“Thanks from the bottom of my heart,” returned the young man bowing, and he laid his hand upon it. “And now, what am I to report to General Mack?”

  “All that you have seen and heard, sir. Brigadier Martin, take four men and escort Major Ulrich de Riescach to the gate of San-Giovanni, and rejoin us on the road of La Storta.”

  Championnet and the Major saluted for the last time; the latter and his escort plunging at a sharp trot into the Via Babuino. Colonel Thiébaut and his five hundred returned by Ripetta to the Castle of St. Angelo where they shut themselves up; and the remainder of the garrison, with Championnet and his staff at its head, went out of Rome, with drums beating, by the People’s Gate.

  CHAPTER XIV.

  THE KING AT ROME.

  As General Mack had foreseen, his envoy re-joined him a little above Valmontone; but he did not listen to anything the Major told him except that the French had evacuated Rome; with which news he hastened to the King. They slept at Valmontone the same evening and by midday following reached Albano from whose heights the view extended beyond Rome to Ostia. As it was impossible to enter Rome the same day it was agreed that next morning at nine o’clock King Ferdinand should make his solemn entry, and proceed immediately to San Carlo to hear Mass.

  A halt was called at seven in the evening, and the King was supping in a magnificent tent with General Mack, the Duke of Ascoli and the courtiers most favoured, when the arrival of a deputation from Rome was announced. They came to receive the King’s orders for the next day’s ceremony.

  The King was radiant, he too, like Pompey and like Caesar was to have his triumph. What a splendid effect it would produce at Caserta and among his good lazzaroni. He had then vanquished without a single shot, this terrible French republic! Decidedly General Mack was a great man!

  The deputies dismissed, and everything arranged for the morrow, he resolved to announce the good news to the Queen by express courier; and did so as follows:

  “My Dear Mistress, “Everything is succeeding as we desire; in less than live days I have reached the gates of Rome, where tomorrow I make my solemn entry. All have fled before our victorious arms, and to-morrow evening, from the Farnese palace, I shall write to the Sovereign Pontiff that he may, if such is his good pleasure, come and celebrate the feast of the Nativity with us at Rome.

  “Ah! if I could transport my crib here for him to see!

  “The messenger I send to take you these good tidings is my usual courier Ferrari. Allow him, as a reward, to dine with my poor Jupiter who must be wearying for me. Reply to me in the same way; reassure me as to your dear health and that of my beloved children, to whom, thanks to you and to our illustrious General Mack, I hope to bequeath a throne not only prosperous, but glorious.

  “The fatigues of the campaign have not been so great as I feared. It is true that, up to the present, I have been able to drive nearly all the time.

  “There is but one black spot on the horizon: in leaving Rome the republican general has left five hundred men and a colonel in the Castle of St. Angelo; with what object? I don’t quite understand, but am not uneasy otherwise: as our illustrious friend General Mack assures me that they will surrender at the first summons.

  “To our speedy meeting, my dear mistress, whether you come, that the festival may be complete, to celebrate the Nativity with us at Rome, or whether, all being quieted down, and His Holiness re-established on his throne, I gloriously re-enter my dominions.

  “Receive, dear mistress and spouse, to share with my beloved children, the embraces of your tender husband and father.

  “FERDINAND.”

  P.S. — ” I hope that nothing tiresome has happened to my kangaroos, and that I shall find them quite as well as when I left them. A propos, transmit my most affectionate remembrances to Sir William and Lady Hamilton; as to the Hero of the Nile, he must still be at Leghorn; wherever he is, inform him of our triumphs.”

  It was a good while since Ferdinand had penned such a long letter; but his enthusiasm explains his prolixity. On re-reading it he regretted not having thought of Sir William and Lady Hamilton before his kangaroos, but he did not think an alteration necessary; and he sealed and despatched the letter by Ferrari. After which he won a thousand ducats at whist, went radiant to bed and dreamed that he was going to make his entry, not at Rome, but at Paris!

