The beauty-spot and plague-spot of the Riviera—Arrival at Mentone—Hotel des Isles Britanniques—English church—Her Majesty's Villa—Gardens of Dr. Bennett—Custom-house—Remarks on Mentone—A charming walk—A word about Brigands—An adventure—In the cemetery—A labour of love—A frog concert—Excursion to Monte Carlo—Lovely coast scenery—Castle of Monaco—The sombre Olive—The exodus of the Caterpillars.
The beauty-spot and plague-spot of the Riviera—Arrival at Mentone—Hotel des Isles Britanniques—English church—Her Majesty's Villa—Gardens of Dr. Bennett—Custom-house—Remarks on Mentone—A charming walk—A word about Brigands—An adventure—In the cemetery—A labour of love—A frog concert—Excursion to Monte Carlo—Lovely coast scenery—Castle of Monaco—The sombre Olive—The exodus of the Caterpillars.
In travelling from Nice to Mentone you have to pass through some of the most lovely and enchanting scenery in the world.
The tiny principality of Monaco is indeed a little Paradise; but, alas! Paradiseafter the fall, for does it not include that awful gaming pandemonium, Monte Carlo? It is sad to think that the choicest spot on this fair earth should be selected by sinful men for their evil purposes. Here, amid all that is beautiful and captivating in nature, is a pit dug for the unwary, the innocent, and the weak; and, alas! too many succumb to the fatal allurements prepared for their ruin and destruction.
As we passed Monte Carlo, we saw some of theshady fraternityI mentioned as having observed at the Nice station, on one of the heights above thetown, overlooking a grassy enclosure. They were characteristically engaged in slaughtering tame pigeons, by way of a manly recreation and noble sport!
We arrived at Mentone in the evening, about seven o'clock. It is a quiet, pretty little town something like Cannes. As usual, there were a legion of hotel omnibuses, with their liveried porters, the name of the hotel they belonged to on their cap, and each accurately measuring the length of your purse. Fortunate the traveller who has already determined on the hotel he intends to patronize! We had selected the Hotel des Isles Britanniques. Here we had a small but handsomely furnished apartment on the third floor, commanding a charming view of the sea from its French windows, and we were soon sitting down to our quiet little dinner.
Everything at this hotel was comfortable and satisfactory. Cleanliness and courtesy were predominant, and I should think altogether it was one of the best conducted hotels on the Riviera. Only one little drawback lay in the fact that the reading-room opened into the ladies' drawing-room, and the almost incessant pianoforte-playing made it impossible to read with any real enjoyment. Indeed, whocouldsit down selfishly to reading, even one's favourite newspaper, with the momentary expectation of a loving wife or daughter strolling in from her music, for a little chat?
A more serious defect, however, in these Rivierahotels, perfect as they are otherwise in all their appointments, lies in the fact that there is very inadequate provision for extinguishing fire—a terrible consideration at all times, but disarmed of much of its terror when properly provided against. One evening, when descending the main staircase of our hotel, there was an evident smell of fire, and soon a painful sensation in my eyes told me of smoke also. On reaching the hall, I found the smoke issuing from the warming shaft in the floor. I returned, quietly warned my wife and others of the danger, and soon the master of the hotel and all the servants were on the spot. In their excitement to subdue it, before the numerous visitors should be alarmed, they opened the aperture still more, so as to give free vent to the smoke. I at once told them their mistake, and, seizing the nearest door-mat, put it over the aperture; my example was followed, and other exits closed, the servants meanwhile carrying buckets of water below, where the fire had originated. Fortunately, the fire was soon extinguished, little harm being done; but the event showed me that there was no systematic preparation or appliances in case of fire, which I thought a very serious omission in the comfort and safety of the visitors.[C]
The day after our arrival was Sunday, and we attended the English church, and were greatly pleasedwith the reverent, home-reminding way in which the service was conducted. We then took a pleasant walk by the sea, listening to a good band of music in the gardens; then into the one long main street of the town, calling at the post-office for letters, and leaving our address, that all others might be sent on to our hotel. We had a peep, too, into the numerous little shops, especially those for the sale of flowers, as at Cannes, and the cheerful little market-place. Finally, turning the promontory at the end of the street, and emerging on the road by the sea, we found a delightful promenade; and further on, in the eastern portion of Mentone, another English church, "Christ Church," and several finely situated hotels and pretty villas standing in groves of orange trees, facing the sea, and under the shelter of the almost precipitous mountain ranges in the background.
The natives here are evidently of very dirty habits, and the residents must be sadly wanting in nasal sensibility, for, on attempting to advance through one of the narrow side streets dividing the pretty villas, we were obliged to beat a hasty retreat; and this was not the only pretty lane so vilely misused, much to the reproach of the municipal authorities.
On the hill-side, almost buried amid the trees, is the little villa where her Majesty the Queen so quietly resided last autumn; while at the large hotel just below, Mr. Spurgeon rested from his Tabernacle labours, and, it is to be hoped, got rid of his painful rheumatism.
