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THE MARITIME ALPS
AND THEIR SEABOARD
'I8S(I'70
I.ONDO.N : rUISTEO liY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., KEW-STUEET .SQUAKE
A>M) rAlil.IAMENT STJllilCT
o
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P3 .
THE MARITIIE ALPS
AND THEIR SEABOARD
AUTHOR OF 'VERA- BLUE ROSES' ctr
WITH ILL U8TRA TlOyS
LONDON
LONGMANS, G K E P: N.
1885
AND CO.
All righfs reserved
DEDICATED
p. Y P F. II M I S S r O N
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE COMTESSE DE PARIS.
A SON ALTESSE ROYALE
MABIE-ISABELLE, COMTESSE DE PARIS.
Vous avez daigni m'accordcr la permission, tout en
IXLrcourant les cliamps ct les plages de la Provence ct en
feuilletant vies livres, de penser a vous et aux enfants que
vous conduisez chaque printemps jouir du soldi de ce paijs
enchantenr.
Je viens vous offrir ces qnclques pages. Permcttcz-moi, en
les deposant entre vos mains royales, de vojis c.rprimcr vies
vosux qu'ici au vioins ne s'epanoidssent pour vous que les roses
sans epines.
Pal ritonneur, Madame, d'etre, avec wi tres profond respect,
de voire Altesse Boyale
la servavtc la pAus dcvoude,
VAUTEUR.
Vii.i.A UrcY. Canvrs:
CONTENTS.
CIlAl'TER
I.
II.
III.
I\'.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION , . . . . 1
FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA . .15
THE PEOPLE . . . . . . 30
CORN, WINE, AND OIL . . . .65
ON THE FARMS . . . . . 70
GRASSE . . . . . . 82
VENCE . . . . . . 101
THE TRUTH ABOUT THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK . 122
ST. HONORAT . . . . . . 142
THE MONASTERY ON THE LERINS . . .158
NICE . . . . . . . 178
THROUGH THE COUNTY OF NICE . . .195
ST. PAUL-DU-VAR . . ... 203
Vlll
COXTEXTS.
CHAPTEK
XIV,
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXI.
XXII.
XXIII.
INDEX
VILLEXEUVE-LOUBET
JEANNE DE PROVENCE, QUEEN OF NAPLES
THE TEMPLARS IN MARITIME PROVENCE
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES
THE GRIMALDI OF MONACO
TWO FRENCH ADxMIRALS
CANNES AS IT WAS .
NAPOLEON AT CANNES
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK .
1. LAGHET
2. THE CASTLE OF BEAUREGARD
3. A CELTO-LIGURIAN CAMP
4. VILLA NEVADA
5. NOTRE DAME DE GAROUBE
MENTONE ...
PAGE
222
236
251
266
289
302
317
327
338
338
313
351
354
362
367
381
ILLUSTEATIONS.
FULL-PAGE WOODCUTS.
ST. MARTIN-DE-LANTOSQUE .... Fnnitispicce
(From a photograph hy II. RM. the Comte de Vuserta)
IX THE FOREST OF THE ESTERELS . . . . To face JJ. 26
(From a photograph by Frith of Reigute)
THE FARM . . . . . . .. Tfi
THE CROISETTE . . . . ... 122
THE FORT AND PRISONS OF STE. MARGUERITE . . ,, 124
(From (I photograph by Frith of Rfigate)
IX THE CASTLE OF ST. HONORAT . . . , nj^
THE GATE OF ST.-PAUL-DU-VAR . . . • ,, 212
(From a photograph by IT. Cotesicorth)
IX AN OLD HOUSE . . . . . . „ 216
(From u photograph by U'. Cotesu-ortti)
A STREET IN COGOLIN . . . . . . 293
(By M. Francois Vincent)
ST. CLAUDE DU CANNET . . . • - „ 322
(By ili-is Helen Hawkins Dempster)
SUNSET AT CANNES . . . . • „ 324
(By F. S. tie ntssilow)
ILLUSTRATIONS.
WEST CANNES
{By Mrs. Jo/in Siniees)
MEISSONIER AT ANTIBES
(,Bu Miiisoniii)
LA KOQUEBRUNE
{Bii Sijnor Corcfli)
To face J). 332
„ 365
371
WOODCUTS IN TEXT.
THE AMPHITHEATRE OF FR^JUS .
PAGK
1
DRAWING THE NET .....
(From a sketch done for this book by the late Hon. Henry Graves)
CABRIS, AND ' LOU CABRES ' .
(From a .ik''tcli done for this book by the late Hon. Henry Graves)
GOCRDON ON THE LOUP ....
(.By Miss Loui.sd Denixi>n)
THE CLOISTERS OF ST. HONORAT
THE CASTLE ON ST. HONORAT
ROMAN BRIDGE OF CANNES
ST.-PAUL-DU-VAR . ^ .
(By the Author)
VILLENEUVE-LOUBET ....
ARABS AT WORK .....
MOUGINS ....
(liy Mrs. Norwich Duff)
THE CASTLE OF CALIAN
(By Mr. James Harris, H.B.M. Consul at Nice
VILLA NEVADA . . . .
(tiy Admiral Sir Sj>enrer Robinson, K.C.B.)
A VISTA AT MONTFLEURI
CORSICA FROM MENTONE
(By /i'. B. Crawley Bvvey)
38
96
HI
142
158
182
203
222
234
242
348
854
356
379
,-ri:?-;^^;^^^*. RUINS OF FREJUS.
THE MARITIME ALPS.
CHAPTER I.
INTRO D UCTION.
' When, however, I look over tlie hints and memorandums I liave taken
down for the purpose, my heart almost fails me at finding how mj' idle humour
has led me aside from the great objects studied by ever}' regular traveller who
would make a book.' — Washington Irving.
The carriages on tlie Paris, Lyons, and Mediterranean
Eailway are generally crowded, and the one in wliicli
we recently found ourselves was no exception to this
unpleasant rule. Many persons were already on their
way to the Pdviera, on different errands of business,
health, or pleasure, and we were not fortunate in our
company. Two French entrepreneurs talked incessantly,
and ate with their clasp-knives frequently. They
discussed with great animation tlie operations of tlie
Societe-Fonciere-Lyonnaise in Nice and Cannes, and all
2 THE MARITIME AIPS.
along a coast where fabulous prices have recently been
asked and given for land in the neighbourhood of the
cities of the seal)oard. Tlieir conversation succeeded in
interesting a speculator of the feminine gender, a cross,
old, Eussian lady, who, with her shabby companion,
was bound for Monte Carlo. This quartett accord-
ingly discussed gambling in all its branches, direct
and indirect. In the further corner of the carriage
there lolled an olive-faced man who had a ticket for
Grasse. He smelt of garlic, though he 'travelled hi
pomatums ' ; but as he was silent, he did not add
to tlie excitement of the disputants. Great was our
relief when the train stopped at Carnoulles. There
is a junction at that point for Aix, and the line of the
Durance, and we took in a French gentleman and
his daughter. We had a previous and very pleasant
acquaintance with this person, whom I shall call the
Comte de Thibaut, and were glad to find that he was
on his way to Cannes for the winter. His son was on
board the ' Colbert ' : one of the ironclads about to
be sent to Golfe Jouan for the winter manoeuvres, and
his daughter was delighted as each station diminished
the distance between herself and Koger. She had
never seen the big ships yet, she said, but cette coquine
rfemarwe would no longer, she hoped, be able to rob her
wholly of an only brother. M. de Thibaut said that he
had only that morning left his chateau, Avhere the vint-
age had been fine, and where vats of new wine were
fermenting under the terrace. He spoke of his home
with pleasure, and I knew tluit those lands had been
Jield by the Thibauts for generations — in fact, since a
INTR on UCTION 3
daiigliter of the Chancellor of Navarre brought them
with her as a dowry. In all France and Navarre there
was therefore no nobler blood than that which flowed
in the veins of Mademoiselle Estefanette. She was a
pretty and hvely girl, who might possibly in due time
develop all the graces and all the worldliness of the
modern Parisienne, but who in the meantime was
simple, intelligent, and ready to be pleased. She had
lived chiefly in Paris, but last year she had gone with
her father to Baden, and she had even seen London.
One of her friends — one of the best of her friends, she
assured me, looking wise over her own discrimination —
Avas married to the naval attache there. But a visit
to them had not satisfied Estefanette. What she most
ardently wished to do was to travel in Scotland, ' that
charming country which Valter Scott has made so
interesting to us all.' I smiled, and after expressing
myself flattered by her appreciation of his genius, I
said to M. de Thibaut, —
' What a pity that no French author has done for
France what Scott has certainly done for us at home ! '
' There is nothing of very great note,' he replied,
' nothing that has made its mark out of France, but
as regards southern France, you w^ill find a good deal
of local colour in the sketches of Dumas, in " Mise
Brun," in the " Auberge des Adrets," and in " Numa
Eoumestan " : they are also good as works of art. The
same might be said of the " Cadet de Colobrieres," and
even of the " Tamaris " of Georixe Sand. It describes
that Provence inedite (if I may so term it) which lies
between Toulon, Hyeres, Pierrefeu, St. Tropez, and the
B 2
4 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Baj^ of Griraaiid. I admit that it is not a tale which,
like a novel of Scott's, could be put into every hand,
while the little work of Elisee Eeclus is too technically
a guide-book to be appreciated except by persons who
travel, and who in travelling prefer their itinerary to
be written in French.'
' Most of the books you name are unknown to the
English. France itself is really unknown to us. We
forget its history, and consider the country flat, though
it certainly contains more ruins and mountains than
are required in a search after the picturesque. Further-
more I must add tliat Englishwomen are advised not to
read French novels, and that they are convinced that
there is no French poetry. The result of all this is that,
of the thousands who yearly betake themselves to the
Riviera, few know or care much about the country.'
' I must say,' cried Estefanette, ' that the history of
Provence is very far away.'
' That depends on the point at which you begin,'
replied her father : ' if by the past you mean Lord
Brougham's visit to Cannes, or Prosper Merimee's
sketches there, or the deatli of the Grand-Due Ileritier
at Nice, or the holiday of the Queen of England in a
chrdet at Mentone, it seems to me to be recent enough
even for a big, little girl like you. Even the landing of
Napoleon at Golfe Jouan is as a thing of yesterday to
your elders.'
' Impossible : you are now laughing at me.'
'Not the least in the world. I have myself spoken
with four persons who can remember every incident of it
most distinctly, and of those four only one (the excellent
INTRODUCTION. 5
mayor of Cannes, M. Eeybaud) is now dead. I am soriy,
petite, til at yon can never hear him describe, as I have
done, tlie cross preoccupation of Napoleon as he sat l)y
the bivouac fire.'
' At least, you will admit tliat Francis the First is a
very old story.'
' Certainly ; yet when you have seen Villeneuvc-
Loubet, where the King lived for three weeks, where he
met the Pope and where he would not meet the Emperor,
I hope that you may begin to take an interest even in
that old story. This country has a past, an old civilisa-
tion — what do I say ? it has liad man}^ civilisations.'
'You mean,' I said, ' her Greek and Cartliaginian
colonists, and her Eoman conquerors.'
'Or perhaps,' cried Estefanette, 'her best conquerors,
her saints and martyrs. I mean to go and see the
Lerins. You will take me, father ? '
' Yes, petite, for those constitute part of the past of
tliy native land.' And then turning to me, M. de Thibaut
added, ' What do you say of the cave-men whose bones are
in the caverns of Mentone and Sospello ; of the inscrip-
tions in the department to eighteen Eoman emperors
and to twenty-one Eoman divinities ; of the Aves said
by the boatmen of Napoule to the Diana of their shore ;
of the altar of Venus in the plain of Laval ; of the
battle-field of Otho and Yitellius ; of the storehouses
at Auribeau and Napoule ; of the Golden Gate at Frejus,
and of the great Aurelian road which ran not many
hundred feet from the line that we now follow? '
' I doubt,' I replied, ' if I could interest a dozen
people in these topics.'
6 THE MARITIME AIFS.
M. (le Tliibaut "ave liis shoulders a sbriii?.
' But why ? ' asked Estefanette.
' ])ecause people will auswer, just as you did a little
while ago, tliat these are such very old stories : be-
cause the English prefer to meet English joeople and to
read English books, and to talk of their ailments, hotel
bills, and lawn-tennis parties, to say nothing of their
charities, picnics, and quarrels.'
