| CHAP. XXIII] | 221 |
The Hero of Acre met in Sicily, at the house of a Neapolitan Royalist and fugitive, an old French refugee who had suffered greatly during the Reign of Terror in France, and who was deploring, in no very manly way, the loss of estates and titles, and stiffly maintaining that under the ancien régime nothing, in politics, had been done amiss. “I beg your pardon,” said Sir Sidney, “it was under your ancien régime, and with a Government despotic at home, that you interfered in favour of our revolted American colonists, who were going for a democratic republic. Monsieur, vous avez préché la révolution chez nous, et la voilà chez vous!”
Although, like all men who talk too much and are overdosed with vanity and conceit, the Hero of Acre too frequently talked nonsense and rendered himself a bore even to his best friends and warmest admirers, he had, very often, le mot heureux, and the clever, quick, sharp, cutting epigram or antithesis.
One night, at the Opera of San Carlo, he spoke at me for three mortal
hours, despite of Rossini’s music and
Vestris’ ballet, and this without a single
pause, and without the least regard to those who were in the same box with us. He had taken
into his head that I intended to attempt writing his life; a task performed many years
later (1839), and not very well, by my sometime acquaintance, poor Ned Howard, author of “Rattlin the Reefer” and of other sea novels, in
the manner of Captain Marryat.
| 222 | SIR SIDNEY SMITH | [CHAP. XXIII |
I have already spoken of the vanity and loquacity of the Hero of Acre. I first met him at Rome, in the winter of 1816-17, where Madame Mère, and I think nearly every other member of the Bonaparte family, with the exception of Joseph, who was gone to America, and of Caroline, Murat’s widow, who was living somewhere near Trieste, had taken up their abodes, and were maintaining a very good, if not splendid, style of life. It was curious to see at Roman balls and conversazioni, and at the houses of the foreign ambassadors and ministers, these dethroned Kings and Queens and Potentates, mixing with English Admirals and Generals, British peers and distinguished members of our House of Commons, and with warriors, statesmen, and diplomatists from Russia, from Austria, from Prussia, Spain, and Portugal, and from every country which had been so recently waging the fiercest of wars against Napoleon.
Sir Sidney, who had a quick sense for contrasts, and a keen eye for the picturesque and dramatic, seemed wonderfully to enjoy these “réunions mélangées.” He had with him his wife and his two stepdaughters, the Misses Rumbold, at that period splendid women, objects of universal admiration, the cynosure of all eyes. I grieve to add that they set no bounds to their flirtations, or to their extravagance. A pair of such daughters—and Sir Sidney always treated them as his own—was enough to ruin a much richer man. Not many months after
* Thus far in C. M.’s handwriting. |
| CHAP. XXIII] | AT NAPLES | 223 |
When he received money, he never rested till he had spent it all on dinner
parties and other festivities. As poor Count Pecchio
said of Ugo Foscolo, Smith never knew how to keep any balance between the Dare and the Avere. I have known him to be reduced, in a
foreign country, and even with persons who were comparatively strangers, to very
humiliating resources, but I never knew him to be the less cheerful and good-humoured for
this. At times his conversation was instructive and altogether delightful. Animated it
always was, but this excess of animation was at times very oppressive. I have gone away
from him with my head giddy and swimming, as if I had been in a swing or on a roundabout.
Most of his time, at Naples, he had with him Captain Arabin, who
appeared to me to be a very brave, very clever, right-minded, right-hearted man. It would
have been well for Sir Sidney if he had always had such good
companions. Unfortunately he was far from being particular in choosing his entourage, and
at least on two occasions I knew him to form an intimacy with a defamed man. He was
incessantly talking of his own exploits, and repeating the story of how he defended Acre,
over and over again, often to the self-same persons, and very often to Neapolitan ladies
who cared nothing about it, and who, for the most part, were Napoleonists au fond du cœur. How he could fancy that he could
amuse young, handsome, and fashionable women with this talk, I could not comprehend. At
times, too, he was unlucky in his references to past events. One night, in rather a large
party, he said to the fair and graceful Duchessa di Gallo, wife to the
well-known old diplomatist, “Duchessa, when I used to come into the
| 224 | SIR SIDNEY SMITH | [CHAP. XXIII |
“We are much obliged to you for not having carried that idea into execution,” replied the Duchessa. At least one-half of the persons present had long had houses in this fashionable suburb, which lies quite open to the sea, and which had suffered somewhat from a cannonade in the troubles of 1799. Another mal à propos was his violently abusing not only the Government at Naples, but the personal character of Joseph Bonaparte, to a lady who had been one of Joseph’s many favourites, and who had had a child by him, a boy then living, and astonishingly like the Bonaparte family.
In spite, however, of these wearisome details, Sir Sidney was quite a favourite in the best society of that capital. It was, indeed, very difficult to dislike him, for he was so brave and chivalrous, so generous and good-humoured, and had always such a stock of cheerfulness.