Straight up this road, on the slope of the hill, is an ancient aqueduct, and a milestone denoting where the French and Italian territories meet. My wife was much interested in this precise point of division, and I laughingly assisted her to place a foot on each territory, thereby establishing her as the queenly Colossus of two great countries; but she was greatly relieved by a very short reign. A little higher up on the left are the beautiful mountain gardens of Dr. Bennett. By his kind courtesy, all visitors are welcome to roam about therein, though, of course, within certain hours. It is indeed a wonderful example of botanical skill combined with excellent taste. Every inch of ground, right up to the rocky mountain-side, is turned to advantage, for the production both of the most lovely flowers and ferns and also for miniature aqueducts and water-courses to refresh them. I have never before seen a collection of flowers, ferns, and trees brought to so great a perfection under such difficulties. All are most systematically named and classified.
A little further on is the Italian custom-house, picturesquely situated on a promontory, and commanding a very fine view of the sea and surrounding country. Every person and vehicle has here to undergo the usual delightful examination by the custom-house officials. This is the high-road to Ventimiglia and Genoa, and ahighroad indeed it is, running right along the edge of the cliff, forming a most magnificent drive, and commanding grand views.
Not far from here is the residence, with its superb gardens, of Mr. Hanbury. Some friends who have visited these gardens assure me they even surpass those of Dr. Bennett. It is said that next time the Queen visits Mentone, she will take up her abode at this house. Mr. Hanbury is equally courteous in welcoming visitors to his beautifully cultivated grounds and gardens.
Mentone is more sheltered than either Cannes or Nice, the mountains encircling the town more closely; there is consequently more hill-climbing, and fewer extended walks and excursions for invalids. It was occasionally bleak and cold after sunset during this early part of the year, and invalids were all obliged to gain the shelter of their dwellings by about four p.m. These cold, biting winds generally blew from north or east, the main streets being like drafty narrow gorges.
We had one exceedingly pretty walk up the valley to the right of our hotel. The river, now almost dry, flowing silently along on one side; on the other, hills and orange groves, and a little church or monastery perched among the trees in the far distance—it resembled a Swiss mountain valley. It was a very romantic road, and I incidentally remarked to my wife that it was just the kind of place where, a few years ago, we might have heard a shrill whistle from the hills, then an answering echo, and by-and-by a band of brigands suddenly swooping down upon us to carry us off to their lair upon the mountains. This was quite enough to make her nervous, and, despitemy pacifying assurances that in these days of enlightened progress no such thrilling adventure would be likely to befall us, she begged that we might return at once; and, as our walk had already been a somewhat extended one into the still recesses of the mountain valley, I thought it just as well to follow her prudent advice and retrace our steps. For although I laughed at my wife's fears, they were really not so utterly without foundation as might at first appear, for we had recently heard of a most daring case of brigandage in the neighbourhood. As I have before remarked, there are a great many very questionable characters loitering between Nice and Genoa.
Two ladies at an hotel here met with a small adventure that might have ended in something more serious but for one fortunate circumstance. They were a mother and daughter, staying at Nice about the same time as ourselves, and related that having started one fine afternoon to walk to Villafranca, on getting out of sight of all signs of habitation, they were much alarmed to find they were being followed by two ill-looking Italians. The men passed them, and disappeared round the promontory which shuts Nice out of sight, and forms one side of the natural harbour of Villafranca. The ladies, wishing to give them a wide berth, walked very slowly, hoping to be left far in their wake; but soon after, on reaching a particularly dull part of the road, they came on the men again, who were evidently waiting for them. Still hopingthey might be mistaken, the two ladies stopped likewise, as if to admire the scenery and consult their guide-books, but the men held their ground, and presently walked towards them. Just as they were approaching, a carriage containing a gentleman came in sight, and they thereupon walked on for a short distance, as if they were only returning the way they had come; but as soon as the carriage had fairly passed, they once more turned. The ladies were now thoroughly alarmed, and the younger one flew down the dusty road after the carriage, in hopes of overtaking it and soliciting protection. She was fortunately observed by the occupant, who at once stopped the horses, and very kindly invited them to continue their journey in his carriage, remarking that many of the roads along the Riviera were decidedly unsafe for foot-passengers, and that he had been surprised at two ladies undertaking such a risk alone. They gratefully accepted his offer, and proceeded to the Villafranca station without meeting a single human being—a fact which they noted with a shudder and a deep sense of thankfulness at their narrow escape.
We made a second trip up the hill-side to the Roman Catholic cemetery, which gave us a charming view of the town, environed by gardens. The place itself was peacefully beautiful and full of mournful interest. We noticed at one of the tombs a young lady, evidently a German, who, assisted by her maid, was diligently employed in cleaning a marble statue placed over the grave. It was difficult to refrain fromoffering to help her in this labour of love, which appealed so pathetically to the heart. I do not think we care to display so much outward proofs of loving reverence for our dead as we often see abroad, in the shape of flowers andimmortellesplaced upon the graves by affectionate relatives and friends. Still, I believe it is only an external indifference. We have as much true and deep love in our hearts for our dear ones as those who are more demonstrative, though perhaps itisa pity that we do not allow ourselves to indulge in the pretty reverential sentiments of our French and Italian neighbours.