Estefanette laughed. ' Is it true,' slie asked, ' tliat
the two colonies, the French and the English, see very
little of each other ? '
' Every year less, as far as Cannes is concerned.
The French do not need strangers, and the English do
not readily make themselves ties in a foreign land.
They seem numerous enough to depend on themselves.
Eut if they cannot get over their two great stumbling-
blocks, a foreign language and a different Church, they
have at least admitted to tlieir sympathies the insects
and the flowers.'
' You are much better gardeners than we are,' said
M. de Thibaut, ' for noildng will make a Provencal tidy
in his work, or methodical in his care of anything.'
' I hear that the English go out with butterfly-nets,'
said Estefanette ; ' I shall do so too.'
' Yes, and w^e take an interest in sea- anemones, in
trap-door spiders, in the praying Mantis, and the bury-
ing beetle.'
' Those creatures, besides the notice witfi Avhich you
lioiioiir them, are so typical that they deserve all the
respect I can show them,' said M. de Tliibaut, laughing.
' Why, f^ither ? '
INTRODUCTION. 7
' At Nice and Monte Carlo I dare say there are not
many persons as devout as the praying Mantis ; no : that
poor Httle creature often prays ahine, but at Cannes we
shall meet with many specimens of the gentleman with
the trap-door ; excellent persons, who shut out all
strange impressions and new ideas.'
' You are satirical, M. le Comte.'
' Not at all ; for let me ask you, do we not all do
with the past what the beetle does : hury it ? '
At this moment the train stopped at Frejus.
It is the residence of tlie Bishop of Frejus-and-
Toulon, but it is none the less a forlorn and deserted
place, where the waves have receded nearly a mile
from the port of the Ca3sars, and where the broken
aqueducts may be seen stretching away through the
bean-fields and the weedy drills of corn.
' How dismal it looks ! ' I exclaimed.
' Yes, here indeed a whole civilisation is buried ;
here is a past that can never live again. The harbour
is dried up, the sailors have departed, so that to think
of the fleet of Actium rockinir where these vines and
lettuces grow seems like a fable. And no one cares about
its past, unless it be some canon of that melancholy little
cathedral who may have a taste for archaiology. All
that the present landowner asks is that the Fonciere
should take a fancy to his lettuce-bed, and buy it of
him, at sixty francs a metre. This suburb of Saint
Eaphael has a certain success as a bathing-place, but
as it catches a contagious sadness from Frejus I must
say that it does not attract me.'
' Alphonse Karr can generally make me in love
8 THE MARITIME ALPS.
^vitli any beach that lie describes, but were I condemned
to live on this side of the Esterels I think I should
fix u])on Valescure, and bargain that its pines should
not all be cut down by people who build what is
called a " health resort." It is the first thing that
they set themselves to do, and the most silly, since
an invalid can have few better neighbours than a pine
tree.'
' I wonder,' said Estefanette, ' what the Eonians
of whom 3^011 spoke would think if they could see this
coast all dotted with white houses, and the sea ploughed
by ironclads ? '
' Some of the old traders had a very fair aptitude
for gain,' replied her father. ' Commerce creates ad-
venture, and Narl)onne was once as full of Jews as
Marseilles is now full of foreign merchants.'
After shooting through a tunnel we found ourselves
in the forest of the Esterels.
' If,' said M. de Tliibaut, ' you are in search of an
historic site or theme, there is the Tour Drammont,^
where they say that Jeanne, who was Countess of
Provence as well as Queen of Naples, spent her last
night in Provence.'
'You mean Jeanne with tlie four husbands ? ' cried
Estefanette.
' ^yell, it appears that our liege lady of Pro-
vence, besides being a droll mixture of wit and
wickedness, of devotion and indecorum, was also a
woman of much experience as far as mati'imony Avas
concerned. Slie was however near the end of lier
' Or (rAnnont.
INTRODUCTION. 9
experiences when slie fled to the Tou]" Drannnont, and
took sliip from Agay.'
' To go and be smothered at Naples,' added Este-
fanette, as she looked at the sliell of the castle where
Jeanne sheltered herself from the wrath of her barons.
The wild scenery of the short mountain range of
the Esterels never looked more beautiful than at this
moment. The purple heath was in flower, and the
arbutus displayed both the scarlet of its berries and the
beauty of its pale, wax-like flowers. Against the dusky,
red rocks of this little roadstead of Agay broke the trans-
lucent waves, and down every little valley there hurried
a rill, making the solitary places glad with its tinkle,
or washing the myrtles to a brighter green.
'The forest is beautiful to-day,' I cried, 'not sombre
or solitary, but yet more fit for the flying feet of some
mountain nymph than for the robber bands of Gaspard
de Besse, or for the march of a guilty queen.'
' The ancients thought so too. They dedicated the
whole region to Diana, the huntress sister of Apollo,
and this forest had its especial nymph, its Oreade^ the
fairy Estrella.'
' Oh ! I should like to see her,' cried Estefanette.
' I do not know that she ever appeared to little
maidens like you. She bestowed fertility on motliers,
but especially favoured the noble sex. Yet woe betide
the shepherd who met and kissed her in some fold of
the hills ! '
' Ah : what did she do to him ? turn into a wolf, and
eat him ? '
' No, she did nothing to him, but after kissing her
lo THE MARITIME A IPS.
lie ceased to behave like other people. He went mad.
He had made himself her victim : in fact, there are
people one knows wdio have met and kissed Estrella —
lives fatally devoted to one idea.'
We were silent, till as the train ran past the mouths
of the Siagne, and the wooded hills of the Tanneron
came in sight, M. de Thibaut sat back in the carriage,
and repeated to himself De Musset's lines : —
Regrettez-vous le temps, ou le ciel sur la terre,
Marcliait et respirait dans un pcuple de dieux ;
Ou Venus- Astarte, fille de I'onde amere,
Secouait, vierge encore, les larmes de sa mere
Et fecondait le monde en tordant ses cheveux ;
Ou, du nord au midi, sur la creation
Hercule promenait I'eternelle justice,
Sous son manteau sanglant, taillc dans un lion ;
Oil les Sylvains moqueurs, dans I'ecorce des clienes,
Avec les rameaux verts se balan9aient au vent,
Et sifflaient dans I'echo le chant du passant ;
Ou tout 6tait divin, jusqu'aux douleurs humaines ;
Ou le monde adorait ce qu'il tue aujourd'liui ;
Oia quatre mille dieux n'avaient pas un athee %
******
A few days later, when recalling this conversation, I
said to myself, ' I w^ill try to interest visitors in this
beautiful country : in the history of the Maritime Alps
and their seaboard. Such a book will certainly bore
some people ; but then they need not do more than
look at the pictures. Others, on the contrary, may be
pleased to fuid that there is really something to know.
Tliey will then set to work for themselves, and in
looking around them will find the famous "sermons in
stones, and good in everything." '
For some invahds on this coast the ])resent must
INTR OD UCTION. 1 1
perforce be colourless : clays of tedium succeeding to
nights of pain. Perhaps these pages may please them
— may people the sick-room with brave men and fair
women, or perfume it with the breath of the hill-
flowers. There are also spirits cruelly in want of rest,
and of the soothing to be derived from a complete
change of scene. Will they go out with me to the
river or the beach ? or can I tempt them to give an
hour of thought to a past which is not their own? It
may not be their own in one sense, but in another
sense how real is our possession of the past ! Does
there not rise from it a strange hum of dead voices,
telling how others before us have toiled all the night,
and taken notliing ? Patience is the great lesson of
history, for history convinces us of the slow growth of
truth, and of the rejection, by prejudice, of much that
ought ere noAV to have become the heirlooms of the
world. Error only is longlived, and so far is the race
from being adjudged to the swift that the strong
powers of ennui^ mediocrity, and envy often make us
despair of progress in a world where grace, catholicity,
and generosity leave but little mark on the shifting
sands of society. Here under our feet many old civili-
sations lie buried. They can never come again in their
good or in their evil, because ' tongues ' cease, and
because manners also die, like men. Some of the new
developments are good, yet the past has its charms, and
this Provencal past will prove to be a treasure-heap.
Under the white ashes that cover it we shall find the
fire of old loves and hates, bones of old systems, frag-
ments of the history of the human heart. Nor will
12 THE MARITIME ALPS.
novels and romances be needed wlien we have once
come to know the actors in these Provencal dramas, so
full of the ceaseless toil and endeavour of humanity, of
its agitations, its passions, its controversies, its struggles
for freedom, its increase of knowledge, its sorrows, its
great men and its greater errors, and its constant
succession of hnmble and unnoticed lives.
13
CHAPTER II.
FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA.
' Here the spring is longest, summer borrows months beyond her own :
Twice the teeming flocks are fruitful, twice the laden orchards groan :
Hail, thon fair and fruitful mother, thus I dure to wake the tale,
Of thine ancient laud and honour. . . .' — II. Georgic.
< Point de longs fleuves ni de grandes plaines. Qa et \k une ville en tas
sur une montagne, sorte de mole arrondi, est un ornement du paysage comma
on en trouve dans les tableaux de Pous&in et de Claude : des valines limitees,
de nobles formes, beaucoup de roc, et beaucoup de soleil, les elements et les
sensations correspondantes : combien de traits de I'individu et de I'histoire
imprimes par ce caractere.' — H. Taine.
As an introduction to a history one ought not to over-
look at starting the influence which is both stronger and
more enduring than that of any human system. It is
the one which shapes, and, as it were, predestinates the
fate of a country — I mean its geographical position,
and the unalterable features of its physical geography.
Lying on the high road to Italy the district which
we call Provence was trodden by every foot. It Avas
the path alike of the foreign invader who aimed
a blow at Eome, and of the conquering soldier who
had dared to cross his Eubicon. Along the sliore
of Maritime Provence, or across the passages of her
Alps, poured Celts and Goths, Burgundians, Franks,
Vandals, Huns, and Berbers. And the tribes who
14 THE MARITIME ALPS.
came to rrovcnce seldom left it. Every wanderer or
marauder found here what he most sought, or what he
most regretted. The Greeks, if they had to import
the olives of Pallas, found here fair skies, pale marbles,
violets fit for Hylas, and roses of which Alcibiades
might have made his wreath : to say nothing of a sea
as ' deeply, darkly, beautifully blue ' as that which
breaks round the Leucadian headland. The Jews, who
drifted hither, first after the persecution of Titus, and
again in 1492, after their expulsion from Spain, found
here the corn and wine and oil of promise, with terraces,
not unlike those of Judea, surrounding ' cities that had
foundations' in the sunny hills. The Moors were soon
at home in the dusty, Wady-X^kQ ravines : the crags,
the sunshine, and the palms of Provence leaving them
but little to regret. For the Phoenician traders there
were safe harbours ; for the Aragonese a dialect not
unlike their own [Catalan) ; Florentines, red-handed
from the strife of Guelf and Ghibelhne in the Lily City,
made themselves new counting-houses in Provence ;
while the Lombard and Genoese traders found in the
Phone valley a highway for their commerce. These
influences procured for the district of the Maritime
Alps a rich and a varied i)ast, and in the same manner
the exceptional climate and the unique position of the
country now ensure for it a future of ailluence.
Fashions change, and it may happen that for a
quarter of a century some one of the cities of Provence
will enjoy a greater reputation, or a greater influx of
strangers, tlian another ; but it is certain that what the
one loses the other gains, tliat railways will continue to
FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA. 15
bring invMlids and pleasure-seekers and artists to tlie
Eiviera, and that from the Itlione to tlie Arno one
winter city will succeed to tlie other till the Kiviera is
one long line of health-resorts. At the present moment
the department of the Maritime Alps bears the bell.
And no wonder. A rampart of limestone mountains,
rising tier above tier, shelters it from tlie north, while
the chain of the Esterels screens its western border.
