‘Luck, maybe; but courage and resource must also have been needed to get away with them. My old friend Chris must be proud to have such a son. Your long report, too, I read with the greatest interest, although I must admit that I was very disappointed by it.’
‘In what way, sir?’
‘Why, I had hoped that a good half of those atheist dogs in Cairo were by now dead of starvation, the Arab pox or the plague. Instead, you tell us they are erecting windmills to grind the corn, planting vineyards and even amusing themselves by opening cafés like those they have in Paris.’
‘I would I had better news for you. But the French are determined to surmount the difficulties which have arisen from your having cut them off, and their Army shows no sign of disintegrating. It is, of course, General Bonaparte’s genius for administration which accounts for their still-high morale.’
‘That emissary of the Devil!’ Nelson’s bright eye flashed angrily. ‘But I forgot. At Aboukir you made it plain to me that you have a sneaking admiration for … for this man that I can think of only as the very personification of Evil.’
Roger had the temerity to smile. ‘It is said, sir, that one should give the Devil his due. If General Mack had a one-hundredth part of Bonaparte’s organising ability the Neapolitan Army would not be in its present alarming situation.’
The Admiral’s smile suddenly returned. ‘Well said, Mr. Brook. You have certainly made your point there.’ After a moment he added, with a shake of the head, ‘Everything seems to have gone awry and I am bitterly disappointed. Until my return here last Wednesday I had the greatest hopes for this new war against those devilish French.’
‘It is said, sir, that you encouraged the Neapolitans to enter on it, though I could scarce believe that.’
‘Why so? We had good reason to believe that the French were planning the conquest of King Ferdinand’s territories, and I told His Majesty roundly that either he must attack while the French in middle Italy were still weak or stand to lose his throne.’
‘Since the French were unlikely to be reinforced for some time, would it not have been wiser to wait until Austria was fully committed to make war again on the Republic?’
The little Admiral drew himself up and said haughtily, ‘Do you presume, Mr. Brook, to question my judgment?’
‘Sir,’ Roger replied. ‘I have on occasion questioned the judgment of Mr. Pitt and, hate Bonaparte as you may, that of the greatest soldier of our age. I had, therefore, thought that I might speak my mind to the greatest sailor of our age. But if I have presumed I pray your pardon.’
Nelson, ever susceptible to flattery, instantly relaxed. ‘I see now how you have achieved your extraordinary position. It takes more courage to criticise one’s superiors to their faces than to stand up to shot and shell. You consider that I acted rashly. Well, perhaps I did. But a great part of the success with which God has blessed me has been due to my attacking the enemy without counting the odds. In this case the odds favoured Naples by four to one, and by swift action I felt they stood a good chance of throwing our enemies out of a large part of Italy. Remember, the French nation has become a hydra-headed monster and, if our Christian civilisation is to be saved, we must seek at all times to destroy a part of that monster with every means that becomes available. That is my doctrine and no considerations will ever deter me from practising it.’
Roger bowed. ‘It is that, sir, which has earned you the love and admiration of our whole nation. But about the present. A hundred rumours are running round the city. Would you do me the favour of telling me to the best of your knowledge how matters really stand?’
‘Willingly,’ came the prompt reply. ‘It is only right that men like yourself should know the truth and what we may expect. The rumour that General Mack has been taken prisoner is unfounded. But the French have driven back the right wing of his Army and captured all its artillery and baggage. Most of its officers have shamefully deserted and it has now become a rabble. At Castellana the French are holding a strong position with thirteen thousand troops, and Mack is said to be moving against them with twenty thousand. Should he prove successful, all is far from being lost. He might then still hold the fortified line of the frontier; but, frankly, I have grave doubts of his ability to defeat the French.