We were much amused during our stay here at the constant chorus the frogs kept up. They croak almost unceasingly, especially in the evening. It would seem that they wish to take the place of the song-birds, which we seldom hear in this part, as they are all shot to supply the table, nearly every kind being eaten—a needless cruelty, one would think, not only to the poor little birds, but also to those who miss their grateful song of joy and praise.
We had a pleasant carriage excursion to Monte Carlo, by the Corniche road, starting one brilliant morning soon after breakfast. Leaving Mentone behind us, we commenced the circuit of the cliff road, which gradually got higher and higher, occasionally passing through olive plantations, and then suddenly emerging from their sombre shade to the dazzling bright sea once more; then we doubled a finely wooded promontory, almost a sheer precipice, catchinga glimpse of the beautiful little circling bays sparkling in the abyss below; sometimes passing sharp curves in the road, which required very skilful driving, there being but a low wall—and that partly broken in many places—to divide us from a fall of about sixty feet! Still ascending, we gained the summit of the first fine headland (I believe, the highest point), and from thence had a most entrancing outlook. On the extreme left, a lovely retrospective and bird's-eye view of charming Mentone; the towns and little villages on the distant shore as far as Bordighera; dimpling in the glowing sunshine, and before us, the long stretch of inimitable blue sea, with just a feathery ripple on the golden sandy shores below, winding in and out in a series of tiny bays and creeks; while beyond us, like a realized dream of Paradise, lay the beautiful plague-spot of the Riviera—the town of Monte Carlo, nested amid luxuriant gardens of semi-tropical foliage, the mosque-like minarets and cupolas of the casino standing boldly out on the heights and glittering in the sun. Beyond this, another fine bay and promontory, on the summit of which stands the Castle of Monaco; and below, surrounded by groves and gardens, the town and principality of Monaco, with roads stretching out, leading towards Villafranca and Nice.
I had seen Constantinople, Madeira, and many other parts of this fair earth of ours, but I do not remember anything that compares with this bit of Italian coast scenery, which I think is surely the loveliest in the world.
Dismissing our carriage, we walked through Monte Carlo to Monaco, and ascended to the palace of the prince. It stands on the summit of a bold headland, surrounded by fortifications, from which we had another splendid view. One can readily see how fair and beautiful a place, full of the sweetest harmonies of nature, and filling the human heart with a grateful sense of God's love, has, by the sordid wickedness of man, been perverted into a paradise of the Prince of Darkness, who, knowing too well the weakness and folly of poor erring humanity, lures by every artificial attraction and fascination even the poor pilgrim invalid, who hopefully journeys here to breathe the pure fresh air and to recover health; and also does his best to complete the moral degradation of the less innocent but infatuated gambler, who stakes his life upon the cast of a die and rushes madly and miserably to unutterable ruin.
I have already mentioned the plantations of olive trees we passed in our drive on the cliffs. Nothing strikes one more singularly, in coming to this part of the world, than the contrast in appearance between the olive tree and the rich, luxuriant foliage of the orange, lemon, myrtle, and other beautiful vegetation so prolific here. Toward evening especially, the gnarled and twisted olive has a strangely sad and sombre effect, with its long, pointed leaves of dull green lined with a chilly pale tint—as it were, a thing of a past period in the earth's existence, ancient and venerable, almost sacred, and little in harmony withthe gay, luxuriant vegetable life around. I think nothing describes better its cold sombre aspect than the remark Marianne Hunt made to her husband during their first unfortunate visit to Italy. "They look," she said, "as if they were always standing in the moonlight." And, indeed, this is just the effect they have, as though having been once lighted on by Cynthia's cold, chaste glance, they had ever remained petrified and blanched. Still, there is much grace and beauty in the outlines of olive trees against a sunlit, blue-grey sky, the silver tints of their leaves quivering in the light.
It was interesting to watch a procession of caterpillars on the road to Monte Carlo, a distance of about a mile. They were moving from one part to another, probably because there was disease amongst them, or else in the trees in that neighbourhood, for there were many dead ones lying about. They advanced in one long line, following their leader, the head of the second joining the tail of the first, and so on. There were more than a hundred in a chain, a company of ten coming to join them, and large masses waiting in different parts of the road, and taking their places one by one as the procession approached. They looked like a long, thin snake. The marvellous instinct of these small insects, notwithstanding Mark Twain's ingenious stricture on the proverbial "ant," will ever remain a source of the deepest interest and wonder to thinking, reasoning, intellectual man.
This wonderful army of caterpillars suggested, asthings in nature will often do if one takes heed of them, that it might be possible to introduce the culture of the silkworm here, and so substitute a profitable and honest industry for the present curse of this beautiful and otherwise highly favoured place. Silk is almost a staple of Italian industry, and doubtless the mulberry tree would flourish here as in other parts, and with as much success as at Beyrout, on the coast of Syria, a place not at all unlike Monte Carlo in its climate, the beauty of coast scenery, and luxuriance of vegetation.