Such a screen is needed, for the Rhone valley, acting-
like a funnel, permits a constant rush of cold air to-
wards the sun-heated coast. Thus the sweeping mistral
is formed. There used to be an old sajang that
Parliament, mistral, and Durance
Were the three scourges of Provence —
and no doubt the third day of a howling mistral is a
trial to most people. The cypress hedges are bent
down, almost to the earth which they are unable
to protect, every window shakes, and all night long,
across every bar and through every keyhole, this wild
wind discourses. Its medley of raving, wdiining and
bellowing is very annoying — and as for the dust, that is
everywhere ! it is in your eyes and in your hair, in
your dress, in your ink-bottle, and between the leaves
of your books. Meantime your pens split, your
shutters crack, your hat flies away, and your hair turns
grey ; but your spirits are unaccountably buoyant, and
the sky, from side to side, is of the palest blue. The
sea, on the other hand, looks dark ; there is a fringe of
surf round the shore, the horizon line is a broken one,
and the water is of every shade imaginable, from a deep
1 6 THE MARITIME ALPS.
liyacintli-like purple to a greenisli turquoise. This
much-abused mistral has been christened by the know-
ing peasantry ' lou bon vent.'' It really is a public bene-
factor, for this ' prince of the power ' of the air clears the
country from damp and miasma, and is therefore one
of the great sanitary features of the seaboard.
The streams of a coast which slopes so directly to
the sea must run from north to south. They have their
sources among the everlasting snows, but their outfall
is amono- the sun-dried sands. It is the incessant
currents of air, all these angels of the winds, ascending
and descending the valleys and river-beds of Provence,
that make and keep the country healthy. Thanks to
them we have here no Maremraa with its fatal beauty
of midsummer, and no Pontine marshes, Avith their
fevers and agues.
The southern exposure of this beach causes an almost
daily phenomenon in the matter of the wind. Towards
the dawn a tramontana, which the boatmen call ' lou vent
de la neige,' rises, and they may then be seen hugging the
land, while in the same way if the wind sets due south
they will run close in shore, to catch a ricochet off
lulls which deflect the wind enough to give it a slight
change of direction. These experienced judges are of
opinion that it is the SE. wind, ' lou vent de nier,' which
brings the finest weather, particularly if, turning to
' vent de soleu^' it goes round all day with the sun. They
also denominate this veering wind ' lou vent dou nial-
hourouSj because their sails are like the pockets of an
uiihicky man, empty after having been full. The SSE.
wind, tlic SIroc, l)lows in tlie upper regions of the air. It
FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA. 17
gives a pale steel-grey hue to the sky ; clouds accumu-
late, but uo raiu falls on the south side of the mountains,
and the temperature becomes peculiarly trying to
nervous people. It has happened to us to leave this
coast after weeks of such weather, and to cross the
ridges of the hills on the way to Grenoble and Lyons.
No sooner had we exchanged the southern for the
northern slopes than we found that the clouds and
vapours had all condensed in the colder atmosphere,
and that torrents of rain had magnified every streamlet
into a river.
As a rule the winds of this coast only blow with
violence while the sun is high. As soon as he sets,
the invisible vapours uniting condense, and drop on the
parched shores of Provence the dews that keep its
vegetation alive. When in 1882, only four showers of
rain fell between the 4th of January and the 5th of
April, the dripping grass reminded one irresistibly of
the sunshine of Eden, when the ' days ' were ' seven,'
and when as yet the earth was only watered by such
bounteous dews.
Provence is separated by the chains of the Maritime
Alps both from Piedmont and from that Genoese terri-
tory to which the name of Liguria was anciently given.
The Yar was long the boundary of this the most eastern
province of France ; but in 1860, the county of Nice
(with the exception of the cantons of Tende and La
Brigue) was ceded to the Emperor, who also purchased
Mentone and Eoquebrune from the Prince of Monaco.
In this way the French frontier has been pushed on to the
torrent of St. Louis, almost to Ventimiglia, whereby the
c
1 8 THE MARITIME A IPS.
harbour of Villefranche, and many other sources of com-
mercial and mineral wealth have been secured to France.
There is little level land in the department. One
range of hills rises beyond and behind the other : first
the wooded liillocks where the hyacinths lurk, then the
slopes, so gay with heatli and myrtle and arbutus and
prickly broom, next the bare limestone ledges, and,
last of all, the peaks where the snow-wreaths and glaciers
hang, and which, as they meet the clouds, assume the
hues and imitate all the aspects of cloudland.
Of the Alps the most northern mass belongs to the
Gelas, to that majestic system of upheaval from which
the Apennines depend. The first chain, running in the
direction of Bordighera, gives rise to the great torrent
of the Roya. To the second belongs the fantastic Tete-
de-Chien, above Monaco, and the scathed and peeled
crags of Eza. These rocks not only come close to the
beach, but they rise from the sea in almost perpendicular
masses, and are of the most glowing hues above the
beach gardens of Beaulieu and of la petite Afrique. The
third chain or system, running east and west, goes to
join the mountains in the department of the Basses
Alpes. Its best-known feature is the Saut-du-Loup,
backed as that is by the Cheiron range, of which the
head is distant about thirty kilometres from the sea.
The greatest altitude here is, however, very humble
when compared with the Pic du Prats (2,438 metres
above the sea), or with the elevation of the two highest
glaciers which can be seen from Antibes, viz. the
Glacier dc Mercantour (3,1 G7 metres), and that of the
grand Mont Clapier (3,340 metres).
FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA. 19
Tlie principal artery of tliis department is the Var.
It receives many affluents, and tlie space that Hes be-
tween it and the Siagne (which once formed tlie ancient
viguerie of Grasse) is watered by many lesser streams.
These are the Cagnette, the Malvans, the Lubiane, the
Loup, the Brague, the Bouillede, the Foux, the Chatai-
gnier, the Eiou, the Siagne, the Mourachone, and the
Argentiere.
Beyond tlie Var you cross first the Magnan, and
then the Paillon, that torrent which divides old Nice from
her modern faubourgs ; and, lastly, you meet the Eoya,
with its fourteen affluents which make such wild work
in winter of both roads and bridges. These rivers nearly
all possess the same features. First you have the sources,
high up among the secret places of the mountains, where
little streamlets either break out suddenly through the
ledges, as the overflow^ of some hidden reservoir, or
go oozing slowly through the snows of the highest
levels. They next make their way downward in half-
thawed ripples, till they gather volume enough to cleave
themselves a passage through the barriers of the rocks.
They then emerge, green splashing torrents, glittering
among the uplands, to collect themselves into pools in
the fragrant, bosky dells. After this they may meet
with the weir of a mill, or with a bridge or two, but
then come their two last, their sober stages, the gliding
through meadows all pied with daffodils, and finally the
slow creeping througli the sands out to the salt and
restless sea.
These torrents can be very terrible. Take the
Brague for an example. As it comes creeping througli
c 2
20 THE MARITIME ALPS.
its flowery banks, it looks so passive and sluggish that
one can hardly realise the catastrophe of January, 1872.
Very heavy rains fell then with little intermission during
sixteen days, and the swollen river ended in forming a
lake of two kilometres in length inside the railway
embankment, outside of which there unluckily beat a
very heavy surf. These waves, and their shingle, pre-
vented the river from having a clear waterway at its
mouth, while most fatally close to that mouth stood the
railway bridge. It was supported on one pier, round
which swirled the angry eddies, and close up to which
splashed the encroaching waves. The line was in
danger ! The station-master at Antibes telegraphed to
Nice to stop the 5 r.M. fast train. But the gale had
disturbed the instruments, and his message was not
transmitted. Suspecting something of the sort, he next
sent off a man on horseback to ford the Brague, and to
take the warning to the next station at Cagnes, But
neither man nor horse could stem sucli a torrent, it
spread so wide, and it ran so strong. The messenger
therefore had to make a detour by Biot : so long a one
that he was all too late. Meantime the darkness fell.
From Antibes tlie officials could watch the lights of the
advancing train as it steamed along through the rain
and the tempest. Suddenly the front lamps disap-
peared, like sparks in the dark. The engine had gone
down head-foremost, through the bridge with its broken
])ier ; two carriages fell piled on top of it, until a
coupling snapped, then some carriages rolled off on the
sea-side of tlie emljankment, and, finally, with a terrible
shock, the train came to a stand. How many lives
FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA. 21
were lost that night lias remamed a mystery, but tlie
next day's s])ectacle was terribly suggestive. There
was still a lake of water inside the embankment ; the
rails were snapped and twisted ; two carriages witli
their sides stove in, and which had been in the sea,
were now beached on the shingle, and the engine, fast
bedded in sand, lay deep in the yawning fissure whicli
showed where the bridge had been. Of the pier no
vestige remained, and the eddies of the Brague were
swirling among the wreck. A good deal of that wreck
must have gone out to sea, but a company of infantry,
summoned from Antibes (its men firmly lashed together
with ropes), groped about, in a torrent which reached
to their waists, to find more bodies, or more means of
identifying the survivors.
All who had money or friends had already been
removed, but in a carter's inn, about eight minutes'
drive from the broken bridge, there lay two friendless,
penniless, and unclaimed women, and one man so dread-
fully injured that the surgeons had been obhged to
trepan him on the spot. He was a musician, and I am
told that he idtimately recovered, but his screams
were most heartrendini? as I followed one of the
Dames Trinitaires up to the long, low room under the
rafters where the so-called ' English ' patient lay. In
the first bed, near the door, there was a pretty Pied-
montese girl of about thirteen, whose black curls were
full of sand. Her face was flushed, and her breathing
was hard ; she had got a congestion of the lungs.
Then came the stranger, who turned out to be no
Enghshwoman, but only a poor German outcast. She
2 2 THE MARITIME A IPS.
moaned and screamed when she reacted in her dehriuni
the terrible struggle in the water. I undeceived the
Mere Urbain as to lier nationality, but we agreed to
say nothing about it ; for those were still early days
after the war, the peasants might have shown ill-will,
and at Antibes, in the big Hospital where she ruled,
the Mere Urbain had plenty of w^ounded soldiers who
would look askance at a German patient.
As for this extemporised hospital, I never saw a
sadder sight. The house, to begin with, was filthy be-
yond description, and the staircase, so dark as to be
dangerous, was littered with sacks of grain and bundles
of wool. The latter belonged no doubt to the bedding
of the past, or of the future, and they were, as became
their nature, full of fleas. An unkempt, ill-looking
couple kept tliis alhergo di squalor, and made a harvest
by showing to visitors the surgeons' basin, and other
ghastly tokens of the wreck. I shall never forget my
disgust, or the wrath of the Mere Urbain, when I drew
her attention to a human hand left lying alone in one
of those shallow baskets which are used for keeping
lemons ! I had to return to this doleful place on the
next, and upon many following days, taking it in turns
with a Eussian Maid-of-honour to visit the poor German
girl, who, as long as her delirium and her great prostra-
tion lasted, could only hold intercourse with those
who spoke or prayed with her in her own tongue, but
the Mere Urbain, as may be supposed, soon reduced
the deplorable sick-room to order, and she also swept
off all tlie relics of tlie wreck, for Christian burial
at Antibes. I remember further that the little
' FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA. 23
Pieclmontese, after crying ])iteoiis]y for ' Mamma !
J\Jamma ! ' for some days, made a good recovery. As
for the poor German, she had a long and tedious ill-
ness, but one which afforded her time for salutary
teaching. The last time that we heard of her, after
Olga S — and I had sent her back to lier liome near
Strasburg, she was respectably married, and she has had
every reason to bless that sudden bath in the swollen
Brague.
The great Hood in the chamiel of the Foux, in October
1882, was another specimen of what these streams can do.
In the space of an hour all the low-lying ground of the
Boulevard du Cannet was flooded, mucli property de-
stroyed, and eiglit lives lost. The funeral cortege of these
eight victims, who were buried at the expense of the
town, was a very curious and most touching sight.
They were followed to the cemetery on the Grasse road
by over 5,500 persons, and mourned for there, in
their big common grave, with the loudest sobs and
cries.
