“On the whole, I rejoiced to hear that the cargoes in the Mole of Leghorn will be landed—though I fear that some of it will find its way to the French—and the privateers disarmed, and the scoundrels belonging to them sent away. The Enemy will be distressed, and, thank God, I shall get no money. The world, I know, thinks that money is our God, and now they will be undeceived as far as relates to us. ‘Down, down with the French!’ is my constant prayer. I hope that the Emperor is marched to support this country; for, unused to war, its officers seem alarmed at a drawn sword, or a gun, if loaded with shot. Many of them, peaceable heroes, are said to have run away when brought near the Enemy.
“Have just got a hundred and fifty-nine of the Leander’s from Corfu. It was dog’s luck for Berry her falling in with the Généreux, but I trust the King will confer the same honours on him as if he had not been in the Leander; indeed, his sufferings in her entitle him to more honours, and the City of London has at any rate given him its freedom. Her defence was glorious, and does Thompson and Berry the highest credit. A French 50 would have struck to one of our 74’s without firing a gun. I shall have that Généreux yet, and that precious captain of hers, unless he is by this time a prisoner to the Turks. I daresay they will cut off his head, the scoundrel: the treatment the officers received on board the Généreux was infamous. They were plundered of everything they possessed. Captain Thompson was even robbed of the miniature of his mother, and at the very moment the surgeon of the Leander was performing an operation he was robbed of his instruments, and Captain Thompson nearly lost his life by the attendance of his surgeon being forcibly withheld. To the remonstrances of my officers this Captain Lejoille coolly replied: ‘J’en suis faché, mais le fait est que les François ne sont bons qu’au pillage.’ Berry has asked me if Josiah is yet made Post. I do not see any probability of that event. He asks Campbell to get him a fan-mount. I shall see to it myself, and wish he had a thought of anything else. He shall have the sword which he brought me off the Spartiate when she struck. I shall never forget his support for my mind on the 1st of August.
“I hear that Malta will fall in due time. I think the Order will never be restored: the inhabitants hate them. The delayed war on the part of the Emperor will be the destruction of this Monarchy, and, of course, to the new-acquired dominions of the Emperor in Italy. Had the war commenced in September or October, all Italy would at this moment have been liberated. This month is worse than the last; the next will render the contest doubtful, and in six months, when the Neapolitan Republic will be organised, armed, and with its numerous resources called forth, I will suffer to have my head cut off if the Emperor is not only defeated in Italy, but that he totters on his throne at Vienna. Have wrote to the Empress that notwithstanding the councils which have shook the throne of her father and mother, I shall remain here, ready to save the sacred persons of the King and Queen, and of her brothers and sisters; and that I have also left ships at Leghorn, to save the lives of the Great Duke and Her Imperial Majesty’s sister; for all must be a Republic, if the Emperor does not act with expedition and vigour. ‘Down, down with the French!’ ought to be placed in the Council-room of every country in the world, and may Almighty God give right thoughts to every Sovereign, is the constant prayer of one who only lives to defeat the infamous machinations of these infidels.
“Naples, 11th December.—Not a line from England since the 1st of October. Lord St. Vincent is in no hurry to oblige me now; in short, I am the envied man, but better that than to be the pitied one. Never mind; it is my present intention to leave this country in May. The poor Queen has again made me promise not to quit her or her family until brighter prospects appear than do at present. The King is with the Army, and she is sole Regent; she is, in fact, a great King.
“Lady Hamilton’s goodness forces me out at noon for an hour. What can I say of hers and Sir William’s attention to me? They are, in fact, with the exception of my wife and my good father, the dearest friends I have in this world. I live as Sir William’s son in the house, and my glory is as dear to them as their own; in short, I am under such obligations as I can never repay but with my eternal gratitude. The improvement made in Josiah by Lady Hamilton is wonderful; Lady Nelson’s obligations and mine are infinite on that score; not but Josiah’s heart is as good and humane as ever was covered by a human breast. God bless him!—I love him dearly with all his roughness.