  Day dispelled this illusion, but his entry into Rome was indeed splendid. The municipality, on its knees, presented him with the keys of the city on a silver salver at the Gate of San Giovanni, to the accompaniment of a burst of song; and amid splendid military music he was followed by an imposing procession of his troops and artillery, in a rain of rose leaves thrown up into the air by a hundred young girls in white and choirs of children swinging censers who walked on ahead. It was a magnificent autumn day and the population lined the streets in its best clothes in this air sweet with the scent of flowers and incense.

  Halts were made for the King to kiss the sacred stairs which Jesus Christ had trod, brought from Pilate’s house at Jerusalem; and at San-Carlo to hear a Te Deum, then continuing along the Corso, and reversing the route from the Square of the People which Championnet had taken in leaving Rome, he reached the Farnese palace, the end of his long ride and of his triumph.

  Covers for two hundred people were laid there in the long gallery; but the whole of Rome seemed to have gathered in the square outside, even overflowing into the palace itself with cries of “Long live the King,” so that Ferdinand had to leave the table three times to show himself at the windows.

  So, drunk with joy and wine, his heart bounding with pride and unwilling to wait the morrow to announce his entry into Rome to Pope Pius VI., and forgetting that, as prisoner of the French, His Holiness was not free to act, as soon as he had taken coffee, Ferdinand passed into a study and indited the following letter; “To His Holiness Pope Pius VI., First Vicar of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

  “Prince of Apostles, King of Kings, “Your Holiness will no doubt learn with the greatest satisfaction, that by the help of Our Lord Jesus Christ and under the august protection of the blessed Saint Januario, this very day, with my army, I entered, without resistance, triumphantly into the capital of the Christian world. The French have fled, terrified at the sight of the cross and at the simple lustre of my arms. Your Holiness can therefore resume your supreme and paternal power which I shall shelter with my army. May you then quit your too modest dwelling in the Chartreuse, and on the wings of cherubims, like our holy maid of Loretto, come and alight at the Vatican to purify it with your sacred presence. Your Holiness will be able to celebrate divine service at St. Peter’s on the birthday of Our Saviour.”

  That evening, the King drove along the principal streets of Rome to cries of “Long live King Ferdinand! Long live His Holiness Pius VI!” He stopped to hear a cantata in his honour at the Argentina Theatre; then to see Rome illuminated he mounted to the topmost rampart of the Pincian hill.

  The whole of the city was light as day. One monument only, surmounted by a tricolour flag, like a solemn and menacing protest of France against the occupation of Rome, remained dark in the midst of all this brilliance, mute in the midst of all this noise. It was the Castle of St. Angelo. When going up the Pincio from the People’s Square, the King had seen a crowd of women and children dancing round a bonfire in the Square. He had stopped and had asked what they were all doing, and had learned that the fire was made of a tree of Liberty planted eighteen months previously by the consuls of the Roman Republic. Touched by this devotion to good principle, Ferdinand had thrown a handful of money to the crowd crying: “Bravo, friends, amuse yourselves.”

  In the Navone Square he saw a second bonfire, and received a similar reply; and taking another handful of money, this time from the Duke of Ascoli, he threw that also to the people. The same thing happened in Colonna Square, where there were many men, and where fighting for the money became serious, and where an unfortunate passer-by in a large cloak with a hat drawn down over his eyes was assumed to be a Jacobin and thrown by the combatants into the fire where he perished miserably, to the cries of joy of the populace; who, all at once, conceived the brilliant idea that well as it was to burn the trees, it would be better still to burn the people who had planted them. These were the two consuls of the Roman Republic, Mattei and Zaccalone; and these names, for a year past, had been blessed and revered by the people to which these two truly liberal-minded men had devoted their time, their intelligence and their fortunes. But it was a day of re-action. A man whom Zaccalone had obliged to send his son to school, a young Roman, jealous of individual liberty, suggested that one of the trees of Liberty should be kept to hang the consuls on. This suggestion was adopted unanimously; and the crowd straightway made for the houses of the consuls. Happily both had quitted Rome. But two of their dependents declared that they knew where to find them, and would give them up. The offer was greeted with enthusiasm, and in the meantime the crowd began to pillage the houses of the absentees and to throw their furniture out of the windows.

