“No, but the concluding lines, the signature and the address are autograph, and the seal is his. One can hardly ask more. Has your Majesty any further questions for your courier?”

  “No; let him get his wound attended to;” and he turned his back.

  “And these are the men one dies for!” murmured Ruffo, and he rang for help for Ferrari, but the latter rose unaided, saluted, and made his way to the door alone, passing as he went out a footman come to ask for an audience for Sir William Hamilton. The King signed to the Cardinal to remain. “This visit sounds as if it were official. I shall need your help probably,” he told him, and as the door re-opened to admit the English Ambassador, added: “Zitto!” displaying the Emperor’s letter ere pocketing it. The Cardinal had barely time to make a corresponding gesture when Sir William Hamilton entered.

  “Welcome, Sir William,” said the King, “and all the more that I believed you at Caserta.”

  “The Queen has honoured Lady Hamilton and myself in bringing us back in her carriage, and. having a communication to make to your Majesty.”

  “Relative to the war, I presume,” said the King with a glance at Ruffo.

  “Exactly, sire.”

  “Then you may speak before his Eminence, for it was the subject we were discussing at the moment you were announced.”

  The two men bowed to one another, which they never did if they could avoid it.

  “Well,” continued Sir William, “I have here a letter addressed by Lord Nelson to Lady Hamilton and myself which I think it my duty to communicate.”

  “Read it; we are listening,” said the King. Here is the very text of the letter which the English Ambassador translated from English into Italian for the King: —

  “To Lady Hamilton.

  “Naples, 3rd October, 1798.

  “My Dear Madam, “The interest that you and Sir William Hamilton have always taken in their Sicilian Majesties, is, for the last six years, graven in my heart, and I can truly say, that on all the occasions offered, and they have been numerous, I have never ceased to show my sincere sympathy for the prosperity of this kingdom.

  “In virtue of this attachment, dear Madam, I cannot remain indifferent to what has passed and is passing at this moment in the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, nor to the misfortunes which, from what I see clearly without being a diplomat, are about to fall on all this loyal country, and that, through the worst of all policies, temporizing.

  “Since my arrival in these waters, namely since May last, I have seen in the Sicilian people one devoted to its Sovereign, and terribly detesting the French and their principles. It has been the same during my stay at Naples; and I have found the Neapolitans there, from first to last, ready to make war on the French, who, as one knows, are organising an army of thieves to pillage this kingdom and pull down the monarchy.

  “And, indeed, has not the policy of France always been to rock governments in a false security in order to destroy them afterwards? and, as I have already stated, is not one aware that Naples is the country they wish above all to deliver over to pillage? Knowing that, but knowing that his Sicilian Majesty has a powerful army, ready, I am assured, to march on a country which invites it, with the advantage of making war besides, instead of awaiting it resolutely, I wonder that this army has not been set marching this month past.

  “I have full confidence that the so fortunate arrival of General Mack will urge the government to profit by the most favourable moment that Providence has granted; for if it attacks or waits to be attacked at home, instead of carrying the war outside, it needs no prophet to predict that the kingdoms will be lost and the monarchy destroyed! But, should, unfortunately, the Neapolitan Government persist in this wretched and ruinous system of temporizing, I recommend you, my dear friends, to hold your most precious possessions and yourselves ready to be embarked at the slightest news of invasion. It is my duty to think of and to provide for your safety. I regret to think that this might also be necessary for that of the amiable Queen of Naples and her family; but it would be best that the words of the great William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, should come to the minds of the ministers of this country.

  “‘The boldest course is the safest.’

  “This is the sincere desire of him who calls himself, “Dear Madam, “Your very humble and very devoted “Admirer and friend, “HORATIO NELSON.”

  “Is this all?” asked the King. “Sire,” replied Sir William, “there is a postscript.”

