MISCELLANEOUS.
Cruelty of the King of Naples.— The conservative sympathies of the English people were for some months after the French revolution of June, 1848, very strongly enlisted in favour of those Continental sovereigns whose thrones were endangered by the excesses of their subjects. Among the sovereigns, some deserved—and some did not —the kindly interest manifested in their behalf. In the number of those upon whom sympathy was misplaced, must be .ranked the King of Naples—a man whose mis-government was enough to have produced a thousand -Mazzinis, to resist it to extremity. In the day of his peril and calamity his cruelty was only equalled by his treachery ; and when, after a reign of terror, which throws into shade-the horrors committed in the .worst days of Robespierre and the Convention, he succeeded in establishing his power, neither his cruelty nor his treachery was diminished; but both were continued,even though they lacked the wretched plea of necessity, which might formerly have been urged in their extenuation. From .time to time a voice has been raised in Europe .to denounce the conduct of this King—adverse alike from justice and sound policy, as from the common sentiment of humanity; but hitherto the whole truth, when told, has been .received either with doubt or with indifference in this country. A prejudice has been excited against the leaders of the Italian people, who strove to render their country a fit habitation for men with souls ; and the excesses narrated against the King of Naples have been put down to the common exaggeration of political opponents. But within the last few days an accuser of a.different class has raised his voice against the mis-government and tyrannv of the Neapolitan Sovereign. An English statesman of the highest character, a man with Conservative sympathies, and.whose tastei and feelings would lead him rather to support than to weaken authority in every country, has publicly denounced the system pursued at Naples, and made an appeal to Europe in. behalf of injured humanity, which is certain to excite a strong feeling in every civilized conntry. Mr. Gladstone, in a series of letters to the Earl of Aberdeen, has laid bare some of the iniquities of Neapolitan misrule. He has narrated facts of which he has been the eye-witness, and, in calling attention to them, has conferred a public benefit. As the recital of one murder is often more horrible than the history of a battle in which thousands of persons are destroyed, the narrative of one case, not worse than the rest, will serve to show what atrocities are committed in Naples, in the outraged narne of justice. Among the supporters of the King of Naples, at a time when he needed support, was one Carlo Poerio, distinguished for his eloquence as a speaker and writer, the blamelessness of his private character, and his .at? tachment, not to extreme but to moderately liberal principles. Of so much value to the Government were his talents and character considered in the perilous days of 1848, that tie was nominated pne of the Ministers of the i
Crown. He resigned that post —for what reason we are not precisely informed —but that he did not entirely lose the confidence ol the King may be inferred from the fact that his advice was sought after he had ceased to be in the service of the State. In July, 1849, be was accused, with forty other persons, of belonging to the extreme Republican party, and of plotting the murder of the King. On this charge he was brought to trial. Mr. Gladstone was one of the spectators on the occasion, and states that the evidence was inconclusive, the perjury of the witnesses palpable, and the conduct of the judge most indecent and partial. The unfortunate exMinister was, however, found guilty, and sentenced to twenty-four years’ imprisonment in irons. Mr. Gladstone.afterwards saw him in the horrible bagno where he was confined, and thus describes the treatment to which he was subjected: — “In February last, Poerio and 16 of the co-accused were confined in the bagno of Nisida, near the Lazaretto. .For one half-hour in the week, a little prolonged by the leniency of the superintendent, they were allowed to see their friends outside the prison. At other times they were exclusively within the walls. The whole number of them, except, I think one, then in the infirmary, were confined, night and day, in a single room of about 10 palms in length, by 10 or 12 in breadth, and about ten in height; I think with some small yard for exercise. Something like a fifth must be taken off these numbers to convert palms into feet. When the beds were let down at night there was no space whatever between them ; they could only get out at the foot, and being chained two and two, only in pairs. In this room they had to cook or prepare what was sent them by the kindness of their friends. On one side the level of the ground is over the top of the room ; it, therefore, reeked with damp, and from this, they declared they suffered greatly.
The chains were as follows : —Each man wears a strong leather girt round him about the hips. To this are secured the upper ends of two chains. One chain of four long and heavy links descends to a kind of double ring fixed round the ancle. The second chain consist of eight links, each of the same weight and length with the four, and this unites the two prisoners together, so that they can stand about six feet apart. Neither of these chains is ever undone, day or night. The dress of common felons, which, as well as the felon’s cap, was there worn by the late Cabinet Minister of King Ferdinand of Naples, is composed of a rough and coarse red jacket, with trousers of the same material —very like the cloth made in this country from what is called devil's dust; the trousers are nearly black in colour. On his head he had a small cap, which makes up the suit; it is of the same material. The trousers button all the way up, that they may be removed at night without disturbing the chains. The weight of these chains, I understand, is about eight rotoli, or between 16 and 17 English pounds, for the shorter one, which must be doubled when we give each prisoner his half of the longer, one. The prisoners had a heavy limping movement, much as if one leg had been shorter than the other. But the refinement of suffering in. this case arises from the circumstance that here we have men of education and high feeling chained incessantly together. For no purpose are these chains undone ; and the meaning of these last words must be well considered, as they are to be taken strictly. To have condemned the unhappy Poerio to death would have been mercy compared with such unmanly cruelty as this. Surely Englishmen will no longer wonder that there are Italians who have dreamed of, and conspired for, the liberty of their country. When Naples is thus governed, and when Rome, under the influence of the “benign” Pio Nono, Is in a condition even worse ; and when an Italian is not even allowed to carry a walking-stick, lest he should be tempted to knock down with it a foreign or domestic oppressor ; it is not at all surprising, that in their own country, or in exile, there should exist Italians, who only desire the removal of the French from Rome, to try their hands at the re-constitution of Italy, Such governments as those of Naples are the worst fomented of revolution.— lllustrated London News.
