Roger also found that the carefree social world of Naples had ceased to exist. At his hotel and in the cafés whoever he spoke to would now converse only on two subjects—the war and politics. Elated as the Neapolitans were at their King having entered Rome, many of them expressed dark forebodings about the future. For years past they had heard accounts of French victories and the way in which the French viciously despoiled the territories they conquered. Alone in Italy, the Kingdom of Naples had so far escaped. But could it continue to do so if the French succeeded in concentrating a great Army north of Rome and marched south? Roger found too that as he had supposed, a large section of the population had become obsessed with revolutionary ideas.
Although they spoke guardedly at first quite a number of them, on learning that he was British, said how greatly they wished that Naples might become a limited Monarchy like that of England, with the final say being with the elected representatives. They added that this was impossible to hope for under their own King, so their country could be saved from disaster only by making it a Republic.
From these conversations he learned that Queen Caroline and her Minister, Acton, were universally hated. All through the ’90s the poison of the Revolution had been filtering down through Italy, and the Government had used ferocious measures in a futile attempt to check it. Scores of lawyers, doctors and intellectuals had abandoned their old interests to write about and preach ‘The Rights of Man’. Many of the nobility had encouraged them and had striven in vain to bring about long-overdue reforms. One after another they had been seized and thrown into prison without trial. Hundreds of these idealists, among them many of the most respected men in Naples, were now rotting in prison.
Sorry as Roger was for them as individuals, he could not sympathise with the attitude of mind that had brought upon them such a fate. Having lived through the Revolution in Paris, he knew only too well the course taken by such political upheavals. Had those Neapolitan Liberals ever succeeded in getting control of the Government, within a year they would have been replaced by extremists and all the horrors of mob rule would have ensued. Even as things were they had helped, by preaching revolution, to reduce Naples from a city of delight to its present miserable state; although the buffoon of a King and his tyrannous Queen had been as much to blame, for neglecting the welfare of their poorer subjects and failing to make use of the talented men who could have brought a greater prosperity to their country.
At midnight Roger went to the Palazzo Sessa. This time he was shown into one of the small drawing rooms, and there he found Sir William with his beautiful wife Emma.
She had started life as a nursemaid, then had become an artists’ model and the mistress of several gay bloods in London. Sir William had acquired her from his nephew, although when she accepted an invitation for herself and her mother to come out and winter in Naples as the guest of the already-elderly Ambassador she was not aware that he had bought the right to attempt to make her his mistress. Her mother, Mrs. Cadogan, had been given the post of housekeeper and, although Emma was still in love with the nephew, when the truth was gently conveyed to her she had offered little resistance to the charming uncle’s advances. The whole affair had been conducted most decorously. Emma took up painting and dancing with considerable success. When, in due course, she was presented to Queen Caroline the Queen had taken an immediate liking to her. That liking had soon become such a passionate attachment that hardly a day passed without their seeing one another and, in addition, exchanging gushing letters, sometimes as often as three times a day.
When Roger had visited Naples in ’89 Emma, although already established as the hostess at the Embassy, was not then married; but for the past seven years she had been Lady Hamilton. She was now thirty-three, a Junoesque beauty with chestnut curls, a cupid’s-bow mouth and big, blue eyes. Her attraction lay in her brilliant colouring, great vivacity and kindness of disposition, but Roger personally preferred ladies with a more moderate size in limbs.
Finding her with Sir William caused him considerable annoyance, for coming upon her in private like this made it awkward for him to pretend that he had never met her; nor was he any better pleased when the Ambassador said:
‘Mr. Brook, you will remember my wife. I have been telling her of the fine service you have rendered us and something of your adventures. But when you come to our receptions she will, of course, receive you as Mr. MacElfic and you need have no fears that your secret will not be safe with her. She is in all our secrets.’
Roger was not surprised to hear that; but he would have much preferred for her not to be let into his, as he knew her to be a born gossip. Although she might be discreet about important matters he thought it certain that she would talk to her crony the Queen about him, if to no one else.
However, the damage was now done and nothing was to be gained by looking sour about it; so when making his bow he gave her his most charming smile. Rising from a stately curtsey, she swayed gracefully forward, took both his hands and exclaimed theatrically:
‘Mr. Brook, the despatches you have brought, writ by the infamous Bonaparte, will prove invaluable to our brave Admiral. It is God’s work that you have done, for Sir Horatio is His instrument, and God will reward you.’
Roger had not seen matters in quite that light, although he had already gathered that in Naples Admiral Nelson had more or less taken the place of God, at least in Court circles. Bowing over the statuesque Emma’s hands, he raised the right one to his lips and murmured, ‘The small service I have rendered is as nothing compared to those of Your Ladyship. I am told that it was entirely due to you that our Fleet was allowed to victual and water at Naples, although it was then a neutral port, and that, had it not been permitted to, then there could have been no Battle of the Nile.’
Emma turned her big blue eyes up to heaven. ‘Indeed, sir, too much has been made of that. It was my privilege to cast myself at the feet of our sweet Queen Caroline. She is an angel and, knowing our sainted Admiral’s dire need, assented to the prayers of his handmaiden.’
