in the interest of politeness, he finds it easy incessant amateur music. A man comes to lie in his own private interests; and, into his home at night in order to rest, but having learned to be a hypocrite in the draw- he finds that rest is a mere mockery. Downing-room, he gradually becomes a hypocrite stairs his daughters are singing; next door in the forum and the counting-room. Of a cornet is in full blast, and in the house on course there are men who resist for a long the opposite side of the street a young lady time the demoralizing influence in question, is playing the piano. If he rests at all it but of the tendency of domestic music to must be because his nerves are strong enough destroy the sufferers' loyalty to truth there is to resist the strain thus put upon them. no room for doubt. Of course this strain must in time produce its natural effect. Some day, this man, who has night after night borne up bravely, suddenly gives way as he hears for the thousandth time the " Maiden's Prayer” played on the piano across the way. His overstrained nerves snap at last, and the victim of music is said by ignorant doctors to be paying the penalty of overwork or intemperance, as the case may be. There is a good deal of drunkenness in the United States, and it produces a frightful amount of misery; but where alcohol slays its thousands domestic music paralyzes its ten thousands, and is undoubtedly at this moment more fatal than any pestilence of average size and strength. The effect of domestic music upon the minds of the culprits themselves is even worse, if anything, than it is upon the minds of the listeners. The culprit, whatever may be his or her peculiar path of crime, must praise all other criminals. This is an unwritten law of domestic music. The girl who sings always assures the girl who plays that her playing is simply divine, and the girl who plays the piano assures the middleaged miscreant with the cornet that his tones are perfectly heavenly. This system of mutual admiration is simply systematized hypocrisy. The amateur musician buys false praise from his comrades in crime, and pays them in the same false coin. In the course of another generation all respect for truth will have perished under the withering blast of the cornet and the jarring discords of the piano; and Constitutional government and civil and religious liberty will vanish because the community will have become unworthy of them. The physical effects of domestic music are almost as appalling as its moral effects. Americans are noted for their proneness to nervous diseases. Nervous exhaustion and paralysis are among the most frequent diseases which the American physician is called upon to combat. We break down early, and are irritable invalids at an age when men of other nations, where music is kept under proper restraint, are in the prime of life. This is not due to the excessive amount of work done by the average American, for there is no reason to believe that men work harder in the United States than they do elsewhere. It is not an effect of the climate, for fifty years ago nervous diseases were conspicuously rare in America. It is not the consequence of errors of diet, for the Western man, who bolts his pork and buckwheat cakes, shows no greater susceptibility to nervous diseases than is shown by the cultured Bostonian or New Yorker, who eats as becomes a being with an immortal soul. The real source of the trouble is the constant strain that the nerves undergo from Could the public only be aroused to the danger much might be done. With half the pains now taken by misguided parents to teach their girls to sing, both girls and boys might be thoroughly and efficiently taught not to sing. In other words, they might be so thoroughly imbued with a horror of domestic music that they would as soon swear as sing, and would steadfastly refuse to look on the piano when it is open. Were a proper public sentiment to be created, no middle-aged man could play the cornet and live, and no student could sing college songs without fine and imprisonment. But to bring about any such public sentiment as this, there must be organized and unfaltering effort. We must have Anti-musical Societies with members pledged to abstinence from strings, reed, and brass in every form. We must have eloquent lecturers and frightful examples, and the aid of the press must be enlisted to enlighten the people. Tracts showing how a wicked trombone-player who had deafened his whole family, reformed, and became a useful and respectable man; or how a student in the very act of singing was struck by lightning, must be scattered broadcast over the land. Were this to be done, the evil that music has wrought might be in time eradicated, and the doom which now threatens the country happily and for ever averted. A STORY OF REBELLION. BY JANE COWEN. ON the return of the petty sovereigns to their several States after the Treaty of Vienna, the condition of Italy was worse than it had been before the fall of Napoleon. Not only were legitimate reforms denied the people, but even their ancient privileges were wrenched from them. Taxes on both land and goods were increased, and the system