Our conversation by day and our dreams by night had for their sole and only subject the expected meeting of the hostile fleets. The Court of Naples had not publicly renounced its neutrality,[[56]] though its dislike of the common enemy, and its wishes for the success of the allies, on which, indeed, its own safety depended, were well known to all parties. The common people generally agreed with the Court, but many of the young nobles were infected with the revolutionary spirit. Endowed with more imagination than judgment, and greatly addicted to dissipation, they were anxious to throw off all inconvenient trammels; or, if led by their genius to nobler pursuits, they were captivated by the false theories of the philosophers then in fashion, and who had been among the first victims to the revolution they had evoked.
It must also be borne in mind, that at that time there existed two opposite national parties. Although the war of 1745 had placed the Spanish branch of the House of Bourbon on the throne, the Queen herself was an Austrian, and was supposed to be partial to her native country.[[57]] The Spanish families established in the kingdom of the Two Sicilies, and the adherents of Spain, were secretly, if not avowedly, her enemies. Spain had taken part with France, and many Neapolitans and Sicilians of high rank were in the Spanish service. It is but just, however, to remark, that amongst those who were warmly attached to this party, there were many who, disgusted by the system of cruelty and irreligion then prevailing in France, felt a natural horror in the presence of the revolutionary agents, and heartily wished for their expulsion from the country. The Italians in general were at that time well affected towards the English, and certainly the majority of the inhabitants of Naples anticipated with pleasure the arrival of a British fleet.
The impatience of our naval heroes to discover the French fleet was scarcely greater than that which we felt to hear of their success. We knew that they had touched at Syracuse, and we hoped that they might follow the directions they would probably receive there, for the Sicilians, an acute people and sworn enemies of the French, were the most likely to obtain correct information as to the movements of the latter.
Our telescope was constantly directed towards the entrance of the beautiful bay, the prospect of which we so perfectly enjoyed from our windows. At length, one morning, while I was reading to my mother, I happened to turn my eyes towards the sea, and thought I discerned a sloop of war in the offing. I consulted the glass, and found that I was not mistaken. I also plainly saw that a blue ensign was hoisted, but this was no proof that the vessel belonged to the squadron of Sir Horatio Nelson, for blue was also the colour of Lord St. Vincent’s flag. My attention was instantly distracted from my book, and my dear mother was rather displeased with my evident preoccupation, for I did not venture to confess my hopes lest I should raise hers too high, and cause her the pain of disappointment.
I forget what I was reading, but it was something that peculiarly interested my mother, and she began at last to think that I could not be so negligent without a cause of some importance. She rose from her seat, and went to the telescope. The sloop was now approaching nearer and nearer to the land. The book was laid aside, and we alternately kept an eye at the glass. Presently we saw a boat put off from the shore, and pull out to the ship. Two officers were on deck, and drew near to the side. We clearly distinguished a gold epaulet on the shoulder, and this was quite sufficient to convince us that one was the commander of the sloop and the other a captain going home with despatches. News of a victory, no doubt. We observed the gestures of the officers while they were conversing with the persons in the boat, Englishmen resident at Naples. We fancied we could see them, with the commotion natural to sailors, and particularly on such an occasion, depict by their action the blowing up of some ships and the sinking of others.
Our conjectures were soon happily realised. The vessel was the Mutine, to which Captain Hoste,[[58]] who had distinguished himself as lieutenant on board the flag-ship, had been appointed in the room of Captain Hardy, who had been posted to succeed Captain Berry, sent home with the news by another route. Captain Hoste had been sent by Sir Horatio to Naples with despatches for Sir William Hamilton, and to convey Captain Capel,[[59]] who was to proceed to England.[[60]] The battle of the Nile had been fought and won. Never, perhaps, was a victory more complete. What a deliverance for Italy! What a glory for England! The cause of religion, of justice, of humanity had triumphed!
Old General di Pietra, one of the few survivors of the gallant band who had assisted in the conquest of Naples during the war between Spain and Austria, lived in a house adjoining our hotel, and there was a door of communication between them. He had been very attentive to us, and we met excellent society at his table, for he delighted in giving dinner parties. We knew his anxiety to receive the earliest accounts of the meeting of the two fleets, and my mother desired me to give him the first intelligence. I ran to the door, and the servant who opened it, and to whom I delivered my message, uttered exclamations of joy, which were heard in the dining-room, where the general was entertaining a large party of officers. The secretary was instantly sent to me, and I was obliged to go in and tell my story. Never shall I forget the shouts, the bursts of applause, the toasts drank, the glasses broken one after another by the secretary in token of exultation, till the general, laughing heartily, stopped him by saying that he should not have a glass left to drink Nelson’s health in on his arrival.
The first care of Sir William Hamilton was to take Captain Capel to the palace. The king and queen were at dinner with their children, as was their custom, for they dined very early. As soon as the king heard the good news, he started up, embraced the queen, the princes, and the princesses, and exclaimed, “Oh, my children, you are now safe!”
Cardinal York was then at Naples, having fled from Rome to avoid falling into the hands of the French. Sir William Hamilton, on his return from the palace, met him in his carriage, called to the cardinal’s coachman to stop, and, getting out of his own carriage, he went up to the cardinal’s, and said: “I beg pardon of your eminence for stopping your carriage, but I am sure you will be glad to hear the good news which I have to communicate.”
The cardinal, rather surprised, asked, “Pray, sir, to whom have I the honour of speaking?”