THE NEAPOLITAN LOVERS, page 29
“England has Malta, sir; the King has given it to her.”
“Oh, sire,” said Caracciolo in a reproachful tone, “I was told so but did not wish to credit it.”
“And what the devil do you want me to do with Malta?” said the King. “A rock good for cooking eggs in the sun!”
“Sire,” said Caracciolo, without further addressing Nelson, “I entreat you in the name of all the hearts truly Neapolitan in the kingdom, to listen no longer to foreign advice which puts your throne within an inch of the abyss. M. Acton is a foreigner, Sir William Hamilton is a foreigner, Milord Nelson himself is a foreigner; how do you suppose that they can rightly appreciate Neapolitan honour?”
“True, sir; but they rightly appreciate Neapolitan cowardice,” returned Nelson, “and that’s why I said to the King after what happened at Civita Castellana: ‘Sire, you can no longer confide yourself to men who have deserted you, either from fear, or from treason.’”
Caracciolo grew terribly pale and, in spite of himself, put his hand to his sword hilt; but, controlling himself, he said: “Every nation has its hour of weakness,” and turning to the King: “Sire, it is the duty of a King who loves his people to give them the chance of repairing its failure; let. the King say but one word and not a Frenchman will emerge from the Abruzzi, if they are imprudent enough to venture therein.”
“My dear Caracciolo,” the King said, turning to the Admiral whose advice flattered his secret desire; “your opinion is that of a man whose counsel I greatly appreciate — Cardinal Ruffo.”
“Well, sire,” cried Caracciolo quickly, clinging to the hope thus given, “it is the good genius of Naples inspiring you; follow the Cardinal’s advice, and I, can I say more? will be at his command.”
“Sire,” said Nelson, rising and bowing to the King, “I hope that Your Majesty will not forget that if Italian admirals obey the orders of a priest, an English admiral obeys only the orders of his government.” And casting on Caracciolo a look, in which could be read the threat of an eternal hatred, Nelson went out by the same door by which he had entered and which communicated with the Queen’s apartments. The King followed Nelson with his eyes and when the door had closed behind him: “Oh well,” said he, “there is gratitude for my twenty thousand ducats annuity, my duchy of Brontë, my sword of Philip V. and my ribbon of St. Ferdinand.” Then, turning to Caracciolo: “You are right, my poor Francis,” said he, “the foreigners are the evil! M. Acton, Sir William M. Mack, Lord Nelson, the Queen herself, Irish, Germans, English, Austrian dogs everywhere; Neapolitans-nowhere. What a bulldog this Nelson is! It doesn’t matter, you set him down very well! If ever we go to war with England and he gets you into his hands, your account is....”
“Sire,” said Caracciolo laughing, “I am happy at any such risk to have deserved your approval. Will you permit me to insist further?”
“You have no need, since I agree with you. I shall see Ruffo to-day, and we shall speak again of all this; but, since we are alone together, why on earth did you make an enemy of the Queen? You know that when she hates, she does not do it by halves!”
Caracciolo looked away, then returning to his incessant pre-occupation, “So I may take with me the hope that Your Majesty has given up this shameful flight and that Naples will be defended to the last?”
“Take more than a hope; a certainty. There is a council to-day, I am going to signify that I have resolved to stay in Naples. I have well in mind what you have said as to our means of defence; be easy.”
“Sire; one last favour? If against all expectation Your Majesty does go....”
“But I tell you that I shall not.”
“Sire, if by any hap whatever, if by an unexpected reaction, Your Majesty went, I hope you would not cast the disgrace on the Neapolitan Navy of going on an English vessel.”
“Oh, as to that, you may be easy. I don’t speak for the Queen, the Queen will do as she likes, but if reduced to such an extremity I give you my word of honour to go on your vessel, the Minerva. So, you are warned, change your cook if he is no good, and lay in some macaroni and parmesan if you have not enough on board. Au revoir....”
Caracciolo, enraptured with the result of his interview, withdrew, relying on the King’s double promise.
The King looked after him with marked good will. “And to think,” said he, “that one is stupid enough to embroil one’s self with such men for a regular Tartar like the Queen, and for a bad lot like Lady Hamilton!”