[C]The recent destruction of the Grand Hotel at Giessbach is a convincing proof of the truth of these remarks. Had it occurred but a month earlier, there would inevitably have been a terrible loss of life.
[C]The recent destruction of the Grand Hotel at Giessbach is a convincing proof of the truth of these remarks. Had it occurred but a month earlier, there would inevitably have been a terrible loss of life.
Monte Carlo—In the Concert-room—The Gambling-saloons—The Tables—The moth and the candle—The true story of Monte Carlo—An International grievance and disgrace.
Monte Carlo—In the Concert-room—The Gambling-saloons—The Tables—The moth and the candle—The true story of Monte Carlo—An International grievance and disgrace.
We reached Monte Carlo in time for the grand concert at two o'clock. Passing through the delightful gardens surrounded bycafés, we entered the dazzling and gorgeous concert-room. There was nothing to pay. Plush-liveried servants handed us to our seats, and we enjoyed their soft luxuriance, admired the handsome and profuse decorations, and scanned the mixed society around us, listening meanwhile to some of the finest classical music.
After spending a pleasant hour, we retired to make room for others. There was a silent expression on the countenances of the attendant croupiers, and also on many of the faces of the habitués of the place, which showed that, although this refined and intellectual enjoyment was the ostensible reason of their presence, the real and more appreciated object was the gaming-table.
Impelled by earnest desire to judge for ourselves as to the evils of Monte Carlo, we followed thestream of people through the gilded and handsome suite of ante-rooms, to the gambling-saloons. The obsequious lacqueys opened the doors to all who wished to pass, and no questions were asked, though I believe you are supposed to have your private visiting card in readiness.
"'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the spider to the fly."
"'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the spider to the fly."
There was no doubt on that day, at least, of the flies swarming in. Frith's celebrated picture occurred instantly to my mind, and I saw at a glance how faithful it was to the sad reality.
You cannot fail to be struck by the extreme quiet amongst so many people. Every one speaks in whispers. There is a certain solemnity about it, the same as that felt in a church; and truly this might be termed the house of the devil. The large and spacious rooms, with beautifully painted walls, Moorish ceilings, and polished floors, are without furniture save the long tables and chairs for those intending to play steadily. Here sit the yellow-faced, sleepless, hard-eyed croupiers, spinning the fatal ball, and mechanically sweeping in with their rakes the piles of money staked and lost by the infatuated players. These are not limited to those seated at the table and who form but the front row. What a mixture they are! Cadaverous, selfish old women; others, handsome, gay, and reckless, evidently in the interest of the table, and hired to act as decoys; others, again, young and inexperienced; and evenladies, pale, unhappy-looking,—wereall represented. The men for the most part hardened and merciless, and many careless young gentlemen, some of them innocent-looking lads enough, but others, alas! showing painfully their habits of dissipation, in spite of their youth,—all waiting eagerly to clutch their winnings or silently lose their money.
Further up the room are other tables, at which higher stakes are played.Trente et quaranteis perhaps a little more favourable to players than roulette, though it depends very much on the shuffling of the cards. Piles of gold and notes were laid upon the table, either for or against the numbers backed turning up. But here was the same sickening sight—mad, selfish infatuation; and we turned away, having had quite enough of the "shady side" of the lovely but too fascinating Monte Carlo, being glad to get out into the bright sunshine once more. In the rooms we had left, the blinds and curtains were closely drawn, excluding the pure light of heaven, as if those so earnestly engaged within preferred darkness to light because their deeds were evil.
A great number of people from the "tables" followed to catch the train, and we had the sad reflection that a fresh batch would soon arrive in time for theeveningconcert.Residentsof Monaco and Monte Carlo are not supposed to be admitted, as it is not desirable that the half-frenzied losers should remain in these peaceful elysiums; a fresh and continuous stream of victims is much preferred.
But these Shylock millionaires, the owners of thetables—these Princes of Hades who alone profit by the wreck of their fellow-creatures, are perfectly content to fatten, like over-gorged leeches, on the weaknesses and follies of their prey. What matters it to them, the misery and unhappiness of others, so long as they thrive? What matter the means, so long as their end is obtained?