  “Let us see it.... Unless....” His hesitation visibly indicated “unless the postscript is for Lady Hamilton only.” So Sir William hastened to continue:

  “I beg your ladyship to receive this letter as a proof, for Sir William Hamilton, to whom I write with all due respect, of the firm and unalterable opinion of an English Admiral desirous of proving his fidelity towards his sovereign in doing all in his power for the happiness of their Sicilian Majesties and of their kingdom.”

  “This letter deserves to be considered,” said the King. “It is the advice of a sincere friend,” returned Sir William.

  And promised ally?” continued the King.

  “He will fulfil his promise. Your Majesty need fear no French ship while his fleet is here, but in six weeks’ time he may receive sailing orders; that is why no time should be lost.”

  The King and Cardinal exchanged looks, as much as to say, “They have taken their decision.”

  “What is your sincere advice as to war, Cardinal?” asked Ferdinand.

  “I think that if both the Emperor of Austria and Nelson keep their promises, under all the circumstances it would be best to attack.”

  “Nelson and you urge war, do you not, Sir William?” interrogated the King.

  “Nelson counsels it out of his devotion; I, as English Ambassador, seconding what I know to be my gracious sovereign’s wishes.”

  “Cardinal,” said the King; “do me the pleasure to pour some water into that basin for me.”

  The Cardinal obeyed without making any remark, and presented the basin to the King.

  The King turned up his cuffs and washed his hands with a kind of fury.

  “You see what I am doing, Sir William?” said he.

  “I see, sire,” replied the English Ambassador, “but I cannot quite say why.”

  “Well, I will explain it to you,” said Ferdinand. “I am doing what Pilate did, washing my hands.”

  ACTON had not forgotten the Queen’s command of the morning, and had summoned the State inquisitors to the dark room for nine o’clock; but to prove their zeal, and from personal uneasiness, each had come half-an-hour before the time. These three men, whose names remain in merited execration in Naples, were the Prince of Castelcicala, Guidobaldi, Vanni. The Prince, first in rank as in shame, was ambassador in London when the Queen, needing a great Neapolitan name to shield her vengeance, recalled him. From ambition and greed he had consented to lower himself from Prince to policeman, and from ambassador to spy.

  Guidobaldi, an iniquitous judge and a shuffling magistrate, without conscience, was pleased to operate on a larger scale under royal favour; but both were less feared and detested than the fiscal procurator Vanni, for a comparison for whom one must seek in the animal species among beasts of prey. There was in him something both of wolf and hyena, morally and physically. He was rather tall than short; had a sombre and concentrated expression; an ashen face; never laughed and slept little.

  It was thanks to Vanni’s zeal that the prisons were full of suspects, crowded into infected dungeons, deprived of air, light and bread; and there left to languish at his pleasure ignorant even of what they were accused, while he was busy in causing yet further arrests. Unlike Guidobaldi, he was reputed upright and inflexible; to limitless ambition he united limitless cruelty and enthusiasm.

  He was dangerous and fatal, because he possessed an imagination which magnified the smallest actions of his own and of others. He had made his reputation over the case of the Prince of Tarsia, director of the King’s silk factories, an honest man with no business ability, who became involved in his accounts. The Prince would have paid off the deficit from his private purse, and have ended the business in a couple of hours; but Vanni, having got it into his clutches, let it drag on ten years, at the end of which time the Prince was ruined both in pocket and reputation.

  The Queen, who always fancied herself surrounded with plots and conspiracies, allowed Vanni to work upon her feelings and increase her fears. This white terror lasted three years. The prisons were full of persons against whom nothing had been proved, and the tide of public indignation rose high. In these circumstances, Vanni wished to resort to the tortures of the middle ages; but all the judges except Guidobaldi and Castelcicala revolted, with the result that the prisoners were released, the tribunal dissolved in public disgust, and Vanni lost his position as fiscal attorney. It was then that the Queen came forward, made Vanni a marquis, and of these three men, who had incurred public execration, formed her private tribunal; which sat alone, and struck in the dark no longer with the axe of the executioner, but with the dagger of the secret police.

  We have seen Pasquale di Simone at work; let us observe Guidobaldi, Castelcicala and Vanni.

