[63]. In Nelson’s published correspondence there is a letter to his wife descriptive of his reception at Naples. The following passage will be read with interest:—“I must endeavour to convey to you something of what passed; but if it were so affecting to those who were only united to me by bonds of friendship, what must it be to my dearest wife, my friend, my everything which is most dear to me in this world? Sir William and Lady Hamilton came out to sea, attended by numerous boats, with emblems, &c. They, my most respectable friends, had nearly been laid up and seriously ill; first from anxiety, then from joy. It was imprudently told Lady Hamilton in a moment, and the effect was like a shot; she fell apparently dead, and is not yet recovered from severe bruises. Alongside came my honoured friends; the scene in the boat was terribly affecting; up flew her ladyship, and exclaiming, ‘Oh, God! is it possible?’ she fell into my arm more dead than alive. Tears, however, soon set matters to rights, when alongside came the king. The scene was, in its way, as interesting; he took me by the hand, called me his deliverer, his preserver, with every other expression of kindness. I hope some day to have the pleasure of introducing you to Lady Hamilton; she is one of the very best women in the world; she is an honour to her sex.” The hero was then drifting to his destiny. It may be stated here that Nelson—then Captain Nelson—had first made the acquaintance of the Hamiltons at Naples in 1793. He had made a strong impression on them both. Sir William had predicted that, though only a little fellow, and not very handsome, he would live to become the greatest man that England had ever produced.
[64]. This was the unfortunate Prince Caraccioli, whose execution has thrown so deep a shadow over the history of the connexion between Nelson, Lady Hamilton, and the Queen of Naples.
[65]. Sir John Francis Edward Acton, Bart., of Aldenham, Salop, born 1736 or 1737, after a chequered and romantic career, became the favourite of Queen Caroline of Naples, the prime minister, and commander-in-chief of the naval and military forces of that kingdom. He bore an implacable enmity to the French, which appears to have been cordially reciprocated, for after the complete overthrow of the Austro-Neapolitan army under General Mack, the French insisted upon General Acton’s retirement from public affairs, and at a later period (1803) he was compelled to withdraw into the island of Sicily. He died at Palermo in the year 1811. All the biographical notices of this remarkable man, being evidently derived from one common unauthentic source, are equally full of errors and misstatements. His brother, Joseph Edward, was also in the Neapolitan service, and was appointed governor of Gaeta. It is said that he was originally in the French army, and was present at the battle of Rosbach, but at the outbreak of the Revolution emigrated to Naples. The Acton family were Roman Catholics. The Neapolitan minister left two sons, the second of whom became a cardinal. The widow of the younger brother (Baron Acton) married the present Lord Granville.
[66]. Pius VI. was removed to Valence, notwithstanding his ill health and advanced age, on the 14th July, 1798, and died there on the 29th August, 1799, in his eighty-second year.
[67]. Miss Knight is somewhat unjust to the French general, Lespinasse, whose portrait Angelica painted gratuitously. It was done by her own desire, as an acknowledgment of the kind and courteous treatment she had experienced at his hands, her house being specially exempted from having soldiers billeted on it.
[68]. Sir Harris Nicolas says that this verse is attributed to a Mr. Davenport. It was, in reality, written by Miss Knight herself.
[69]. Admiral Blanquet, whose flag was on the Franklin (80), was taken with his ship in the battle of the Nile. He was a brave and an honest man, distinguished for his candour and ingenuousness.
[70]. The Vanguard, Nelson, had left Naples for Malta in October, but had returned to the former place early in November. Miss Knight thus records his arrival in her Journal:—“November 5, 1798.—Appeared in sight Admiral Nelson, in the Vanguard, with the Minotaur, Captain Lewis, from Malta, and they were all day coming in; but the admiral came on shore at four o’clock, and went immediately to Caserta, where he was scarce arrived when the hereditary princess was brought to bed of a daughter, and the bells were ringing, guns firing, &c. Next morning the admiral presented to the king the French colours taken at Gozo, telling his Majesty that he had sixteen thousand more subjects than before.”
[71]. Killed very shortly afterwards at the defence of St. Jean d’Acre, under Sir Sidney Smith.
[72]. “As there is but one inn in Palermo, we were obliged to agree to their own terms (five ducats a day). We are but indifferently lodged; however, it is the only inn we have yet seen in Sicily, and may be said to be the only one in the island. It is kept by a noisy, troublesome Frenchwoman, who, I find, will plague us.... She is as fat as a pig, and as ugly as the devil, and lays on a quantity of paint that looks like a great plaister of red morocco. Her picture is hanging in the room where I am now writing, as well as that of her husband, who, by-the-by, is a ninny: they are no less vile curiosities than the originals. He is drawn with his snuff-box open in one hand, and a dish of coffee in the other, and at the same time ‘fait l’aimable à madame.’ I took notice of this triple occupation, which seemed to imply something particular. She told me that the thought was hers; that her husband was exceedingly fond of snuff and of coffee, and wanted by this to show that he was still more occupied with her than with either of them. I could not help applauding the ingenuity of the conceit. Madame is painted with an immense bouquet in her breast, and an orange in her right hand, emblematic of her sweetness and purity, and has the prettiest little smirk on her face you can imagine. She told me that she insisted on the painter drawing her ‘avec le souris sur le visage,’ but as he had not esprit enough to make her smile ‘naturally’ she was obliged to force one ‘qui n’étoit pas si joli que le naturel, mais qui vaudroit mieux que de paroître sombre.’”—Brydone’s Tour through Sicily and Malta. Letter xxi.