These civilities having been exchanged, Roger produced his report for Mr. Pitt and handed it to Sir William. Pouring him a glass of Marsala, the Ambassador said, ‘I am told that a British sloop will be sailing for Gibraltar in three days’ time. Bonaparte’s despatches and this report will go with it in the Embassy bag. I propose, however, to have it copied by a safe hand for our paladin, Sir Horatio; for it is certain that he will find much of interest in it.’
‘By all means, sir,’ Roger agreed. ‘I must ask, though, that you will return General Bonaparte’s originals to me. As a precaution against the copies being lost at sea I intend to carry the originals myself to London.’
‘Certainly you shall have them. But are you still determined to travel overland?’
‘I am. Having got off copies of the despatches and my report, there is no urgent reason for me to start for home. Rather than go by sea, I’ll dally here awhile in the hope that in another few weeks it may become less dangerous to travel up the peninsula.’
Sir William nodded. ‘I trust your hopes may be fulfilled. In any case the decision lies with you. Reverting to your despatches, one of them was addressed to Talleyrand. Did you know that last July he was deprived of his post as Minister of Foreign Affairs?’
Roger raised his eyebrows. ‘No, I did not. Has Your Excellency information as to why he was deprived of his portfolio?’
‘I have indeed,’ the Ambassador smiled. ‘The Directory and the sycophants who serve it are the most venal crowd unhung. One could not have supposed that any one of them could possibly have over-reached himself; yet that blackguard Talleyrand did. He demanded of an American delegation so huge a bribe to favour a new commercial agreement with the United States that, rather than pay it, they complained to the Directory. And the Directors threw him out.’
‘That is bad news,’ Roger commented seriously. ‘I know de Talleyrand intimately, and I can assure you that secretly he is a friend of Britain. Were he
allowed to have his way—’
‘I cannot believe it,’ Emma broke in impetuously. ‘He was a priest, a Bishop even. Yet he has denied his vows and willingly serves the spawn of hell that now rule France. He has covered himself with infamy, and is a declared atheist. How could he possibly be the friend of a God-fearing people?’
Roger shrugged. ‘Permit me to remark that to confuse religion with politics can often lead to grave errors of judgment. Knowing as I do the men who now rule France, I can assure Your Ladyship that, since Talleyrand has gone, all the odds are that he will have been replaced by a man who will be less inclined to have a true appreciation of Britain’s power and vital interests.’ Knowing that it was pointless to defend Talleyrand further, or attempt to present Bonaparte as a human being, he asked, ‘What other news is there out of France?’
‘A law has been passed which will greatly increase the size of the French Armies,’ Sir William replied. ‘It was proposed by General Jourdan that the whole manpower of France should be subject to conscription. All young men between the ages of twenty and twenty-five are now liable to military service. They are to be registered by their Departments and, in groups from the age of twenty, will be called up as required.’
‘That can mean no more,’ Roger suggested, ‘than the levée-en-masse that Carnot instituted when France was hard pressed by the Monarchies during the early years of the Revolutionary Wars.’
‘I think it does,’ the Ambassador countered. ‘That was only an emergency measure, whereas this is a piece of permanent legislation. It is the first time that the youth of a nation has been required, upon reaching a certain age, to report automatically for military service. That is an entirely new conception of the duty a man owes to his country. It may well spread to other nations.’
‘What of the Directory?’ Roger asked. ‘Is the personnel the same?’
‘There has been no change since last May. In the middle of that month François de Neufchâteau drew the retiring ballot and was replaced by an ex-member of the Regicide Convention named Treilhard. At the same time the Directors again declared several Deputies, newly elected to the Assembly, to be Royalist conspirators, and arbitrarily threw them out. But I expect you will have heard about that.’
Roger shook his head. ‘Word of Treilhard’s appointment failed to reach us before we sailed from Toulon on May 19th; and since then little news has trickled through to Egypt. I take it that matters are no better with the unfortunate Swiss or the people of Piedmont.’
‘Alas, no. The brave Swiss are suffering an appalling martyrdom at the hands of those pitiless fiends. As for Italy, as I told you yesterday it is a seething cauldron of strife from Rome northwards. The larger cities are still held by the French, but the country outside them is in a state of complete lawlessness. Men, women and even bands of precocious children fall upon solitary travellers and tear them limb from limb to get hold of their money and such provisions as they may have with them and, if they secure nothing better, they cook and eat their horses.’
For a further half-hour they talked on then Roger took his leave, having promised to attend the Monday reception at the Embassy. He accepted out of curiosity to see who among the Neapolitan aristocracy remained friendly to the British, or deemed it expedient to continue to court them. Now that he had grown a beard and could be introduced as Robert MacElfic, he regarded as negligible the risk of anyone he had met ten years ago in Naples identifying him as Roger Brook.
Next day, December 5th, Vanguard entered the bay, bringing Nelson back from a bloodless victory. When he had appeared with his Squadron off Leghorn and had threatened to bombard the port, the pro-revolutionary Municipal Council had promptly surrendered and, accompanied by its French ‘advisers’, fled. The five thousand Neapolitan troops had been landed with their cannon and baggage and would, it was hoped, enable the Grand Duke to clear the French out of Tuscany.