I am sorry to say that ladies are the greatest victims. They are more easily tempted by their love of excitement and adventure, and once they touch the fatal dice it is almost impossible to hold them in. Many ladies who come to Nice and Mentone as invalids, go to Monte Carlo, not only for the enchanting scenery, but for the fine concerts, which are free to all comers. Indeed, most invalids long for such a means of recreation, and it is a great pity they cannot obtain it elsewhere when visiting the Riviera. Then their curiosity is aroused about the gaming-tables, purposely encouraged by lying reports of people having made their fortunes by a single throw of the dice. After the concert, how natural to stroll into the gay saloons, the liveried servants so politely opening the doors to them! And all this is the most cruel part of the gambling fraternity—Messieurs Blanc and Co., who so heartlessly lay out these alluring baits. Perchance these ladies are accompanied by pure-minded daughters, all unthinking of the frightful contamination of the numbers of so-called "ladies of fashion"—habitués and hirelings, decoys simply in the pay of the gambling propriétaire. It is impossible to know the moralinjury it will do these innocent young girls. Then, there is the husband who takes his wife, and permits her or himself to chance a napoleon. It is impossible to touch pitch without defilement, or to know where that one thoughtless yielding to temptation may lead. Yes! it is too often just one napoleon and no more. Unfortunately they win, and then of course they come again and again, with the sad result of eventually losing all that is worth living for.
Some of these invalid ladies actually starve themselves, when they ought to be nourishing and strengthening their poor bodies; acting meanly at their hotels in order to save sufficient money to go to Monte Carlo, and in the end it is all lost! Then they return to their homes with mind, health, and nerves completely shattered, to the grief and astonishment of kind friends and family doctors. There is no doubt that when people are once tempted, it creates in them quite a disease; this is called "play-fever."
An English gentleman staying at the same hotel with us told me that he came to the Riviera almost every year, and that he limited himself to £100 for the gaming pleasures at Monte Carlo, which he could not resist, and this sum he invariably lost at the end of the season.
But, of course, all those who frequent this place are not "innocents abroad." That is another evil resulting from this pandemonium. Blacklegs and adventurers of both sexes swarm here from all parts of Europe, demoralizing and degrading the lovelyshores of the Mediterranean, by their vulgar and hateful presence. Thousands of invalids and others of all nations yearly visit the beautiful little towns along the Riviera, and this fatal trap at Monte Carlo, whereby so many are helplessly ruined, and so many suicides result, should at least have the moral voice of the world against it—in fact, an international protest, for it is a gross scandal and disgrace to the whole of Europe. All who know anything of this gambling Hades—what is done to keep it alive, its irresistible fascination over even strong minds, and the number of its victims, will, I think, acknowledge that it is even worse than slavery. For the poor negro has to bear physical degradation only, whilst here it is both moral and physical; body and soul-suffering to the victim and his friends. Why, then, should this place have been allowed to exist so long?
First of all, France secretly encourages and indirectly profits by it. Were she earnest in her endeavours to suppress this infernal machinery at Monte Carlo, it would soon be stopped, and she would have the thanks of the civilized world for her good efforts. Italy is not entirely without blame: the late Pope Pius IX. more than winked at it. Russia is also accessory to it; the propensity to gamble seems natural to her people; and the corrupt journalists on the continent gloss over and help to support it.
The story of Monte Carlo is perhaps not sufficiently well known. In consequence of his subjects revolting from his tyrannical rule, the Prince of Monaco lostpart of his territory. France having annexed Nice and Savoy after the Italian campaign of 1859, the prince's fortunes were at a very low ebb indeed. But under the protection of Napoleon III., who put him up to a good thing in ground speculation at Paris, when Baron Hausmann was going ahead with his great building furore, the prince's coffers were not long empty. Then, the gambling-houses in Germany having been suppressed, the notorious Blanc—whose family, I believe, are still the proprietors of the tables at Monte Carlo—appeared upon the scene, doubtless accompanied by a few choice friends. The importance of Monaco, from a gambler's point of view, and the natural beauty of the place, were not lost sight of by him. The constant stream of visitors to Cannes, Nice, Mentone, and San Remo, must pass through Monte Carlo and pay there a terrible toll. An immense sum was lavished in making the place the delightful paradise it has become, less, of course, its Satanic evils. Beautiful gardens,cafés, concert and gaming-saloons, constructed with all the fascinating skill and taste that money and art could accomplish, were added to its natural attractions. The best of music and artistes procured, journalists bribed to advertize its advantages as a "health resort," men and women of fashion drawn hither, and then all was ready for the dupes.
Nice became an adjunct. The proprietors of the Monte Carlo Tables support the gaieties there, giving prizes at the races, and other inducements, to render itmore attractive to visitors, the majority of whom would invariably find their way to Monte Carlo. Besides, it were better that their unfortunate and maddened victims should blow out their brains at Nice and other places, rather than give Monte Carlo abad name! Though, frequently, they evade the gens d'armes, and at dawn of day are found in the beautiful gardens lifeless. The glorious sun rises over the dreadful scene, lighting up the lovely coast, and makes it a paradise, in spite of man's wickedness and merciless cruelty. At Monaco itself, there are thousands of pounds given away annually as thecasinoprizes, for thetamepigeon-slaughtering matches, which generally bring a great gathering. But the wonder is, that gentlemen will soil their hands with the stakes, tempting, as undoubtedly they are; and the marvel is that some of our leading newspapers, who righteously declaim against the iniquities of Monte Carlo, still condescend to advertize thesedecoymatches.