of passports became so rigid, and liberty of travelling was curtailed to such an extent, that the request of leaving the place of residence for a few days was frequently refused. Jesuitism was encouraged, and monasteries re-established. Education was at its lowest ebb, and rested in the hands of the priesthood. They lowered the standard of learning by driving from the professorial chair anyone holding advanced opinions. The press was gagged more than ever, and no work issued without the most searching supervision. Public functionaries were turned away on the mere suspicion of Liberalism. Worst of all, in the Papal States, civic officers were handed over to ecclesiastics. Spies dogged the steps of those who had distinguished themselves under other Governments, or were suspected of viewing unfavourably the present state of affairs. Great discontent reigned in the country. Poets of the latter half of the preceding century sang of a national existence, and their songs had taken root in the hearts of the people. These ideas had been encouraged at different times by the ArchDuke John, by Lord William Bentinck, and General Nugent. They had all flaunted the flag of Independence before the Italians. Murat also had held out to them hopes of freedom. Disappointment sank deep into their minds when they found themselves bereft of every gleam of liberty, and bound more tightly than ever in Austrian chains. The discontent permeated all classes and men of every disposition. The most tranquil, as well as the most fiery, joined the Carbonari-a secret society which held in its invisible meshes the people, the magistracy, the administration, and the army. Shortly before the return of Ferdinand IV. to Naples, two young men, named Michele Morelli and Guiseppe Silvati, joined the Neapolitan army. They were both born in the same year-1790-the first-named at Monteleone, in Calabria, the latter in Naples. Morelli belonged to one of the richest and best known families of Calabria; Silvati's parents were respectable citizens of Naples. It was the time of the Napoleonic wars, and they longed for their turn to gain military renown. When the year 1815 dawned, it saw them both sub-lieutenants of cavalry. Differing widely in disposition, the two young men were yet bound together by the closest friendship-a friendship which forsook them not in the hour of glory, and comforted them in their last martyrdom. Morelli was impetuous-quick in thought and action. Generous as courageous, he was beloved alike by equals and subordinates. Endowed with similar bravery, and possessing in an eminent degree the qualities which endear a man to his friends, Silvati was grave, studious, and retiring. In one point of their characters they were both alike—viz., in their intense love of country. They saw with sorrow and indignation the utter misery into which it had fallen after the return of Ferdinand. Every day were present to their eyes the want of discipline amongst the soldiers and the degradation of the army. Filled with patriotic aspirings they joined the Carbonari. The revolution in Spain of January 1, 1820, fired the souls of the Neapolitans. This event fanned into a flame the flickering desire of proclaiming a constitution and overturning the rule of despotism. Everything was prepared for the deed, but none dared perform it. Amongst the most ardent of the patriots were Morelli and Silvati. They felt that the moment had come, and that for the revolution to succeed it needed only a few true and resolute men to lead it. Working along with them was Luigi Menichini, the grand master of the Carbonari. These three patriots swore a solemn oath to free their country, and they kept it. On the second of July, 1820, at one o'clock in the morning, the drums were beat and the trumpets sounded in the garrison of Nola. The soldiers hastily obeyed the call, and awaited their orders. Morelli, addressing them, said: "The hour of liberty has struck; who loves his country follow me." Then drawing his sword and mounting his horse he galloped into the town accompanied by Silvati. The soldiers quickly followed them, and the inhabitants of Nola were awakened from their slumbers by the cries of "Viva la Liberta!" "Viva la Costituzione !" On entering the town they were joined by Menichini and twenty-six armed citizens. They marched towards Monteforte. On the way their ranks were continually increasing by fresh bands aroused by their enthusiasm. Barricading and entrenching themselves amongst the rocks of Monteforte, they chose such a position that they overlooked the roads leading from Naples to Avellino and to Puglie. Every hour new followers flocked to their banner, and the ribbons of the Carbonari, red, black, and blue, were seen in all directions. Morelli went alone to Avellino, the chief town of the province. Whilst there he was questioned by the Lieut.