But the gallant little Admiral’s reception was very different from that which had greeted him on September 22nd when he had arrived with his Fleet from the Battle of the Nile. Then King Ferdinand, clad in gala attire, had done him the unprecedented honour of sailing three leagues out into the bay to greet him. Neapolitan bands had learned to play ‘Rule, Britannia’ and ‘See the Conquering Hero Comes’ for the occasion. Every ship for miles along the coast and the whole waterfront had been decked with flags and they were crammed with a hundred thousand cheering people. Emma, who naturally accompanied the royal party, had flung her arms round the Admiral’s neck then collapsed weeping with happiness on the deck. The King and Queen had declared him to have been sent by God to save Italy, and their young son had said that every morning he would stand in front of a portrait of the hero and pray to grow up like him.
Now the Fleet was scattered. One Squadron under Trou-bridge was blockading the Roman coast, another under Bell was blockading Malta and the remainder under Hood were still blockading Egypt. There was no reception of any kind; no thunder of saluting cannon, no flags, no cheering thousands. The Admiral went ashore and, almost unnoticed, made his way up to the Palazzo Sessa.
There, as Roger learned later, he was met by most disturbing news. A rumour had come in that Mack’s Army had suffered a severe defeat and that the General himself had been made a prisoner.
During the following two days the fact that things were going wrong became common knowledge in the city. Scores of Neapolitan gentry who, although knowing nothing of war, had gaily gone off in beautiful uniforms to fight now suddenly reappeared in civilian clothes making every sort of specious excuse for having left the Army. The accounts they gave of the campaign showed that it was being hopelessly mismanaged. Even during the victorious advance the organisation had been so bad that for three days the majority of the troops had been without rations, and the King himself had lacked food for thirty-six hours.
To escape from this atmosphere of uncertainty and depression, Rogert spent the Saturday revisiting Pompeii; but his excursion did little to cheer him. Memories of his previous visit provided too great a contrast. Then, with Isabella and a gay party, he had picnicked there and they had had Sir William—a great authority on Roman civilisation—to give them a graphic description of the city as it must once have been, and of the terrible eruption that had overwhelmed it.
On Sunday he made another excursion, this time up to the crater of Vesuvius. He thought the huge bowl of lava, with its crisp crust of snow round the edge, tremendously impressive, but despite the wintry sunshine it was terribly cold up there; so he was glad to get down again to the shelter of trees and houses. It was only when he was among them that he realised he had hardly looked at the magnificent view over the bay, as his mind during the long trudge had been almost entirely occupied by gloomy speculations about what might happen if the Neapolitan Army had actually been defeated.
When Monday evening came he attended Sir William’s weekly conversazione. Instead of the two hundred or more people usually to be seen at these gatherings, bowing, curtseying and chattering over wine and delicacies, the fine, pillared salon and the adjacent rooms were almost empty. There was barely a score of people present and nearly all were men with anxious faces; but among them was Nelson, who when in Naples always made the Embassy his headquarters.
Emma received Roger most graciously and, after they had exchanged a few platitudes, asked for his arm to lead her to the buffet. On the way there she raised her fan and whispered to him behind it, ‘Our slayer of dragons wishes to speak with you. At the moment that tiresome Prince Pignatelli is monopolising him, but we will break in upon them.’ Then she changed direction slightly and bore down on the Admiral
When she had curtseyed and the three men had exchanged bows she said, ‘Permit me to present to you, dear gallant Sir Horatio, and to Your Highness, Mr. Robert MacElfic who is on a visit to Naples.’
There were more bows and the elderly Prince smiled at Roger. ‘I fear, Mr. MacElfic, you have chosen a most unfortunate time to visit our beautiful city.’ Then he added, with
the unfailing hospitality of the Italians, ‘Nevertheless, if I can assist you to see something of it I shall be most happy to do so.’
As Roger thanked him, Nelson asked with his usual impetuosity, ‘Where are you from, Mr. MacElfic, and how long is it since you arrived here?’
‘I have been in Naples a week, sir, and have come from Crete.’
‘Ah, Crete!’ exclaimed the Admiral. ‘You are just the man I wish to see, then. Now the Turks have become our allies I am anxious to know how their preparations for war are going forward in that island.’
‘Come, Prince,’ Emma tactfully laid her hand on Pignatelli’s arm. ‘Pray take me to the buffet and find me a glass of wine.’
As they moved away, Nelson said to Roger, ‘We’ll be less likely to be interrupted in one of the smaller rooms.’ Then he turned abruptly and, with Roger beside him, walked quickly through a doorway into a drawing room panelled in yellow satin.
Halting in front of the marble mantelpiece, he turned, his drawn features flashed into an enchanting smile and he said, ‘Now, Mr. Brook, my thanks and heartiest congratulations. You see how right I was to persuade you to return to Cairo? The despatches you secured for us are invaluable.’
Roger returned the smile. ‘I am glad, sir, though my obtaining of them was largely due to luck.’
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