He used to drive about with his wife and stepdaughters in a great big lumbering, antiquated landau, the panels of which were completely covered with arms, supporters, emblazonments, orders, and flags. It was a thing to exhibit at a public show; but it was very indicative of its owner’s failings. I know not how many good jokes the wits of Naples made upon that carrozzaccio: they did not at all discompose Sir Sidney, who must have heard some of them. One day towards the close of the year 1817, he made himself superlatively ridiculous. The dethroned old King of Spain, Charles IV., came from Rome to Naples on a visit to his brother, old King Ferdinand. In honour of the visitor, rather a splendid review was got up at the Campo di Marte.
| CHAP. XXIII] | AT A REVIEW | 225 |
Sir Sidney, who never absented himself from anything of the sort, must needs go, and go in full uniform, and attended by a mounted aide-de-camp. Several English officers, of Army and Navy, then staying at Naples, declined the honour of riding after the Admiral. What was to be done? At last he lighted upon a certain Mr. O., who had once been an officer of Marines, but who had married a Sicilian wife, and had left our service under circumstances not very honourable. He made this poor devil put on an old and shabby uniform, and mount a hack-horse, as he himself was mounted. The steeds were the merest rips; at that period, at Naples, there were no good hacks to be hired, and indeed but few good saddle-horses of any kind. Horseflesh has been much improved since then. I was riding gently up the fine sloping road which leads to the camp, in company with Captain C. and another English officer, when we heard a tremendous clattering behind, and were presently passed by the Admiral and his Marine, who were “going the pace” with a vengeance.
Sir Sidney was covered all over with insignia, like
the panels of his own coach. He had put on all his orders, ribbons, and other badges, and
of these he had a great many, being decoré by
England, France, Spain, Portugal, Sardinia, Naples, Sweden, etc. The very broad, bright,
blood-red sash of the Order of St. Januarius was very conspicuous on his chest; but,
altogether, with all these trappings dangling about him, he looked like a rat-catcher
equipped for business. “What a pity,” said C.,
“that, with all his good and high qualities, Sir Sidney
should not have a little modesty, a little common sense!” But on went the
brave sailor, cantering among the carriages, saluting all the ladies, caracoling along the
lines, talking to King Ferdinand, disappearing and
quickly reappearing, and always with Mr. O. close astern. It was
astonishing how
| 226 | SIR SIDNEY SMITH | [CHAP. XXIII |
For that climate, it was a damp and cold day; the review did old Charles IV. no good; but it was a boar-hunt in the woods of Persano, by Paestum, that carried him off, very soon after. That evening, accoutred and encumbered as he was, “with all his blushing honours thick upon him,” Sir Sidney went to the Opera at San Carlo, and sat full in front of his box. He loved to have all eyes fixed upon him, and to hear people say, “Quello è il famosissimo ammiraglio Sir Smitt!”
His own account of his escape from the prison of the Temple at Paris was very interesting, but it has often been told. He always expressed an entire conviction that if he had fallen into the clutches of Napoleon and Savary, he would have been murdered in prison like Pichegru and Wright.
“I did him so much harm,” said he; “and then in Egypt our enmity became personal, and a pretty hot, personal quarrel it was! He gave me the lie, and I sent him a challenge, which he would not accept.”
Although he committed sundry diplomatic and other errors, Sir Sidney really did good, excellent service in Egypt, as
well in the year 1800 as in 1799 at Acre, and for these he could not be otherwise than
esteemed by his brother officers and by his superiors in command. Both Admiral Lord Keith and General
Sir Ralph Abercromby had a due sense of his merits, but they disliked his
loquacity and his practice of intermeddling with everything. One morning, as they were
preparing for the disembarkation of the troops in Aboukir Bay, Lord
Keith, the old General, and Sir George
Murray were walking the quarter-deck and concerting measures. Suddenly the
Admiral stopped and looked over the bulwark. “Yes,” cried he,
“there is no mistake! D—n it, Sir Rafe! Here comes that
talking man again!”
| CHAP. XXIII] | A GREAT EGOTIST | 227 |
The Prince Regent and King (George IV.) was, however, of too vindictive a temper ever to forgive him his Blackheath adventures, and that postern-gate at the back of the Princess’s grounds, and that suspicious latchkey or passe partout. Only once did I hear him speak of Her Royal Highness, and then it was manfully to assert that she was an ill-used, innocent woman.
This was said in a party of Neapolitans, of whom several could have borne evidence that if not guilty with Bergamo, she was the most indiscreet, imprudent of women, and one who, in their city, had set appearances at defiance. The charming Duchess of Gallo, who lent her a house, and who of necessity saw a great deal of her during her stay at Naples, could have told Sir Sidney—as she had told me and others—more than one story quite decisive as to the Princess’s manners, and even mœurs. The facts were of the Duchess’s own knowledge.
It would not be easy to find in talk, or pen in hand, so great an egotist as the Hero of Acre. With him it was one eternal “I.” He had some merit in exciting Europe against the Barbary, and most barbarous, Corsairs. Long before 1816, he had warmly advocated an attack on Algiers, and the rest of those piratical nests.
