CHAPTER XXII.--How all Europe was at Sixes and Sevens.

It seems to me, who spent so important a part of my life in those waters, that it would be difficult to find a greater contrast under the same skies than that presented by King Ferdinand's two kingdoms and two capitals. Naples, as the Admiral said, is a city of fiddlers and light-o'-loves, utterly irresponsible; willing to begin a war with a nation like France, without counting the cost; marching to battle with the intention of turning her back the moment the enemy stopped retreating and faced her; willing to squander money that was needed for the very existence of the kingdom on pasteboard decorations and mythological _fêtes_; willing to accept any strong master, as Delilah accepted Samson, and from the very first thinking how she might betray him.

But Naples is a lovely city, reposing serenely on one of the world's most beautiful bays, surrounded by the most perfect ruins of the everyday life of the ancient world, but far enough off from the fiery mountain which first wrought their ruin and then preserved them, (hermetically sealed in lava, for the delight of people born two thousand years later,) to regard it as a mere incident in the landscape, or a curio for the amusement of the citizens and the attraction of strangers.

Marvellous is the atmosphere in which Naples lives her lotus life: the blueness of the sky and sea are proverbial; there are hills for breezy villas, and mountains for sanatoriums all round; soft warm sea to bathe in, medicinal springs to drink; and a soil that would grow anything, to provide wine and oil and corn and fruit. While from the other side of the lofty range of mountains, which guards her health from the malaria, stretches the vast meadow between the Apennines and the sea, where countless flocks and herds wander round the eternal Temples of Paestum.

Yes, Naples is a Delilah--a beautiful creature without morals, without chasteness, without honour, but capable of forgetting herself in soft love--a creature that loves banqueting and excitement and lights and music and flowers--a creature, in fact, typified by the merry music which her light-hearted beggars play in her streets. And as Naples is, so is her territory, except the grim Calabria, which saved her in her hour of need.

But very different is Sicily, the beautiful slave, darkest of the daughters of Europe, who has worn the fetters of one master after another, sometimes after desperate resistance, sometimes with calm submission to the inevitable, but always with deep black hatred in her heart.

You can hardly be an hour in Sicily without feeling that you are among a nation suffering from ancient and incurable wrongs. There is something in the very physiognomy of the Sicilians which suggests a spirit brooding over the national curse.

The Sicilians are not courageous, but they are desperate. The regiment of Highlanders which carried the day on the Heights of Abraham, and so won Quebec and won Canada, could defeat the whole population of Sicily on a level plain. But the knowledge that they have this power, and that their vengeance would come like an act of God on the following day, would not deter a Sicilian from slaughtering stragglers. An army of Sicilians would not stand for a moment against the vehement bayonets and claymores; but the Sicilian will always strike when he has the power, undeterred by consequences.

And no less contrasted than kingdom with kingdom and people with people, is capital with capital. There is no light-hearted music in Palermo streets, save that which comes from Naples. And the Sicilian is too grave and dignified to chaffer or to make himself cheap or dear. And with the Sicilian Delilah the story is not one of banqueting and music, but one of wild passion and desperate to-morrows.

It is not often that I find myself thinking such fine thoughts as these; but I own that I was amazingly impressed by the difference that the short sail between Naples and Palermo made in the atmosphere of the Court and the temperament of the Admiral. In fact, his whole nature seemed to be changed from the time that he set foot on what the chaplain says was called by the ancients "the Laughing Land."

He wrote himself to Lady Parker, when they had been but a day or two over the month at Palermo:--

"I am worse than ever; my spirits have received such a shock that I think they cannot recover it. You who remember me always laughing and gay would hardly believe the change. But who can see what I have and be well in health?--kingdoms lost and a Royal Family in distress. But they are pleased to place confidence in me; and whilst I live, and my services can be useful to them, I shall never leave this country, although I know that nothing but the air of England, and peace and quietness, can perfectly restore me."

We certainly landed under most distressing circumstances. The Queen, who had the heart of a lion, and loved life as a lovely woman should, was crushed by the death of her little child, slain with the sea-sickness when within sight of land, which we could not make by reason of the wind. And the Admiral was overcome by the casting down of all hopes of concerted success against the hated French by the cowardice of the Neapolitan counsels and army, and the incompetence, if it were nothing worse, of General Mack. The attitude, too, of My Lady but added to the situation. This extraordinary woman, I verily believe, found something fascinating in the universal air of gloom and tragedy. To think that the Admiral was the centre of so much peril and anxiety, and yet could be won from his woes by the magic of her companionship, gratified her vanity, which was one of the elements that counted much in her character.