‘Shortly after my arrival I was received by Her Gracious Majesty, Queen Caroline, whose splendid courage is our main support in our endeavours against the enemy. I found her heartbroken at the shocking performance of the Neapolitan Army. God knows, the officers had not much honour to lose, but they lost any they had. Her Majesty told me that the Divisions of Generals San Filippo and Micheroux had turned and run thirty miles at the mere sight of the French. San Filippo, instead of running, saved his skin by going over to the enemy. The Prince of Taranto displayed such cowardice that King Ferdinand tore his epaulettes from his shoulders with his own hands. I have always found that Italians are brave men individually but when regimented as soldiers they seem to go all to pieces. To be honest, I now fear the worst.’
‘Should what remains of General Mack’s Army be driven in upon the city, do you think there is any hope of holding it?’ Roger enquired.
The Admiral shook his head. ‘The three great fortresses are considered impregnable, so they may hold out. But the city has no walls, so it cannot be defended. I shall, of course, evacuate all British nationals who are resident here and the Royal Family, should they decide to retire to Sicily. You may count upon my finding a place in Vanguard for you.’
Roger, having been once bitten by this small, vital man who lived only to scourge the French, was twice shy; so he replied, ‘I thank you for the offer, sir. However, as the Jacobite MacElfic, I am regarded as more or less a neutral here, and I feel that I could possibly prove of more use by remaining on in the city.’
‘You may well be right in that,’ the Admiral agreed, and shortly afterwards they returned to the big salon.
For a while Roger talked with several of the gloomy Neapolitan nobles there; then, as he took his leave, Sir William said, ‘Next Thursday, the 13 th, is my birthday. We have always celebrated it with a big party here. Invitations were sent out over a fortnight ago, but I trust you will not mind a belated one. Eight o’clock and silk stockings. I shall look forward to seeing you.’
Roger accepted, although he could not think that a party of any kind could prove a success in the present state of Naples, and he concluded that the Ambassador meant to give it only as a gesture to show that, in spite of General Mack’s reverses, the British were still confident that the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies would emerge victorious from the war.
But the party never took place. On the morning of the 13th Roger received a note from Sir William to the effect that, the situation being so uncertain, he felt that this was no time for any celebration and was cancelling all invitations.
On the following day, the 14th, the great blow fell. Like so many of his officers, King Ferdinand had fled from the enemy and arrived back in Naples. The whole Neapolitan Army was in full retreat. The French under General Championnet and headed by two future Marshals of the Empire, Macdonald and Ney, were advancing at full speed upon the capital.
16
No ‘Happy New Year’
For four days King Ferdinand had lorded it in the magnificent Farnese Palace in Rome, thundering forth boasts about what he would do to the godless French when he came upon them. But at the first move by the French Commander, General Championnet, he was seized by panic. So fearful for himself was he that he insisted on changing clothes with one of his officers so as to make himself less conspicuous. Helped on to a horse, he rode it at full gallop until, under his weight, the animal had nearly collapsed. Then Ferdinand took to a coach and, clinging to the hand of one of his nobles, had himself driven as fast as possible to Naples.
His laments, and those of the Queen and the Hamiltons, about the conduct of the French were loud and long. Apparently, Championnet had left a letter for General Mack, stating that he was withdrawing his forces
from Rome to save the civil population from the horrors of street fighting. The naive Neapolitans had taken this to mean that he had surrendered Rome to them. In fact, as an experienced soldier, Championnet had simply withdrawn a garrison too weak to hold the city until he could concentrate his widely scattered forces and reoccupy it. But nothing would persuade his deluded enemies that he had not acted with diabolical treachery.
In spite of Ferdinand’s cowardly behaviour, his lazzaroni remained entirely loyal. A great multitude of them crammed the square in front of the royal palace yelling for him. When at length he appeared on a balcony with the Queen, they made him swear that he would not leave Naples, then shouted that, with the aid of their patron saint, Geronimo, they would defend him to the death.
