That was true enough; still, the Portuguese were getting a little tired of the British flag. The Peninsular War had made Portugal almost a British dependency. Lord Beresford remained in command of the Portuguese army after the peace, and many other important appointments were held by English officers. The old monopoly of trade with Brazil had been broken down in favour of the English, to the ruin of not a few Portuguese merchants. These grievances, the continued absence of the Court in Brazil, and the general misgovernment of the country, had caused widespread discontent. Matters became critical after the outbreak of the Spanish revolution in January 1820. In the spring of that year Beresford went out to Brazil to lay the state of affairs before the king, and to try to induce him to return to Portugal. The king would neither go himself nor allow his son to go. On August 13, Beresford sailed from Rio for Lisbon in Maitland's ship, the Vengeur.
While she was crossing the Atlantic, revolution broke out in Portugal. A military rising took place at Oporto on the 24th of August, and when the Vengeur reached Lisbon on October 10, Maitland found that the Regency had been deposed and a provisional Junta installed in the capital. Beresford was absolutely forbidden to land, even as a private individual, and was requested to leave the port without delay. The provisional Government told him plainly that in the existing state of public feeling they could not be responsible for his safety if he came on shore. After remaining for nearly a week on board the Vengeur in the Tagus, he went on to England in a packet-boat.
Maitland had expected to return to England, but at Lisbon he received orders to proceed immediately to the Mediterranean on secret service. On October 27 he reached the Bay of Naples, where he found a British squadron of five ships under Sir Graham Moore.
Serious political trouble had arisen in Naples. After the fall of Murat, Ferdinand IV. had been restored to his throne by the Congress of Vienna, and in 1816 had assumed the title of King of the Two Sicilies. Under the restored monarchy discontent had been steadily growing. There had been no violent counter-revolution, but the interests of the country had been sacrificed without scruple to those of the king's friends, the swarm of courtiers who had shared his ignoble exile at Palermo. The revolutionary society of the Carbonari spread rapidly, alike in the army and in civil society. In Naples, as in Portugal, the Spanish revolution brought things to a crisis. On July 2, 1820, a military outbreak took place at Nola. This was followed by a general demand for a Constitution, which the king was powerless to resist. On July 13 he took the oath to the Constitution before the altar in the royal chapel.
A revolution in Naples would in all probability be followed by similar uprisings in the Papal States. Metternich was seriously alarmed. A conference of sovereigns and ministers to consider the affairs of Naples was arranged to be held at Troppau, in Moravia, in October 1820. England and France stood aloof from action, and the matter remained in the hands of the Emperor of Austria, the Czar, and the King of Prussia. It was resolved to invite King Ferdinand to meet his brother sovereigns at Laibach, in the Austrian province of Carniola, and through him to address a summons to the Neapolitans, requiring them, in the name of the three Powers and under threat of invasion, to abandon their Constitution.
Ferdinand could not leave the country without the consent of the Legislature. This was only given on his swearing to maintain the existing Constitution. He did so with effusions of patriotism, and on December 13 he embarked on board the Vengeur, Maitland's ship, which conveyed him to Leghorn. On reaching Leghorn he addressed a letter to the sovereigns of the Great Powers repudiating all his recent acts. He reached Laibach in due course; and the Congress which took place there in January 1821 resulted in the restoration of absolutism at Naples and the occupation of the country by the Austrians.
