure of the _Foudroyant_.[83] Our whole party soon
afterwards embarked, with the intention of sailing round the peninsula
to Trieste; but this plan was given up, and it was resolved that we
should travel by land to Ancona, and thence proceed in an Austrian
vessel to that port.
My dismay was now great, for we had to pass within a mile of the
advanced posts of the French army; and even the officers and crew of the
_Alexander_ were shocked at the idea of the danger to which their
admiral was going to expose himself. However, we again landed, and
pushed on through the heat and dust of the day to Florence, which we
reached in the afternoon of the 12th of July. The following day I passed
in the company of the Countess of Albany and Count Alfieri.
The latter showed me some of his unpublished manuscripts. It was only
within the last few years that he had studied the ancient Greek
literature, and his style was, in consequence, wonderfully improved. He
also showed me his “Miso-Gallo,” a satire on the French, which he was
desirous of publishing in England, and asked me to take it thither for
that purpose. But when I asked for it next morning he appeared greatly
agitated, and said he could scarcely forgive himself for having proposed
such a thing. If we happened to be stopped by the French, and this MS.
were found among my baggage, nothing, he was certain, could save me from
being imprisoned, if not guillotined. He further declared that he had
not been able to sleep all night through the reproaches of his
conscience, and he positively refused to give it to me.
After a tedious, fatiguing, and somewhat hazardous journey, we at length
reached Ancona in safety, and found there a Russian squadron on the
point of sailing to Corfu. The commanding officer, however, consented to
take the queen and all her party to Trieste, and on the 2nd of August
(1800) we landed at that port.[84]
Great curiosity was expressed to behold the hero of the Nile at every
place on the road to Vienna. I cannot say that I enjoyed the journey,
for I was dreadfully fatigued, far from well, and uneasy on many
accounts, besides being a good deal injured by the carriage being
overturned in which I was travelling. At Vienna, whenever Lord Nelson
appeared in public, a crowd was collected, and his portrait was hung up
as a sign over many shops—even the milliners giving his name to
particular dresses—but it did not appear to me that the English nation
was at all popular. The people generally were opposed to the war with
France, which had proved so unfavourable to them, for, although the
troops were brave and loyal, they were not well commanded.
We had often music, as the best composers and performers were happy to
be introduced to Sir William and Lady Hamilton. I was much pleased with
Haydn. He dined with us, and his conversation was modest and sensible.
He set to music some English verses, and, amongst others, part of an ode
I had composed after the battle of the Nile, and which was descriptive
of the blowing up of _L’Orient_:
Britannia’s leader gives the dread command;
Obedient to his summons flames arise:
The fierce explosion rends the skies,
And high in air the pond’rous mass is thrown.
The dire concussion shakes the land:
Earth, air, and sea, united groan.
The solid Pyramids confess the shock,
And their firm bases to their centre rock.
Haydn accompanied Lady Hamilton on the piano when she sang this piece,
and the effect was grand. He was staying at that time with Prince
Esterhazy, and presided over the famous concerts given by that nobleman
at his magnificent palace in Hungary. At one time the prince had an
intention of giving up these concerts, and told Haydn that the next one
would be the last. It was a very fine one. Towards the conclusion, Haydn
composed a finale so melancholy, so touching, that it drew tears from
many of the audience, and he had given orders that while it was playing
the lights should be gradually extinguished. All of which made such an
impression upon the mind of the prince, that he abandoned his intention
of discontinuing these concerts.
Prince Stanislaus Poniatowski, whom I had known at Rome, and who quitted
that city when the French took possession of it in 1798, was then living
at the Château of Lichtenstein, near Vienna, and came to see me. He
invited us all to dine with him, and he received us with great
cordiality, and showed us his magnificent collection of jewels, with
some of the largest pearls ever seen. This prince possessed every
advantage which nature and fortune could bestow. A fine person, an
immense fortune, the faculty of speaking every language, and a
distinguished rank in life. He declared himself an enemy to all
melancholy, and yet I never saw a person whom I thought less happy. It
was said that he had been disappointed with regard to the crown of
Poland, a hope of obtaining which had been held out to him by the
Empress Catherine.
On the 27th of September we proceeded on our travels,[85] and on the
morrow arrived at Prague, where the hotel at which we alighted was
splendidly illuminated in honour of Lord Nelson—the host, however, not
forgetting to charge for the lights in his bill. On the 1st of October
we embarked on the _Elbe_ at Lowositz, and reached Dresden the following
evening. Mr. Elliot, brother of Lord Minto, was at that time British
minister in Saxony. He was very fond of Dresden, and said it was a _good
sofa_ to repose upon, for, of course, there was not much diplomatic
business to be done. We dined with him at a very pretty villa, where he
and his family were passing the summer months, and where his beautiful
children were running about the garden like so many Cupids and Psyches.
