Death of
Murat
I
have lately received, from a friend in
Italy, the following relation of the landing of
Murat in Calabria. An account of this event has
appeared in the newspapers; but there are many
particulars in the inclosed paper, that give a
lively impression of the catastrophe which
terminated the career of the ex-king of Naples.
Murat, like Ney, furnishes an instance, that
great military talents may exist, in connexion
with the greatest want of discretion, character
and consistency, in political affairs. The
(details of this transaction will not diminish
the reputation of the Calabrians, for being one
of the most fanatical and ferocious people in
Europe.
[signed]
C.
To
the Editor.
Account
of the landing and arrest of Joachim Mural with
his suite, at Pizzo in Calabria.
On
the 8th October, 1815, there appeared on this
coast a coasting vessel and a row-boat, under
French colours, about a gun-shot from the usual
landing place for boats. They were no sooner
seen on shore, than there disembarked about
thirty persons, who immediately began shouting,
“Long live King Joachim, long live King Murat.”
The news of these shouts on the beach, having
shortly reached the town, the people were
astonished, and would not believe it.
However,
Murat quickly arrived at the Maria gate, near
the entrance of a large square in the town, with
his followers. Murat himself then cried out,
“Long live King Joachim, long live King Mural,”
and all his suite joined him in those
exclamations. He then advanced to a place where
a guard of Legionaries (Militia) was mounted,
and on his approach addressed them thus, “My
brave Legionaries;" while his suite recommenced
their shouts of Long live King Joachim, but not
one of the town repeated the same. They remained
surprised and frightened, not knowing what to
make of this their unexpected appearance.
Murat
not finding himself seconded, turned to Gen.
Franceschi and said, “There are none but
Brigands here, let us proceed to Monteleone,”
and speaking to the Legionaries said, “Follow
me,” but they did not obey him. He immediately
pushed on for Monteleone. In the meanwhile the
people terrified, began to retire to their
houses, and shut up their shops. But about a
quarter of an hour after, they resolved to
follow and arrest him, and shortly coming up
with him and his suite, began and kept up a
continual fire of musketry. Murat and suite then
finding they could not get to Monteleone,
determined to return to the beach where they had
disembarked, but in such confusion and
consternation, they nearly broke their necks in
their retreat.
They
were closely followed by the people, constantly
firing upon them. Murat was the first to reach
the place of his landing, but for his
misfortune, he neither found the vessel or the
boat, they having hauled off on hearing the
first firing. He however found a small boat, got
in, and endeavoured to put off amidst the shots
which were poured on him, but did not succeed.
Seeing, at length, one of his Captains fall
dead, he lost courage, and several of the
populace having got possession of the boat, they
dragged him on shore, abusing him as one of the
most infamous malefactors.
In
this manner they arrested him and his suite, who
were almost all wounded, either from the muskets
or by the sabre. Murat was unhurt; not that he
did not defend himself with great bravery,
pistol in hand. It would have excited compassion
in any feeling person, to see him and his
companions covered with blood, suffering from
the abuse and cruelty of the enraged populace.
They maltreated Murat particularly, by spitting,
and giving him blows in the face, slaps on the
cheeks, stripping off his epaulettes and cross,
tearing his uniform, striking him in the face
with his hat, from which they took fifteen
diamonds of great value. One fellow had the
impudence to slap him with one of his own shoes
another actually tore away his mustaches, and
wrapt them in some paper as a trophy. All the
others were treated nearly in the same manner,
except one officer who was not wounded. The pen
cannot express the treatment they met with on
their way to the prison. The women crying out
against Murat, “ Vengeance, kill him, murder
him.”
To
relate the whole would fill a volume. At length
they were brought to the gaol, wounded and
exhausted. The people would have them confined
in a small and offensive room, but Murat made
some resistance and refused to go in; at last he
was obliged to yield to force, and was, with the
others, shut up in a dungeon, where they confine
the worst of delinquents and banditti, very much
bruised, and almost naked. Any one present must
have pitied them, particularly Murat.
The
agent of the Duke del Infantado (a Spanish
nobleman) sent them shirts, coats and breeches,
with every thing necessary to clothe themselves,
because their clothes had been torn from their
backs, and rent to pieces by the fury of the
populace. Murat finding himself thus secured,
was very dispirited, and asked if there was
either an Austrian or English Vice-Consul here?
A person came immediately to my house, saying
Murat wanted me, arid having hesitated to go, he
sent a second time. In fine, I went, and
presenting myself at the bar of the cell, Murat
said to me, “You are the English Vice-Consul,” I
answered yes, and added, “You, Signor, are Gen.
Murat ?“
He
replied, saying, “Signor Consul, do you know me
?" I answered no. To this, Murat spoke to me. in
the following words: “I am King Joachim, and
have claims on the kingdom of Naples.” He
likewise said, “I have a passport from the
Allied Powers, to go to Trieste to join my
family.” He desired the officer to let me see
it, but I did not, as the officer refused. He
then told me his passport was sent from Paris,
signed by Prince Metternich and Lord Stuart, the
English minister at Paris, under the name of the
Count de Laparal. He added, that he should now
put himself under my protection, with these
words: “If I had had a dagger when I was
arrested, I would have destroyed myself.”