  Among the furniture, in each house, was a splendid bronze clock with this inscription:

  To the Consuls of the Roman Republic, from grateful Israelites!

  For the consuls had issued a decree bestowing the rights of citizens upon the Jews. But gratitude here proved a misfortune; the people were reminded of their existence; and with cries of “To the Ghetto!” rushed to find them.

  Now the Jews on the departure of Championnet had hastened to set up again the Ghetto barriers which they had taken down when the decree of their emancipation was published; they had withdrawn again within them and the crowd found material obstacles opposed to its progress. Nothing daunted it conceived the idea of throwing over the barricades lighted brands from the neighbouring bonfire. No sooner said than done; pitch and tar were added, and soon the Ghetto looked like a bombarded town; and flames began to announce that fires had broken out in five or six places. In an hour’s time, the doors and barriers gave way of themselves, and with cries of terror, the whole of the wretched population, men, women, and half-naked children, surprised in sleep, precipitated itself out into the city like a torrent. This was what the Romans were hoping for; each seized his Jew and a whole repertory of atrocious tortures was carried out upon the unfortunate people; those were fortunate who were thrown into the Tiber and purely and simply drowned.

  These amusements lasted all night and the following days and could not but attract the King’s attention. In answer to his enquiries he was shown the decree of the Republic bestowing the rights of citizens upon the Jews; he asked who were the people responsible for such an abhorrent act; and was told the consuls, Mattei and Zaccalone.

  “Then these are the men to punish; not the people they emancipated,” replied Ferdinand, preserving his natural common-sense even amid his prejudices; and he added that if the two men who had gone to find them gave them up, there would be five hundred ducats each for them, and the two consuls would be hanged.

  The Roman crowd delighted with this liberality, decided that if the King was to provide a real gallows for the event they could afford to cut down the remaining tree of Liberty, and present him with the logs from it so that he might have a fire of good revolutionary wood. And this idea charmed the King so much that he set aside two of the largest logs and sent them to the Queen with this letter:

  “My Dear Spouse, “You are aware of my fortunate entry into Rome without encountering the least obstacle on my way; the French have vanished like smoke. There remain the five hundred Jacobins in the Castle of St. Angelo; but these keep so quiet that I believe they only ask to be forgotten.

  “Mack sets out to-morrow with 25,000 men to fight the French; he will rally Micheroux’s division on the way, which will give him 38,000 or 40,000 men, and he will only give fight to the French with the certainty of crushing them.

  “Here we are in continual fêtes. Would you believe that those miserable Jacobins had emancipated the Jews! For three days past the Roman people has been hunting them through the streets just as I hunt my deer in the forest of Persano, and my boars in the woods of Asproni; but I am promised better than that: it seems that they are on the track of the two consuls of the so-called Roman republic. I have put a price of five hundred ducats on the head of each of them. I think that hanging them will make a good example, and, if they are hanged I keep for the garrison in the Castle of St. Angelo the surprise of assisting at their execution.

  “I am sending you to burn on Christmas night two big logs cut from the tree of Liberty in the Rotunda Square; warm yourselves well, you and the children, and in doing so think of your spouse and father who loves you.

  “To-morrow I issue an edict to instil a little good order among all these Jews, to make them return to their Ghetto and to submit them to a wise discipline. I will send you a copy of this edict directly it is issued.

  “Announce at Naples the favour heaped upon me by the divine goodness; have a Te Deum sung by our Archbishop Capece Zurlo, whom I suppose is a good deal tainted with jacobinism; this will be his punishment; command public rejoicings and urge Vanni to hasten on the affair of that damned Nicolino Caracciolo.

  “I shall keep you informed of the success of our illustrious General Mack in proportion as I learn it myself.

  “Take every care of your precious health and believe in the sincere and eternal affection of your pupil and spouse.