  The three iniquisitors, uneasy at their summons, were assembled round the green table lighted by the bronze lamp, whose shade left their faces in shadow. As they waited for the Queen, from time to time each cast an uneasy glance into the darkest corner of the room, where, almost invisible stood the police agent Pasquale. They knew that he was even more in the Queen’s secrets than they were, and they feared him more than the public executioner, Master Donato; for he was the private executioner — not of the law but of the royal pleasure — and they were aware that their very knowledge of the royal secrets might become a terrible danger to them.

  As the last stroke of nine sounded, the door opened and Caroline appeared; the three inquisitors rose simultaneously, but she did not leave them time to speak.

  “This time, Monsieur Vanni,” said she, it is I who hold the threads of a plot; and more fortunate than you who find the guilty without the proofs, I have found the proofs first; and through them I bring you the means of finding the guilty,” and she came to the table, opened her purple cashmere shawl worn like a cloak on one shoulder, parted it, and set out on the table a pair of pistols, and a letter still slightly stained with blood.

  “Sit down, sirs,” said she to the astonished inquisitors.

  “Marquis Vanni, write to my dictation,” and she remained standing, her closed fist resting on the table, and wrapped in her purple shawl like a Roman Empress, dictating as follows: —

  “On the night of 22nd-23rd December last, six men were assembled in the ruins of the Castle of Queen Joanna; they were awaiting a seventh, sent from Rome by General Championnet. This man had left his horse at Pozzuoli, had taken a boat there, and in spite of the storm which was threatening, and which later burst, he proceeded by sea to the ruins. As the boat reached the shore it foundered; the two fishermen who were rowing perished; Championnet’s messenger also fell into the water, but saved himself. He and the six conspirators conferred together till about half an hour after midnight. He left first and went towards the river Chiaïa; of the other six, three went up Pausilippo, and three took a boat along the coast towards the Chateau de L’Ovo. Shortly before reaching the Lion fountain, the messenger was assassinated. Before falling he killed two men with these pistols, and wounded two with the sword which you will find in that cupboard. The sword is of French make; but the pistols are from the royal factory at Naples; they are engraved with an N., the first letter of their owner’s Christian name.”

  Not a breath interrupted the Queen.

  “The messenger,” she continued, “had changed his uniform, wet from his immersion, for a coat of laced green velvet, which had been lent him by one of the six conspirators, who had left in the pocket a letter, a love letter from a woman addressed to a young man named Nicolino; the same-probably who had also lent his pistols engraved with an N.”

  “The letter,” said the Queen with a singular smile, “is from the Marchioness Elena di San Clemente, one of my ladies of honour. But, as the lovers, it would appear, are still in their honeymoon, I have this morning granted leave of absence to the Marchioness. Now, listen attentively,” went on the Queen. The three inquisitors drew nearer, and into the circle of lamplight, so that their three heads were suddenly illuminated; and the Queen continued: “Most likely my lady of honour will not tell her husband of the leave I give her, and will devote the whole of to-morrow to her dear Nicolino; you understand now, do you not?”

  The three men looked questioningly at the Queen; they had not understood. Caroline continued:

  “It is, however, very simple. Pasquale di Simone surrounds the Marchioness’s palace with his men; they see her come out, and follow her; the rendez-vous is in a third house; they recognise this Nicolino; and leave the lovers their leisure. Probably the Marchioness will go away first; and when Nicolino emerges in his turn, he is arrested, without injury,” said the Queen, raising her voice and frowning. “Pasquale’s men take him alive to the Governor of the Castle of St. Elmo, who chooses for him one of his safest cells. If he names his accomplices, well and good; if he refuses, then Vanni, it is your affair: there is no longer a stupid tribunal to prevent your administering torture, and as upon a corpse. Is that clear, gentlemen? And when I set out to discover conspiracies, am I a good bloodhound?”

  “All that the Queen does is stamped with genius,” said Vanni, bowing. “Has your Majesty any other commands?”