I
asked the object of his landing here. He
answered, that it was only to procure a larger
vessel to proceed to Trieste. I then inquired
from whence he came, he replied, from Corsica,
but lastly from Ajaccio, and that he left that
place on the 28th September. I said, “How could
you be in Corsica, when there are French troops
there?" He answered, it is true, but the King of
France had never taken part against me, nor had
ever issued orders to arrest my person.
Therefore, assist me, as I am not dead yet."
He
then exclaimed, “I, who have subjugated Europe,
to be now shut up in this dungeon !“
I answered, “You have done every thing to ruin
yourself.”
“How ?“
"Because you ran about crying, long live King
Joachim, Long live Murat."
He replied, “it was not me, but some of my
people.”
One of them, who was near the bar, spoke the
following words to his face: “Was it not thou
who shouted long live King Joachim, and now thou
deniest it ?“
He
then desired me to procure him a little water,
which was immediately brought him, when a
peasant, who was on guard, cried out, “Will you
likewise have, like the Holy God, a little
poison and vinegar ?“ These circumstances seem
almost incredible, but they are nevertheless
true.
They
say Rona Romana remained on board the vessel.
Murat’s company was comprised of two Generals,
two Commissaries of War, and several officers,
with nineteen or twenty soldiers. There were
found on them several proclamations, seducing
the people, and other papers which confirmed
that his intention in coming here was to promote
a revolution; and if Murat had reached
Monteleone at this moment, half the population
of the two provinces would have gone over to
him. Gen. Nunziante is since arrived here, and
has provided Murat and his associates with every
thing necessary. Murat he also treats well. This
is a succinct and true account of what has
happened, and on which you may depend, having
been myself an occular witness to the whole.
PIZZO, OCTOBER 15, 1815.
The
following is a brief account of the unfortunate
end of Joachim Murat.
On
Thursday last (the 12th instant) arrived an
Estafette from Naples, and another at 9 o’clock,
directed to Marshal Nunziante, with orders to
assemble a Military Commission to try Murat.
They immediately began to call the witnesses to
depose what Murat had said on his arrival in
this place. In the mean time the commission, was
formed, consisting of Marshal Nunziante, a
Lieutenant-Colonel and Captain, with the
Procurator General of Monteleone. The suite of
Murat was then placed in close confinement, and
he was left in a room with a guard upon him. An
hour before the reading of the sentence; he knew
the commission was sitting, and through me,
desired to speak with General Nunziante, but he
was informed he was not then present. Murat
impatient, wrote a note to the said General, but
it was not received, it being intimated to him,
that no letter could be admitted.
At
length the process finished, not more than
twelve hours having elapsed, as the Estafettes
arrived in the evening of the 12th, and it was
terminated at 9 o’clock in the morning of the
13th. By the decision of the Procurator General,
he was condemned to die, which sentence was
agreed to by the votes of the whole commission.
It was then read to him by one of those who
composed the said commission, on which he
exclaimed, “How does Ferdinand IVth wish my
death? What have I done? It displeases me much
to find the violence with which the Court of
Naples has treated this affair.”
A
confessor then entered the apartment, and
exhorted him to confess; but Murat answered him,
“My sins are so heavy, that none but God himself
can pardon them.” At least, said the confessor,
make some confession; he seemed much
affected—The confessor again pressed it, in
order to do away what might be said. He then
took a pen, and wrote in the last moments of his
life, “I have lived a Christian, and die a true
Christian.” He desired a pair of scissors, to
cut off some hair to be sent to his wife, but it
was not permitted.
The time for putting the sentence into execution
being elapsed, (orders from Naples not to exceed
a quarter of an hour after it was passed) he was
told to move towards the place destined for his
execution, in the same prison, and coming out of
the room, a Neapolitan Officer gave him a
handkerchief to blind himself, but he refused
it.
Arrived at the destined spot, with an
intrepid countenance, turning immediately his face
to the soldiers, and placing his hand upon his
breast, he gave the word “Fire.” They fired twelve
shots at his breast, which killed him
instantaneously, and three in the head after he
fell. His body was placed in a rough wooden box
and carried to the Church, without a bier or any
religious ceremony, on the shoulders of six
soldiers, accompanied by fifteen or twenty others,
and buried in a pit where they throw the most
despicable felons. The trial of this unfortunate
man has been similar to that of the most infamous
brigands. This is a correct account of the
miserable end of Joachim Murat. The populace, not
sufficiently satiated, dug up Murat’s body, and
attempted to burn it; upon the interference of a
respectable magistrate, they shot him, and
consumed their bodies together. Ferdinand has
pardoned all Murat’s suite.—This act does him
honour.
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