And thus the "owner of the tables" became exceedingly wealthy, and married his daughters to foreign princes—one to Prince Roland Bonaparte, and the other to Prince Radziwill. The Prince of Monaco shares the profits, amounting in the gross to some fourteen millions of francs annually. The people of his wretched principality are relieved of all taxes, even for gas and water—which secures their gratitude and silence: the profits from the gaming-tables pay for all. I believe it pays the entire expenses of the municipality, so that the prince hassimply to draw the remainder of his share in this inhuman plunder.
Religion has been drawn in as a veil, as is so often the case with unscrupulous persons. Churches have been built to quiet and satisfy the Roman Catholic conscience,[D]after so many shocking deaths had occurred, or rather to "whitewash" the scandal. The Pope was satisfied with the liberality of the great gambling Crœsus, and gave his blessing. Indeed, so religious has the place become that on Good Friday the Passion play is acted in the Cathedral, and without the least sense of incongruity.
The powerful alliances made with unscrupulous and needy princes of France and Russia by the family of the Crœsus Croupier and Co., have enormously increased their power. Hence the difficulty in dislodging them.
But it is an international matter. Monte Carlo is a curse to the people of every nation who pass through it, and the voice of the civilized world should be raised to insist on its absolute suppression. The Prince of Monaco should be given to understand that he must do this, or cease to exist as a petty independent power.WeEnglish, who are so earnest to prevent even small nuisances in our own land, where it is an indictable offence for a poor itinerant Italian organ-grinder to refuse to "move on" when ordered; where the owner of an overloaded dust-bin, vitiatingthe atmosphere, is called to account;—we, proudly the foremost in suppressing wrong and upholding the right, should surely not be backward in striving to uproot this hell upon earth—existing solely for the inhuman greed of a few selfish individuals; this plague-spot threatening deadly contagion to soul and body, and causing misery, madness, and suicide of thousands of our fellow-creatures.[E]
[D]The grand Cathedral is still in progress, under the auspices of the gambling fraternity.
[D]The grand Cathedral is still in progress, under the auspices of the gambling fraternity.
[E]In my former work, "The Cruise of theGorgon," my object was to expose the iniquity of the East African slave-trade, and our mode of suppressing it; and it is now my object to draw attention to the immorality of the Monte Carlo gambling principality, with a view to the exposure and suppression of its evils, for the benefit of those who, for health and pleasure, resort to these lovely shores of the Mediterranean.While these pages are passing through the press, the author is greatly gratified to see the noble exertions Italy is making, both in her Parliament and through the press, for the suppression of this gambling principality—recounting the many terrible suicides so frequently occurring there. But, a still more hopeful sign is the action recently taken in our own House of Commons as evidenced by the following extract from theMorning Postof Feb. 12th, 1884:—"A question is to be put to Lord E. Fitzmaurice to-morrow by Mr. Anderson (Glasgow) on the subject of the recent tragedies reported from Monte Carlo. The hon. member will ask whether her Majesty's Government will make friendly representations to the Governments of France and Italy, with the view of inducing them to unite for the suppression of the public gambling tables in that principality; and whether her Majesty's Government will also make friendly representations to the Government of France regarding the continuance of public gaming tables at Aix les Bains?"Italy, however, would do well to set the example by the abolition of her State "Lotto Banks;" and we in England would do well to suppress the little "Monte Carlos" at our West End, and so called Proprietary Clubs and Stock Exchanges.
[E]In my former work, "The Cruise of theGorgon," my object was to expose the iniquity of the East African slave-trade, and our mode of suppressing it; and it is now my object to draw attention to the immorality of the Monte Carlo gambling principality, with a view to the exposure and suppression of its evils, for the benefit of those who, for health and pleasure, resort to these lovely shores of the Mediterranean.
While these pages are passing through the press, the author is greatly gratified to see the noble exertions Italy is making, both in her Parliament and through the press, for the suppression of this gambling principality—recounting the many terrible suicides so frequently occurring there. But, a still more hopeful sign is the action recently taken in our own House of Commons as evidenced by the following extract from theMorning Postof Feb. 12th, 1884:—
"A question is to be put to Lord E. Fitzmaurice to-morrow by Mr. Anderson (Glasgow) on the subject of the recent tragedies reported from Monte Carlo. The hon. member will ask whether her Majesty's Government will make friendly representations to the Governments of France and Italy, with the view of inducing them to unite for the suppression of the public gambling tables in that principality; and whether her Majesty's Government will also make friendly representations to the Government of France regarding the continuance of public gaming tables at Aix les Bains?"
Italy, however, would do well to set the example by the abolition of her State "Lotto Banks;" and we in England would do well to suppress the little "Monte Carlos" at our West End, and so called Proprietary Clubs and Stock Exchanges.
Sceneryen route—Bordighera—Pegli—Genoa—Its magnificent situation—The grandeur of its past—The harbour—Streets—Palaces—Churches—Cathedral of San Lorenzo—Sacred Catina—Chapel of St. John the Baptist—Italian Beggars—Sudden change in the atmosphere—The Campo Santo—Shops of Genoa—Marble promenade—City of precipices—Climate of Genoa.