But, after Lord Exmouth’s
successful expedition, Sir Sidney seemed to claim
the entire merit of the deed. “I published two pamphlets at Paris. I stirred up my
old friend Louis XVIII. I excited even the cold and
cautious Talleyrand. I stirred
| 228 | SIR SIDNEY SMITH | [CHAP. XXIII |
Sir Sidney left Naples rather deeply in debt, and I
lost sight of him for more than twelve years. In that long interval, however, the fame of
some of his doings reached my ears. Being in Holland, somewhere about 1828, he took to
inventing lifeboats. Having constructed one, which he was quite sure could not fail, he
resolved to try it himself. But as he must have an aide-de-camp with him, he took, in that
capacity, that utterly ruined and disgraced spendthrift, L. G. The
famous lifeboat upset at a very short distance from shore, and Sir
Sidney and his aide had a very narrow escape from drowning. Still, I
believe, the inventor continued to maintain that his plan was founded on infallible
principles, and that the little accident was entirely owing to the stupidity of the
Dutchmen who built the boat. In the spring of 1830, my ally and crony R. L.
E., who had been well acquainted with the Hero in Turkey and elsewhere,
learned quite accidentally that Sir Sidney was in London, and staying
at a house in Bedford Square. The next morning we went together to pay him a visit. We had
to knock and ring several times. At last a drab of a servant-girl came out into the area;
and, after keenly eyeing us, asked what we wanted. “Is Sir Sidney
Smith staying here?” The girl muttered something which we
could not hear, and then disappeared. In a minute, however, the door was opened by a lad,
who before answering our question examined us and asked our names. When I say that the door
was opened, I am not quite correct, for it was only partially opened, the chain being
| CHAP. XXIII] | HIS GENEROSITY | 229 |
But in a trice the boy came running to the door; the impeding chain was removed, and we were admitted.
The house looked very much like a lawyer’s house, but we saw no people about it. We found the Hero upstairs, in a back drawing-room, seated at a table covered with papers, some in print, some in MS. Twelve years had produced a very visible change in his person, but his eye was as bright, and his heart as buoyant, as ever.
He was astonished that E. had discovered his whereabouts, and he cautioned us to preserve a prudent silence as to his being in town. We could not but understand what this meant; but he was quite and fully explicit—there were writs out against him, and he was afraid of being “nabbed.” “There are times,” said he—not with a sigh, but with a laugh—“when one cannot tell everybody where one lives.” Subsequently I was reminded of these words by what fell from my former acquaintance, T. K. H., the poet. “H.,” said one of his intimate friends, “where do you hang out now? I don’t know where you live!” “Very few do,” replied the poet.
Yet, though thus playing at “hide-and-seek,” and though otherwise in great straits, poor Sir Sidney’s heart was as large and as generous as in former times. He had been sending money to the distressed widow and children of an officer who had once served under him, and he was exceedingly anxious about some old friend who had been ruining himself by speculations in Change Alley. He talked of getting up a merry little dinner party at some out-of-the-way house of entertainment, where we might talk over old times, and where he would not be known.
| 230 | SIR SIDNEY SMITH | [CHAP. XXIII |
Two or three days after I called again, and saw only the servant-girl of
the area. Sir Sidney was gone. She knew not whither.
Not many months after this he reappeared, and could show himself in public. George IV. had gone to the vaults under St. George’s
Chapel, and William IV. was on the throne. As Duke of
Clarence, William IV. had associated a good deal with the Hero, and
had always expressed for him admiration and affection. Sir Sidney,
counting on these sentiments, was confident that he would soon be employed, and even be
promoted. He must have made some arrangements with his troublesome creditors, for the
“good things” were not yet come; they were only coming. One day, as I was
perched on the top of a coach, going to Brighton, I saw Sir Sidney
walking along Piccadilly, with a quick, elastic step, and a very cheerful countenance. A
very short time after this, my crony, R. L. E., was invited to meet
the Hero at dinner, at the country-house of that kind and very hospitable old Turkey
merchant, Mr. N. K., who was a very old friend of the Admiral.
Sir Sidney was true to time, but the dinner was kept waiting by
the nonappearance of that exemplary scamp, L. G., who was again
hanging on to the Admiral, and doing all kinds of work for him, and giving himself the
title of “Secretary.” When, at length, Mr. Secretary made his appearance,
Sir Sidney, who was hungry then, and impatient always, said,
“G., why the devil can’t you be punctual? We have been waiting nearly an
hour.” “Sir Sidney,” said the rogue, with a
gravity that struck E. as being exceedingly laughable,
“Sir Sidney, I was obliged to wait for the
despatches!” And here he produced three or four letters, which, to
E.’s eye, looked very much like lawyer’s letters. The
merriest man—we need not add, the most talkative—at that hospitable table was the Hero of
Acre, who, as an inevitable necessity, told over again the incidents of that siege.
E. rode
| CHAP. XXIII] | GENERAL OF MARINES | 231 |
King William did not disappoint him. He obtained the command of one of our Home Stations, and was made General of Marines. This ought to have set him at ease as to money matters, but I believe that it did not.