That afternoon Roger received a note from Sir William Hamilton asking him to come up to the Embassy. When, in the evening, he did so, he found a small army of workmen busily crating the most valuable items from the Ambassador’s collection of antiques. He told Roger that their loyal and generous friend, the heaven-sent Admiral, had already had shipped to Gibraltar, simply as a precaution, the best pictures in the collection. But now the time had come when as many other treasures as possible must be got away, as an insurance against their falling into the hands of the unspeakable French.
When Roger enquired why he had been summoned, Sir William said:
‘You are under no obligation to me, but I mean to ask a favour of you. In my files I have many hundreds of letters relating to my diplomatic activities. Some of them make mention of secrets that could be damaging to British prestige, if known to the enemy. I have so many urgent matters to attend to that I have not the time to go through them. No one could be better entrusted with this task than yourself. I beg you, therefore, to undertake it. My wish is that all documents of importance should be preserved for me to take with me should we be compelled to evacuate the Embassy, and that the others should be burnt.’
Far from thinking of refusing, Roger was only too glad to have some useful work to occupy him during the emergency, and early next morning he set about the formidable task of scanning and sorting Sir William’s correspondence.
King Ferdinand’s return had brought about a new situation in the city. He had cordially endorsed his loyal lazzaronis determination to defend Naples and, the Army having failed so lamentably, the leaders of the lazzaroni took matters into their own hands. Large bodies of them picketed all the approaches to the city, seized the returning deserters and took their arms from them. But the King’s resolution to rely on this vast rabble of petty thieves and professional beggars did not last for long.
Queen Caroline had a deep-seated distrust of mobs. In the fact that the Royal Family had been forced to show themselves on the balcony of the palace a few hours after the return of the King had leaked out, she saw a repetition of the scene at Versailles in ’89 following which Louis XVI and Marie Antionette had been forced by the mob to accompany it, virtually as prisoners, back to Paris. Fearing that she might suffer the same fate as her sister, Caroline had at once begun to urge upon Ferdinand that their only certainty of safety lay in flight to Sicily.
A few days of her nagging had been sufficient to weaken the King’s resolution. Then, on the 18th as Roger learned from Sir William, a despatch was received from General Mack. He reported that what remained of his Army had disintegrated into a rabble and besought Their Majesties to escape from Naples before the French entered it. That settled the matter. For the next few days frantic preparations for the evacuation were made with as much secrecy as possible.
Already, from the 15th, Queen Caroline had been sending each night to the Palazzo’s Sessa boxes and bundles of every description for transfer to Nelson’s flagship. Emma sat up till daybreak, receiving and repacking everything from a fortune in diamonds to nappies for the royal babies.
The flight was fixed for the night of Friday 21st. But recently the weather had broken, and on the Friday morning such a storm blew up that it was feared that it might be found impossible for the barges to convey the fugitives from the quay to Vanguard. During the day half a dozen contradictory messages reached the British Embassy from General Acton about possible postponement of the venture, but when evening came it was decided that the risk should be taken.
At half past eight Nelson landed at the Arsenal steps and proceeded to the palace by way of a long, subterranean tunnel. He then escorted the royal party and their principal courtiers back along the tunnel and transported them safely, but in sheeting rain, to his flagship. Roger, still in charge of the important documents he had saved from the Embassy files, went off in another boat an hour later. He had an awful tossing and was at length hauled aboard Vanguard soaked to the skin.
He found the decks piled with royal possessions that there had not as yet been time to stow away—pictures, furniture, statuary and innumerable bales and boxes. It looked as though Sir William’s estimate, that they had succeeded in carrying off between two and three million pounds’ worth of goods, might not be too high.
The great stern cabin was crowded with people. Queen Caroline was weeping in Emma’s large, protecting arms; Nelson, behaving no longer like an Admiral but like a schoolboy besotted with calf-love, was exclaiming to everyone how courageous and angelic Emma was. The royal children were also in tears. General Acton, the Court Chamberlain Prince Belmonte, Prince Castelcicala and the Austrian Count Thurn stood grouped in a corner, looking as glum as though they were about to be sent to the guillotine. A score of other notabilities, male and female, were seated on the deck, clasping their most precious belongings which, at short notice, were all they had been able to bring with them. Some of them were already being seasick from the rolling of the vessel.
