Various
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Volume 61, No. 376, February, 1847
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.
On assuming command of his regiment, Colonel Pépé was as much struck by its martial aspect, as he was vexed at its clumsy manœuvres, and low moral condition. Both men and officers lacked instruction. The former were most incorrigible thieves. Plundering was a pretty common practice with the French armies in Spain, even in Suchet's corps, which was one of the best disciplined: and the Italians, anxious not to be outdone in any respect by their allies, were the most accomplished of depredators. They had come in fact to hold theft meritorious, and designated it by the elegant name of poetry. This slang term had become so general, that it was used even by the officers; and the adjutant of Pépé's regiment, in reporting a marauder to him, calls the man a poet. The prosaic application of a couple of hundred lashes to the shoulders of this culprit, served as a warning to his fellows, and soon the crime became of rare occurrence. The officers, although deficient in the theory of their profession, "were brave and honourable men, and had shown their valour, not only against the enemy, but in numerous duels, fought with the French, justifying fully, a saying of Machiavel, that the courage of the Italians, when opposed man to man, is far superior to that of other nations." The example of their new commander was not likely to break the officers of the eighth infantry of their duelling propensities. In the course of General Pépé's memoirs, he refers to at least half a score encounters of the kind, in which he was a principal. With the exception of two, which occurred when he was only seventeen, and of his final one—as far as we are informed—with General Carascosa, fought in England, in 1823, these single combats were invariably with foreigners, with whom the general seems to have been very unenduring. Not that provocation was wanting on the part of the French, more than sufficient to rouse the ire of the meekest. The insolence of Napoleon's victorious legions exceeded all bounds; nor was it the less irritating for being often unintentional,—the result of a habit of gasconading, and of a settled conviction that they were superior in valour and military qualities to all the world besides. A certain General F. could find no higher praise for Pépé's battalions, when they had gallantly attacked and beaten a Spanish corps, than was conveyed in the declaration that they ought, in future, to be regarded, not as Neapolitans but as Frenchmen! A compliment which to patriotic Italian ears, sounded vastly like an insult. Attributing it to stupidity, Pépé did not resent the clumsy eulogium. But it was very rare that he allowed slights of that kind to pass unnoticed, nor could he always restrain his disgust and impatience at the fulsome praise he heard lavished upon Napoleon. The officers who had gained rank and wealth under the French emperor, exalted him above all the heroes of antiquity, and breathed fire and flames when their Italian comrades supported the superior claims to immortality, of an Alexander, a Hannibal, or a Cæsar. "I believe Colonel Pépé loves neither Napoleon nor the French!" angrily exclaimed a French general during one of these discussions. "I replied instantly, that I was serving in the army of Arragon, but that I made no parade of my affections." Words like these were, of course, neither unheeded nor forgotten, and were little likely to push their utterer upwards on the ladder of promotion. But at no period of his life did General Pépé trust to courtier-like qualities for the advancement which he well knew how to conquer at point of sword.
After two years passed in Spain, and with the reputation of one of the best colonels in Suchet's army, Pépé returned to Naples. Murat, who had just come back from Russia, received him kindly, and made him a major-general. Notwithstanding this, he entertained serious thoughts of quitting the service. He had left Spain full of political hopes; and now the independence which Napoleon's disasters had given to Murat rendered their realization more than ever improbable. His discontent was participated in by many of his countrymen, especially by the Carbonari, which sect was greatly on the increase, fostered by the Bourbonites, who, for their own purposes, sought to sow dissensions in Naples. "I looked upon this sect," says General Pépé, "as a useful agent for the civilisation of the popular classes; but, at the same time, I was of opinion that, as it was necessary to force the king to grant liberal institutions, it was needful to make use of the army to avoid, as much as possible, all disorders of the state." The Abruzzi were the focus of the Carbonaro doctrines, and thither the general had been despatched with his brigade. When there, he learned Murat's departure for Dresden, to command Napoleon's cavalry. "Such was the eccentricity of Joachim, that a few days before quitting Naples, he had been in treaty with England to proclaim the independence of Italy, that nation engaging to furnish twenty thousand men and a considerable sum of money for this purpose. The ratification of the treaty only reached Naples after the departure of the king." Caroline Buonaparte, regent of Naples during her husband's absence, hated Pépé for his liberal principles and declared opposition to the French party, and showed him marked distrust. October came; Leipsic was fought, Napoleon retreated towards the Rhine,—Murat returned to Naples. Deprived of the support of his brother-in-law, whose star was visibly on the decline, it was time he should think and act for himself. In this critical conjuncture, he displayed, as usual, a grievous want of judgment. With a strong Bourbonite party against him, he could not make up his mind to conciliate, by concession, the liberal section of his subjects. On the other hand, Ferdinand, under the guidance of England, had given a constitution to Sicily, and promised to extend a similar boon to the Neapolitans if they would restore him to his continental dominions. In this promise, it is true, the patriot party, with the horrors of 1799 fresh in their memory, placed little confidence. General Pépé attributes much of Murat's