Personally, Pépé had no reason to complain of the king, who gave him a lieutenant-colonelcy and charged him with the organisation of the militia in Upper Calabria. Eager to serve his country, the newly made field officer hurried to his post. The English had not yet landed, but some of Ruffo's former followers had been put on shore, and laboured, not unsuccessfully, to induce the peasantry to revolt. Pépé soon found himself in action. Surprised in the town of Scigliano, he shut himself up in a house with two-and-twenty French soldiers, and there made a desperate defence against an overpowering force of the insurgents. Compelled to surrender, he received from his captors intelligence of the battle of Maida. So persuaded was he of the invincibility of the French, that at first he could not credit their defeat. He gives a brief account of the action, founded upon the report of French officers of rank present at it, and upon details collected from the inhabitants of Maida and Nicastro. It smells of its French origin. At the battle of Maida there were barely thirteen thousand men in the field, of which the larger portion, by some twenty-five hundred, were French. But the victory was as complete and as creditable to the handful of victors, as it could have been had those numbers been multiplied by ten. And the action was especially interesting as the first, during the late war, in which the superiority of British bayonets over those of any other nation, was proved and established beyond the possibility of dispute,—the first of a long succession of triumphs, the Alpha of the series of which Waterloo was the Omega. Destitute of cavalry, and fiercely attacked by a superior force of horse and foot, the British grenadiers stemmed the tide of the foeman's pride, and showed the men who had overrun half Europe, that they had at last met their masters. By General Pépé, Regnier's army is represented as worn out by fatigue, and as attacking their opponents at the termination of a succession of forced marches, without any interval for repose and refreshment. It is well authenticated that this was the case with but a small portion of the French force, which joined the main body during the night preceding the action. The bulk of Regnier's division, numerically superior to the British, had been encamped upon the heights of Maida at least twenty-four hours previously to the battle. General Pépé says nothing of the brilliant charge with the bayonet that first broke the French ranks, and by which the victory was half won. "The English," he says, "who had constantly practised firing at a target in Sicily, and who were become skilful marksmen, directed their shot so ably that they caused great havoc in the French ranks, killing and wounding many. General Regnier now ordered the second line to advance and defile through the first, and as the movement is extremely difficult of execution under an enemy's fire, the French army fell into confusion, and Regnier was obliged to retreat." A retreat which history calls a precipitate flight. General Pépé's version of the affair reads like the bulletin of a vanquished commander trying to make the best of his disaster. The General, although he inveighs against the French when they interfere with the independence of his cara patria, betrays a leaning to them on mere campaigning questions. This is not unnatural. Both in Italy and Spain he fought by their side and witnessed their gallantry. With regard to the English, however his subsequent residence in this country and intimacy with various Englishmen may have modified his opinion of them, they were certainly in no good odour with him forty years ago, at least as a nation. They supported the cause he detested, that of an absolute King; and to their greatest naval hero, he attributes the death, not only of Carraciolo, but of a long list of Italian patriots. His book is written in something of a partisan spirit, nor could it well be otherwise, with so fervent a politician. His account of many events and circumstances differs widely from that given by his former companion in arms, Colletta, whom he speaks of with contempt and dislike, and frequently accuses of misstatement and wilful falsehood. "Men," he says, "of loose morals, and so corrupt that they reflected contempt and abhorrence upon those who associated with them. Such were Catalani d'Azzia and the historian Pietro Colletta." That party feeling influenced Colletta, to the prejudice of the impartiality of his writings, is pretty generally admitted. But does General Pépé feel that his own withers are unwrung? Can he, hand on conscience, declare himself guiltless of exaggeration? Probably he believes himself so; there is evidence in his memoirs of honesty of purpose, and of a wish to do justice to all; but the best of us are led astray by our predilections, and it is right to be on one's guard against the colouring given to men's actions, and to great events, by the political prejudices of an ardent partisan.