Sceneryen route—Bordighera—Pegli—Genoa—Its magnificent situation—The grandeur of its past—The harbour—Streets—Palaces—Churches—Cathedral of San Lorenzo—Sacred Catina—Chapel of St. John the Baptist—Italian Beggars—Sudden change in the atmosphere—The Campo Santo—Shops of Genoa—Marble promenade—City of precipices—Climate of Genoa.
After our visit to Monte Carlo, we returned to our hotel at Mentone, which we left early on the following day for Genoa, our next halting-place.
The country around Ventimiglia, Bordighera, and San Remo, is in many parts grand and beautiful, affording varied and interesting excursions. These three places are filled with visitors. The climate is somewhat more relaxing than at Nice or even Mentone. The date-palm seems to flourish at Bordighera, which is said to have the monopoly of supplying these graceful branches to Rome, for the Church ceremonies at Easter-time.
Savona was the largest town passed on our route. It has a very fine Cathedral, and was at one time a considerable port. A little further eastward on the coast is Pegli, a pretty little seaside place, fast growinginto favour. The Imperial Princess of Germany stayed here with her children some time since.
After a very pleasant journey by rail we reached Genoa at 10 p.m.
Genoa, Gênes, Genova, as it is called in English, French, and Italian, derives its name from the Latin wordgenu, the knee, supposed to be the shape of the large inlet of the sea around which the land lies in a vast semicircle. It is also called "La Superba," from its magnificent situation; indeed, few cities equal its imposing grandeur as seen from the sea. Handsome buildings line the shore for about the length of two miles; splendid palaces, churches, and convents rise tier upon tier on the steep sides of the hills, whose barren summits are crowned by formidable-looking forts and ramparts. Immediately behind are the Apennines, and upon these mountain heights are again several strong forts commanding the town, which is also enclosed by a double line of fortifications on the land side. The stern aspect of these works is relieved by gardens, whose foliage gives the one touch needed to soften the beauty of the whole. The harbour has a pier at each end, and upon one of these is a very fine lighthouse.
From time immemorial Genoa has been famous as a seaport, and as the contemporary and rival of fair Venice, and, like her, has had a proud and eventful history. How sadly are these splendid cities of the past, these great and wealthy republics ofancient times, sunk at the present day to a shadow of their former magnificence and grandeur! Their ruined splendour alone remains to show us what they were. But it is like gazing on the beauty of death; the soul, the spirit, is wanting, and we are continually haunted by the hollow mockery of the empty house which was once its dwelling. Doubtless the Genoese are proud of their city, yet it reminds one of the last descendant of a long and ancient pedigree, whose ancestors were once lords of many a fair manor, but who now has nothing but his name left, to recall the recollections of bygone days, and points on this side and on that, with the words "These lands once belonged to my illustrious family, of which I am the sole representative."
Baedeker says, "The beauty of its situation, and the interesting reminiscence of its ancient magnificence, render a visit to Genoa very attractive, especially to the traveller who is visiting Italy for the first time.... The Renaissance palaces are objects of extreme interest, surpassing in number and magnificence those of any other city in Italy. Many of the smaller churches are of very ancient origin, though usually altered in the Gothic period."
The many splendid palaces of the old nobility, with all their art treasures and galleries of fine paintings by the great masters, have been left to the city as a free gift, with the stipulation of their being open to visitors. Rubens and Vandyke both resided here, and there are a number of their greatest worksto be seen. As an example of the wealth of the nobles even at the present day, and their patriotic pride in their city, the Duke of Galliera, who died in 1876, presented twenty million francs for the improvement of the harbour, on condition that the Government would advance the remainder of the sum required, and the work is now in progress.
This semicircular harbour is crowded with shipping, while all around are large warehouses, and stretching along the edge is a superb promenade of white marble on raised arches. The Gulf of Genoa is very stormy, and there are but few fish to be found in it.
The streets are paved with stone which tires one to walk on. Many of them are dark and crooked, particularly in the interior of the town and near the sea, and so steep and narrow that in some of them a carriage cannot pass through. Most people will remember Dickens' amusing remarks on this subject in his "Pictures of Italy."
Some of the streets, however, are very fine. The Via Roma stretches up the hill, and descends in an almost unbroken line to the valleys beneath the mountains, and is remarkably clean and pleasant. On either side are houses of stone, with overhanging roofs. In the Via Carlo Felice is the Via Carlo Felice Theatre, the third largest in Italy. The Via Garibaldi has no less than eighteen splendid marble palaces in succession, while the fine streets, Nuovissima, Balbi, and Carlo Alberto, are also lined with these grand old palaces of the Genoese nobility.Many of them contain rare and magnificent works of art, and their furniture and decorations are rich and beautiful in the extreme. They are usually on view from ten till three, on payment of a small fee to the keeper. In each saloon you find catalogues of the pictures, amongst which the works of Rubens, Titian, Correggio, and Vandyke are conspicuous.
