The kingdom of Naples, or the Two Sicilies, was on the point of being swallowed up by France. The British fleet apart, it was practically at the mercy of the French, for though it had a certain number of men capable of offering a bloody resistance in guerilla warfare or street fighting, we now know that it had no army or navy capable of contending with the veteran and splendidly-led forces of France. The nobles and the wealthier portion of the population, to a large extent, believed in the honesty of the French intentions, and, as I have said, had a good deal of sympathy with the new ideas spread on the air by the French Revolution. The King did not see the danger in which his kingdom lay from the French. But the Queen's wits were sharpened by her hatred: she never forgot for an instant the murder of her sister or the sympathies of her family--the Imperial House of Austria. Being on the _qui vive_, she saw the sword which was hanging over the kingdom, and with characteristic energy determined to dash it away. But there were difficulties, and she saw that she must lean upon the English and their brilliant naval commander. The island part of her kingdom could hardly be seriously invaded until the British sea power in the Mediterranean was broken; but the Continental part was in a very different position. There were French forces no farther off than Rome, and until our sweeping victory at the Nile had shut the great French expeditionary force under General Buonaparte up in Egypt it was more than half likely that it would have been employed for a descent on Naples. The English, on the other hand, had no land forces in Italy, and we had not indeed shown that we had either commanders or regiments of a character to maintain the prestige won under the great Duke of Marlborough. Any formal defiance of the French, therefore, involved a grave risk of losing the Continental part of the Neapolitan kingdom, until an Austrian army marched down the Peninsula. And to bring about a French invasion it was only necessary for the Queen to show herself in open alliance with the English. No one doubted her wishes in this direction. She was simply overborne by the sympathy or fear for the French entertained by those who had the power to override her. Maria Carolina had more than ordinary courage; but she had cunning also, and quietly developed her plans in connection with the English, and contrived to do so, as history has proved, and certain of us knew all along, through her intimacy with Lady Hamilton. Lady Hamilton, it is true, was the wife of the British Ambassador; but, partly from her antecedents, no doubt, people did not regard her as capable of having any political weight, and she was much identified with the frivolities which took up the time of the Royal Family to such an extent as to be a scandal.