These catastrophes, though they may make a strong
impression on the mind, do but little, however, towards
altering the face of the country. It is the slow, con-
tinued action of natural forces that is truly irresistible :
it is what Schiller terms the laying of ' sand-grain upon
sand-grain' that is truly creative, and now, as in the
becfinnincf it is tlie work of the mormng and of the
evening that leave an enduring mark upon the globe
that we inhabit,
A river is an engineering force constantly thougli
irregularly at work, but it must be remembered that
24 THE MARITIME AIPS.
the sea wliicli meets its stream is another and an oppos-
ing force. The waves collect and roll back part of the
sediment which the river lays down, and thus, tideless
as the Mediterranean may be, it presents the spectacle of
several sea margins, the cordons littoraux of the French
engineers. Such tiny terraces serve to heighten a beach
of which, in vulgar parlance, you hear it said that it is
rishhj. This is not the fact, but where the mouth of a
stream is turned aside, or dammed back by the action
of the waves, it often happens that a chain of brackish
lagunes is formed. These in time dry up : evaporation
and the growth and decay of weeds ensuring the gradual
formation of a soil more or less spongy. At the mouths
of the Yar, of the Siagne, and of the Brague, the
ground thus gained from the sea may be counted by
many hundreds of metres. It was in this way that
the great plain below Pegomas was laid down, and
had the coast of Eastern Provence, from Marseilles to
Yentimiglia, been all as sloping as the shore beyond the
mouths of the Ehone, the district would by this time
have possessed neither ports nor trade. At Frejus,
this really has occurred, for tliere is no outfall, the
quays of the Ccesars are now 1,600 metres distant from
the waves, and it would have fared with the whole of
the eastern towns as it has fared with Aiguesmortes
and Narbonne, places once rich and flourishing, but of
which tlie salt and stagnant lagunes are not navicfable.
There the domain of the mariner has long since ceased,
l)ut tlie domain of the husbandman has not yet begun,
so tliat the towns sleep, emphatically dead cities beside
a dead sea.
FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA. 25
Eastern rrovcnce, on the contrary, lias harbours of
great deptli, and some of tlic outhncs of her bold coast
liave not altered for many millions of years. The
abrupt headlands driven out into the Mediterranean are
unchanged ; off them the water measures many fathoms,
and between them there are bays of the greatest beauty.
Agay, at the foot of the red escarpments of the Mornes,
is a harbour of refuge among the Esterels, and the bay
so-called of Grimaud can hold vessels of considerable
burthen. Cannes, like the Golfe Jouan, has its roadstead
sheltered by the fnie natural breakwater of the Lerins
islands. At Villefranche the depth varies from ten to
twenty-five metres, so that three or four ironclads may
be seen lying so close in shore that their topgallants
seem to mix witli the palms, olives, and carouba trees
that frino:e this the most beautiful little harbour in the
world. Modern roads and villas have hardly been able
to ruin the beauty of Villefranche, which, with its minia-
ture fort, its Admiralty Pier, and lazaretto, is as perfect
a toy specimen of a harbour as St. Paul-du-Var is of a
media3val strong place. It is rich in colouring as well as
perfect in outline, the prickly pear and the aloe fringe its
red rocks, and down under the shadow of its belfry and
its sunburnt walls you can fancy, if not the landing of
the Tyrian Hercules, at least the arrival of popes and
of emperors. In the spring of 1866, the corpse of the
Tzarevitch Nicholas- Alexandrovitch was embarked here.
Every angle or coign of vantage w^as croAvded with
spectators when, with slow-chanted psalms, the heavy
barge made its way from the pier out to the frigate
(the Alexander-Newsky) destined to receive the sorrowful
26 THE MARITIME ALTS.
freight. The bells tolled, guns fired at intervals, and
soon, with a great trail of smoke streaming behind them
like mourning pennons, the frigates stood out between
the headlands, and the bay of Villefranche was left
emjDty.
1 used to think that this mixture of tall masts and
waving trees must be unique, but I found in an
old-fashioned poem by Orinda ^ the following description
of a voyage from Tenby to Bristol, in 1G52, which so
recalls Villefranche that I will copy it here : — ■
But what most pleased my mind upon the way
Was the ships' posture that in harbour lay :
Which to the rocky grove so close was fixed
That the trees' branches with the tackling mixed.
One might have thought it was, as then it stood,
A growing navy, or a floating wood.
Though the chain of the Esterels forms rather the
boundary of the Maritime Alps than any portion of the
department, I will not leave the subject of the moun-
tains and the sea without giving a page to the physical
geography of the country beyond the Siagne. ' C'est la
region du feu,' says a French geologist in speaking of this
district, where the crystalline rocks show all their most
rugged features and their most beautiful hues.''^ It is a
very wild country, where the tourist may easily lose [em-
hoKscar) himself in the pathless ravines, and where many
a ])retty young pedestrian, who reckons on a walk of five
miles, may have to make one of fifteen before she gets
' Mrs. Philips.
2 I have to thank Messrs. Frith, of Reigate, for allowing me to
use three of their very successful photographs.
FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA. 27
to the stations of Trayas or Agay. Tlie population, it
must be added, is exceedingly rougli, and not always
disposed to be civil to strangers. They are the descen-
dants of the free peasants to whom ' la reino Jeanno,'
as they still call Petrarch's beautiful Queen of Naples,
gave a right to cultivate the little dells in this the
greatest forest of Provence. Tliey did not all live by
honest labour either, and even in the beginning of tlie
eighteenth century so full were these dense woods of
thieves and marauders that a band of ground on each
side of the high road Avas ordered to be kept clear in
case of ambushes. Then what a road ! with no inns
for man and beast but that Logis de I'Esterel which Mise
Brun's misadventures have immortalised ! The present
gendarmerie guarantees the safety of the modern tourist,
but the visitor cannot fail to be struck by the miserable
lives of the few peasants whom he meets. They seem
to spend their time in dragging out the half-charred
wood which the fires of every summer leave in the
forest, and for which they find a sale in the streets of
Cannes. Yet the country possesses considerable mineral
wealth. There are, to begin with, the splendid porphyry
quarries of Boulouris, where the blocks prepared by
the Komans may still be seen ; there are amethysts, and
veins of a serpentine so beautiful that in the Middle Ages
none but the barons might use it for tlie adornment of
their houses. There is an iron mine at Aga}", and in the
valley of the Argentiere some sulphate of lead is dug
for the factories at Vallauris. Since 1777, a coal-basin
has been known to exist in the Esterels, and the mines
of Auriosque, Eeyran, and Bozon send both coal and
28 THE MARITIME ALPS.
petroleum to Cannes and Toulon. Unluckily the coal
is dirty, and in burning gives out such unpleasant gases
that it has been found impossible to go on using it for
the perfume factories of Grasse.
As the crystalline rocks contain felspar in large
quantities they weather very readily, and their decompo-
sition furnishes soil for the pine, cork, and holly woods,
and for a vegetation which must be seen to be believed.
Hence the rounded forms of these hillsides, on which
there is a perennial carpet of heath, cistus, and
arbutus. At one time of year you have the snowy
and mauve flowers of the cistus, at another the silver
spikes of the tall, branched asphodel, while at another
the rosy clusters of the oleanders drop upon a mossy
couch, fit either for the sleep of Endymion, or for
Diana's urgent feet.
The Mont Vinaigre is the highest point of the range
(616 metres), but by far the most marked feature is the
headland of the Cap Eoux. Its colour and its outline
are both remarkable, affording endless studies for
the artist and the photographer. It is distant from
the Cap dAntibes twenty-two kilometres, and forms the
western side of the great curve in which lie the bay of
Cannes and the Golfe Jouan. Close within its shelter
are Gardane and Theoule. To l^oth of those places ex-
peditions can be made by boat. There is a quiet anchor-
age at Theoule, just below the little, crumbling battery
which Eichelieu ordered to be built for the protection of
tlie bay. The place is one whicli may readily rise to im-
portance, for its climate is delightful ; invalids can fmd
there the ]iine woods which are disappearing from the
FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA. 29
environs of Cannes, and the soil is well adapted for
market-gardening. The cultivation of priiiieims would
answer all the better liere because Theoule lies as close
to the modern railway as it once did to what the
peasants still call ' lou Camin Aureliaii ' : to that great
coast road which the Romans cut through its thickets
of myrtle and its gorges of porphyry.
30 THE MARITIME ALPS.
CHAPTER III.
THE PEOPLE.
' The true antiquities, those onlj^ worthy of our attention, are the slight but
visible traces of ancient speech, of ancient race, of ancient feelings and of
manners, to which human tenacity has clung through ages of vicissitudes,
which barbarism, a new faith, and a new civilisation have not effaced from the
land.'— J. Kavanagh.
From the terrace of our villa on the Grasse road the
red roofs of the old town of Cannes are visible. Behind
them rises the Mont Chevalier, crowned by the parish
church and belfry, by the half-ruined castle, and by the
<yreat, square vigie of Abbot Adelbert, with its lightning-
riven crest. On this the Eve of All Hallows the air is
scented with the breath of the mimosa, and our balcony
is sheeted with the pale blue flowers of the Plumbago.
After an absence of six months we have returned to find
our hill covered with houses and shops. There is a
footpath and a gas-lamp, all testifying to the new order
of things in Cannes. Yet there stand the everlasting
hills : the bells of the old church are ringing to couvre-
feu., and we can see the gaunt tower of the Pisan builders
through the pale flower-wreaths of this exquisite
summer of All Saints. The ideal lies close to the real,
and so it is with this Maritime Provence, where tlie
flowers of a season and the ephemerides of a day, flaunt
over the graves of a long-buried past.
THE PEOPLE. 31
No visitor can for a moment imagine tliat tliis coun-
try was always such as he now beholds it — clotted with
white villas, and within a twenty hours' journey from
Paris. There were always the same mountain crests,
if not quite the same gathering together of blue waters
which we call ' the Gulf of the Lion ' ; there were the
same wind-currents in the beds of the rivers, the same
p'hostlike outline of Corsica a^'ainst the rose of the sun's
rising, and the same purple range of the Esterels against
the gold of the day's decline. For centuries there has
existed the same landscape heated to a white heat, and
bathed in the same atmosphere — an ether which in the
morning is pearly or opaline, but which at mid-day
vibrates with the sunbeams. For centuries there have
been the same seedtime and harvest, with snows on tlie
Alpine peaks, and songs of birds among the flowering
trees of spring.
But to whom did this fair land belong ? Who first
cast a net in these waters, or furrowed them with a
keel ? Who first tilled these fields ? who planted the
olive, the vine, and the palm ? and who garnered tlie
first sheaves in this land of roses, cypress, terebinth,
for ever full ? Then who on this Proven9al shore
fashioned the Provencal speech ? who built and fenced
these cities ? who framed those usages of Church and
State, which have slowly broadened down, from prece-
dent to precedent? who made society here ? who un-
made it? and who is now remaking it? Who have
been the road-makers and the lawgivers of Maritime
Provence, and to whom did her people pray ?
Contemporary France is at best a curious piece of
T,2 THE MARITIME AIFS.
mosaic, and of contemporary Provence it must be said
tliat it is like a basin of sand from its own beach. In
tliat sand you will find many broken shells, but you
will also fmd some undying things. Here is a cornelian,
there a bit of porphyry from the Cap Eoux, or perhaps
of fluor-spar from the Cap Garoube, with a fragment of
serpentine that has been washed down by the torrents
from the high Alps behind La Brigue. So it is with the
Provencal past. As with those many-coloured pebbles,
so rolled and differentiated that it needs a quick eye
to detect their real origin, it really requires a nice
observer to say to what period or system the antiquities
and the locutions of Provence once belonged ? The
people themselves have long forgotten how those huge
walls came to be wdiere you see them to-day. The pea-
sant is content to call the line of big, unmortised stones
' leis murassos,' and in just the same way he will answer
about the surname of Arluc, that it is ' un nom comme les
autre.s.' Yet the w^alls are those of a Celto-Ligurian camp,
and this sui'uame of Arluc, coming down to us from the
am lucis on the plain of Laval, is perhaps the oldest name
in the arrondissemeiit of Grasse. The surnames of Maure,
Maurin, Maurens, Le Maure, Morel, Moreau, and Moreri,
to say nothing of Moricaud, Muraour and Mouradour, all
tell their own tale, the first bearers of them having been
either, like Negre and Negrin, of African descent, or
dwellers at La Maure, or denizens of the hills of the
district so long inhabited by the Saracens, and still called
Les Maures. Couet is from a Celtic word signifying a
wood ; but may not Escarraz be derived from laxvpo'S
[iscw), strong? The proud Grimaud, or Grimaldi,
THE rEOPLE.
33
have their derivation from the Gothic Grliinn-walt, or
power of the strong. In Nice tlie surnames of liellan,
lielhinde, liellandon, go back to tlie fourtli century, but
is it true that ' Notre Dame cV Avigonnet ' (near Napoule)
is a corruption of the ' Ave^ Diana ! ' said by the boatmen
of tlie shore to the Diana of the Esterels? There is no
doubt that the many locahties now called ' St. Martin '
were originally dedicated to Mars, but I cannot satisfy
myself whether the popular name for Christmas,
• Calende,' be derived from the Kalends of January,
or from Calene, the Yule log of the Celto-Ligurians.
