Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Volume 61, No. 376, February, 1847

Notwithstanding the presence of the French troops, who by the treaty concluded at Florence, on terms ignominious for Naples, occupied several Neapolitan provinces, the patriot party again began to conspire against Ferdinand, and in their machinations Pépé, in spite of his youth, soon took a prominent share. His aversion to the Neapolitan Bourbons was only equalled by the indignation with which he saw his native land garrisoned by foreigners, feeding upon its fatness. Murat, who at first had viewed him with favour, soon looked upon him as a dangerous political agitator. At Rome he was imprisoned, but obtained his release through the interest of a friend. All warnings were unavailing; he was foremost in every plot, until at last he was arrested at Naples and sent to the Fossa del Maritimo. He gives a striking description of this horrible place of confinement. Opposite to the city of Trapano in Sicily, at a distance of thirty miles, is the small island or rather the barren rock of the Maritimo, "a Sicilian anagram of Morte-mia, a name quite characteristic of the horror of the place. Upon a point of this island stands a castle where, in former days, watch was kept for the approach of the African pirates who infested the Sicilian coasts. Upon a platform of the castle, situated at the north, a deep cistern had been made in the rock. Towards the middle of the seventeenth century, the water had been emptied from this cistern in order to transform it into a prison for a wretched youth who had murdered his own father in the most barbarous manner, but who was too young to be condemned to death." In this den, which since 1799 had been used as a state prison, Pépé and five other political offenders were confined. It was six feet wide and twenty-two long; only in the centre could they stand upright: it was so dark that a lamp was kept constantly burning; the rain entered through the only opening that gave air; and two prisoners, who had already been there some time, declared that they had counted twenty-two species of insects. Fortunately for him, Pépé was not kept long in this dismal cell, although his next prison, a dungeon cut in the rock, in the very deepest vault of the castle of St. Catherine, on the island of Favignana, was but little preferable. Here, however, he obtained books, and was able to complete his education, which had been interrupted by the revolution. "My passion for study," he says, "was carried to such an extent, that I felt pain and regret whenever I did not devote to it, either in reading or writing, fourteen hours a-day. During the three years of my imprisonment, my application was unremitting, and I owe to it that I did not fall into the habits, so common to prisoners, of smoking and drinking."

Most graphically told, the chapters relating to General Pépé's imprisonment, are as amusing as any romance. More than once did he and his fellow-captive muse over an escape, and ponder its possibilities. These were very remote. At last they devised a plan, which they thought would ensure their transfer to a less rigorous confinement, whence they might find means of flight. Twenty galley slaves were imprisoned in the castle. At night they occupied the same apartment with Pépé; in the day-time they were set to work in different parts of the fortress. These men were easily persuaded to adopt an ingenious plan of escape devised by Pépé, who, with his friend, was to remain behind, "upon the plea that, as the government attached far more importance to the custody of state prisoners, than to that of common criminals, our company would prove more dangerous than useful to them." The fact was, that the chances were a hundred to one against the escape. Nevertheless it was accomplished, although the fugitives, with one exception, were promptly retaken. Pépé and his companion now made a merit of not having participated in it, and wrote to their friends at Naples, entreating them to urge their release. This would hardly have been obtained but for the outbreak of hostilities. Ferdinand, without waiting to see the result of the struggle between Austria, Russia, and France, declared against the latter power. He soon had reason to repent his precipitation. The crushing campaign of Austerlitz, followed by the march of Massena upon Naples, sent him and his court flying into Sicily. In the confusion that ensued, Pépé was set at liberty. Embarking at Messina, he once more landed in his native province of Calabria, and reached Naples, a wiser and better man than he had left it. Three years' study and reflection had cooled the rash fervour of his youthful aspirations. His desire for his country's freedom was unabated, but his Utopian visions of a republic had lost much of the brilliant colouring that had dazzled his boyish imagination. Prudence told him that it was unwise, by aiming at too much, to risk obtaining nothing. He was not singular in this modification of his views. The great majority of the liberal party had also moderated their pretensions; and in Naples, as in France, the word republic was now seldom spoken but in derision. Pépé was content that the desired changes should come more gradually than would have suited him before three years of thought and dungeon-life had sobered and matured his judgment. And henceforward we find his endeavours directed, steadily and unceasingly, to the establishment of free institutions under a constitutional monarchy.

By the grace of his brother the king-maker, Joseph Buonaparte was now upon the throne of Naples. On arriving in that capital, Pépé was presented to the minister of war, General Dumas. "From my extreme anxiety to produce the well or ill digested theories I had imbibed in prison, I was very loquacious, and urged so strongly the danger threatened to Calabria by the impending landing, not only of the British, but of all Cardinal Ruffo's banditti levies, who had acquired consequence in 1799, that he ordered a militia to be raised throughout the country." By Dumas, the young theorist, whose predictions, however, were not ill-founded, was presented to King Joseph, of whom he speaks in no very favourable terms. He admits him to have been courteous and affable, not deficient in information, and to have established many of those institutions which pave the way to liberty; but he blames him for neglecting his ample opportunities of establishing his power on a solid basis, and acquiring the affections of his subjects. The higher classes—of which, in Naples, contrary to what is the case in many countries, the liberal party consists—were devoted to Joseph, until he disgusted them by various parts of his conduct, and especially by the introduction of a horde of Frenchmen, who monopolised the most lucrative posts, both civil and military. He also gave offence by his luxurious and expensive manner of living. The sumptuousness of his table was proverbial throughout the kingdom, and, having left Madame Joseph in France, he permitted himself considerable license in other respects, living a very free life amongst the young beauties of his court, whom he used to take with him on his hunting excursions under the name of cacciatrici. It is probable that Neapolitan morality might have found little ground for censure in these Sardanapalian indulgences, but for the heavy expenses they entailed upon Neapolitan pockets, and, indeed, they were most unjustifiable in a country impoverished by wars and revolutions.

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.