Not that she was either daunted, or willing to see great issues lost while she consoled herself and him in a theatrical Paradise. She had a profound faith in the man she loved--her hero; and she felt sure that in the darkest hour his genius would flash forth and strike the enemy with lightning. Nor had she lost her gay, indomitable heart. If she had thought that the right medicine for the moment was to force cheerfulness, she would have used the whole strength of her beauty and accomplishments and brightness to try and inspire the Court. But she felt, I am convinced, that tragedy was the keynote for the moment. So tragedy it was.

To their Majesties was brought every day the news of some fresh fragment of their kingdom having fallen away from them, yielding like rotten wood to the touch of the French. To the Admiral most days was brought some fresh confirmation of his worst fears. The two points, for instance, in which he was most interested, after the fate of the Kingdom of Naples, were the capture of Malta and the destruction of the transports at Alexandria, which had taken the French to Egypt, and might bring them back again when their fleet, preparing at Brest, should enter the Mediterranean, form a junction with the Spaniards, and engage ours.

At this distance of time, I remember well one morning, when My Lady came on board with that radiant smile, tempered to tender solicitude, at a moment when the Admiral was almost fit to jump overboard under the accumulation of unfavourable dispatches. Not one of the Allies was doing what had been expected of them. One even of his commanders was failing him.

I watched her cross the deck, full of grace and womanly graciousness. I did not mind her calling me Tubby that day: there was an air of affectionateness in her frank greeting. I only conducted her to the Admiral's state-room door, and there left her; but what passed I had from his secretary, with whom he was too busily engaged to dismiss him, as he was wont to dismiss any one when My Lady came to him. For which, indeed, there was good enough reason, for she seldom came to him alone in this fashion except on a matter of import.

When she entered, the Admiral flew to her agitatedly: "Oh, my dear lady, my dear lady!"

"Why, goodness me, what is the matter, Nelson?"

He was so excited, that she was for the moment quite oblivious of the secretary.

"Matter!" said the Admiral--"matter! The matter is England--their Majesties--the Emperor--Russia--the Bey--Malta--and that infernal jumping monkey, Sir Sidney Smith."

"The French are all right, then?" said My Lady, in good-humoured sarcasm.

"The French!" said the Admiral: "they are robbers and murderers--a band of thieves; and wars should cease, and all the world should join in endeavouring to extirpate from off the face of the earth this race of murderers, oppressors, and unbelievers. Divine Providence never will permit these infidels to God to go unpunished."

"They have had thirty thousand pounds' worth of palaces and villas and goods of mine," observed My Lady philosophically, and also perhaps to divert the Admiral's thoughts into a new channel. "But what of the rest of the world, from which you seem to have been hearing to-day?"

"Bad--bad--bad!" he said, with his intense eye fixed on some trifling object in his state-room, of whose very outline he would be unconscious. "Worst of all, perhaps, the Emperor and these kingdoms,--though I cannot get England to do what she might do. Ministers at home will not see the importance of things here. They will not see the importance of sending money; and it is as impossible to squeeze money out of Sicily as it is to grow corn upon a rock. Without money their Majesties cannot move, and with money they would do nothing."

"Oh, Nelson--the Queen!" said My Lady.

"Her Majesty," said the Admiral, "is a great king; she is beautiful, she is adorable, she is royal-hearted. If it were only Her Majesty, we should never have been where we are now; but the King will act with Acton, or Acton with the King, I don't know which, and the d--d one of them will try and hunt with the hounds and run with the hare, while the French are in the very act of hanging him. What did they do at Leghorn?--treated me as the master of a merchantman whose business it was to transport the _brave_ Neapolitan troops, and whose business was then to kick up my heels till the _brave_ Neapolitan general had made up his mind to run away again! The bonds of neutrality were to be drawn tight round the English, who could and would save Naples, and to be stretched in every direction the French, who meant to swallow up Naples as soon as they were ready, should choose; the King or Acton thinking that, by burying its head in the sand, the ostrich would escape being kicked."

"But, Nelson," said My Lady, "in common fairness to the King, you must remember that neutrality with the French had to be observed; and the Emperor was most particular upon the point, that there must be nothing in the nature of operations against them, except at Malta, where they had dispossessed His Majesty of part of his dominions."

