IX

The French did not mince matters when their opportunity came. They,

too, regarded them as vermin, and treated them according to the

unrestrained edicts of the Reign of Terror, organized and

administered by their late compatriots Sardanapalus, Danton,

Maximilian Robespierre, and their literary colleague, the execrable

Marat, who, by the way, was expeditiously dispatched by the gallant

Charlotte Corday.[12]

This method of bestowing the blessings of Liberty, Equality, and

Fraternity was received by the Neapolitans with a frenzy from which

there sprang a demoniac retaliation. Societies were formed to carry

out the most atrocious crimes against the Neapolitan revolutionists,

whom the Royalists hated more than they did the French. The fishermen

and other miscreants came to a solemn conclusion that it was clearly

their duty as a Christian people to combine, and each choose one whom

they should privately guillotine when the opportunity offered. With

the idea of paying a high compliment to Troubridge, who had so

splendidly protected the Royalists, fought the French, and subdued

the revolutionists, they made him the recipient of a decapitated head

which had proudly sat on the shoulders of a revolutionist. This trophy

was actually sent to him with his basket of breakfast grapes. In

making the present the gallant fisherman conveyed his compliments to

the Admiral, and reminded him that it was a token of his high

appreciation of the Admiral's brilliant services to the Royalist

cause.

The Court was infested with traitors who would first carry out their

vengeance against their rebellious compatriots and then cunningly lay

the blame on those under whose protection they were. One of their

judges informed Troubridge that he must have a Bishop to excommunicate

some of the traitor priests before he could have them executed, and

the fine sailor, who was sick of the crafty devils and the task he had

been allocated to carry out, replied, "For the love of God hang the

damned rascals first, and then let the Bishop deal with them if he did

not think hanging was a sufficient degradation." Nothing in the annals

of history can surpass the effrontery of these intriguers, which

throws a lurid light on the class of administrators who associated

with the British nation and spilt the blood of the flower of our land

in bolstering up a government that was a disgrace and put all human

perfidy in the shade.

These allies of ours, who were joyously butchering and robbing each

other, demanded a British warship to take the priests to Palermo, so

that they might be degraded in a proper, Christian fashion and then

brought to Naples for execution. Troubridge was audaciously requested

to appoint a hangman (it may be he was asked to combine this with his

other naval duties), and knowing the fine sense of noble dignity in

the average sailor, we can easily imagine the flow of adjectives that

accompanied the refusal, and how he would relate the outrage to which

he had been subjected in quarterdeck language, that need not be here

repeated, to his superior officer, Admiral Nelson, who must have felt

the degradation of being selected to carry out as dirty a piece of

work as ever devolved upon a public servant. To fight for his King and

country was the joy of his soul, but to be selected as wet-nurse to

the kingdom of Naples and the dignitaries that were at the head of it

would have been an unbearable insult to his sense of proportion had it

not been for the fulsome flattery, to which he was so susceptible,

which was adroitly administered by the ladies of the Court, headed by

the Queen and supplemented by the wife of Sir William Hamilton.

There is always some fatal weakness about a great man that lures him

into littleness, and this was an overwhelming tragedy in Nelson's

career. The approbation of men was gratefully received and even asked

for, but the adoration of women reduced him to helplessness. He was

drugged by it, and the stronger the doses, the more efficacious they

were. They nullified the vision of the unwholesome task he was set to

carry out until his whole being revolted against the indignity of it,

when he would pour out his wrath to Lady Hamilton as he did at the

time when Troubridge would report to him his own trials. No doubt this

caused him to realize the chaotic condition of public affairs, for he

writes to the lady that "politics are hateful to him, and that

Ministers of Kings are the greatest scoundrels that ever lived." The

King of Naples is, he suspects, to be superseded by a prince who has

married a Russian Archduchess. This, presumably, had been arranged by

the "great political scoundrels." He stands loyally by Ferdinand, but

soon all the work of that part of his life that gave him socially so

much pleasure and professionally so much misery is to be left for

evermore, and his great talents used in other and higher spheres.

He had retaken Naples from the French, who had set up the Parthenopean

Republic in 1799, and placed the tyrant King on his throne again;

after a few more chequered years a treaty of neutrality was signed

between France and Naples, which was treacherously broken by Naples.

Ferdinand had to fly to Sicily, the French troops entered the capital,

and Bonaparte, who had been marching from one victory to another,

cleared out deep-rooted abuses and introduced reforms wherever he

could. He had become the terror and the enemy of the misgoverning

monarchs of that period, and the French nation had proclaimed him

Emperor in 1804. He placed his brother Joseph on the throne of Naples

in February 1806; Joseph ruled with marked moderation and

distinction, sweeping away much of the foul canker of corruption and

introducing many beneficent reforms during his two years of kingship.