Delivered into the hands of Pano di Grano, the ex-galley slave, now a royalist chief, Pépé was kindly treated, and, being carelessly guarded, effected his escape. Recaptured, he was about to be shot, when an order for his release was obtained from Sir John Stewart, who offered him, he informs us, the command of an English regiment, if he would change sides and serve King Ferdinand. He blames that general for having been in such haste to re-embark his troops, thus abandoning the insurgents to their fate; and is of opinion, that if he had continued to advance, flanked by the Calabrian bands, his forces would have increased, and he would have reached Naples. On the departure of the British, Massena commenced vigorous operations for the suppression of the insurrection, and Pépé was actively employed in the organisation of the Calabrian patriots. Massena promised him the colonelcy of a light infantry regiment about to be raised; but upon the Marshal being summoned to Germany by Napoleon, the project was given up, and Pépé could not even get employment in his rank of lieutenant-colonel. Disgusted at this injustice, and preferring foreign service to residence in his own country, where he had the mortification of seeing the French paramount, he embarked for Corfu as major on the staff.
After a year's absence, during which he narrowly escaped death by shipwreck and met with various other adventures, Pépé returned to Naples. It was in 1808: Napoleon had created his brother King of Spain, and given the Neapolitan crown to the Grand Duke of Berg. Soldat avant tout, Murat's first care was the amelioration of the army, then in a deplorable state. To this end he sent for all the Neapolitan officers employed in the Ionian islands. Pépé was amongst the number. Presenting himself before King Joachim, he exhibited his testimonials of service, and claimed the rank of colonel. The king replied, by appointing him one of his orderly officers, as a proof of the good opinion he had of him. "I recollect that I was so engrossed by admiration of the elegance of his appearance, and the affability of his address, that I omitted expressing my thanks. He talked to me a great deal about the Neapolitan army, and manifested a confidence in us that even exceeded my own; and, God knows, that was not small. His conversation filled me with such delight, that, had it not been for fear lest he should mistake my ardour of patriotism for courtier-like flattery, I could have fallen at his feet and worshipped him. It seemed to me that I beheld in him the Charles XII. of the Neapolitans."
Murat was the very man to become at once popular with an excitable and imaginative people. His handsome person, his dash and brilliancy, his reputation for romantic and chivalrous courage, his winning smile, and affable manner, prepossessed the Neapolitans in his favour, and they joyfully received him in exchange for Joseph. But the dashing commander was not of the stuff of which kings should be made; still less was he the man to found and consolidate a new dynasty, and reduce to order a fickle and divided nation. Strong-handed, but weak-headed,—a capital man of action, but valueless at the council-board,—Murat's place was at the head of charging squadrons. There he was a host in himself; in the cabinet he was a cipher. He was not equal even to the organisation of the troops whom, in the field, he so effectively handled. His good nature rendered him unwilling to refuse a favour, and, as there were no fixed and stringent regulations for the appointment and promotion of officers, the higher posts of his army were often most inefficiently occupied. "He could never resist the supplications of the courtiers, still less the entreaties of the ladies about the court."—(Pépé's Memoirs, page 262.) And again, "Murat was a Charles XII. in the field, but a Francis I. in his court. He would have regarded the refusal of a favour to any lady of the court, even though she were not his mistress, as an indignity." His débonnaire facility was so well known, that people used to way-lay him in the street with a petition and an ink-stand, and he often signed, without inquiry, things that should never have been granted. "One day he was returning from the Campo di Marte, when a woman, in tears, and holding a petition in her hand, stood forward to present it to him. His horse, frightened at the sight of the paper, kicked and reared, and ended by throwing his majesty some distance from the spot. After swearing roundly, in the French fashion, Joachim took the paper and granted its request—the life of the woman's