-Colonel de Concilis, and to him he revealed the nature of the rising. But the colonel not only did not sympathize with the undertaking, but reproved the young officer for his rashness and ordered him to abandon the project. To this the valiant patriot replied: "We know how to die at Monteforte; but upon you will weigh the infamous name of traitor." Seeing the extent of the rebellion, and fearing the loss of his own power, de Concilis decided to join the revolutionists, and sent them supplies of food and ammunition. The next day Morelli and Silvati made a solemn entry into Avellino, and the soldiers and the people swore to uphold the constitution. De Concilis assumed the command of the insurgents, whose number daily increased. All seemed to favour the revolution. The most trusted of the royal troops were sent to quell it, but they deserted their regiments and joined the insurgents. The whole populace arose in arms against the power of Ferdinand. Feeling his throne totter under him, the king and all surrounding him yielded to the determined mien of five million men-whose cry was: "We are no longer slaves, but men." On the morning of July 6, appeared on the walls of Naples a solemn promise from the king granting the constitution. The next day, the 7th of July, the king, the princes, the nobles of the court, one after another, swore before God and the people to uphold and preserve the law. To increase the solemnity of the occasion, the king, raising his head and fixing his eyes on the cross, said: "All powerful God, Thou who dost see into the hearts of men, and into the future, if I lie at this moment, or fail to carry out this oath, then direct on me the thunderbolts of Thy vengeance." On the 9th of July all the insurgents of Monteforte, preceded by Morelli and Silvati, entered Naples in triumph. The beating of drums, sounding of trumpets, and the acclammations of the populace welcomed them. Men and women vied with another in showing their joy at their deliverance and gratitude to their deliverers. one To the two friends royal favours were also offered. Efforts were made to bring them over to the throne. The temptation of advancement in grade and decorations were held out to them. But they spurned royal favours. They wanted no further reward than the satisfaction of serving their country, and remained simple sub-lieutenants. Thus amidst rejoicings the revolution was completed. Peace was maintained, and the law respected. No fear was entertained, and trade and the ordinary affairs of life went on peaceably. But this state of matters was not to last; the Sicilian revolution came to blast their hopes. Murmurs arose against the throne, and there was indignation and anger against the actions of the Court. This was still further increased by the appearance of French and English fleets in the bay. Soon it was known that a Bourbon could forget his faith with the people, but not change his disposition. A meeting of the Carbonari was held in the evening of August 31, in the Convent of San Domenico Soriana. Many of them believed that the Castle of Naples should be handed over to the National Guard, and that they, as the representatives of the people, should keep the king, the princes, and royal family confined there; that it should be intimated to the foreign fleets to retire ; that the patriotic army of Monteforte should be recalled; that they should direct their steps towards the Italian States, and spread the revolution; that the war in Sicily should be terminated by according the people what they wanted; that the departure of further troops to that island, and especially that of Morelli and Silvati, should be opposed. The two soldiers were present at this meeting. To the resolution Morelli replied: "That he had taken an oath to the constitution and the king, and that he could not break it; not to go to the war would be the act of a coward, and that the next day they would see him depart for Sicily." Silvati did not speak, but assented to what his comrade said by a movement of the head. During their absence liberty died in Naples. Meeting Ferdinand at Layback, the Emperors of Austria and Russia, and the Prince Royal of Prussia, decided to upset the young Neapolitan constitution. A resistance was made; but an Austrian army under General Frimont quelled it at once. Shortly after, Ferdinand returned to direct the prosecution of those whose liberties he had sworn to uphold. Not until then were Morelli and Silvati recalled. On the return of the two soldiers, they found the flag of liberty which they had planted, pulled down and torn to shreds. The old régime had been restored, and their country had become, all but in name, an Austrian province. Supported by a small body of men, they proceeded to Monteforte, hoping to rekindle the flame of patriotism in the breasts of the people. It was in vain. Carbonarism, frozen in the icy bands of despotism, existed no longer. Its power had been destroyed by Monsignor Marcelli, who had published its secrets and rules. From Monteforte, Morelli and Silvati, with five hundred followers, endeavoured to call the people to arms. Their efforts were fruitless. The once-inspiring cry of: “We are no longer slaves but men!" found no echo in their hearts. They retired to the town of Mirabella, hoping to have better success there. They remained at Mirabella for a short while, but money failed them. They had hardly food sufficient, and were obliged to take the absolute necessities by force. Hopeless, at last