It was a curious coincidence that Maitland should within a few years have had two sovereigns as passengers,—one the central figure of modern European history, the other the good-natured elderly buffoon who in this country is chiefly remembered as the husband of the friend of Lady Hamilton. Maitland thus records the voyage:—
Naples Bay, Wednesday, Dec. 13, 1820.—A good deal of rain during the night; in the morning the wind to the east. A general order came on board for the captains to attend the admiral in their barges, for the purpose of attending the King of Naples off to the Vengeur, dressed in full uniform, with boots and pantaloons; a note, likewise, from the admiral telling me he intended to get the squadron under way and see the King out of the bay, the Révolutionnaire forming astern of the Vengeur, and he, with the five ships in line of battle, taking a position on our weather quarter; and when he takes his leave each ship is to pass under our stern, and there and then salute. The yards are to be manned and the ships to salute, beginning when the Vengeur fires her second gun. It is the intention of the French squadron to weigh also and stand out. At three P.M. the King of Naples came on board in Sir Graham Moore's barge, attended by the admiral and all the captains of the squadron except myself (as I stayed on board to receive him), and all the captains of the French squadron. He was saluted and cheered by all the ships except the Neapolitan, one of which manned her rigging, but no salute was given. As soon as the King was on board, unmoored, as did Révolutionnaire and Duchesse de Berri. Employed beating out. At about ten P.M. the Révolutionnaire was on our weather-bow when a thick heavy squall came on which blew the main top-sail away. When the squall cleared away a little, I saw the Révolutionnaire close to us on our lee-bow, off the wind and stemming for us, and so near it was impossible the ships could clear each other. It therefore became necessary to adopt the measure which would soften the first blow as much as possible, and I ordered the helm to be put down. When the ship came head to wind she struck the Révolutionnaire just before the mainmast, slewed our cut-water right across, carried away the jib-boom, spritsail yard, &c., and then backed clear of her. A lad fell overboard from the Révolutionnaire and made a great noise, which enabled us to send a boat and pick him up, he having got upon one of our life-buoys. Got the runners up and the messenger through the hawse-holes, and set them up with the top tackles, which enabled us soon to make sail. Saw the Duchesse de Berri working out.
Dec. 14.—Strong breeze to the westward, with sea getting up. Saw Révolutionnaire to leeward. On examination, found the cut-water so much shook I determined to run on to Baia and secure the bowsprit; made signal to prepare to anchor, and bore up little after 8 A.M. Anchored in fifteen fathom water. The Révolutionnaire was examined also, when I found her mainmast was sprung; sent the master and carpenter to survey the damage she had sustained, two or three of her timbers being broke. They reported she might be put in a state to proceed in two days. Sent Lieutenant Drewry up to the Admiral with a letter giving an account of our disaster, and informing him I should proceed as soon as the weather would admit of it, taking Révolutionnaire with me if she was ready, otherwise directing him to follow. Got an answer from him in the evening offering the King any ship, even Rochefort (the flagship), if we could not proceed; and that he had ordered Active down here, to be ready to relieve Révolutionnaire if she could not go. In the morning, when the King came out, he took hold of both my hands, squeezed them, and shook them very heartily, saying, "I am infinitely obliged to you for the way in which you manœuvred the ship last night, for had it not been for your promptitude she must have been dismasted." Dined with his Majesty, who sent me an invitation, and took my place, by his direction, at his right hand, in the way I used when Bonaparte was with me, and was a good deal struck with the similarity of situation. On the King's left sat the Princess of Paterna, created by him Duchess of Floridia. She is married to him, but does not assume the title of Queen, because she is not of blood royal. She is an uncommonly handsome woman for her time of life,—which the Prince of Babro tells me is very near fifty,—her manners pleasing, and quite those of a woman of high rank. He seems much attached to her, was particular in recommending good dishes to her, and once or twice when he spoke to her took her hand, and shook and prest it in a friendly affectionate way.
Baia, Dec. 15.—Strong gale, with very heavy squalls and showers of rain. The King is, in my opinion, much better at an anchor here than beating about the sea in a gale of wind. Employed securing the bowsprit.... Dined with the King, who told us several anecdotes of his sea excursions; and he really is a tolerably good sailor. In the evening a deputation of the Parliament came on board to condole with his Majesty on the accident that had befallen the ship, and to wish him a pleasant voyage and a speedy return to his country. In the evening pointed the yards to the wind.... While at dinner, H.M. sent out to have "Rule Britannia" played by the band, and drank success to the British Navy with three cheers.