  “No,” replied the Queen. “You have your written instructions; I require a report of the first interrogatory. Take the cloak and sword in the cupboard, the pistols and this letter, and God guard you.” She acknowledged their profound bows with her hand; they withdrew backwards.

  When the door had shut behind them, Caroline signed to Pasquale di Simone, and as he approached the table threw upon it a purse full of gold.

  “You heard?” she said; “to-morrow, come here at the same hour to report to me.”

  The next day Pasquale punctually informed her that the Marchioness’s lover, surprised unawares, had been arrested at three o’clock in the afternoon without having been able to offer any resistance, taken to the Castle St. Elmo and incarcerated. She learned besides that this lover was Nicolino Caracciolo, brother of the Duke of Rocca Romana, and nephew of the admiral.

  “Ah!” murmured she; “if we had the good fortune to find the admiral compromised!”

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE OPPOSING GENERALS.

  ON a fine autumn day a fortnight after the arrest of Nicolino Caracciolo, the population of Naples and its environs were hurrying to the approaches to the Royal Palace, all of which were guarded by troops. In the centre of the People’s Square, in front of the Palace, General Mack was parading, surrounded by a most brilliant staff composed of officers of the highest rank, covered with decorations from all countries and wearing uniforms glittering with gold lace. At all the windows from which a view of the square could be obtained, women, in gala dress, beneath the white flags of the Bourbons and the red flags of England, were waving their handkerchiefs to cries of “Long live the King! Long live England! Long live Nelson! Death to the French!” which rose like the menace of a tempest from the midst of that human swell whose waves were beating against the dykes which they threatened every moment to overturn. The galloping staff in the square, the people blocking the streets, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs, the whole mass of spectators was waiting for the King who was coming to put himself at the head of his army, to take the field in person against the French.

  For a week past war had been decided on; it was preached in the churches and out of doors; and Ferdinand’s proclamations covered the walls. They declared that the King had done all he could to preserve friendly relations with the French, but that the honour

  of Naples was outraged by the occupation of Malta, a fief of the kingdom of Sicily, that he could not tolerate the invasion of the states of the Pope, whom he loved as his ancient ally and respected as Head of the Church, and that consequently he was marching his army to restore Rome to its rightful sovereign. Then, addressing himself directly to the people, he said:

  Had I been able to gain this advantage by any other sacrifice, I should not have hesitated to make it; but what hope of success was there after the many melancholy examples well known to you all? Full of confidence in the goodness of the God of armies, who will guide my steps and direct my operations, I set out at the head of the courageous defenders of the country. I go with the greatest joy to brave all dangers for love of my fellow-countrymen, my brothers and my children; for such I have always considered you. Be faithful to God, obey the commands of my well-beloved companion whom I charge with the cares of government in my absence. I enjoin you to respect and cherish her as a mother. I also leave you my children, who should be no less dear to you than to myself. Whatever may betide, remember that you are Neapolitans, that to be brave, it suffices to will it, and that it is better to die gloriously for God and one’s country than to live in a fatal oppression. May Heaven shed her blessings upon you! Such is the prayer of him, who, while life lasts, will preserve for you the tenderest feelings of a sovereign and father.”

  This was the first time that the King of Naples had spoken directly to his people; and since the victory of the Spaniards at Villetri in 1744 the Neapolitans had heard no cannon except on fête days. As to Ferdinand he had had no occasion for proving his courage or military talent; and his capacities were unknown, unless to himself. But he had taken a grave step in declaring war; even though after the letter he had received he made no doubt of the help of Austria, and also counted on a division from Piedmont.

  The Neapolitans, always ready to rush to extremes, were by this time in a state of enthusiasm bordering on delirium. They looked upon the King as a second Godëfroy de Bouillon, a champion of the Church flying to the aid of demolished altars and religion profaned, an example of Christianity, the idol of Naples. Thus all who could be suspected of Jacobinism, namely, of desiring progress and instruction and of looking upon France as a civilising influence, were prudently within doors, and careful not to mingle in the crowd.