they were driven to dissolve their little band. Many of them returned to their homes, whence they were dragged by the police either to perish on the scaffold, or, worse still, to die a lingering death in the galleys. Determined to fight for liberty wherever the battle might be, the two young men started for Greece to aid the Greeks in their struggles for independence. But misfortune seemed resolved to follow in their footsteps. Their ship was overtaken by a storm, and at last wrecked on the coast of Ragusa. Deprived of their passports, they tried to pass as Romans. But it was soon discovered that they hailed from Naples. Arriving at Ancona, they were delivered by the Govern ment into the hands of the Neapolitan police, and were to be taken prisoners to Naples. On the way the two friends were separated for a while. Morelli managed to escape from the guards. Suffering from cold and hunger, he wandered from forest to forest. He slept through the day and travelled by night. By this means he hoped to reach Calabria, get money from his parents, and start again for Greece. But misfortune. always overtook him. A band of robbers fell upon him, and stripped him almost naked. He had, however, managed to secrete a little money in his belt, which, strange to say, they did not take. He therefore pursued his journey. Overcome with fatigue he at length reached a village called Chiente. His possession of six ducats did not coincide with his wretched appearance. Suspicions were aroused that he was not what he seemed to be. In a short time he was again in chains, and on the road to Naples. During Morelli's adventures, Silvati travelled straight on. Arriving in Naples, he was placed, along with several hundred other unfortunate patriots, who, bound in chains, awaited their trial. His unhappy friend soon joined him. Ere the trial commenced, matters looked more than ordinarily gloomy for those who had taken part in the revolt of Monteforte. By command of the king, they were tried by the Gran Corte Speciale di Napoli, and he reserved to himself the right of approving or modifying their decisions. An honest man, Callende, filled the post of procuratorgenerale, but he was replaced by Gætano Brundescini, whose reputation was reverse. the The prisoners were placed at still greater disadvantage. Seven judges formed the court. Four of these, Benevantani, de Simone, d'Amora, and the Marquis Potenza were of stainless character, though warm supporters of the Bourbons. The rest consisted of de Feo, Giunti, and the president de Girolami, all harsh and uncultured men, from whom no mercy was expected. Every means was adopted to make the sentence go against the heroes of Monteforte. Laws were broken, and all the arts that despotism could devise were put into operation to attain this end. To such an extent did they push matters against the prisoners, that de Simone, one of the above-mentioned judges indignant at such gross injustice, cried out: "I ask the procurator-generale whether we are judges or executioners; if the king were here he would curse our inhumanity." His reproof had no effect. Before such judges, and under such circumstances, sixty-four prisoners who had taken part in the rising of Monteforte appeared. The court was surrounded by Austrian troops and the streets were filled with people. The next day the sentence was made known. Some of them were condemned to the chains and dungeons, but thirty officers, and amongst them Silvati and Morelli, were sentenced to death. Great was the indignation aroused by these frightful sentences. Men of every class were enraged at their brutality. Representations were made to the king, praying him to show mercy. He professed to be ready to pardon all but the gallant Morelli and Silvati. They, he said, had broken military discipline and must die. What was called mercy was doled out to twenty-eight-that is, instead of a rapid death, they were sent to the galleys to die by inches. The two friends were then left to face death together. Morelli had managed to procure some opium. Taking a dose of it, and offering the remainder to his friend, he said: "The moments are precious; share this with me, and to-morrow we shall not be a spectacle for a stupid mob and a cruel king." Silvati refused, declaring that suicide was forbidden by religion, and that, although his body was lost, he did not want to lose his soul. Morelli then swallowed the whole of the poison himself, but it had not the desired effect. Vomiting and convulsions followed, whereupon doctors were called, and he was reserved for the hands of the executioner. Silvati prayed incessantly, and accepted the services of the priest, who came at night. With his companion it was different. He refused to listen to the words of the chaplain, saying: "If thy Christ be just, why did he not let the thunderbolts of his wrath, which the king invoked on taking his oath, fall upon him when he broke it ?" The next day they were led to the scaffold. Two years previously they had been acclaimed heroes by the same crowd which now beheld them die for their patriotism. Ever bound in the closest friendship, they were heroes together, and shared the martyr's fate. |