The Laird’s Wager.—The Laird of Usan, near Montrose, was one of the most sober, formal, overwise gentlemen in his neighbourhood. He was an extreme old tory, and as such—besides the effect of his sobriety and formality— seemed to be a sort of natural antagonist of Lord Panmure, who was a whig. But one unlucky year the staid Laird of Usan was induced to patronise the Montrose races, Here he met with Lord Panmure—was induced to dine with him was so delighted with his conversation war, of course, made very tipsy—and moteover, before he lost his senses, was actually induced and excited by the fine tactics of the
‘gay deceiver,’ Lord Panmure, to a preposterous wager. The wager w 4s t |/ the Laird of Usan could not ‘break flinders’ as much crockeryware as c 1° be brought to him within the space of hour. He was to have no bludgeon, other weapon, and he was to perform theft 0 ' in the market-place. The wager was fo/' large sum. The next morning, when/ Laird of Usan awoke, and was remind ] of his wager which was to come off in the f ternoon, he was dreadfully vexed and ashamed ; but finding bis adversary j Dej orable he determined not to lose his monev 'f he could help it. He’therefore furnished himself with an immense pair of iisherman’a water boots. The races being over, even body flocks to the market-place. Here Lori Panmure has caused a stage to be erected and on this the unfortunate wise old ton Laird was obliged to win or lose his,wager He was exasperated at the ridiculous eu posure, but there was no help for it. huge hampers of crockery were distributed on the stage, and the Laird, in his usual costume with a little cocked hat, and the addition' of his fisherman's boots began his dance upon the crockery to the infinite merriment of the assembled crowd from the races. ‘The plates, tea-services, and such like, he stamp, ed upon and shivered with his heavy boot! whilst all the larger articles, tureens, jpgs' ewers, and chamber were seized, one in each hand, and smashed over his head with charm, ing vivacity. Meanwhile Mr, Maule stood on the platform, retaining bis usual calmnest and amenity of countenance, not moving a muscle, but appearing seriously intent oo the business before him, till at last, the ba®, pers being emptied, and their contents demolished, he burst out with the exclamation ‘ Bravo, Usan 1’ to which immediately afterwards he added, ‘ Now for it!' Ten to one had been eagerly offered in favour of the Laird, but alas, his partizans little suspected the degree of activity that had been evinced by Mr. Maule, who at an early hour had seat round the town drummers with a proclamation that the highest price in ready cash would be paid for all the crockeryware (Scotlice ‘ P‘S S ') —at could be collected in Motjtrnu The magazine of Mrs. Hume—ancestressol the present member —was entirely emptied, and other shops in like manner. Evenk private houses contributions bad been levied; and, to the astonishment of Usan, no sooner had he disposed of the first collection, ihu divers carts, loaded with full hampers, began to arrive from all quarters.’ The crates were soon emptied, and the stage was covered. No wonder the poor Laird of Usan began to feel dismayed. He, however, renewed the attack most vigorously. But before he had dedemolished a third part, he began to exhibit signs of distress. He paused for breath, and with a streaming face looked ruefully around at his work, and then at the fresh enter coming in carl-loads towards his stage. Hit cocked hat had often fallen off duringhii dance. A friend now induced him to supply its place with a red nightcap, and to takeoff iiis coat and waistcoat. He consented to this. The relief and rest had revived him. He was a new man, and again he went to work: —‘ If any wild young fellow, indeed if any man in all the world rather than the staid, sober, formal Laird of Usan had been the performer, their excitement no doubt would have been much less. But this venerable dignitary dancing in jack-boots, like a maniac, among plates, ashets, bowls, butterbowls, tureens, and tea-services, and smashing nameless articles over his head, hit aspect, moreover, being inflamed and furioui oh, it was infectious, it was maddening 1 At length their laughter became so wild and convulsive, that they could only give it vent by screams and yells. As often as the possessed old gentleman, dancing and stamping all tba while, raised some of the stronger and heavier vessels, in order to demolish them by collision in the air, so often did the .town echo with acclamations—‘Weel done, Usas!' The reader will rejoice—at least if he share in our feeling, to hear that the poor old tory Laird, who had been entrapped into this absurd exhibition during a convivial hour, did actually accomplish his feat and win his wagerin like manner, we regret to add that his wily antagonist did so far succeed in the jest upo Q him, that the poor overwise Laird frl l heartily ashamed and chop fallen, to the end of his days, at this destruction of his cbarscW for dignified sobriety and prudence. — Liters Gazette.
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New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume VIII, Issue 676, 24 January 1852, Page 4
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2,179MISCELLANEOUS. New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume VIII, Issue 676, 24 January 1852, Page 4
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