He then, much against his own wishes, became King of Spain, and was

succeeded by his brother-in-law, Prince Joachim Murat, the dashing

cavalry officer, whose decorative exterior awed friend and foe, and

helped to win many a battle. His reign lasted from 1808 until 1815,

and was no less distinguished than that of Joseph's. The fall of the

Napoleonic régime was followed by the fall of Murat, and the

despicable and treacherous Ferdinand became again the king, and

brought back with him the same tyrannical habits that had made his

previous rule so disastrous to the kingdom and to himself. No

whitewasher, however brilliant and ingenious, can ever wipe out the

fatal action of the British Government in embarking on so

ill-conceived a policy as that of supporting the existence of a

bloodsucking government, composed of a miscreant ruling class headed

by an ignoble king, all living on the misery and blood of a

semi-civilized population. It is a nauseous piece of history, with

which, under sagacious administration, we should never have been

connected.

The main idea was to humble the pride of France, that thenceforth

there might be peace in Europe. The Neapolitan revolutionists believed

that the French intention was to set up a free government and deliver

them from an unbearable despotism. Quite naturally, the Court took an

opposite view in believing that it foreshadowed deportation, so they

lost no time in proclaiming it to be conquest and merciless plunder.

Nelson urged the vacillating King to advance against the French, to

trust in God's blessing being bestowed upon him, his army, and his

cause, and to die like a hero, sword in hand, or lose his throne. The

King, always dauntless in the absence of danger, replied that he would

do this, trusting in God and Nelson. His Majesty, in tickling the

Admiral's susceptible spot by associating his name with that of the

Deity, doubtless made a good shot, and had Nelson's sense of humour

been equal to his vanity, he might not have received the oily

compliment with such delightful complacency.

We can imagine the scorn with which Troubridge would have received the

potentate's reply had he given the same advice as Nelson. It is highly

probable that had it been given on the quarterdeck of his ship, the

King would have been treated to a vocabulary that would have impressed

him with the necessity of scrambling quickly over the side. Nelson, it

is stated, turned the French out of Naples, and they were subsequently

overpowered by a plan put in force by Nelson and Troubridge, and

carried into effect by men from the fleet. Captain Hallowell was

ordered to proceed to Civita Vecchia and Castle St. Angelo to offer

terms of capitulation. He reported the position to Troubridge, who

ordered a squadron in command of Captain Louis to proceed and enforce

the terms. The French, on the other hand, offered terms, but

Troubridge, like Drake on another occasion, said that he had no time

to parley, that they must agree to his terms or fight. The French

Ambassador at Rome argued that the Roman territory belonged to the

French by conquest, and the British commander adroitly replied "that

it was his by reconquest." The inevitable alternative was

impressive--capitulation. This was arranged, and the Roman States came

under the control of the victors. Captain Louis proceeded in his

cutter up the Tiber and planted the British colours at Rome, becoming

its governor for a brief time. The naval men had carried out, by

clever strategy and pluck, an enterprise which Sir James Erskine

declined to undertake because of the insurmountable difficulties he

persisted in seeing. General Mack was at the head of about 30,000

Neapolitan troops, said to be the finest in Europe. This, however, did

not prevent them from being annihilated by 15,000 French, when General

Championnet evacuated Rome. The King entered with all the swagger of

an Oriental potentate. The Neapolitans followed the French to

Castellana, and when the latter faced up to them they stampeded in

disordered panic. Some were wounded, but few were killed, and the

King, forgetting in his fright his pledged undertaking to go forth

trusting in "God and Nelson," fled in advance of his valiant soldiers

to the capital, where they all arrived in breathless confusion.

General Mack had been introduced to Nelson by the King and Queen, the

latter exhorting him to be on land what the Admiral had been on sea.

Nelson seems to have formed an adverse opinion of Mack, who was

extolled by the Court as the military genius who was to deliver Europe

from the thraldom of the French. He had expressed the view that the

King and Queen's incomparable general "could not move without five

carriages," and that _he_ "had formed his opinion" of him, which was

tantamount to saying that Mack was both a coward and a traitor.

Perhaps it was undue consideration for the feelings of Caroline,

sister to the late Marie Antoinette, that caused him to restrain his

boiling rage against this crew of reptiles, who had sold every cause

that was entrusted to their protection.