The King kept the promise he had made to Caracciolo; he declared loudly and resolutely to the Council that, after the popular manifestation he had witnessed the preceding evening, he had decided to remain in Naples and to defend to the last extremity the entry of the kingdom from the French. In face of such a plainly formulated announcement, no opposition was possible; it could only have proceeded from the Queen, and, reassured by Acton’s positive promise that he would find a way to make the King set out for Sicily, she had given up the idea of an open struggle which would have increased his obstinacy as usual.
On leaving the Council the King found Cardinal Ruffo waiting for him; he had done as agreed with the King with his usual exactitude. Ferrari had come to him during the night, and half-an-hour later had set out for Vienna through Manfredonia, taking the forged letter which was to be shown to the Emperor, with whom Ferdinand was most anxious not to quarrel, he being his sole support against France through the influence he had in Italy, just as in the contrary case, France alone could support him against Austria. An explanatory note signed by Ruffo in the King’s name accompanied the forgery.
The King having related what passed between himself, Caracciolo and Nelson; Ruffo had strongly approved the King’s action, and had insisted on a conference between him and Caracciolo in the King’s presence. It was agreed to wait for news of the effect produced by Pronio’s manifesto in the Abruzzi, and on the result, to decide upon the course to follow.
On the same day, the King received the young Corsican, di Cesare, whom the ushers mistook for the Prince Royal on account of his striking resemblance to him. The young captain in his new uniform, and bringing the commission made out by Acton, was proud and joyful; he came to place his own and his comrades’ devotion at the King’s feet; proof of which was only delayed by their engagement to escort the aged princesses to Manfredonia, whence they were to take ship for Trieste.
The news expected from Pronio was not long in coming, and surpassed every expectation. Priests, nobles and magistrates were echoing the King’s words; the cry, “To Arms,” was resounding everywhere. Fra Diavolo and Mammone had accepted their mission with enthusiasm; armed with their commissions and with the King’s name on their lips, their power was limitless, since the law protected instead of suppressing them. From the moment that they could give their brigandage a political colour they promised to raise the whole countryside. Brigandage, in fact, in the mountains of southern Italy is an indigenous product; like figs in the valleys or grapes on the hills. It is a profession like any other, and no disgrace attaches to it. It is followed during nine months of the year, and in the winter the brigand returns to his village and dwells there amicably with his kind. The laws against him do not vary, nor do his misdemeanours, and he is always a reactionist, and for the throne and altar if they will accept his services in times of revolution; whilst he is disowned by liberals and progressists. It is, therefore, most difficult to extirpate brigandage, supported as it often is by the authorities; who are actually often themselves involved in it. As for priests and monks they are the very soul of it; they distribute medals which have been blessed to the insurgents, who, if they are killed in spite of them, die heroically, looking upon them as passports to heaven.
There is an enormous difference between INDEPENDENCE AND LIBERTY. The brigand is independent and individually courageous. The soldier is free and collectively courageous. In 1798, the Neapolitans had not progressed further than their independent state; they had acquired neither liberty nor fraternity; that is why they were defeated in battle by an army five times less numerous.
But the peasants in the Neapolitan provinces had always been independent. So when the monks spoke in the name of God, the King in the name of the family, and hatred in the name of covetousness, robbery and murder, the whole people rose. Each man took his rifle, axe or knife and set out to destroy and plunder. Masses of troops had fled before the French; single men marched against them; an army had dissolved away, a people sprang from the earth.
It was time. The news of the army continued to be disastrous. One part of it, under Moesk, had taken up a fortified position at Calvi, and surrendered at discretion to General Maurice Mathieu. Macdonald’s rapid blows had saved some but not all of Mack’s prisoners. At Ascoli, three hundred republicans had been tied to trees and shot. At Abricalli, thirty sick or wounded, some of whom had suffered amputation, had had their throats cut in the ambulance. The others, lying on straw, had been pitilessly burnt. But loyal to his proclamation, Championnet had responded to all these barbarities with humane actions.