husband, who was to have been executed the following day." As his orderly officer, and subsequently, when promoted to a higher military grade, as his aide-de-camp, General Pépé saw a great deal of Murat, and we are disposed to place great faith in his evidence concerning that splendid soldier but poor king. His feelings towards Joachim were of a nature to ensure the impartiality of his testimony: as his military chief, and as a private friend, he adored him; as a sovereign he blamed his acts, and was strenuously opposed to his system of government. He seems never to have satisfactorily ascertained the king's real feelings towards himself: at times he thought that he was really a favourite, at others, he imagined himself disliked for his obstinate political opposition, and for the pertinacity with which he urged Murat to grant the nation a constitution. It is probable that Joachim's sentiments towards his wrong-headed follower, whom he used to call the tribune, and the savage, were of a mixed nature; but, whether he liked him or not, he evidently esteemed and valued him. No other officer was so constantly employed on confidential, important, and hazardous missions, both previously to the battle of Wagram, when the Anglo-Sicilians menaced Naples with an invasion, and at a later period, when Murat entertained a design of landing in Sicily. In this project the king was thwarted by the chief of his staff, the French general, Grenier, a nominee of Napoleon's, who, with three French generals of division, strongly opposed the invasion of Sicily, acting, as General Pépé believes, on private instructions from the emperor. "The great aim of Napoleon was, so to divert the attention of the English, as to cause them to withdraw part of their forces from Spain and the Ionian islands, whilst that of Joachim was, simply to get possession of Sicily." In pursuance of this design, the king established himself, with 22,000 men, in and around the town of Scylla. His own head-quarters were upon the summit of a hill, in a magnificent tent, containing one large saloon and six small chambers. "The tricolor banners, streaming on its summit, seemed to defy the English batteries on the opposite shore, which discharged bombs and shot that not only could reach the king's tent, but even fell beyond it. One day, three balls descended into the tent, where I was dining with the other officers of the king's household, although it was situated farther back than that of Joachim." From this exposed position Murat gazed at Sicily through a telescope, and tried to persuade himself that it was his. But English ships and men continued to arrive at Messina, rendering his enjoyment of his nominal possession each day less probable. So sharp a look-out was kept by the British fleet, that it was impossible to obtain intelligence from Sicily. The vessels could be counted; but the amount of land forces was unknown, and this Murat was most anxious to ascertain. He ordered Pépé to take two of the boats called scorridore, to land in Sicily during the night, and bring off a peasant, a soldier, or even a woman; any thing, in short, that could speak. The expedition was so dangerous, that Pépé expected never to return, and made all arrangements respecting the disposal of his property, as if condemned to certain death. The two naval officers whom he warned for the duty, looked at him with horror and astonishment, and asked what he had done, that the king wanted to get rid of him. To add to the peril, it was a bright moonlight night. Instead of perishing, however, he was fortunate enough to capture an English boat, having on board eight smugglers, spies of General Stewart. Murat's impatience was so great, that he came into the saloon of his tent, with only his shirt on, to receive his successful emissary; and General Pépé confesses, that if the king was delighted at receiving news, he himself was no less so, at having escaped with life and liberty. At last the invasion was attempted by a division of Neapolitan troops, and totally failed. Part of the invaders were taken prisoners: the remainder only escaped by favour of the strong current, which prevented the English from coming up with them. Murat returned to Naples, having spent a vast deal of money on these very expensive and fruitless operations. To Napoleon alone had they been of any use. He had "succeeded in conveying the necessary provisions to the Ionian islands whilst the seas were free from the enemy. At the same time, he had not to contend in Spain with that portion of the British forces which had been sent to protect Sicily."