undecided and injudicious conduct to Napoleon's treatment of him. "The emperor," he says, "one day exalted him to the skies, and the next would humble him to the very dust, condemning every thing he did, not only through the public papers, but in his private correspondence." On this head, the general gives very curious particulars, derived from the Duke of Campo Chiaro, chief of the police, and minister under Murat. The dilemma in which King Joachim found himself might have perplexed a wiser man. It was an option between turning his arms against his country and his benefactor, and losing his crown, which he could not hope to retain if he declared against the allies. After negotiating at one and the same time with all parties, he finally, at the commencement of 1814, concluded a treaty of alliance with Austria. But his mind was in an unsettled and wavering state; and he made no secret to those French officers who still followed his fortunes, of the good will with which he would once more fight beside, instead of against, his old companions in arms. "The Austrians so firmly expected this volta-facia, that they attempted, with one of Nugent's regiments of hussars, to take him prisoner at Bologna." At times, Pépé fancied that the king was about to comply with the wishes of the patriot party, grant a liberal constitution, and proclaim the independence of Italy. His hopes of this were particularly strong, when he found himself appointed to organise and command a legion, to consist of men from all the provinces of Italy, and of whose officers he was to have the nomination. That so important a trust as this should be confided to a man noted for his democratic principles, of whom the king never spoke but as the tribune and the tête de fer, and who had been more than once suspected of an intention to revolt, was indeed a symptom of a change in Murat's views. But it all ended in smoke. Pépé drew up the plan of the legion, and submitted it to the king, who took no further notice of it. He was engrossed in watching the final struggle between Napoleon and the allies.
On the 19th April, when about to besiege Piacenza, news reached Murat of the fall of Paris, and of the treaty of peace concluded with the viceroy of the kingdom of Italy. The war was suspended, and the Neapolitan army retired southwards. At Rimini, General Pépé, who commanded the rear guard, fell in with the Pope, then proceeding to Rome, and was admitted to an interview. Never oblivious of his political principles, he took an opportunity of saying, "that it would be worthy of an Italian pontiff to collect about him the sons of Italy, and to drive the foreigners out of his native land." His holiness listened attentively, but made no reply. When Murat was informed of this bold suggestion of Pépé's, he exclaimed, "He will not leave even the Pope quiet," and this saying became a standing joke against the tenacious patriot. A few days afterwards, General Ambrosio, another of the liberal party, had been advocating to the Pope the advantages of a constitution for Italy, "when a crippled gentleman was brought to the carriage door, who requested the pontiff to bestow his blessing upon him, that he might recover the use of his limbs. The Pope, turning towards Ambrosio, said, 'You see, General, where we are; Italy is still far from the period you so ardently desire.'" Ambrosio and his friends, especially Pépé, were of the contrary opinion, and conspired to compel Murat to grant them a constitution. Seventeen general officers were implicated in the plot, but when the moment for action came, the majority faltered, Pépé was left in the lurch, and became the scapegoat. Urged to fly to Milan, he refused to lower himself in the opinion of his countrymen by seeking refuge amidst the oppressors of Italy. He was ordered to the castle of St. Elmo, there to appear before a court-martial, but on reaching Naples, the placable Murat had forgotten his anger, and received him kindly. "I treat all my subjects, and you in particular, like my children," were his first words. In the interesting conversation that followed, Pépé urged the king to grant a constitution, as the surest means of securing the affections of his subjects and consolidating his throne. Murat replied, that he should long since have done so, but that such a proceeding would draw upon him the implacable animosity of Austria. And he declined relying, as his unceremonious counsellor urged him to do, upon the courage of six millions of Neapolitans and the natural strongholds of the country. He was never offended at Pépé's frankness, for he had faith in his personal attachment. "It is certain," says the General, "that, after my country, I was most truly attached to Joachim, and I would have given my life for him." Subsequent events proved this, and showed Murat that the man who, boldly and to his face, had blamed the conduct of the king, was the firm friend of the depressed and unhappy fugitive. In the closing scene of Joachim's reign, when the disbanded Neapolitans, badly led, and in some instances deserted by generals who should never have held the rank, fled before the hosts of Austria, the sympathy and friendship of his plain-spoken follower were amongst the last and best consolations of the falling monarch. Very bitter must have been Murat's reflections at that moment; the conviction was forced upon him that his misfortunes resulted chiefly from his own want of judgment and too great facility; captivity or exile stared him in the face; the sunny smile which, even in moments of the greatest peril, rarely left his countenance, was chased by shame and self-reproach, and tears stood upon his cheeks. "I could not restrain my own, and, instead of speaking, I advanced, took his hand, and kissed it. Oh! how touched he was by this act of respectful affection on my part! Who knows but at that moment he recollected the words I had addressed to him in his palace, 'Whenever you shall find yourself in a situation of danger, you will learn to distinguish your real friends from the friends of your fortune.'" A very few days after this affecting scene, on the night of the 20th May, Murat crossed over in disguise to Ischia, and embarked for France. On the 23d, took place the triumphal entry of the Austrians into the city of Naples.