"The Emperor," said the Admiral, with withering contempt: "was there ever such a fool in a Paradise? How is it that none of Her Majesty's wisdom and courage has descended to her brother's son? While he is playing with his precious scruples Naples will go, and the Great Duchy will go, and all the Emperor's fine new Italian dominions will go; and the day will come, mark my words, Emma, when Buonaparte--should he ever get back from Egypt--will enter Vienna in triumph and trample on him in his own palace!"

"He is waiting for the Concert."

"The Concert, forsooth!--there is no Concert, except the Concert of the French themselves to take all Europe. While the others are waiting for each other, the policy of these robbers is to take the small States, which cannot resist without the aid of the larger, and every one of them will supply its quota of armies and resources to be used against the larger, one by one, until they are all swallowed by the Beast with the Ten Horns. Cannot the Emperor see that the very life of his empire depends on his marching the best army he can put in the field to Italy, and clearing out the French? And as for the King and his blessed neutrality--why, his neutrality was only an alliance against England which prevented us destroying the whole of the privateers in North Italy at one sweep; for they all lay in the Mole at Leghorn, besides the corn-ships which were waiting to carry the French supplies, without which they could not maintain themselves a month in Italy. And yet we could not touch one of them, because the King was not at war with the French--the King who at that moment was marching at the head of his army against the French, in Rome, and who had already captured from them the Island fortress of Gozo!"

"Surely you see what a difficult position he is placed in----"

"And what about me, Madam? Am I not placed in a difficult position? Well, pass by the King--there is Malta. Over and over again have I been assured that Malta was just falling, and I do believe that if we could land a few thousand regular troops the place would not hold out long. The islanders are dead against the French; but the islanders have no money or food, and hardly any arms, but what we have given them. I have entreated Acton to send if it is only ten thousand pounds worth of food. He answers that the Treasury is empty, but the Queen herself has given up seven thousand ounces, and this will do something. A hundred thousand pounds spent in food now would save the kingdom. And as for all those stories about the French being on the eve of surrendering, they are sheer imagination. The French know that, unless something is done, of the two, Sicily is a great deal more likely to fall than Malta, and it is their policy to wait and see what becomes of Sicily. They know that Naples has fallen, long ago, and that there is every chance of Messina following unless we can get some British troops. And Mr. Duckworth will see that we don't do that. One would imagine that Minorca was all Europe; whereas Minorca is not fortified, and whoever has the stronger fleet can always have it. The Maltese adore Ball; they have made him a kind of Chief and President of their Parliament."

"Then Malta, at any rate, is right?"

"No; what can he do? He can only blockade the harbour to prevent provisions getting in, and that not very successfully. Besides, the smallest French squadron could make him draw off--he has so few English ships."

"You will see to that, dear Nelson!"

"I, Madam? I should not have sufficient ships to await an action if the Brest fleet gets in the Mediterranean. Some of my ships are at Alexandria, some at Malta, others at Naples, Leghorn and Palermo. Alexandria ought to be off my hands; the Russian and Turkish Admiral should have been there some months ago. I ought not to need a ship east of Kandia. These Russians mean no good; I don't trust them. They are far more anxious to seize ports in the Mediterranean for their own future use than to fight the French. They have got Corfu, and they have their eye on Malta, their excuse being that their Emperor is Grand Master of St. John, elected by those rascally Knights, who unlocked the gates of Valetta for the French--a place the French could never have unlocked from the outside, even if it had been empty. The Ottoman Admiral is sailing about with the Russian, helping him to seize points, which will afterwards be used against the Grand Signor. The good Turk must look out, or he will find it cheaper to come to terms with his enemy the French, rather than be sucked dry by his ally the Russian. The Russian will never be content until he has Constantinople, and as for the French in this present war they may go hang. Russia is too far off to have anything to fear for itself; and its Emperor is only moving so as to fish in the troubled waters. Otherwise they would have gone to Alexandria as I have written, and entreated, over and over. They could have what bombs and gun-vessels they want; and I fear by this it is too late to destroy the shipping in Alexandria, which the French have been steadily fortifying, while the day after the Nile, with a handful of bombs and small craft, I could have destroyed the whole in a couple of hours."

"Captain Sir Sidney Smith may do something. He is a good officer, isn't he?"

"He's a coxcomb and an impertinent rascal, though he could be trusted to fight if he found himself in an action. But he's cursed with an idea that he is a diplomatist, in which he has unfortunately been encouraged by our foolish Government, who have joined him in a commission with his brother, the Minister at Constantinople, because he knows a little of the Turk and his lingo."

