After the king had taken his leave, Sir William Hamilton asked the admiral to make his house his head-quarters, and accordingly Sir Horatio accompanied us ashore. In the evening the minister’s house was illuminated in the most splendid manner, and many of the English residents followed the example. Every imaginable honour was paid by the Court to Admiral Nelson. General Sir John Acton,[[65]] who was commander-in-chief, prime minister, &c., was very zealous in the cause of the allies, and at a dinner-party which he gave, the young Prince Leopold was sent by the queen, accompanied by the bailli, with a very gracious message from her Majesty to Sir Horatio, regretting that she had not yet been able to see him, as for some days she had been very unwell.
A grand ball was also given in honour of the British admiral by Count Francis Esterhazy, and on the 29th of September Sir William Hamilton celebrated Nelson’s birthday by a splendid fête. At the extremity of the saloon where we danced was a rostral column, on which were inscribed the names of the heroes of the Nile, while a profusion of flowers and a magnificent illumination added to the brilliancy of the entertainment. Nothing could be more gay than Naples at that period. All anxiety and fears were forgotten. Nor was the homage paid to our admiral confined to the higher classes. It was impossible for him to appear in the streets without being surrounded and followed by crowds of people, shouting out “Viva Nelson!” Indeed, our officers and men were invariably treated with the utmost respect and cordiality, and were hailed as the deliverers of the country. Not a dissentient voice was ever heard. It was also very gratifying to hear the praises bestowed in society upon the firmness of our excellent sovereign, and on the sagacity of his ministers.
The French being in possession of Rome were masters of the post-office, and thus in a great measure enabled to prevent the communication of any exact intelligence as to the progress of the war. The Romans, however, are a people not easily duped. So, when they were commanded to illuminate their houses for a pretended victory gained by the French navy at the Nile, they guessed the truth, and hung out lanterns, representing St. Michael subduing the enemy of mankind. The authorities at Paris were rather more modest than their subordinates at Rome, and contented themselves with describing the affair as a drawn battle. I remember that one day when we were rowing round some of the ships that had been taken in the engagement, Sir William Hamilton remarked, “Look at these, and ask how they can call it a drawn battle.” Nelson answered: “They are quite right; only they drew the blanks and we the prizes.”
The foreigners who were obliged to remain at Rome were naturally anxious to obtain correct accounts of what was passing elsewhere. Of this number was the excellent Angelica Kauffman, who was civilly treated, however, by the French, as they rather paid court to artists, though one of their generals and his aide-de-camp made her paint their portraits gratuitously,[[66]] and all the pictures they found in her house belonging to Austrians, Russians, or English, were carried off by them. These were tolerably numerous, as there had been for some time past no means of forwarding them to their respective destinations. I used to send her the news in terms of art, calling the French “landscape painters,” and the English “historical painters.” Nelson was Don Raffaell; but I recollect being puzzled how to inform her that our fleet was gone to Malta, until I thought of referring her for the subject of “the picture” to a chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, well knowing that the Book in which that island was mentioned was not likely to be opened by the inspectors of the post. To another lady I was in the habit of writing in the millinery style, giving descriptions of gimps and ribands; and to Monsignor Maretti, who was with the Pope in his confinement at Valence,[[67]] I conveyed intelligence, as fragments of ancient Greek tragedies found amongst the MSS. in the library of Capo di Monte. He had lately translated into Italian verse the “Seven against Thebes,” and the “Agamemnon” of Æschylus; and these were subjects that had very little interest for our enemies.
It is with pleasure that I reflect upon the comfort which these pretended fragments afforded to our friend and his venerable master, who bore his captivity with wonderful fortitude. Lord St. Vincent had issued orders to all his cruisers that in case they fell in with the Pope at sea—for it was reported that he was to be sent to Spain or elsewhere—they were at once to set him at liberty, and escort him whithersoever he pleased to go, deferring the performance of every other duty to the accomplishment of this one. I communicated this order to Monsignor Maretti in the manner above described, and it excited the most lively gratitude in the breast of the aged sovereign. His last brief, as I afterwards learned from Monsignor Maretti, was addressed to the Roman Catholic bishops and clergy then in England, exhorting them so to conduct themselves as to show their gratitude to the king and people of that country for the protection and hospitality they enjoyed.
“God save the King” was, of course, often sung amongst the English at Naples, and the following stanza was added to the national anthem:
Join we great Nelson’s name,
First on the roll of fame,
Him let us sing;
Spread we his fame around,