In the stir and excitement of campaigning, Pépé managed to endure the presence of the French, whom he disliked, not because they were Frenchmen, but in their quality of foreigners, and of intruders in his country. He felt them to be a necessary evil, in the absence of an efficient native army, which Murat, impatient of his dependence on Napoleon,—who, according to his custom, treated him rather as a subject than as a sovereign,—perseveringly endeavoured to organise. Had the king's talents been equal to his decision and industry, he could not have failed of success. As it was, his efforts had little result. Pépé observed this with pain, and his exaggerated feelings of nationality again obtaining the ascendency, he determined once more to expatriate himself. He reminded Murat of an old promise to give him the command of one of the Italian regiments then serving in Spain. The king reproached him slightly with wishing to leave him; but, on his urging his request, and pleading a desire to improve himself in his profession, he appointed him colonel of the 8th of the line, formed out of the remnants of three regiments, food for powder, furnished to Napoleon by Naples. At the end of 1810, Pépé took his departure, passed through France, and reached Saragossa. There he met his brother Florestano, on his way back to Naples, where he received, on the recommendation of Marshal Suchet, and by the express desire of Buonaparte, the rank of major-general for his good services in the Peninsula. The career of this distinguished officer is highly interesting. At the siege of Andria, in 1799, he was shot through the breast whilst scaling the walls at the head of his company of grenadiers. Without being mortal, the wound was extremely severe, and the surgeon who attended him, and who was esteemed the most skilful in Naples, cut his chest completely open, in order the better to treat it. An India-rubber tube was inserted in the centre of the gash to receive the oozing blood. So terrible was the operation, that the surgeon wished him to be held down by four strong men. To this Florestano refused to submit, and bore the anguish without a movement or a murmur. He was then told that the greatest care and regularity of living were essential to his existence. His answer was, "that he preferred a month's life of freedom to an age of solicitude about living;" and with this ghastly gaping wound he lived, in spite of the predictions of his leech, through fifteen campaigns. In command of a brigade of cavalry, he took share in the Russian expedition, and, on the night of the 6th December 1812, it fell to him to escort Napoleon from Osmiana to Wilna. Out of two regiments, not more than thirty or forty men arrived. The emperor's postilion was frozen to death, and had to be replaced by an Italian officer, who volunteered his services. The two colonels of the brigade had their extremities frozen, and Florestano Pépé shared the same fate, losing half his right foot, and only reaching Dantzic through the assistance of a devoted aide-de-camp. But, even thus mutilated, the heroic soldier would not abandon his beloved profession, and, during the final struggle against the Austrians in 1815, he was made lieutenant-general, by Murat, upon the field of battle.
On assuming command of his regiment, Colonel Pépé was as much struck by its martial aspect, as he was vexed at its clumsy manœuvres, and low moral condition. Both men and officers lacked instruction. The former were most incorrigible thieves. Plundering was a pretty common practice with the French armies in Spain, even in Suchet's corps, which was one of the best disciplined: and the Italians, anxious not to be outdone in any respect by their allies, were the most accomplished of depredators. They had come in fact to hold theft meritorious, and designated it by the elegant name of poetry. This slang term had become so general, that it was used even by the officers; and the adjutant of Pépé's regiment, in reporting a marauder to him, calls the man a poet. The prosaic application of a couple of hundred lashes to the shoulders of this culprit, served as a warning to his fellows, and soon the crime became of rare occurrence. The officers, although deficient in the theory of their profession, "were brave and honourable men, and had shown their valour, not only against the enemy, but in numerous duels, fought with the French, justifying fully, a saying of Machiavel, that the courage of the Italians, when opposed man to man, is far superior to that of other nations." The example of their new commander was not likely to break the officers of the eighth infantry of their duelling propensities. In the course of General Pépé's memoirs, he refers to at least half a score encounters of the kind, in which he was a principal. With the exception of two, which occurred when he was only seventeen, and of his final one—as far as we are informed—with General Carascosa, fought in England, in 1823, these single combats were invariably with foreigners, with whom the general seems to have been very unenduring. Not that provocation was wanting on the part of the French, more than sufficient to rouse the ire of the meekest. The insolence of Napoleon's victorious legions exceeded all bounds; nor was it the less irritating for being often unintentional,—the result of a habit of gasconading, and of a settled conviction that they were superior in valour and military qualities to all the world besides. A certain General F. could find no higher praise for Pépé's battalions, when they had gallantly attacked and beaten a Spanish corps, than was conveyed in the declaration that they ought, in future, to be regarded, not as Neapolitans but as Frenchmen! A compliment which to patriotic