He was much beloved at Dresden, and I believe all strangers who were
willing to be sociable were sure of being kindly treated in that
capital.
We again embarked on the _Elbe_ on the 10th for Hamburg. The fine bridge
was crowded with spectators to see Lord Nelson depart, as was the shore,
and every window that commanded a view of the river. As we stopped every
night, we were eleven days in reaching our destination, and latterly we
were sometimes rather short of provisions, as our caterer—our “jackal,”
as we called him—was not always able to procure sufficient supplies for
the party.
At Hamburg we found many remarkable persons of different nations, all of
whom seemed anxious to become acquainted with the hero of the Nile. The
Baron de Breteuil,[86] so well known in the annals of French diplomacy,
was living in an elegantly furnished villa, with his grandson-in-law, M.
de Montmorency. He invited us to breakfast, and we there met the Duc de
Guignes, who was ambassador in England when my father commanded as
senior officer at Plymouth, and whom the latter had entertained on board
his ship, the _Ocean_. All these were men of the highest rank, and of
the most elegant manners of the _vieille cour_. After breakfast came
General Dumouriez, who had been very curious to see Lord Nelson, though
he did not wish to show too much _empressement_. However, these two
distinguished men took a great fancy to one another, and we saw much of
the general during our stay at Hamburg.
Dumouriez was in person short, and far from handsome, though his
appearance was prepossessing and his manners very natural. There was an
apparent frankness in his conversation, which could not fail to please,
and he possessed the art of saying agreeable things without descending
to flattery, and seemed perfectly to understand the character of those
with whom he associated, after a very short acquaintance. He had been
both a lawyer[87] and a soldier, and I used to fancy that I could trace
in him the distinctive features of both professions. He was at that time
regarded as a decided Royalist, and was said to be in correspondence
with Louis XVIII. He had, however, no objection to talk of the battle of
Jemmapes, and showed us a box, with the portrait of a lady on it, which
he said was presented to him, just after the victory, by an officer who
came with despatches, and who, after congratulating him upon his
success, produced this box, and added, “General, voilà votre
récompense.” With this lady[88] he was then living at a little village
near Altona. She was a widow, and had a son in the Danish service.
Dumouriez, at that time, maintained himself by his writings, and Lord
Nelson forced him to accept a hundred pounds, telling him that he had
used his sword too well to live only by his pen. He was said to be very
poor, and his poverty did him honour, as it proved that he had not
abandoned the revolutionary party from motives of private interest.
The celebrated German poet Klopstock was also settled at Hamburg. We
went to visit him, which seemed to give him great pleasure. While there,
the door opened, and a grave-looking personage,[89] in canonicals,
entered the room with a Bible in his hand. He walked up to Lord Nelson,
and asked him to write his name on a blank page of the book. With this
request Lord Nelson willingly complied, and the clergyman gave him his
blessing and withdrew. Mrs. Cadogan and I supped one evening with
Klopstock[90] and his wife, a pleasing-featured, fat, fair woman, much
younger than himself, and a good musician. He read to me some passages
of his “Messiah,” and his room was hung with drawings by Füger,[91] of
subjects taken from that poem. At that time Klopstock was chiefly
engaged in writing odes, very sublime, but too metaphysical to be easily
understood.
The magistrates of Hamburg must have exercised great vigilance and good
sense to keep their city in such good order, for it was filled with such
strange characters that I could compare it to nothing but the banks of
Lethe.
On the 31st of October we went on board the _King George_ mail-packet,
and, after a stormy passage, landed at Great Yarmouth on the 6th of
November, having crossed the bar just in time to avoid a tremendous
gale, which must at least have driven us out to sea again for several
days. Lord Nelson was received with all due honours, which were rendered
still more interesting to the good people of the town from his being a
native of Norfolk. He was drawn in his carriage to the hotel[92] by the
populace, and the Mayor and Corporation came to present him with the
freedom of the city.
At his own request public service was performed in the church, to return
thanks for his safe return to his native country, and for the many
blessings which he had experienced. As he entered the church the organ
struck up “See the Conquering Hero comes.”
When we arrived in town, Sir William and Lady Hamilton went with Lord
Nelson to dine with his father and Lady Nelson, and I, with Mrs.
