Another despatch from the minister contained the names of the members of the commission. They were:— Giuseppe Fosculo, adjutant, commander-in-chief of the staff, president. Laffaello Scalfaro, chief of the legion of Lower Calabria. Latereo Natali, lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Marines. Gennaro Lanzetta, lieutenant-colonel of the Engineers. W. T. captain of Artillery. Francois de Venge, ditto. Francesco Martellari, lieutenant of Artillery. Francesco Froio, lieutenant in the 3rd regiment of the line. Giovanni delta Camera, Public Prosecutor to the Criminal Courts of Lower Calabria. Francesco Papavassi, registrar. The commission assembled that night. On the 13th October, at six o’clock in the morning, Captain Stratti came into the king’s prison; he was sound asleep. Stratti was going away again, when he stumbled against a chair; the noise awoke Murat. “What do you want with me, captain?” asked the king. Stratti tried to speak, but his voice failed him. “Ah ha!” said Murat, “you must have had news from Naples.” “Yes, sire,” muttered Stratti. “What are they?” said Murat. “Your trial, sire.” “And by whose order will sentence be pronounced, if you please? Where will they find peers to judge me? If they consider me as a king, I must have a tribunal of kings; if I am a marshal of France, I must have a court of marshals; if I am a general, and that is the least I can be, I must have a jury of generals.” “Sire, you are declared a public enemy, and as such you are liable to be judged by court-martial: that is the law which you instituted yourself for rebels.” “That law was made for brigands, and not for crowned heads, sir,” said Murat scornfully. “I am ready; let them butcher me if they like. I did not think King Ferdinand capable of such an action.” “Sire, will you not hear the names of your judges?” “Yes, sir, I will. It must be a curious list. Read it: I am listening.” Captain Stratti read out the names that we have enumerated. Murat listened with a disdainful smile. “Ah,” he said, as the captain finished, “it seems that every precaution has been taken.” “How, sire?” “Yes. Don’t you know that all these men, with the exception of Francesco Froio, the reporter; owe their promotion to me? They will be afraid of being accused of sparing me out of gratitude, and save one voice, perhaps, the sentence will be unanimous.” “Sire, suppose you were to appear before the court, to plead your own cause?” “Silence, sir, silence!” said Murat. “I could, not officially recognise the judges you have named without tearing too many pages of history. Such tribunal is quite incompetent; I should be disgraced if I appeared before it. I know I could not save my life, let me at least preserve my royal dignity.” At this moment Lieutenant Francesco Froio came in to interrogate the prisoner, asking his name, his age, and his nationality. Hearing these questions, Murat rose with an expression of sublime dignity.