Italian ears, sounded vastly like an insult. Attributing it to stupidity, Pépé did not resent the clumsy eulogium. But it was very rare that he allowed slights of that kind to pass unnoticed, nor could he always restrain his disgust and impatience at the fulsome praise he heard lavished upon Napoleon. The officers who had gained rank and wealth under the French emperor, exalted him above all the heroes of antiquity, and breathed fire and flames when their Italian comrades supported the superior claims to immortality, of an Alexander, a Hannibal, or a Cæsar. "I believe Colonel Pépé loves neither Napoleon nor the French!" angrily exclaimed a French general during one of these discussions. "I replied instantly, that I was serving in the army of Arragon, but that I made no parade of my affections." Words like these were, of course, neither unheeded nor forgotten, and were little likely to push their utterer upwards on the ladder of promotion. But at no period of his life did General Pépé trust to courtier-like qualities for the advancement which he well knew how to conquer at point of sword.
After two years passed in Spain, and with the reputation of one of the best colonels in Suchet's army, Pépé returned to Naples. Murat, who had just come back from Russia, received him kindly, and made him a major-general. Notwithstanding this, he entertained serious thoughts of quitting the service. He had left Spain full of political hopes; and now the independence which Napoleon's disasters had given to Murat rendered their realization more than ever improbable. His discontent was participated in by many of his countrymen, especially by the Carbonari, which sect was greatly on the increase, fostered by the Bourbonites, who, for their own purposes, sought to sow dissensions in Naples. "I looked upon this sect," says General Pépé, "as a useful agent for the civilisation of the popular classes; but, at the same time, I was of opinion that, as it was necessary to force the king to grant liberal institutions, it was needful to make use of the army to avoid, as much as possible, all disorders of the state." The Abruzzi were the focus of the Carbonaro doctrines, and thither the general had been despatched with his brigade. When there, he learned Murat's departure for Dresden, to command Napoleon's cavalry. "Such was the eccentricity of Joachim, that a few days before quitting Naples, he had been in treaty with England to proclaim the independence of Italy, that nation engaging to furnish twenty thousand men and a considerable sum of money for this purpose. The ratification of the treaty only reached Naples after the departure of the king." Caroline Buonaparte, regent of Naples during her husband's absence, hated Pépé for his liberal principles and declared opposition to the French party, and showed him marked distrust. October came; Leipsic was fought, Napoleon retreated towards the Rhine,—Murat returned to Naples. Deprived of the support of his brother-in-law, whose star was visibly on the decline, it was time he should think and act for himself. In this critical conjuncture, he displayed, as usual, a grievous want of judgment. With a strong Bourbonite party against him, he could not make up his mind to conciliate, by concession, the liberal section of his subjects. On the other hand, Ferdinand, under the guidance of England, had given a constitution to Sicily, and promised to extend a similar boon to the Neapolitans if they would restore him to his continental dominions. In this promise, it is true, the patriot party, with the horrors of 1799 fresh in their memory, placed little confidence. General Pépé attributes much of Murat's undecided and injudicious conduct to Napoleon's treatment of him. "The emperor," he says, "one day exalted him to the skies, and the next would humble him to the very dust, condemning every thing he did, not only through the public papers, but in his private correspondence." On this head, the general gives very curious particulars, derived from the Duke of Campo Chiaro, chief of the police, and minister under Murat. The dilemma in which King Joachim found himself might have perplexed a wiser man. It was an option between turning his arms against his country and his benefactor, and losing his crown, which he could not hope to retain if he declared against the allies. After negotiating at one and the same time with all parties, he finally, at the commencement of 1814, concluded a treaty of alliance with Austria. But his mind was in an unsettled and wavering state; and he made no secret to those French officers who still followed his fortunes, of the good will with which he would once more fight beside, instead of against, his old companions in arms. "The Austrians so firmly expected this volta-facia, that they attempted, with one of Nugent's regiments of hussars, to take him prisoner at Bologna." At times, Pépé fancied that the king was about to comply with the wishes of the patriot party, grant a liberal constitution, and proclaim the independence of Italy. His hopes of this were particularly strong, when he found himself appointed to organise and command a legion, to consist of men from all the provinces of Italy, and of whose officers he was to have the nomination. That so important a trust as this should be confided to a man noted for his democratic principles, of whom the king never spoke but as the tribune and the tête de fer, and who had been more than once suspected of an intention to revolt, was indeed a symptom of a change in Murat's views. But it all ended in smoke. Pépé drew up the plan of the legion, and submitted it to the king, who took no further notice of it. He was engrossed in watching the final struggle between Napoleon and the allies.