That log still exists, and libations of red wine are still
poured over it at the feast of the winter solstice, just
as in many parts of Provence they still light Beltane
fires on St. John's Day.
The Greek traders inhabited the seaports, so it is
not surprising to find the Greek names recalled of
Neapohs(Napoule), Antipolis (Antibes), and Athenopolis,
the long since ruined Antea. Yet on account of the
incessant ravages of the pirates, and of the later arrival
of Jewish merchants who came to monopolise the seden-
tary professions of the towns, hardly any Greek remains
exist in those places. Only the culture of the olive speaks
of the Phoca3an colonists, and Greek civilisation has
left in Provence far fewer traces than one could wish.
It is perhaps in the mirthhii farandoido that the Greek
dance can best be traced, the fitjures of it beini'- those
described upon Achilles' shield, with ' boys and girls to
the lute disporting, till the whole city seemed filled with
dances, pomps, and feasts.' The Moresque dance, on the
other hand, plainly dates from that settlement of the
D
34 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Moors in Eastern Provence to which the Proven9als owe
their trade in cork and bricks, their norias, and their
porous water-jars, and the palms which Avere introduced
into Europe by Abduh'ahman II. I call all tliese names
and things the real antiquities of Provence, a country of
which the making was as varied as it was prolonged.
The Koman roads attest its early importance. The
Notitia imperii mentions among the nineteen Provencal
cities Vence, Frejus, and Castellane. These lay on the
three great roads which intersected the maritime por-
tion of the province. Tliere was first tlie Via Aurelia,
coming by Turbia [turris via), Cannes, and Theoule
to Frejus. Secondly, the Via Julia, lying along the
upper terrace under tlie hills of tlie arrondifisement of
Grasse ; and a third road which connected Vence with
both the great highwaj^s, and tlien went in a north-
Avesterly direction to Castellane. The best antiquaries
believe that the Komans had also a fourth artery,
a means of leaving Cimiez by the valley of the Tinee,
and of thus keeping open their communication beyond
tlie Alps. The lines of all their roads, being marked
by milestones, bridges, inscriptions, tombs, and altars,
may still be identified ; and though the authenticity of
the bridge over the Piou in Cannes has been severely
questioned, some good judges are of opinion that it is a
fair specimen of Roman masonry as seen, not in Rome
itself, but in the colonies.^
' I am indcl»tcd foi- tin's opinion to the taste and acumen of tlie
late Earl Somers, and I find the work of the aqueducts of Clausonne
and tlie bridge at that place, about four miles from Antibes, to be
of the same quality. No one ever attributed the remains at Clau-
sonne to niediieval l)uilders.
THE PEOPLE. 35
The conquest of a country which costCtGsar lialf his
legions Leing once secured by these roads, ricli ])atricians
came to Provence, and the whole face of tlie country
was changed. But the tribes were stiffnecked, and it
is to this same obstinate temper, as inherent in the
race, that may be attributed some of the most deplor-
able episodes in their history. Such, for example, was
the persecution of the Albigeois, when the villages
round La Gaude were depopulated, the wars of the
Countesses, the wars of religion, the feuds of the
Carcistes, and the excesses of the great Eevohition in
Provence. The people are wrong-headed, at once pas-
sionate and wary, avaricious, and yet fond of holiday
cavalcades, noisy, talkative, liable to panics, impatient of
control, and unapt to change. So conservative are the
peasants that their plough is still that of the era of the
Georgics, of which it has the eight-foot pole, the curved
huris^ the bent handle, and the wooden dentale, or share.
Nor is it of any use to speak here of improvements.
All Provencals would gladly find themselves richer, but
present outlay costs them such a pang that they prefer
to slumber on, in ' old world lethargy,' and to go al)out
in rags even when they may be worth not less than
5,000/. Their dislike of a ' Franciot ' or ' Parisien ' is as
intense to-day as if the good King Eene were still king ;
and a native of the Northern departments, a stranger to
the laiKjue (Toe, is looked upon with distrust. He is to
be made fun of, and cheated if possil)le, since under a
malicious smile and some appearance of frankness the
Ni^ois can hide many bad qualities. The true Pro-
vencal when he speaks French does so with an accent
D 2
36 THE MARITIME ALPS.
as unlike that of Paris as was the admirable accent once
taun-ht in Stratford-atte-Bow ! I have heard his talk
described as ' French rubbed with garlic,' and really the
phrase is a good one if it be meant to describe the racy
twanfT and the peculiar, humorous inflections of such
a talker as my dear old friend the late Abbe Montolivo.
Among the peasantry figures of speech are in great
request. ' Farewell ' is not said : you only bow and say
' .4 /'cr;<272^9'6,' meamng to the pleasure of meeting again.
The devil is called ' Janicot ' ; the pig is ' Ion noble veste
de sedo,' the gentleman in black silk ! Here, as in Italian,
diminutives abound : Bastide is a house, but a cottage
is a hastidoim ; and Alpe turns to Amphilio and Ainphi-
houn. A little square is a pati ; a young child is a
piiccheneto ; while a word like ' valley,' lou vaic, or lou
valado, can be modified into vahmgo, valergo (pi. valer-
gues), valeto, valoun, and valat. Tliere is a curious
habit of beginning, or ending, the sentences with a word
that is irrelevant, or is at least as irrelevant as a
word must be allowed to be that has a dozen different
meanings — or none ! ' T^J ' (tiens !) probably opens the
phrase ; ' Ve ' {voyez-vous) occurs somewhere in the argu-
ment, and ' allons ! ' possibly brings tlie whole to a close.
As for the dialects of the coast,^ they are botli rich
and varied, as might be expected where Celts, Iberians,
^ For a notice of these patois of the coast I refer tlie reader to
the Annalea de la Societe den Lettres., Sciences, et Arts des Alpes
Maritimes, tome vi. page 357. An admirable guide to the dialect of
Mentone is the grammar of Mr. J. B. Andrews, an American visitor
who has employed his time to extraordinary advantage, so that he is
now a first-rate authority on all matters concerning the district
between the frontier and the Var.
THE PEOPLE.
37
riiocniciaiis, Greeks, Eomans, Goths, Franks, Jews, and
Arabs laid down, so to speak, nine strata of elements for
the formation of the language of Southern France. In
the hands of the Troubadours, that immortal band of two
hundred poets, Provencal verses fully proved the grace
and versatility of the tongue which is now only spoken
by peasants. From town to town and hamlet to hamlet
the idioms and terminations still vary so curiouslj^ that
I ^vill give a specimen of the way in which the most
common words alter in districts not twenty miles apart:
Pater
noster
qui
es
in
ca?lis
Notre
Pere
qui
est
au
ciel
Nicp, :
Nuostre
pere
che
sies
en
si el
2[rntono :
Nuasche
paire
qui
est
aou
chelii
Biot :
Nostrou
pa
qui
sei
aou
tz6
J\[ons and Escragnole :
Nostro
papo
qui
es
arou
cer
Yallanrifi :
Nostrou
paire
que
sei
aou
eiel
Grasso. :
Nouestre
pero
que
sias
aou
ciel
*
*
*
*
*
Ave
Maria gratia plena
Nice :
Vou saludi
Maria
plena
de
grassia
Mentone :
Mi vou salutou
Maria
plena
di
gracia
Biot :
A ve saludo
Maria
tschena
de
grassia
Mons and EsicragnoU .-
Mi vi saludo
Maria
cliena
de
grassa
Vallauris :
Ve saludou
]\raria
chena
de
graci
Graaan :
Vou
saludi
Mario
pleno
de
gracio
*
*
*
*
*
*
38 THE MARITIME ALPS.
The masciiliiie termination in o^ as preserved in the
patois of Grasse, carries us back to the time of the
Troubadours, and is an eminently Provencal trait. Like
the Gaehc of the hio-lilands and ishinds of Scothxnd, this
native tongue is fast dying out of the towns, but it hves
on in remote villages, or among the hshers of the
shore, who keep pretty much to themselves. To find
many curious customs and superstitions, and some Greek
words lingering in daily use, you must go among tlie
lisherfolk, who less than any other class have felt the
DRAWING THE NET,
influence of revolutions and of foreign colonists. It
matters little to them who may be the ruler of France,
their business is with the Queen of Night, as ruling the
Avaves, and lighting them to their precarious bread-
winning from the sea. Their habits and sayings are
aidant vieu que li roucas off which they cast their nets.
Tliey know that there is now a great demand for fish in
llic towns, but then a service from Bordeaux brings
daily into i\\QPescaria a quantity of what they contempt-
uously call ' white fisli,' which ne^'er came to their bait.
THE PEOPLE.
39
They can point with pride to the gorgeous, hooded
capelans^ to the beautiful transparent angel-fish, to tlie
graceful girelles, to St. Peter's fish, and to the silvei-y
argentines which lie beside the l)lack clovisses and
the myriad spines of the sea-urchins . It requires some
courage to eat the last-named dainty, but a dainty it
really will prove if eaten fresh in some creek, and
washed down with wliite wane. The urchins are very
digestible, and recommended to delicate people, which
can hardly be said of the more celebrated bouillabaisse.
Every fisherman can cook it, but it is not every English-
man who can digest it. To many that dish proves
' a broth of abominable things,' and if rich in oil, as well
as poor in saffron, it will certainly serve to remind you
for many days of your rashness, or your greed, in
having made a meal on it.
The number of words in the fisherman's vocabulary
derived from the Greek is remarkable. He calls bread
artoun, and his nets brecjin ; a Httle boat is a squifou, and
the thunder is troun. This is as it should be, for the
Phocaian colonists kept to the ports of Provence ; and in
the same way it is the gardeners who use the greatest
number of Arabic w^ords. They speak to you of anjubis
(algibiz) for a sweet grape ; of jasmin {ydsmyn), limoun
[leymoun), endibo [endib), salata {salatha), serfouil [ser-
foidl)., and trescalau, for the St. John's wort. This is
natural enougli, for the Arabs were good gardeners,
good druggists, and not bad cooks : in proof of wdiich
a dish of rice, tomatoes, and pigeon's liver, as intro-
duced by them, is still valued in the Provencal
kitchen.
40 THE MARITIME ALPS.
We are agreed tliat the race under all these circum-
stances is not now, and cannot for very long have been,
a pnre one. Yet every now and again the eye is caught
by a marked type. There is not here, as in Florence,
a Jewish, or, as in Aries, a distinctly Greek cast of face ;
but a head of close, black curls, with dark eyes and full
broad cheeks and a short but high nose, will serve to
show us how the soldiers of Ca3sar, or of Yitellius, may
have looked. This type, if set off by a greenish jacket
and a broad, red sash, is very effective, and proclaims
itself as a survival of the Latin element. Up in the
hills I recognise a predominance of the Celtic type.
The children have blue eyes, and the elderly men in
gait and walk so resemble the peasantry of the high-
lands of Scotland that they would hardly be picked out
as stransjers in Strath-Oikel or Strath-Conan. We have
seen some old women washing at the lavuir of Antibes
to whom we at once gave the names of Marion Eoss,
Widow Chisholm, and Peggy Munro, so exactly did
they rescuil)le some of our old Sutherlandshire crofters,
whose upper lips, short figures, and folded kerchiefs they
really seemed to have borrowed. To judge by their
appearance some of the women live to a great age.
Withered and crumpled like vinestocks, there was a
trio that mii>'ht long; be seen sunninj^ itself on the ter-
O O CD
races of Cannet. We christened those poor, old women
the Fates, but labour in the sun is so hard, and profit
on lettuces is so small, that perhaps Clotho, Lachesis,
and Atropos were not really as old as they looked. In
bad weather the men wear the long, striped homespun
cloak which Diodorus Siculus described, but on festive
THE PEOPLE. 41
occasions tliey wear waistcoats cut open to tlic waist,
knee-breeches, and a cloak folded over the left slioulder.
In Mougins there is a good deal of beauty, but it is rare
in the Maritime Alps, except among the peasants of La
Brigue, where it is the rule rather than the exception.