The particulars of Murat's last mad act, his landing in Italy at the head of thirty men, and of his consequent capture and tragical death, have been related by many writers, and General Pépé could add little in the way of facts to what was already known. He makes some interesting reflections on the subject, and traces the supreme ill-luck by which Joachim was pursued in his last desperate venture. On the return of the Bourbons to France, two of his followers, who had accompanied him from Naples, hired a vessel to convey him to England or America. But, as fate would have it, the place of rendezvous was misunderstood. Murat missed his friends, and, being in hourly peril of his life, put to sea in a boat. Landed in Corsica, the affectionate welcome he met from thousands of the inhabitants, many of whom had formerly served under him, cheered his drooping spirits, and inspired him with the idea of a descent in Italy. He had two hundred and seventy followers, hardy Corsican mountaineers, and had they landed with him, General Pépé is of opinion that he would soon have raised a force sufficiently strong to maintain the campaign, and extort favourable conditions from Austria, as far, at least, as regarded his life and liberty. But the six small vessels in which he left Ajaccio were scattered by a tempest, and he was driven, with but a tithe of his followers, to the very last port he ought to have made. The inhabitants of Pizzo, whose coasting trade had been ruined during the war, were glad of peace on any terms, and looked upon Murat as a firebrand, come to renew their calamities. They assailed the adventurers and drove them to the shore. But when Joachim would fain have re-embarked, he saw his ship standing out to sea. The treacherous commander had betrayed him for the sake of the valuables he had left on board. And Murat, the chivalrous, the brave, remained a prisoner in the hands of his former subjects, scoffed at and reviled by the lowest of the people. Five days afterwards, twelve bullets in the breast terminated his misfortunes. It was a soldier's death, but had been better met on the battle-field. There, amidst the boom of artillery, and the din of charging squadrons, should have terminated the career of the most dashing cavalry officer of modern times, of one who might well have disputed with Ney the proud title of the "brave des braves."
We have purposely dwelt upon the earlier portion of General Pépé's work, to the exclusion of its latter chapters. We can take but little interest in Neapolitan history since 1815, in the abortive revolutionary struggles and manœuvres of the Carbonari and other would-be liberators. Nor do the ample details given by the general greatly increase our respect for Italian patriotism; whilst we trace more than one discrepancy between the conclusions he draws and the results he exhibits. He holds his countrymen to have been long since ripe for a constitutional government and free institutions, and yet he himself shows us that, when a revolution was achieved, and those great objects attained, the leading men of his party, those who had been foremost in effecting the change, proved traitors or dupes, and that the people, organised in militia and national guards, displayed so little self-devotion, such small zeal in defence of their newly acquired liberties, as to be utterly disheartened by the very first conflict with their treacherous king's supporters, and to disperse, never again to reassemble. Such was, the case in 1821, and in vain does General Pépé try to justify his countrymen by attributing their weakness and defection to the machinations of the evil-disposed. The truth, we believe, is to be found in the final words of his own proclamation, addressed to the national guards after the disastrous encounter, in the vain hope of once more rousing them to resistance. "Your women," he said, "will make you blush for your weakness, and will bid you hasten again to surround that general whose confidence in your patriotism you should have justified better than you did on the 7th of March, when you fought at Rieti."
His darling Constitution overthrown, Pépé wandered forth an exile. But hope never deserted him. Baffled, he was not discouraged. He sought on all sides for means to renew the struggle. And truly some of his projects, however creditable to his intrepidity and zeal, say little for his prudence and coolness of judgment. What can be thought of his application in 1823 to Mavrocordato for a thousand chosen Greeks, with whom he proposed to land in Calabria! Of course the chief of the new Greek government civilly declined leading a thousand of his countrymen for any such desperate venture. In 1830 the general's hopes were raised high by the success of the French revolution. His active brain teemed with projects, and in his mind's eye he again saw the tri-colored banner floating from St. Elmo's towers. Vain delusions, not destined to realization. The feeble attempts of the Italian patriots were easily suppressed, and Pépé retired to Paris, to mourn the fate of his beloved and beautiful country, doomed to languish in Austrian servitude and under Bourbon despotism.