On the 19th April, when about to besiege Piacenza, news reached Murat of the fall of Paris, and of the treaty of peace concluded with the viceroy of the kingdom of Italy. The war was suspended, and the Neapolitan army retired southwards. At Rimini, General Pépé, who commanded the rear guard, fell in with the Pope, then proceeding to Rome, and was admitted to an interview. Never oblivious of his political principles, he took an opportunity of saying, "that it would be worthy of an Italian pontiff to collect about him the sons of Italy, and to drive the foreigners out of his native land." His holiness listened attentively, but made no reply. When Murat was informed of this bold suggestion of Pépé's, he exclaimed, "He will not leave even the Pope quiet," and this saying became a standing joke against the tenacious patriot. A few days afterwards, General Ambrosio, another of the liberal party, had been advocating to the Pope the advantages of a constitution for Italy, "when a crippled gentleman was brought to the carriage door, who requested the pontiff to bestow his blessing upon him, that he might recover the use of his limbs. The Pope, turning towards Ambrosio, said, 'You see, General, where we are; Italy is still far from the period you so ardently desire.'" Ambrosio and his friends, especially Pépé, were of the contrary opinion, and conspired to compel Murat to grant them a constitution. Seventeen general officers were implicated in the plot, but when the moment for action came, the majority faltered, Pépé was left in the lurch, and became the scapegoat. Urged to fly to Milan, he refused to lower himself in the opinion of his countrymen by seeking refuge amidst the oppressors of Italy. He was ordered to the castle of St. Elmo, there to appear before a court-martial, but on reaching Naples, the placable Murat had forgotten his anger, and received him kindly. "I treat all my subjects, and you in particular, like my children," were his first words. In the interesting conversation that followed, Pépé urged the king to grant a constitution, as the surest means of securing the affections of his subjects and consolidating his throne. Murat replied, that he should long since have done so, but that such a proceeding would draw upon him the implacable animosity of Austria. And he declined relying, as his unceremonious counsellor urged him to do, upon the courage of six millions of Neapolitans and the natural strongholds of the country. He was never offended at Pépé's frankness, for he had faith in his personal attachment. "It is certain," says the General, "that, after my country, I was most truly attached to Joachim, and I would have given my life for him." Subsequent events proved this, and showed Murat that the man who, boldly and to his face, had blamed the conduct of the king, was the firm friend of the depressed and unhappy fugitive. In the closing scene of Joachim's reign, when the disbanded Neapolitans, badly led, and in some instances deserted by generals who should never have held the rank, fled before the hosts of Austria, the sympathy and friendship of his plain-spoken follower were amongst the last and best consolations of the falling monarch. Very bitter must have been Murat's reflections at that moment; the conviction was forced upon him that his misfortunes resulted chiefly from his own want of judgment and too great facility; captivity or exile stared him in the face; the sunny smile which, even in moments of the greatest peril, rarely left his countenance, was chased by shame and self-reproach, and tears stood upon his cheeks. "I could not restrain my own, and, instead of speaking, I advanced, took his hand, and kissed it. Oh! how touched he was by this act of respectful affection on my part! Who knows but at that moment he recollected the words I had addressed to him in his palace, 'Whenever you shall find yourself in a situation of danger, you will learn to distinguish your real friends from the friends of your fortune.'" A very few days after this affecting scene, on the night of the 20th May, Murat crossed over in disguise to Ischia, and embarked for France. On the 23d, took place the triumphal entry of the Austrians into the city of Naples.