The Briguegasque women are neither tall nor short, but
have erect figures, and a beauty which, but for the early
loss of their teeth, would last beyond the period of the
classical heaute du (liable. In trutli we have noticed
among them, not only curly, picturesque heads, but love-
liness sucli as Correggio would not have despised in a
model. The liair, rippled or curly, is caught back, and
covered Avith a broad black velvet ribbon tliat forms a
pretty and even a dignified liead-dress. A short blue or
green petticoat lined witli scarlet, a chirk bodice, and
a coloured kercliief folded in two narrow bands across
the bosom, complete the costume. These semi-Italian
peasants are generally rich, comfortable people, Avho
keep dairies in Nice and Cannes in the winter, but who
during tlie summer return to their mountain farms.
There is an odd community of wages in a family, and
all the families are connected by marriage, but the
women do not marry very early. They arc quiet and
affectionate, often remaining eight or ten years in the
same English family : in fact I prefer them as servants,
since among the real natives of Nice and Cannes it
is very rare to find qualities suited for domestic ser-
vice.
The marriages of the peasantry and of the middle
class are arranged here either under settlements or under
the system of community of goods. By a remnant of
42 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Orientalism wliicli lingej's in Provence, tJie women of
the family do not expect to eat at table along with the
lords of the creation, and if they are present it is
(houglit good manners for them to sit together and as
it were ' below the salt.' But they all sup togetlier on
feast-days — for example, on Christmas Eve, to eat the
jpan doa Calende, a thick cake stained with saffron, and
which from its huge, round disc w^as probably made
and eaten in honour of Diana, long before the Christian
era. The village Hotnerage, or wake, is also a time of
eating and drinking, of dancing and gossiping, in the
open air. It is on that day that the best costumes and
earrings make their appearance, and that the galouhet
and the tambouiin are heard. The latter is a long,
narrow drum, about a foot in width, and two feet and
a half in height, which the player holds between his
knees. I have heard a man play on this instrument old
airs of which one would like to discover the names and
the authorship, but of the dances which they provoke the
clergy do not approve, the times of Roinerage awakening
old habits and pagan allusions more honoured in the
breach than in tlie observance.
The })easants of the arrondissements of Grasse, of
Nice, and even of Puget Theniers, are rich. To hnd
very poor villages, you must go up to the little pays on
the Esteron and the Tinee ; but, whether rich or poor,
this population does not care to work for strangers.
All kinds of alcoholic drinks are now in fashion, and
as wine becomes daily more scarce, the population, both
male and female, is markedly less abstemious than of
yore. The savinirs bank is, however, the good angel
THE PEOPLE. 43
of tlic district, and the promise, as it were, of a new and
better day for a people who once knew no otlier friend
tlian tlie Moitt de Piete. Tlie savings bank of Grasse
lias twenty thousand liurets, and this is the moi-e credit-
able, because, though factory workers and tlieir wages
increase, landed property diminishes in value. The
arrondissement of Grasse has in ten years lost forty
thousand francs by the ruin of its olive-trees, nor is it
likely to recover this loss. The little oil that is now
produced does not command a better jji-ice, so it is
evident that the mineral oils are driving out of the
market the coarser oils of the country once used both
for lamps and for machinery. Many small landowners
are in consequence anxious to part with their land.
When the village schoolmaster and his sister have sold,
they will proceed to buy shares in some So ciete fonder e,
or immobiliere, and will probably lose all their money.
Their smaller neighbours will also sell, but then they
will go up to Grasse, Avhere, in the perfume factories,
men, women, and girls all find employment, where
labour is better paid, and Jean will proceed to live a la
carte, instead of starving on the lettuces of his tiny
farm. This perfume trade is popular, and, like the
potteries, seems to have the future of the Maritime
Alps in its hands. ^ But, as was said before, the native
^ The works of M. Clement Massier, at Golfe Jouau, give em-
ployraent to several artists, and to a hundred and twenty hands. These
are modellers, sculptors, engravers, enarnellers, painters, grinders and
oven men, besides the hewers of wood and drawers of water, packers
and carpenters. The supply of clay is inexhaustible, and M. Massier,
by his taste and energy, has given a great impetus to the business of
the country.
44 THE MARITIME AIPS.
population does not care to work for strangers. If you
want a job done by the carpenter or the blacksmith
you must send five times for him, and if there lie a
broken pane of glass on a wet day you must make u[)
your mind to its remaining unmended, and for no other
reason than ' because it is raining ' !
Yet work is highlj' paid. A mechanic earns four
francs fifty centimes a day, and the gardener, who
prunes the vines and puts a mat over the heliotropes,
expects three francs a day ; or, if he resides on the villa,
mil ask five hundred and fifty francs a year, with a liouse
and fuel. Contracts are rarely finished here to time, and
all the heavy labour is done by the Piedmontese. These
poor fellows seem to be the Chinese of Europe. Their
numbers are inexhaustible ; in the winter 1882-3 there
were four thousand of them on the new Boulevard of
Cannes, and as many more on the works at Cimiez.
Many of them have lived so long on this side of the
frontier that not only are their children to be found
on the benclies of the schools, but a percentage of them
lias been drawn for the conscription, which shows that
Provence is again absorbing into herself a strain of
foreign blood, which must ultimately alter the type and
the temper of her people. The Piedmontese are hardy
and enduring in no common degree. They work all
day long for seventeen or twenty-five pence, live on
dry bread, onions, and oranges, eat nuts and apples,
and sleep in the ditches.^ Yet tliey have their little
theatres, and will sing all day long about their loves.
' Too much cannot be said in praise of the night-schools
organised, 188.3-4, for these poor fellows.
THE PEOPLE. 45
Sometimes Gigi pauses after his verse, tlicn Pepe will
whistle a stave, till the singer recommences : —
O quanto voglio bene a chi so io,
II nome non lo voglio palezare :
Lo tengo sempre scritto nel cuor mio,
Infinche vivo lo voglio portare ....
Then a companion starts another ditty : —
Credo da ver, bell' Isolina,
XJn cuore senza amor deve morir.
Cerca mi in van alia porta di Torino,
Senza di te sto io per morir ....
and so on, indefinitely.
Yet, in spite of these pure and pretty love-songs, all
the crimes of violence that occur are invariably laid to
the door of the Piedmontese, and terrible cases of their
fury and jealousy have come to my own knowledge. I
shall never forget a prisoner whom I once saw being
driven by the police across the Place Garibaldi ; he was
in a cart, and netted over like a young bull. I asked
a woman, standing near Avith a green water-jar in each
hand, what he had done ? She said it was a sporcJieria^
and it appeared that he had just murdered his wife !
Till the Ee volution of 1848, the great ambition of
every peasant proprietor, and small bourgeois, was to
make one of his sons a priest. That it would ensure
Peiroun against the conscription, for which jSToiil or
Nourat were too certain to be drawn, was what the
mother said, while the brethren and kinsfolk felt it
to be a creditable incident in the family history to have
an Abbe among them. Peiroun might hope to officiate
some day, in pomp is, before a high altar, with all the
46 THE MARITIME A IPS.
members of liis family present, and miglit not Pieroiin's
father, when old and past work, find his cliair and his
soup in some preshytere where there wonld be room
for him beside M. V Ahhe? Within the last forty years,
however, the number of lads who enter the seminary
has fallen off; trade, enterprise, and the many careers of
modern life drawing off young men from the ranks of the
secular and parochial clergy, wliile those who feel any
peculiar vocation for tlie religious life frequently prefer
to enter some of the religious orders. In many dioceses
the supply of clergy already falls short of the demand,
and now that military service is obligatory even on those
who have crossed the threshold of the seminary, it is
to be feared that many posts of duty will be left vacant.
Some of the livings are cruelly small. Even with the
help of the much-begrudged ca.mel (fees for baptisms,
marriages, deaths, funerals, and obits), the incumbent of
a village on the Esteron must have a hard struggle on a
pittance which ranges from 30/. to 50/. a year. If he
has any luck the municipality may eke this out by a
small present; but his 2tre.sbyt<'re is a poor little hovel,
and hard, very hard, is his fare. As he has the poor
always with him, and as an affluent landowner is a thing
unknown as a neighbour, it is difficult to suppose that he
can save any money, and so, when disease and old age
overtake such a village cure, he must ask for a pension
of 8/. from the Minister of rul)lic Worship. If he stands
well Avilh his vicar-general and his bishop, this may l)e
augmented by the splendid gift of 21. from the diocesan
fund. It is easy therefore to understand that there
sliould not be great competition among the candidates
THE PEOPLE.
47
of such a profession, and easy to understand tliat the
Jiolders of such poor livings must charge for the Masses,
and other offices, wliich they are asl^ed to perform,
A rich peasant will not grudge 20Z. on his funeral ;
the bakemeats, bells, candles, and the like, mounting up
sometimes to even a lare^er sum. In the hill- villages
about Vence, the Italian custom of carrying the dead
with open face still prevails, and sundown is here, as
in Italy, the usual hour for the funerals of the poor.
In Grasse, though the coffin is actually covered, the lid
is draped so as to look as if the corpse were displayed ;
the cap and veil of the deceased presenting a striking
likeness to the figure. In the same arrondissement we
have recently come on the trace of a singular super-
stition. For the space of nine days and nights it is
thought right to leave the house, the room, and the
bed of the dead man exactly as he left them. During
that period his return is considered possible, and it
would argue a want of tact if anything were changed,
for better or for worse. As the practice cannot be
defended from the sanitary point of view, one can only
be glad that the days of expectation do not here, as in
Eussia, extend to forty.
All the habits of the peasantry are unhealthy — from
the swaddling bands of the infant, down to this last com-
pliment paid to the departed. Smallpox is never really
banished from the towns, but it is only a wonder that the
popidation is not much more unhealthy than it is, for
the plagues of olden times, like the late-lingering leprosy
that used to find its home at Eza, proved what dirt can
do for disease. When I first came to the Eivicra I was
48 THE MARITIME ALPS.
much interested iu tlie fact that real Syrian leprosy
(Lepra Uehrceorum) was still to be found, and I hoped to
see a leper. At last I did — in a crowd before the door
of a church on a festival — and I was so utterly scared by
the sight of the shining white patches, and by the glaring
eyes of the most debased-looking being I had ever be-
held, that I clapped my muff up to my eyes, and fled
downhill, as fast as if the leper had been pursuing me.
As education spreads, some knowledge of the laws
of health and disease will spread also, and it is to be
hoped that this may in time correct the extreme nasti-
ness of Provencal habits. Infant mortality is terrible.
From motives of economy the children of a family are
limited in number, and again from motives of economy
the mothers, in going out to work, abandon their babies
to the grandmotlier or to the creche. Thanks to this
system the proportion of those who never live to cut
their seven-year-old teeth is enormous.
The number of Proven^-als who can neither read nor
write is much diminished : schools have multiplied,
rival coiiiniunilies have bestirred themselves in the
cause of education, and in tlie regiments a colonel will
uClen refuse leave, furlougli, and other indulgences till
his recruits have learned to read. A great deal has
been said against the education given by the Sfjeurs.
That it leaves somewhat to be desired I can imagine,
but, on the other hand, tlie Soeurs are the good angels,
and the only ones, of a very ])oor district. I I'eniember
once, along with a iriend, examining some cliikh'en bc-
lonoins to a convent-school near Falicon, and tliat we
found tlieir knowledge of the New Testament to be
THE PEOPLE. 49
advanced as well as correct. The same cannot be said
for the peasants who come down from La Brigue, if they
are over thirty years of age. One day our Briguegasque
housemaid returned from witnessing a Passion-play. She
was much touched, and still more indignant. ' What,'
she exclaimed, ' had that poor Monsieur done that they
maltreated him so ? They beat him, and spat at him,
and I cried when they pierced his side with a spear ! '
Our Presbyterian maid and old Benoite, the Savoisienne
cook, were alike horrified at Madeloun's ignorance, for
as she went to Mass regularly no one supposed her to be
so ignorant of the Life, Death, and Mission of our Lord.
We tried to enlighten her, but Madeloun was proot
against any theological training. She stoutly denied any
complicity in the cruel sufferings of the Lord, appealed
to all concerned whether she were not a good daughter,
sister, wife, and mother, and as such incapahle ! of such
horrid cruelty ? Of imputed guilt and imputed merits
Madeloun would not hear a word, and though we
bought a volume of Scripture stories (with pictures)
for her, and Benoite read them to her in the kitchen,
Madeloun remained of the same opinion* ' that poor
Monsieur was as gentle as a lamb, that those people were
brutal, and that she had had nothing to do with it.'