General de Damas, who, as an emigrant Frenchman, had offered his sword to Ferdinand, alone sustained the honour of the Neapolitan flag after the defeat of Civita Castellana. He and his column of seven thousand, forgotten by Mack, asked permission of Championnet to cross Rome and join the débris of the Royalist army on the Teverone. Championnet instructed one of his promising young officers, Bonami, to investigate and report. At the Salarian gate, Bonami met General Rey and his cavalry entering Rome, and suggested to him to make a reconnaissance on the road to Albano and Frascati; while he himself hastened as fast as he could across the Ponte Molle in search of General de Damas, followed at a distance by Rey’s detachment and Macdonald’s light cavalry. He made such haste that he left them far behind, and to give them time to come up, presented himself with a flag of truce.
He was brought before General de Damas.
“You wrote to the Commander-in-Chief of the French army, General,” said he; “he sends me to ask you to explain what you require.”
“I want a passage for my division.”
“And if he refuses it?”
“I have but one resource: to carve it, sword in hand.”
Bonami smiled.
“You must understand, General, that such benevolence is impossible to you and your seven thousand men. If you try to force a passage you will have your work cut out. I therefore suggest to you to lay down your arms.”
It was General de Damas’s turn to smile.
“Chief of the Staff,” replied he, “when each of one’s seven thousand has eighty cartridges, one does not surrender; one passes or dies.”
“Well, so be it! Let us fight, General,” said Bonami.
The emigrant general appeared to consider.
“Give me six hours,” said he, “to assemble a council of war and decide.”
This did not suit Bonami. “You don’t need six hours,” he answered, “I will give you one. It was just the time he needed for his infantry to come up. So it was agreed. Bonami galloped off and rejoined Rey to hasten him on. But General de Damas had profited by the hour; and when Bonami returned with his troop, he discovered him retreating in good order towards Orbitello.
Rey and Bonami immediately started in pursuit; came up with them at Storta and charged energetically. The rearguard turned and faced them. For the first time Rey and Bonami met serious resistance, but they wore it down with repeated charges. Night fell. The devotion and courage of the rearguard had saved the army. General de Damas took advantage of the darkness and his knowledge of the locality to continue his retreat. The French were too tired to follow him.
But General de Damas had not done with the Republicans. Macdonald sent word to Kellerman at Borghetta; who, assembling his troops, came across de Damas’s column at Toscanelli, which, holding firm under French generalship, vigorously resisted; de Damas himself fighting with splendid courage in the rearguard.
However, one of Kellerman’s well-known charges, and an injury to the emigrant general, decided the day in favour of the French. The largest part of the Neapolitan column had already reached Orbitello and had had time to embark. Pushed speedily into the town, Damas had time to shut the gates behind him, and whether out of consideration for his courage, or because the French general did not want to waste time in an assault on such a wretched little hole, Kellerman allowed Damas, provided he abandoned his artillery, to embark with his vanguard without interference.
The result was that the only general of the Neapolitan army, who had done his duty in this short and shameful campaign, was a French general.
Conqueror at all points, and thinking that nothing could hinder his march upon Naples, Championnet gave the order to cross the Neapolitan frontier in three columns.
The left wing, under Macdonald, invaded the Abruzzi by Aquila. The right wing, under General Rey invaded the Campagna by the Pontine Marshes, Terracina and Fondi. The centre, under Championnet himself, invaded the Terra di Lavoro by Valmontone, Ferentina, Ceperano.
Three fortresses, all almost impregnable, defended the marches of the kingdom: Gaeta, Civita-del-Tronto, Pescara.
Gaeta, commanding the route by the Tyrrhenian Sea, was defended by an old Swiss general named Tchudy; he had at his command four thousand men, seventy guns, twelve mortars, twenty thousand rifles, provisions for a year and vessels in the port. General Rey summoned him to surrender.
Tchudy had just married a young wife. He was afraid for her, perhaps, who knows? As for himself, instead of holding out, he called a council, consulted the bishop, and assembled the magistrates, who seized upon the pretext to spare Gaeta the miseries of a seige. However, they were still hesitating when the French general threw a shell into the town; and this hostile demonstration was sufficient to cause Tchudy to send a deputation to the beseigers to ask their terms. “A surrender at discretion or all the rigours of war,” General Rey replied.