The particulars of Murat's last mad act, his landing in Italy at the head of thirty men, and of his consequent capture and tragical death, have been related by many writers, and General Pépé could add little in the way of facts to what was already known. He makes some interesting reflections on the subject, and traces the supreme ill-luck by which Joachim was pursued in his last desperate venture. On the return of the Bourbons to France, two of his followers, who had accompanied him from Naples, hired a vessel to convey him to England or America. But, as fate would have it, the place of rendezvous was misunderstood. Murat missed his friends, and, being in hourly peril of his life, put to sea in a boat. Landed in Corsica, the affectionate welcome he met from thousands of the inhabitants, many of whom had formerly served under him, cheered his drooping spirits, and inspired him with the idea of a descent in Italy. He had two hundred and seventy followers, hardy Corsican mountaineers, and had they landed with him, General Pépé is of opinion that he would soon have raised a force sufficiently strong to maintain the campaign, and extort favourable conditions from Austria, as far, at least, as regarded his life and liberty. But the six small vessels in which he left Ajaccio were scattered by a tempest, and he was driven, with but a tithe of his followers, to the very last port he ought to have made. The inhabitants of Pizzo, whose coasting trade had been ruined during the war, were glad of peace on any terms, and looked upon Murat as a firebrand, come to renew their calamities. They assailed the adventurers and drove them to the shore. But when Joachim would fain have re-embarked, he saw his ship standing out to sea. The treacherous commander had betrayed him for the sake of the valuables he had left on board. And Murat, the chivalrous, the brave, remained a prisoner in the hands of his former subjects, scoffed at and reviled by the lowest of the people. Five days afterwards, twelve bullets in the breast terminated his misfortunes. It was a soldier's death, but had been better met on the battle-field. There, amidst the boom of artillery, and the din of charging squadrons, should have terminated the career of the most dashing cavalry officer of modern times, of one who might well have disputed with Ney the proud title of the "brave des braves."
We have purposely dwelt upon the earlier portion of General Pépé's work, to the exclusion of its latter chapters. We can take but little interest in Neapolitan history since 1815, in the abortive revolutionary struggles and manœuvres of the Carbonari and other would-be liberators. Nor do the ample details given by the general greatly increase our respect for Italian patriotism; whilst we trace more than one discrepancy between the conclusions he draws and the results he exhibits. He holds his countrymen to have been long since ripe for a constitutional government and free institutions, and yet he himself shows us that, when a revolution was achieved, and those great objects attained, the leading men of his party, those who had been foremost in effecting the change, proved traitors or dupes, and that the people, organised in militia and national guards, displayed so little self-devotion, such small zeal in defence of their newly acquired liberties, as to be utterly disheartened by the very first conflict with their treacherous king's supporters, and to disperse, never again to reassemble. Such was, the case in 1821, and in vain does General Pépé try to justify his countrymen by attributing their weakness and defection to the machinations of the evil-disposed. The truth, we believe, is to be found in the final words of his own proclamation, addressed to the national guards after the disastrous encounter, in the vain hope of once more rousing them to resistance. "Your women," he said, "will make you blush for your weakness, and will bid you hasten again to surround that general whose confidence in your patriotism you should have justified better than you did on the 7th of March, when you fought at Rieti."