Eeligion to the Latin populations is too often a show
— a poem acted on the stage of the church, a piece which,
thanks to candles and music, is still fairly acce])table,
even after many years of repetition, because on a
great festival there is always something to look at, Htinti
belli (as they call the cheap images) to buy, and a pro-
cession in which to take a part. Corporations and
E
50 THE MARITIME ALPS.
congregations are popular, for the same reasons, but
there is more love of movement than of devotion in
tliis race, and a festival is looked to more for the fun
til an for the prayers.
The spread of Liberal oi)inions keeps the men away
from church, but as the male connnunicants in the parish
church of Cannes numbered over three hundred last
Easter, it cannot be said that either the Eadical dema-
gogues or the influx of Protestant visitors has greatly
altered the habit of attendance at this/c'te obligatoire.
People go iri crowds to visit the churches on Maunday
Thursday, and I do not know that I ever witnessed a more
touching sight than the mourning group of women who
on the evening of that day sang the Stabat Mater hymn.
It was in a dirty, ruinous, parish church, damp as a stable,
and ill paved witli bricks. The great door stood o])en, as
if a funeral liad just ])assed out, and the altar was stripped,
l)ut before the reposoir, Mdiere the sacrament was buried,
stood some tall camellias, and some candles burned.
The women, with their shawls over their heads, as they
stood liuddled together in the i>-loom reminded one
forcibly of tlie desolation of the Maries, and of the sor-
row and tlie apparent overthrow of the little Christian
comnumity on the evening after the Crucifixion.
That same church had been very picturesque on Palm
Sunday, for every grown-up person then had a palm
or green spray, while the cliildren carried their curious
tropliies — a stick all tinsel flowers and bonbons, which
is said to be the remnant of the old Greek festival for
the return of Theseus after slaying the Minotaur. How-
evej' that may be, ' these ])alms,' as Origen said, ' are no
THE J'EOJ'LE.
51
longer tlie palms of Osiris, they are tlie palms of Christ,
and the moment when the priests, on arriving, demand
entrance into the church is very impressive. The
door is tlirice struck on the outside by the foot of the
cross, and, with tlie choristers collected inside, a parley
tlien commences. Admittance is demanded for ' the
King of Glory.' ' Who is tlie King of Glory ? ' asks the
choir. ' The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of Glory,'
is the response from without, and then the doors are
flung open, and the procession of palms streaming np
the aisle becomes the signal for the elevation of the
palms of the whole congregation. Tlie church looked
like a wood.
Still, because a church is sometimes crowded, or
because the peasant, reckoning like his grandfather,
by the calendar, sows his seed on tlie Feast of the Con-
version of St. Paul, or looks for rain at Michaelmas, or
fears the frosts of les saints vendangeurs in May, it does
not follow that he is either a devout or a submissive per-
son. Very far from it. These Provencals, like all French-
men, believe in equality. They are frondeurs^ and diffi-
cult to overawe. They do not respect dignities, and
their patois has few locutions expressive of deference
or of respect. Tlie scenes at the midnight Mass of
Christmas are not always edifying. Some young lads
close to me kept up, one Christmas Eve, a fire of jokes
and laughter, till I touched one of them on the shoul-
der, and said to him, ' Chut ; lou Pichieut someilho ! '
(Hush, the Infant sleeps.) The boy first stared at me
and my fur jacket, and then stoutly replied, ' He is not
born yet.' ' Pardon me,' I answered, ' it is past twelve.'
E 2
52 THE MARITIME ALPS.
' Ah, then ! ' lie cried, and order was restored in my
neighboiirliood.
I possess a curious metrical rendering of the Gospels
into Proven^'al, and the direct homely phraseology of
tluit version is very curious. By a certain Marius
Decard the Gospels for every Sunday and saint's day
were virados (turned) into verse, and, what is still more
wonderful, he succeeded in doing the same for the
Canon of the Mass, and for the prayers during the Cele-
bration. I will only quote a part of the Gospel for the
second Sunday in Lent — St. Matt. xvii. 1-19.^
Un jour comm' ooujourd'liui, escalant la Mountagno,
Jesus s'ero pres per coumj)aguo,
Leis tres Disciples sauct',
Pieroun, Jacques etJean :
Et, per qu'igiioures ren de tout ce que n'eii ero,
Jacques et Jean erount doux frero.
' As on a day like this Jesus ascended the mountain
And took to Himself for companions
The three \io\y disciples,
Peter, James, and John :
And (that ye may not be ignorant of how things were)
James and John were two brothers.
"When tliey felt to themselves returning
"Wonted courage and force,
They took again the little path
"Which sevpent-like did wind
Along the mountain's side.
Then as they went he stopped their followers" steps ;
And Jesus this admonition made :
' BeAvare,' he cried, ' and lay this well to mind :
Never to any man declare
AVhat you have newly seen —
Make this your secret, in your hearts coucealed
Until your death-day, never telling
How drawn up from the earth
You saw God's Son
Towards His Father fly.'
THE PEOPLE.
53
Then follows the account of the Transfisfuration m
seven verses, and the poem ends thus : —
Quand agneront repres et I'aploumb et leis for^o,
Et lou courage que ranfor90,
Regagnerount ensems lou pichoun carreiroon,
Que serpentavo en viravoon,
Lou long de la Mountagno.
Es en camin fasent qu'arrestant seis coumpagno.
Jesus I'y fet' questo montien ;
Gardes-vous (fes-l'y ben attentien)
De dire, en que que siech, ce que vines de veii-e !
Fes n'en voustre secret, chacun dens voustre cuour,
Jusqu'oou jour que deis mouort,
S'envoulant de la terro,
Vegues lou Fiou de Diou s'envoular vers soun Pcro.
I think my readers will appreciate this extract, its
nai've simplicity, and the skill witli which the scene is
presented, and it is not difficult to imagine its becoming
popular. Long may such a homely and affectionate
acquaintance with the Gospels live in the hearts of the
Provencals ! for it must be owned that in the towns
very advanced views are now fashionable. In Nice
Garibaldi, as the real hero of the popular imagination,
has certainly dethroned any lingering partiality for
religious observances. The Soeurs were, in 1882, re-
moved from the management of the Hospice de la Ville
in Cannes, and one may even meet a civil interment
on the Grasse road. The advanced party there not only
has its newspapers, but it lias its own ferry-boat, for a
steam-launch that plies to the Islands seeks to attract
one class of customers by proclaiming the fact that it
has never been baptised !
With all this, with the most passionate ideal of
54 THE MARITIME ALPS.
personal liberty, the peasantry of the Maritime Alps are
marked enemies to progress. They like a prohibitive
tarifl', they consider every advantage given to strangers
as a positive injury to themselves, and they decline to alter
their old methods of dealing with their own property.
How they till their fields we shall see when we come
to look at tlie agriculture of the Maritime Alps.
55
CHAPTER IV.
CORN, WINE, AND OIL.
' The sire of gods and men, with hard decrees,
Forbids our plenty to be bought with ease,
And wills that mortal man, inured to toil,
Should exercise, with pains, the gi-udging soil. . . .
Nor is the profit small the peasant makes.
Who smooths witli harrows, or who pounds with rakes
The stubborn clods. Nor Ceres from on high
Regards his labours with a grudging eye :
Nor his, who ploughs across the furrowed ground.
And on the back of Earth inflicts new wounds :
For he, with freciucnt exercise, commands
The unwilling soil, and tames the stubborn lands.'
I. Gcorrjic (Drj-den).
' The field labourer of Northern countries may be but a hapless hind, hedging
and ditching dolefully, or at best serving a steam-beast with oil and tire ; but
in the South there is the poetry of agi-iculture still. Materially it may be an
evil and a loss; but spiritually it is a gain— a certain peace and light lie on
the people at their toil : the reaper with his hook, the plougher with his oxen,
the girl who gleans among the tiailing vines, the men who sing to get a
blessing on the grapes — they have all a certain grace and dignity of the old
classic ways left with them. They till the earth still with the simplicity of
old, looking straight to the gods for recompense. It will not last, but it is
here for a little while longer still.' — Ouida.
MiRABEAU said of the soil of Provence tliat 'were it to
be valued at tlie price of tlie best land in France its
entire rental would not, in 1780, pay for the cost of nil
the walls that are used for holding it up.' TJie countless
terraces of Provence are certainly the first tiling to strike
a stranger, and if that stranger knows anything of the
price of labour, his first questions are sure to be, ' Who
])aid for these walls ? ' and ' Wlio is now paid to kec}) tliein
56 THE MARITIME A IPS.
in repair ? ' These terraces are simply an instance of the
tinitli of tlie Scottish saying that ' mony a pickle maks a
niickle.' Had they all been constructed in the same half
century the rental of the province would indeed have
been insufficient to pay for them, but the peasants
working at them all day, and often part of the night,
through many centuries, have covered Provence with
a network of stones. In this way they have preserved
to her a soil tliat is ever ready to run off. Many of
the little plots, which really cannot be called fields,
rise at an angle of 70° and even of 75°, and but for these
walls they might cease to exist after a thunderstorm.
As it is, they allow the culture of vines, oats, and plums
to creep far up the sides of the hills.
It is said that the idea of so supporting the fields was
originally brought from the Holy Land, and as Provence
certainly owes both her cork trade and her hU Sarrazin
to her Moorish invaders, so she may be content to have
received her terraces from Templars and Hospitallers,
when, fresh from Palestine, they were eager to improve
the manors they held under the Maritime Alps.
After the terraces the system of irrigation next
calls for attention. If tenants received any com-
pensation for their outlay on irrigation much greater
advances would be made ; but even as it is the peasant
proprietor at least never neglects it. From the ' upper
and the netlier springs ' he waters his field. Countless
little, stone channels are built, and from these he can
Hood the narrow, pan-shaped beds in which he is grow-
ing violets or salads. He can let the water pass from
one bed to another by simply pushing down the edge
CORN, WINE, AND OIL. 57
of the pan at tlic side he cliooses, and in tliis way, hko
tlie Syrian cultivators of Scripture, he waters his land
' with his foot.'
The whole asfricultural and rural life of Provence
has this charm of Scriptural associations. Eound the
wells you see the tall ' reeds shaken with the wind.'
There is, in bad weather, plenty of ' clay in the streets.'
Yonder is the ' threshing-floor,' with its piles of golden
maize ; oxen plough between the drills, and on that
sunny bank a kneeling woman gathers into her apron
the last ' shakiufT of olives.' There are ' rivers that run
among the hills,' and then emerge into the ' green
pastures,' where the shepherd as he walks leading his
slieep ' carries a lamb in his bosom.' The ' waters wear
away the stones,' but among the rocks there are ' veins
of silver' ; and in the beds of the streams hungry, bare-
foot children seek for ' dust of gold.' Across the moun-
tains go ' paths which the vulture's eye hath not seen ' ;
but in the low-lying valleys ' the wild olive ' is grafted,
and the fruitful vine is pruned ' that it may bring forth
more fruit.' There are' dev/s that lie all night upon tlie
branches,' ' hoar frosts scattered like ashes,' thunders
which are as ' the voice of His excellency,' ' bands of
Orion ' across the midnight sky, and ' sweet influences of
the Pleiades.' But there are also ' clouds which return
after the rain.' There are flowers of the fields ' arrayed '
as Judean kings have never been, and ' grass of the field '
ruthlessly ' cut down and cast into the ovens.' There is
' wine that maketh glad the heart of man ' ; tliere are
' shadows of great rocks in a dry and thirsty place where
no water is ' ; tliere are ' fenced cities ' set upon hills,
58 THE MARITIME ALPS.
witli ' foundations ' in the living rock. Tliero arc ' floods
that descend ' and find out the weak places in the
' bowing-out walls ' ; there are ' broken cisterns that can
hold no water ' ; and in 'gardens of cucumbers' there
are the gardeners' ' lodges,' while there are 'orchards of
pomegranates, and of every pleasant fruit.' When spring
returns there are 'almond-trees' that flourish, 'locusts
and caterpillars' without number. The air is perfumed
with ' cassia,' l)ut there are ' little foxes that spoil the
grapes,' and many a ' pitcher broken at the fountain.'