Nelson was infatuated with the charms of Caroline, and as this astute

lady knew how to handle him in the interests of the Neapolitan Court,

he reciprocated her patronage by overlooking misdeeds that would,

under different circumstances, have justified him in blowing swarms of

her noble subjects out of existence. "I declare to God," he writes,

"my whole study is how to best meet the approbation of the Queen." An

open door and hearty reception was always awaiting their Majesties of

Sicily on board Nelson's flagship when they found it necessary to fly

from the wrath of their downtrodden subjects or the aggressive

invasions of the French troops. The anxiety of Nelson in conveying

them to their Sicilian retreat was doubly increased by the vast

treasure they never neglected to take with them, and neither the

sources from which it came nor the means of spending it gave trouble

to their consciences. The British Government, always generous with

other person's money, fed these insufferable royal personages by

bleeding the life's blood out of the British public, though it is

fair to say that the Government did not carry out to the full the

benevolent suggestions Nelson consistently urged in their behalf. "His

heart was always breaking" at some act of parsimony on the part of the

Government in so tardily giving that which he pleaded was an urgent

necessity for them to have. He frankly avowed that he would prefer to

resign if any distinction were to be drawn between loyalty to his

rightful sovereign and that of his Sicilian Majesty, who was the

faithful ally of his King. The solemn audacity of this statement

reveals a mind so far fallen to pieces by infatuation that it has lost

the power of discrimination.

It will be remembered that this gracious ally promised Nelson that he

would go forth at the head of his troops and conquer or die, and then

scampered off in front of his army through Rome to Naples, and, after

a few days' concealment from the mob, secretly bundled into boats with

his retinue on a stormy night of great peril, embarked on the

Admiral's ship, and sailed for Palermo.

Lady Hamilton is credited with planning (with heroic skill) means by

which the Royal Family could be taken to the shore, where Nelson was

to receive and convoy them in barges to the _Vanguard_. Lady Hamilton

had explored a subterranean passage which led from the palace to the

beach, and pronounced it a fairly safe and possible means of exit. The

plan apparently succeeded, and the royal party, after a few days'

precautionary stay in the Bay of Naples, were conveyed in safety to

Palermo, notwithstanding the hurricane that was encountered and only

weathered by a perfection of seamanship that was unequalled in our

naval and merchant services at that period of our trying history. The

voyage was not made without tragedy, for the youngest of the princes

became ill, and as it is always inevitable to attach a heroine to

circumstances that are sensational (when there is one at hand), their

Majesties in their grief fixed on her who had braved the perils of

investigating the possibilities of the subterranean tunnel which had

proved a safe though hazardous passage for the conveyance of

themselves and their vast treasure. Nor do they appear to have been

unmindful of her devotion to themselves during the storm, which was

the severest that Nelson said he had ever experienced--though this is

a platitude, as sailors are always prone to regard the last storm as

the most terrific of all! But that it was severe there can be no

doubt. We may be assured that the royal parents were not in a

condition to give succour to their stricken son, so he was vouchsafed

to pass beyond the veil in the arms of Lady Hamilton, who had bravely

defied the tempest and behaved with a compassion that must always

stand to her credit.

They arrived at Palermo the day after the young Prince's death, and

soon settled down to their gambling and other pleasures in which

Nelson, as already stated, was involved. Troubridge, with touching

fidelity, pleads with him to shun the temptations by which he is

beset. "I dread, my Lord," he says, "all the feasting, etc., at

Palermo. I am sure your health will be hurt. If so, all their saints

will be damned by the Navy"; and then he goes on to say, "The King

would be better employed digesting a good Government; everything gives

way to their pleasures. The money spent at Palermo gives discontent

here; fifty thousand people are unemployed, trade discouraged,

manufactures at a stand. It is the interest of many here to keep the

King away; they all dread reform."[13] Troubridge was wellnigh driven

to distraction by the terrible straits he was put to at Naples. The

people were faced with the ravages of famine. Already there were

scenes of unspeakable misery. His appeals to the Sicilian Court to

send immediate relief was ignored. Nelson, to whom he had appealed,

was absorbed in his attentions to Lady Hamilton, and refused to see

the vicious indifference of the Court, who were hemmed round with a

set of knaves and vagabonds, if that be not too moderate a term to use

of them. Troubridge beseeches him to come to the rescue in the

following terms:--

My Lord, we are dying off fast for want. I learn that Sir

William Hamilton says Prince Luzzi refused corn, some time ago,

and Sir William does not think it worth while making another

application. If that be the case, I wish he commanded this

distressing scene, instead of me. Puglia had an immense harvest:

near thirty sail left Messina, before I did, to load corn. Will

they let us have any? If not, a short time will decide the

business. The German interest prevails. I wish I was at your

Lordship's elbow for an hour. All, all, will be thrown on you: I

will parry the blow as much as in my power; I foresee much

mischief brewing. God bless your Lordship! I am miserable, I

cannot assist your operations more. Many happy returns of the

day to you (it was the first of the New Year). I never spent so

miserable a one. I am not very tender-hearted, but really the

distress here would even move a Neapolitan.