Pushing through the crush, Roger found Sir William and gave him the weighty leather satchel crammed with papers. Having thanked him the Ambassador said, ‘Why not come with us? I pray you, do. With the King gone, anything may happen. It is certain that there will be riots and you might well be killed in one, or during the fighting when the French force their way into the city.’
Roger shook his head. ‘No. It is good of Your Excellency to suggest it; but things can hardly become worse than they were in Paris during the Revolution, so I expect to be able to take care of myself. And when the fighting is over I still hope to make my way home overland.’
Very distressed at the sight of so much misery, Roger went out on deck, in spite of the rain, and huddled against a bulwark until he could get a boat to take him ashore. The inward trip was even worse than the outward one and the boat tossed as though a bucking stallion were beneath her. Before reaching, the wharf Roger was violently sick, which strengthened his conviction that he had been wise to refuse Sir William’s invitation to accompany the royal party to Sicily.
The next two days gave him still greater cause to be glad that he was safe on land. On the 22nd a gale of such ferocity raged that Nelson’s ships could not set sail and, buffeted by huge waves, rolled back and forth as though they were barrels On the morning of the 23rd they did set sail; but the wind and seas were still so high that the ships could not round the island of Capri, the topsails of Vanguard were blown out and, when night came down, the Squadron was still helplessly beating about the bay.
Later it was learned that the sufferings of the passengers had been appalling. The majority of the Italians remained nighf and day on their knees, alternately vomiting and offering up last prayers. Count Esterhazy, in the hope of appeasing the sea, threw into it a diamond-encrusted snuff-box with a portrait of his mistress on the lid. Sir William sat on his cot holding a loaded pistol, having determined to shoot himself at the last moment rather than drown. Alone among the women Emma, to her eternal honour, refused to succumb. All the royal servants were incapacitated; so she looked after the whole family, gave away her own bedding and could not be persuaded even to lie down until Vanguard, with considerable difficulty, got into the harbour of Palermo on the 26th. But even her devoted care could not prevent Prin
ce Alberto, Queen Caroline’s six-year-old son, from dying in her arms on the second day of that terrible voyage.
Meanwhile panic, confusion and mutiny reigned in the bay. On the morning of the 22nd, as soon as it became known that the Royal Family had abandoned Naples, hundreds of other families made up their minds to flee from the French. Sir William had sent word to the British residents, the majority of whom had been accommodated during the previous night in three transports. Nelson had made arrangements for two Greek polacres to take off the French Royalist exiles; but from first light onward, in spite of the raging storm, a large part of the Neapolitan nobility put out in a swarm of boats and begged to be taken on to the heaving ships.
There was trouble, too, in the Neapolitan Navy. The Commander, Commodore Caracciolo, naturally felt aggrieved that his King should have taken refuge in a British ship rather than in one of his own. To add insult to injury, a part of the royal treasure that had been sent aboard his flagship was later removed to the ‘greater safety’ of Vanguard. But Queen Caroline did not trust the Neapolitans, and neither did Nelspn.
They had some reason for that. As soon as Caracciolo’s sailors learned that the Fleet was to put to sea, the majority of them refused to abandon their families and went ashore. Caracciolo reported that he had sufficient men to handle his flagship, and accompanied the exodus to Palermo—although only to be hanged from the yardarm by Nelson six months later on somewhat dubious evidence that he had turned traitor. But what was to be done about the other ships of the Neapolitan Navy that could not weigh anchor?
Nelson was in favour of sinking them there and then; but the King, the Queen and Acton, having almost bankrupted their country to build their Fleet, implored him to spare it. He was prevailed upon to do so, but left behind Commodore Campbell, who was in command of three Portuguese frigates, with strict instructions that in no circumstances was any part of the Neopolitan Navy to be allowed to fall into the hands of the French.
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