Palace after palace, gallery after gallery; it is reallyembarras de richesse, and one gets quite bewildered with the wealth of artistic genius.
The churches are also very fine, but many of them are left in a very unfinished condition. The Capuchin church of St. Annunziata, in the Piazza del Annunziata, erected in 1587, has a portal upborne by marble columns, while the brick façade is left quite unfinished, with great holes between the brick and mortar, where seemingly the scaffold-poles had been inserted, and in which the birds have built their nests. The interior presents a striking contrast in its splendid and almost over-gorgeous decorations. It is in the form of a cross, with a dome, the vaulting supported by twelve fluted and inlaid columns, richly gilded and painted. But a far more interesting church is the old Cathedral of San Lorenzo, in the Piazza of the same name, and close to the Via Carlo Felice. It is in the Gothic style, or rather represents three different periods, the Romanique, the French Gothic, and the Renaissance. It was mostly built about the year 1100, and restored in 1300. It has a triple portal, with deep-recessed, pointed arches. Above these areseveral rows of arcades, a small rose window, and a tower with a little dome at the top, two hundred feet high. At the south corner above the central door is a bas-relief of the martyrdom of St. Lawrence, its patron saint, and many quaint carvings of monsters. The beautiful and curiously twisted columns, triple portals, arches, and arcades, as well as the whole façade and front exterior, are of black and white marbles; and there is some very fine bronze-work, painting, and statuary. In the sacristy they show the SacredCatina(basin), a six-sided piece of glass brought from Cæsarea in 1101, and reported to be that which held the Paschal lamb at the Last Supper of our Lord. It was given out to be a pure emerald, till the mistake was detected by a scientific judge. It may be seen for five francs—a large fee, evidently charged in the hope of some day making up for its deceptive intrinsic worth. Like Westminster Abbey, the interior of this church has the impress of antiquity, especially in its worn columns. I was invited by the old verger to view the Sacred Chapel of St. John the Baptist, but my wife was mysteriously prohibited, as women had been concerned in the saint's martyrdom. I believe this stern order is waived once a year, probably by payment of a pretty large fee for conciliation. There are other chapels, paintings, and relics that are well worthy the trouble and time of study, making this ancient cathedral the most interesting duomo in Genoa.
St. Ambrogio, in the Via del Sellag, is rich inpictures: Ruben's "Circumcision," and his "St. Ignatius," healing a man possessed of an evil spirit, and also Guido's "Assumption." It is splendid in colouring and wonderful in the elaboration of detail. These to some may appear too extravagant. The Santa Maria di Carignano, or Church of the Assumption, in the same street, is one of the finest in Genoa. The walk from here, along the walls and ramparts of St. Chiara, gives a splendid view.
Many other churches, some sixty in number, are well worth a visit; but, like the palaces, they require considerable time to properly appreciate them.
One scarcely likes to see all these gorgeous buildings, with so lavish a display of the money laid out on their profuse decoration, when the mendicant poor, the halt, maimed, and blind are crowding the porches, piteously begging alms; it spoils your pleasure and study of these beautiful edifices. We ought, however, to recollect that at home we have our crossing-sweepers, match and flower sellers, and many wretched objects of suffering and poverty, who perhaps make a similar impression on foreigners visiting our great and prosperous London, but who will perhaps marvel also at our lukewarmness and niggardliness in beautifying our St Paul's and other churches.
At the commencement of our stay here the weather was warm and bright, but on the day following our arrival a most sudden change occurred, and it was very wet, and on Sunday bitterly cold.We went to the English church, and afterwards walked to the top of the fine street leading from the Carlo Felice, right up the valley at the foot of the mountains, and there we had a most glorious view. The Campo Santo in the distance; the harbour on the right; and the great hills, with their strong forts perched on every projecting point and pinnacle, all covered with snow; quite a white world since the day before. We saw ice in the streets, and were glad to return to the Hotel Isotta. The poor fasting Priests seemed quite nipped up; and the Genoese ladies, who under more favourable circumstances would have been graceful and good-looking, appeared unaccustomed to this severity of weather, and hurried along with red noses and pinched faces.
Of all our visits to interesting places in this ancient city our excursion to the Campo Santo gave us the most pleasure. It is some three or four miles from the city: the weather continuing cold, we preferred walking. We went up the main street, through the valley at the foot of the snow-clad hills we had seen before, and in little more than an hour we arrived at the gates of the Cemetery. This Campo Santo is indeed most eloquently illustrative of loving reverence and remembrance of the dead, and is quite a museum of beautiful monumental statuary.
This burial-ground is a system of sheltered colonnades, where the dead are deposited in sarcophagi, resting on shelves on the inner walls, tier upon tier. Only the very poor people seem to be buried in thecommon earth, in the open spaces which lie before the colonnades, and these are crowded. It rather shocked us to see the gravedigger remove some bones from the ground and throw them into a kind of bin, which was there for the purpose, in order to make room for a new corpse. I thought, with Hamlet—