“The Queen has again made me promise not to quit her and her family till brighter prospects open upon her. She is miserable, we know. None from this house have seen her these three days, but her letters to Emma paint the anguish of her soul. However, on inquiry, matters are not so bad as I expected. The Neapolitan officers have not lost much honour, for God knows they had but little to lose; but they lost all they had. Mack has supplicated the King to sabre every man who ran from Civita Castellana to Rome. He has, we hear, torn off the epaulets of some of these scoundrels, and placed them on good sergeants. I will, as briefly as I can, state the position of the Army, and its lost honour, for defeat they have had none. The right wing, of nineteen thousand men, under General St. Philip and Michaux (who ran away at Toulon), were to take post between Ancona and Rome, to cut off all supplies and communication. Near Fermi they fell in with the enemy, about three thousand. After a little distant firing, St. Philip advanced to the French General, and returning to his men said, ‘I no longer command you,’ and was going off to the Enemy. A sergeant said, ‘You are a traitor: what! have you been talking to the Enemy?’ St. Philip replied, ‘I no longer command you.’ ‘Then you are an enemy!’ and, levelling his musket, shot St. Philip through the right arm. However, the Enemy advanced; he was amongst them. Michaux ran away, as did all the Infantry, and had it not been for the good conduct of two regiments of Cavalry, would have been destroyed. So great was their panic, that cannon, tents, baggage and military chest—all were left to the French. Could one credit, but it is true, that this loss has been sustained with the death of only forty men? The French lost many men by the Cavalry, and having got the good things, did not run after an army three times their number. Some ran thirty miles to Pesaro. The peasantry took up arms—even the women—to defend their country. However, the runaways are not only collected, but advanced to Arcoti, which they took from the French, cutting open the gates with hatchets. It is said they have got a good General—Cetto, a Neapolitan Prince—and I hope will be ashamed of their former conduct. General Michaux is bringing a prisoner to Naples.
“This failure has thrown Mack backwards. It is the intention of the General to surround Civita Castellana. Chevalier de Saxe advanced to Viterbi, General Metch to Fermi, and Mack with the main body, finding his communication not open with Fermi, retreated towards Civita Castellana. In his route he was attacked from an intrenchment of the Enemy, which it was necessary to carry. Finding his troops backward, he dismounted, and attempted to rally them, but they left their General and basely fled. The natural consequence was, he was sorely wounded, but saved by some gallant Cavalry, and carried off by the bravery of a coachman, and is safe, poor fellow, at Rome, and hopes are entertained of his recovery. The fugitives fled to Rome, fancying the French at their heels, who never moved from their intrenchment, which was carried by another part of the troops under General Dumas. It is reported that the King has stripped the Prince di Taranto, Duc di Trani, of his uniform, and disgraced him. He commanded under Saxe, and fled amongst the first to Rome. ’Tis for the traitorous and cowardly conduct of these scoundrels that the great Queen is miserable, knowing not who to trust. The French Minister and his Legation went off by sea yesterday.
“Naples, 12th December.—No squadron up to the 26th of November arrived to relieve Captain Hood, who has long been in want of being re-victualled and re-fitted; a frigate and two or three gunboats are all that have arrived, when certainly not less than three sail of the line, four frigates with gun and mortar vessels, should have been sent. Egypt is the first object—and Corfu the second.
“The Neapolitan officers do not like fighting, and some are traitors, so says report.
“The oddest thing in the midst of wars and alarms, when a kingdom is tottering to its base. I was sitting in my chamber—the one I had before, overlooking the Bay—writing a despatch to Ball, whom I mistook so at first, and have found to be a wonderful man since he has been at Malta, when Emma, who is the best-hearted creature alive, came in, more the coquette than I had ever known her. It may have been only my imagination that she was dressed with unwonted elegance. Certain I am that her clothes sat on her uncommon well, and she was arching her brows—excelled by no statue of antiquity in their perfect moulding. Her eyes were brimful of mischief, and little smiles of amusement were chasing each other round the lovely mouth, that was doing its best to be grave.