  “Ferdinand.”

  P. S. — -” Present my respects to the Ladies. Although a little ridiculous these good princesses are none the less the august daughters of King Louis XV. You may authorize Ariola to make a small payment to those seven Corsicans who have served them as a bodyguard and who were recommended to them by the Count de Narbonne, one of the last ministers of your dear sister Marie Antoinette, I believe; that will please them and commits us to nothing.”

  The next day Ferdinand issued his decree against the Jews, which was in fact a vigourous re-instatement of the one abolished by the so-called Roman Republic. And the day following, General Mack took leave of the King, leaving five thousand men to guard Rome, and set off to pursue Championnet and give him battle-wherever he should encounter him.

  At the very moment his rearguard began its march, a procession, not wanting for character, entered Rome by the opposite gate.

  Four mounted Neapolitan gendarmes were preceding two men bound together by the arms. These two men were wearing white cotton caps and coats of indecisive colour such as are worn by the sick in hospitals; they were mounted, saddle-less, on two asses, and each ass was led by a peasant, who, armed with a thick stick, threatened and insulted the prisoners. The prisoners were the two ex-consuls, and the peasants were the two men who had promised to give them up. The two unhappy fugitives had sought refuge in a hospital founded by Mattei in his native town of Valmontone, and had been denounced there by an attendant who owed his place to him.

  Scarcely had they entered Rome and had been recognised, than the crowd began to insult them, throwing mud and stones; then with cries of “Death to them!” tried to carry out its threats. The gendarmes, however, explained that they were being brought back to be hanged next day, before King Ferdinand, by the public executioner, in the Square of St. Angelo; and this promise calmed the crowd which, however, indemnified itself for the delay by continuing to howl at the ex-consuls and to throw mud and stones.

  They, resigned, awaited events, mute, sad, but calm. Thus was traversed three parts of Rome till their prison was reached. Two hours later placards affixed throughout the city announced the execution for the morrow at mid-day.

  The Square of St. Angelo was the usual place for executions; and at seven the next morning the scaffold was set up, the gallows raised, and a balcony adorned with rich draperies to serve as a Royal box from which to witness the execution. These preparations drew such an immense crowd from all parts of Rome, that the carpenters at work on the scaffold had to be protected by a guard. The right bank of the Tiber where rises the great gate of the Castle of St. Angelo alone was deserted. The terrible fortress which is for Rome what the Bastille was at Paris, and Fort St. Elmo at Naples, although dumb and seemingly uninhabited, inspired sufficient dread to keep everyone off the bridge leading to it. And truly the tricolour flag hoisted above it, seemed to say to all the people, drunk with bloody orgies: “Take care what you do, France is still here.”

  At eleven o’clock the condemned men, still clothed in hospital garb, were brought out of prison, set again upon the asses, and accompanied by that brotherhood of penitents which assists sufferers on the scaffold, and followed by an immense concourse of people, taken to the church of San Giovanni to make a public apology. The King, proceeding from the Farnese palace to the place of execution, passed by just as the executioner’s assistants were forcing the prisoners to their knees. Formerly in such a case the Royal presence would have been the salvation of the prisoners; this time it assured their execution.

  The crowd opened to let the King pass; he cast an uneasy glance at the Castle of St. Angelo and its flag, alighted from his carriage amid acclamations, and appeared on the balcony bowing to the people. A moment later loud cries announced the approach of the condemned; who were preceded and followed by a detachment of Neapolitan mounted police who drove back the crowd and kept clear a space for the execution.

  The silence and solitude of the Castle of St. Angelo re-assured everyone, and it was thought no more of. At five minutes to twelve, the condemned, who seemed broken with fatigue, but calm and resigned, got down from their asses at the foot of the scaffold. The penitents pressing them more closely, exhorted them to death, offering them the crucifix to kiss.

  Mattei, on kissing it, said:

  “O Christ! thou knowest that I die innocent, and, like thee, for the salvation and liberty of men.”

 

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