Cadogan, to an hotel in Albemarle-street. In the evening Sir Thomas
Troubridge called upon me. He was at the point of starting for Torbay,
being appointed captain of the Channel fleet, under Lord St. Vincent. He
advised me to go to my friend Mrs. Nepean, whose husband was Secretary
to the Admiralty, and who, on the following day, made me take possession
of a room in her house till her children came home for the holidays. Sir
William and Lady Hamilton also left the hotel to occupy a house in
Grosvenor-square, which had been lent to them by Mr. Beckford, whose
wife, Lady Margaret, had been a relative of Sir William.
Nothing could exceed the kindness I received from Mr. and Mrs. Evan
Nepean, in whose house I resided more than three weeks, and was
afterwards a constant guest at their dinner-parties, where I had the
advantage of meeting the most celebrated persons of the time. The two
statesmen whom I found most agreeable in society were Mr. Windham and
Lord Castlereagh. One day I heard Mr. Pitt give an account of what had
passed in the House of Commons on the preceding evening, and was
astonished at the oratorical energy and correctness of expression with
which he rendered, and perhaps embellished, every speech, without having
the slightest intention of doing more than relating what had actually
passed.
Some of the official gentlemen appeared to me conceited and coldly
satirical, as I have since observed to be the case with many amongst our
men of letters. There is something in the southern Italians, and indeed
in most of the men and women of that country, so natural and unaffected,
that it is impossible not to remark the artificial manners of some great
capitals. I observed that in morning visits, for example, it was not
only the same style of dress, but that nearly the same topics of
conversation, the same time of staying, and the same expressions would
be used by almost every lady who made her appearance. It was in vain
that I tried to feel at home in my own country; but what surprised me
most of all was the general cry of poverty, distress, and
embarrassment.[93] I had been accustomed to see foreign nations look up
to England as the most flourishing and potent of countries, and to
regard it as the laurel-crowned island, the safeguard of Europe. And now
that I was arrived in this highly favoured land, I heard nothing but
complaints of the impossibility of going on any longer, with wishes for
peace, &c. &c. Then, the darkness and the shortness of the days seemed
to me so strange. “How do you like London?” said I, one day, to my old
Italian friend, Andrea Plaudi. “I dare say, madam,” he answered, “that I
shall think it a very fine city when it comes to be daylight.” He had
heard of northern countries where, in the middle of winter, there was no
daylight for weeks together, and he fancied that was the case in London.
I myself felt rather surprised at returning from a round of morning
calls by lamplight, and at dining about the time when I had been used to
see supper served up. The months of November and December are certainly
not the most favourable season for a stranger to visit London, and a
stranger I felt myself to be after having resided so long in other
countries.
However, I must say that I was most kindly received by many who had
known me in early youth, or whom I had met in Italy. It was there I had
become acquainted with Lord Macartney, and now his amiable and excellent
wife—a daughter of Lord Bute, George the Third’s first minister—came to
see me, with Lady Aylesbury,[94] a most delightful person, from whom I
afterwards received every mark of friendship and good will. Lady
Macartney was also constantly obliging and good to me. The first party
to which I went in London was a concert at her house, where I saw the
Prince of Wales hand in Mrs. Fitzherbert[95] in the most respectful
manner imaginable.
I dined one day with Sir William and Lady Hamilton in Grosvenor-square.
Lord and Lady Nelson were of the party, and the Duke of Sussex and Lady
Augusta Murray[96] came in the evening. Lord Nelson was to make his
appearance at the theatre next day, but I declined to go with the party.
I afterwards heard that Lady Nelson fainted in the box. Most of my
friends were very urgent with me to drop the acquaintance, but,
circumstanced as I had been, I feared the charge of ingratitude, though
greatly embarrassed as to what to do, for things became very unpleasant.
So much was said about the attachment of Lord Nelson to Lady Hamilton,
that it made the matter still worse. He felt irritated, and took it up
in an unfortunate manner by devoting himself more and more to her, for
the purpose of what he called supporting her. Mischief was made on all
sides, till at last, when he was appointed to the command of the
squadron in the Downs, which was to sail for Copenhagen—his brother[97]
and sister-in-law, with Sir William and Lady Hamilton, being with him at
Deal—he wrote to Lady Nelson, giving her credit for perfectly moral
conduct, but announcing his intention of not living with her any more.
This was certainly not in his thoughts before he returned to England,
for I remember his saying, while we were at Leghorn, that he hoped Lady
Nelson and himself would be much with Sir William and Lady Hamilton, and
that they would all very often dine together, and that when the latter
couple went to their musical parties, he and Lady Nelson would go to
bed. Even at Hamburg, just before we embarked, he purchased a
magnificent lace trimming for a court dress for Lady Nelson, and a black
lace cloak for another lady who, he said, had been very attentive to his
wife during his absence.
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