Italian Yesterdays, vol. 2

by Mrs. Hugh Fraser

Joachim, still dazed with this infamy, now received word, through Prince Cariati, whom he had sent to the Congress of Vienna, that the Allies were going to exterminate him, that no hope of any sort of reconciliation remained; at the same time, a letter from Napoleon censured the recklessness of his campaign and went on to say that it might prove the ruin of his own effort.

In this state of affairs, Murat bethought himself of the possibilities of a constitution as a prop to his own tottering throne. It would be funny if it were not so melancholy! A constitution! With the Austrians at his gates, an English fleet in the Bay, the entire Kingdom torn to pieces, the Carbonari in every quarter, his army vanished, and his friends in flight!

Commodore Campbell had already threatened, unless the ships and the stores in the arsenal were delivered up to him, to fire a thousand rockets into the city. Poor Caroline collected some of the ministers and magistrates and asked for their advice, whereupon the Minister for Police informed her that the first assault of an enemy would ignite a conflagration in the city which nothing would be able to suppress. They were reminded, too, by a general officer, that there were still ten double ranges of batteries wherewith to defend themselves, and he suggested that Campbell was counting upon the moral effects of his threat among the people.

So Caroline, after the invariable accusations of treaty-breaking with which everybody opened verbal fire on an enemy, and the equally invariable appeal to history, stipulated for her own and her family’s safe return to France in an English vessel. Caroline was a Bonaparte, and she could keep her head, even in a crisis of this sort. She had ruled wisely and well in her husband’s absence, backing him up, in spite of her opposition to the war, stoutly. Now she proclaimed the terms of accommodation, and, having provided for a temporary peace, she turned to the immediate needs of the situation, and, having heartened the city militia with her own courage, she pacified and quieted the populace. With her in the palace were her sister Pauline and her uncle, Cardinal Fesch, besides her four young children, whom she decided to send to Gaeta.

Stout old Macdonald, the Minister for War, of whom Napoleon said during the Peninsular Campaign, “I would not dare to let Macdonald within sound of the pipes!” was sent to supersede Manhir, and he did presently succeed in driving the Austrians beyond the Melfa; but no further advantage was gained, because the troops with which Murat was hoping to effect a junction were stampeded at Mignano.

Murat’s reign was over. The Bourbons were upon the top of him, and all that he could do now was to escape before they closed every road. He believed that the Bourbons wished to capture him and wreak their vengeance upon him for the lean and restricted years.

Leaving the wreck of his army to Carrascosa, he made his way into Naples as the sun was dropping over the hills, and hurried by round-about ways towards the Palace. He was in civilian dress, having discarded his uniform when he left the army, but he was recognised and, to his surprise, treated by those whom he met with all the respect which had been his as a king. In the harbour he could see the British fleet, lying at anchor, and perhaps the sight was not altogether an unwelcome one, for he had learned of Caroline’s treaty with Campbell, and, little as the English might be to his taste, at least they had been worthy and steadfast enemies and infinitely better company for him than the Bourbons.

A little pleased, even through the fogs of his depression, at the manner in which he had been received by the people, he ran into the Palace, seeking for his wife. Her he found in her own apartment, in the same room where they had first heard of Napoleon’s departure from Elba, two short months before, and in which he had left her to depart upon this last disastrous campaign.

It must have been rather dark in there now that the twilight had come down, and the memories of the past must have crowded thickly about him as he entered. He found Caroline alone, save for a lady-in-waiting, and he went straight to her and caught her in his arms, his voice at first too choked for utterance.

At last, when he could master his voice, he spoke, calmly enough, and his tremendous self-restraint was worthy of the old Murat of Jena and Eylau.