"But surely that is an advantage?"

"No advantage, Madam, when the jumping Jack has not the sense or manners to keep his commission as a diplomatist, and his commission as a captain under my orders apart, but mixes them up in every dispatch, so much that I ought not to read them, but tear them up for the most insubordinate language ever addressed by a Captain to an Admiral. You know that if there is one thing upon which I have set my mind in the whole Mediterranean, it is this."

"I don't know what you refer to--this is the very first mention."

"That not one ship or soldier in that expedition should ever be allowed to return to France. We have them boxed up in Egypt, and we must keep them there. Well, this jackanapes writes to me that he thinks it would be a good thing to secure the evacuation of Egypt by granting them passports back to France, if they promise to go at once--which takes away the whole work of my victory of the Nile. I have wrote him that I will not accept one of his passports, and strictly forbidden him to enter into any convention with the French. I have wrote to Lord St. Vincent and Lord Spencer about him too. I shall go home if I am not to be trusted."

"I am sure," says My Lady, "that it is not because you are not trusted, but because Sir Sidney knows the language, and may therefore be expected to hear more of what is going on than if he had to depend on others for his hearsay."

"Languages are all right, but in a service like ours discipline is first, and we are surrounded by treachery and undermining on every side."

"The Court knows whom it can trust."

"Oh, all the traitors in Europe, Asia, and Africa, are not in Naples; though one might well be excused for thinking so, seeing the numbers of these gentry."

"What do you mean, then?"

"The most double-dyed villain of them all is the Bey of Tunis. For all these months I have kept the large fleet of our only faithful ally, the Portuguese, from prosecuting the war which is between Her Most Faithful Majesty and the Bey; and he has repaid me by seizing ships carrying my passports, and by sending ships with supplies to our enemies, the French, shut up in Malta. He has, I hear too, been entering into negotiations with the homicide, Buonaparte, for helping him back to France."

"What shall you do with him?"

"I have wrote to Magra that I _will_ have my passports respected, and that, as I will do no wrong, I will suffer none, and that I will sink every ship I find conveying supplies to the enemy. But he is a double-dyed villain; for when I sent the _Vanguard_ there, he seized every Frenchman and French vessel in the place, saying that it was his part to do that. The which he released so soon as the _Vanguard_ departed."

"I should make short work with the Bey. One can only trust these Orientals when one does not need them."

"Indeed, that would not do. It is my duty to protect the Mussulmen from the infidel French. Besides, there are traitors much nearer home than that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean either the Minister, or the Governors of Syracuse and Messina. Malta might be further on by this, if the corn, so often ordered to keep the Maltese from starvation, had ever been sent. It has taken months to get a cargo of corn from Sicily to Malta, which is almost within sight, and----"

"Have you any more 'ands'? You are as gloomy as a raven in a mist." This with her sweetest smile.

"And worst of all, I hear rumours of the good St. Vincent, our father, under whose fostering care we have been led to fame, going home for ill-health at the moment when the French are coming into the Mediterranean again."

"A pretty morning's work! And what shall you do about it all?"

"I can only pray to God that the faults of others may press as heavily on the enemy as they press on me."

"Come out with me, Nelson, to-night," she said, laying her hand gently on his arm. "All this can be grappled with, but not by one in this anguish of mind. You must brace yourself up to face things in your old light-hearted way. You shall dine with me to-night, and bring Will and the other; and we will drive on the Marina, and have the new iced cream, and see the night service in the Palace chapel."

"I believe it will do me good. After I have wrote my dispatches, there is nothing of all this that I can do, but wait until my orders are obeyed. And I believe you that I should go to work with a clearer mind and a better spirit. I believe I have kept too much on my flagship during this busy time. To tell you how dreary and uncomfortable the _Vanguard_ appears, is only to tell you what it is to go from the pleasantest society to a solitary cell, or from the dearest friends to no friends: I have been so perfectly the _great_ man--not a creature near me. From my heart I wish myself the little man again! You and good Sir William have spoiled me for any place but with you."

My Lady was much gratified, but made nothing of it.

"Any society will serve after a ship, Nelson."

"Nay, but I love you all--Mrs. Cadogan too. You cannot conceive what I feel when I call you all to my remembrance, as I stump up and down this room in solitary grandeur, or with my secretary waiting to catch my eye."

"Quit it, then, naughty man; and be sure and dine with us to-night, and bring the boys."