The place surrendered two hours afterwards.
Duhesme, who, with fifteen hundred men, was marching along the Adriatic coast, sent an envoy to Pricard, commanding Pescara, to summon him to surrender. Pricard, as if he intended burying himself in the ruins of the town, made the French officer inspect the defences in every detail, showing him fortifications, arms, munitions and provisions, and finally sent him back with these lofty words:
“. A fortress thus supplied does not surrender.”
Which did not prevent him, at the first gunshot, from opening his gates and giving up this town, so well fortified, to General Duhesme. It contained sixty guns, four mortars and nineteen hundred soldiers.
As to Civitella-del-Tronto, a place already strong in its position, and stronger still artificially, it was defended by a Spaniard named Jean Lacombe, and had ten heavy guns, and plenty of munitions and supplies. It could have held out for a year; it did so for a day and surrendered after two hours’ siege.
Thus it was time that leaders of bands should replace generals, and brigands take the place of soldiers.
Three bands under Pronio’s direction were organised with lightning rapidity; one which he commanded himself, Gaetano Mammone’s and Fra Diavolo’s.
It was Pronio who first encountered the French columns.
After having taken Pescara, leaving there a garrison of four hundred men, Duhesme took the road to Chieti to effect a junction with Championnet before Capua as he had been ordered. On reaching Tocco he heard brisk firing from near Sulmona and hastened on his men.
The fact was that a French column, under General Rusca, after having entered the town of Sulmona unresisted, with drums beating, had suddenly met with a hail of shot raining upon it from every window. Surprised at this unexpected attack it had hesitated.
Pronio, profiting by being ambushed in the church of San Panfilo, had emerged with a hundred men, and had charged the French, while the firing from the windows redoubled. In spite of Rusca’s efforts, his men broke ranks, and he had retired precipitately from Sulmona, leaving about a dozen dead and wounded in the streets. But when they saw Pronio’s soldiers mutilating the corpses, and the inhabitants despatching the wounded, crimson with shame the Republicans formed up again of their own accord, and with cries of vengeance again entered Sulmona, returning both the fire from the windows and the street. However, hidden in doorways, ambushed in bye-lanes, Pronio and his men kept up a terrible fire, and it is possible that the French might have had to retreat for the second time when a sharp fusillade was heard at the other end of the town. Duhesme and his men, hastening to the scene of action, had made a circling movement and were falling on Pronio from behind. Pronio, a pistol in each hand, ran to his rearguard, rallied it, found himself confronting Duhesme, fired at him and hit him in the arm. A republican sprang forward at Pronio with lifted sword; but with a second shot Pronio killed him, picked up a rifle, and, heading his men, sounded a retreat, meanwhile giving an order in patois that the French could not understand. The order was to retreat fighting, and escape by all the little lanes and regain the mountains. In a moment the town was evacuated. Those who were indoors fled through the gardens. The French were masters of Sulmona; but this time the brigands had fought one against ten. They had been beaten; but they had caused cruel losses to the republicans. This encounter was, therefore, looked upon in Naples as a triumph.
For his part, Fra Diavolo with about a hundred men, after the capture of Gaeta, so shamefully surrendered, had valiantly defended the bridge of Garigliana, attacked by the aide-de-camp, Gourdel, and fifty republicans whom General Rey, not suspecting the organisation of the bands, had sent to seize it. The French had been repulsed, and Gourdel, several officers and men lying wounded on the field had been picked up half dead, tied to trees and burned over a slow fire, amidst the hooting of the people of Mignano, Sessa, and Traetta, and the furious dances of the women, always more ferocious than the men at these kinds of festivals.
At first Fra Diavolo had wanted to oppose these murders and prolonged agonies. From a feeling of pity he had discharged his pistols and carbine at the wounded. But, from the frowns of the men and the insults of the women, he had seen that he was risking his popularity by such acts of pity. He withdrew from the stakes where the republicans were undergoing their martyrdom, and wished to send Francesca away; but Francesca did not want to lose any part of the sight. She escaped from his hands and danced and shouted with more frenzy than the other women.
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