To make up for them we have ' the potter ' and his
wheel ; in short, a whole world of Oriental images,
brought here into daily life, and filling it with associa-
tions and with charms.
Provence is a country of extremes — of glaciers, and
of sun-dried sands, of winters that are like summers, and
of summers that make one regret the few showers of
the winter. The same quantity of rain falls annually in
Marseilles as in Paris, but in Paris the quantity is spread
over one hundred and fifty days which in Marseilles
floods the streets in fifty days. In Lontk)n, out of three
hundred and sixty-five days, one hundred and seventy
are days of such moisture as to deserve the name of
' Avet days.' In Edinburgh the number rises to two
hundred and six, while in Dublin it exceeds even this
liberal allowance. In Cannes the average never amounts
to seventy, and Dr. de Valcourt, who has studied the
subject carefully, rates the average over the whole
Riviera at fifty- one wet days in the year. But the
quantity of rain that falls during those fifty-one days is
immense. The peasants are not satisfied unless it also
CORN, WINE, AND OIL. 59
penetrates four metres into tlie soil, and tliey look for
the early and the latter rains with the anxiety of
persons who know that for the rest of the year tJiey
nmst depend on the dews. Those are certainly abund-
ant, and it is well that they are, for the climate of
Provence is very much more arid than it used to be.
Such an undesirable alteration has been brought about
by a stupid destruction of the forests, which makes eva-
poration too rapid, and causes the rain that does fall to
run off too quickly. So long ago as 16G9, a royal edict,
taking note of this danger, forbade the cutting of the
woods en hlanc etoc, and they had begun to flourish
again when they were in the eighteenth century de-
preciated by those Economists, called physiocrates, who,
like the elder Mirabean, wished to grow corn on every
rood of eartli. The forests were encroached upon,
and the ground so reclaimed put under cultivation.
Then came the Eevolution, when the peasants, without
sharing the theory of the philosophers, had a still more
destructive practice, for they put their goats into the
woods. Those little depredators soon nibbled and de-
stroyed more trees than their owners felled with
hatchets, and the combined effect was disastrous. The
late Emperor Napoleon III. gave his attention to this
subject, and the hills behind Nice have been all re-
planted at his command, in the hope of rendering the
climate less dry, and of preventing the dangerous floods
which the autumnal rains were apt to produce in the
district.
The department of the Var remains the best wooded
part of France, and in the Maritime Alps the rental of
6o THE MARITIME ALTS.
the cork-trees is now large. These beautiful evergreens
flourish wlierever they find a granitic soil, and along
the Argentiere, as in the valley above Biot, they form
groups that remind one of the wooded dells in the
Campagna. It is estimated that over a thousand
persons find employment in the trade to which their
bark gives rise.
A fine carouba tree, such as we see on the coast
about Eza, represents a rental of forty francs per
annum, but the principal riches of the Maritime Alps
has, until the last half of this century, consisted in the
olive-trees. All soils, except a marshy one, lend them-
selves to this cultivation. There is a popular saying that
on the same piece of ground as the best wine you may
look for the best oil. There may be some truth in this ;
but perhaps it only means that the olive is a very gross
feeder, and that where it has been plentifully manured
its neighbour the vine derives some accidental benefit.
The olive is said to have been originally brought to
this coast by the Greek traders, and the climate has
certainly suited a tree which about Beaulieu attains
to the most noble size. The wood, which is valuable,
takes a high polish, and has created for Nice and
Cannes a whole trade in mosaic furniture. The flowers,
which are green and very insignificant, appear about
Easter. The fruit hangs long on the trees, ripening
slowly as it turns from green to a rich purplish black,
and exposed therefore, not only to many changes of
tempei-ature, but to the attacks of all sorts of insects.
Of all its enemies the Cdiron is the most mischievous.
It is a wicked, little, white worm, that lodging in the
CORN, WINE, AND OIL. 6i
pulp soon cats the olive hollow, and which in the last
ten years has eaten up 40,000 francs worth of the
olives of the arrondissement of Grasse. The Proven9al
olives are never as large as the Spanish ones, but the
oil given used to be very fine. The Nostrale is the
kind on which the peasants of the Eiviera mostly rely,
but the Columbano is also used at Nice for preserv-
ing. The harvest, which begins in October, goes on
to the end of March. The fruit when it has been
beaten oil' the trees is gathered by women and children,
and, after lying for some days in a cool place, is then
sent, in sacks of 100 or of 200 kilos, to the mill. In a
good year a tree ought to yield 9 kilos of olives and
return about 9 kilos 500 grammes of oil. The best
sort is dehghtful for the table, but many of the oils,
especially those of Nice, are too rich in what is called
muqueuse, and as such burn dimly, while they clog
the wick unpleasantly. Nothing can be more pic-
turesque than an oil mill, with its shadowy recesses,
its deep jars that always seem to be waiting for Ali
Baba, and its strange collection of sacks and weights
and presses. But next to a perfume factory it is the
most ill-smelling place conceivable, whether you stand
inside, where the golden oil runs drop by drop from
under the horsehair presses, or outside, by the tanks
where the refuse festers in the sun. This unpleasant-
looking, dark green stulT is, as it hardens, broken up into
cakes which are dug out and sold as manure, returnino-
therefore, very possibly, in this shape to the roots of the
same trees which originally furnished its materials. The
crushed stones, or grainols, are a cheap fuel much used
62 THE MARITIME ALPS.
by tlie bakers for their ovens, l)ut tliey are the terror
of tlie laundresses, as the least mixture of this oily refuse
is ruin to the wood ash wliich is so constantly used here
instead of soap.
Nothino- can be more beautiful than the view from
the town of Grasse, over miles of these olive-trees, of
which the pale grey-green foliage forms a quiet-toned
backo-round for the sunburnt limestones, the red roofs,
the clumps of Aleppo pines, and the beautiful Catalpa
trees. The hues of the olive have puzzled artists, whether
the trees be looked at in the cool tints of early morning
or in the bronzed beauty of the afterglow. Each pabiter
has his own way of handling them. One Avill deal espe-
cially with the angularity of their branches and the
roughness of their trunks ; another with the airy,
smoke-like delicacy of their masses in middle distance ; a
third will handle them cleverly in clumps, wdiile a fourth,
using their masses as part of the lines of his composi-
tion, does no more than justice to the part which they
play in the landscapes of the south. Yet the difficulty
has never really been overcome, and only an approxi-
mate success has been gained by anyone over trees so
intangible in their beauty. Seen by moonlight they
seem to belong to fairyland, wdiile even in the noonday
their stems have shadows so sharp as to recall all the
pathos of the moonliglit in Gethsemane. At once light
and massive, at once changeful and evergreen, the olive
is like nothing but itself, as it flowers and fruits in its
perpetual peace.
After the olive comes the vine. The plant is as
old as the world, and as new as the gladness which it
CORN, WINE, AND OIL. 63
daily ])uls into the hearts of men. It is the most beau-
tiful thiiiL>- that o-rows when it is left to ramble from
tree to tree ; its very tendrils are scented, its autumn
leaves are stained amber and orange and crimson, and
when its faggots come to die on the hearth they do so
at last in ' aromatic pain.' Yet it leads a hard life : —
We shall see its way is not of pleasure or of ease.
.... The fruit begins
Almost before the flower has had its day :
Even as it grows it is not free to heaven,
But tied to a stake, and if its arms stretch out
It is but crosswise, also forced and bound —
And so it drains, out of the hard hillside
Fixed in its own place, the food of life —
And quickens with it, breaking forth in bud
Joyous, and green, and exquisite in form.
Wreathed lightly into tendrils, leaf and bloom.
Yea, the grace of the green vine makes all the land
Lovely in springtime. . . .
But so they leave it not — the husbandman
Comes early, with the pruning-hooks and shears,
And strips it bare of all its innocent pride
And wandering garlands, cutting deep and sure.
Unsparing for its tenderness or joy.
Then in its loss and pain it wastetli not ;
But lends itself, in unabated life,
More perfect under the despoiling hand :
The bleeding limbs are hardened into fruit.
Then comes the vintage, for the days are ripe,
And surely now, in its perfected bloom,
It may rejoice a little in its crown.
Though it Ijend low beneath the Aveight of it
Wrought out of the long strivings of its heart —
But, ah ! the hands are ready to tear down
The treasures of the grapes : the feet are there
To tread them in the winepress gathered in.
64 THE MARITIME AIPS.
Until the blood-red rivers of the wine
Run over, and the land is full of joy.
But the vine standeth, stripped and hare,
Having given all : and now its own dark time is come^
And no man payeth back to it
The comfort or the glory of its gift.
But rather now, most merciless, all pain
And loss are piled together, as its days
Decline, and the spring sap has ceased to flow.
Now is it cut back to the very stem,
Despoiled, disfigured, left a leafless stock.
Alone, thro' all the dark days that shall come — -
And all the winter-time the wine gives joy
To those who else were dismal in the cold.
But the vine standeth out among the fi'ost,
And, has only this praise left, after all.
That it endures, in long lone steadfastness.
The winter thro' — and next year blooms again,
Not bitter for the torment undergone,
Not barren for the fulness yielded up,
As fair and fruitful towards the sacrifice.
As if no touch had ever come to it
But the soft airs of heaven and dews of earth :
And so fulfils itself in love once more.
I speak to those who suffer : they will know.
Better than I, the whole deep truth of it !
Measure thy life by loss instead of gain.
Not by the wine drunk, but the wine poured forth,
For Love's strength standeth in Love's sacrifice.
And whoso suflTers most, has most to give.'
The vine flowers in April, and is therefore only too
certain to fall a victim to the lune roiis.se,, to the moon
after the Paschal one, so a})t to come with sharp frosts
and blighting winds to ruin the prospect of the year.
^ llie Disciples, a poem by IT. E. H. King.
CORN, WINE, AND OIL. 65
Even if the vines and the walnuts do not siifler diirin<»-
lier reign, which corresponds to the 'bhickthorn winter'
of onr Enghsh experience, there are other dangers
signalled all along the calendar of the Frencli spring.
There are the redoubtable ' Saints vendam/eurs,' St.
Croizet, who is commemorated on the 3rd of May, St.
Colniet on the 9t]i of the month, and St. Urbinet on
the 25t]i, and who, as Ins fete falls the latest, is tlie
last and w^orst enemy of the vine. If there be frost on
that day, the case is indeed a bad one for vines that
ah'eady on the 11th, 12th, 13th, and 14th were re-
minded of St. Mamert, St. Pancrace, St. Gervais, and St.
Pacome, all grouped under the unpleasant head of ' les
saints de (jlace.'' A vineyard that has been blackened
is indeed a sad siglit, but there are seasons in which all
goes well till tlie so-called faux boun/eons wave ready to
be pruned. At this moment the plant is most luxu-
riant, but as its strength is needed for its fruit-bunches,
these superfluous branches with their wandering ten-
drils are all condemned. I have watched tlie process
in tlie vineyards of Dauphiny and Savoy. When the
last bundle of fragrant leafage has been carried away,
probably on the head of the master's daughter, it is her
business to plant a small, white wooden cross among
her vines, and then, closing the gate, to leave them to
God and the sun. The gate will not be opened again
till October, wlien all the merry vintagers troop in. If
they are merry then or not depends on the thunder-
storms of tlie summer, for a vineyard that has been
grelee is even a sadder sight than one which has been
frosted.
F
66 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Sonic afternoon a storm comes beating up against
the wind, and breaks overhead, with flashes and
crashes, and such a rattle of liail as makes the heart of
tlic hindh)r(l die witliin liim. When the storm has
I'oUed away he goes out to judge of its work. Alas !
alas ! the path from his vineyard is still i-unning like a
river, and a bowing-out wall having fallen into the
roadway, he need go no farther to get a sight of the
vines. They are all tangled and ravelled, and drenched
and hashed, and look as if a park of artillery had been
driven over them. A week hence they will look even
worse, for the scorchino' and reddeninoj of the leaves
will then show how the sudden chill and the evaporation,
after the touch of the ice, have checked the sap and
circulation of the plant. In fact the wine-growers of
France have many troubles, and between cold and bad
seasons, hailstorms and phylhKvera, their property has of
late undergone a deterioration which has reduced many
/^ affluent families to the condition of Irish landlords.
The department of the Maritime Alps has some very
fine vineyards, though here too didium and i?hylloxera
have touched their health. The vineyards are treated
witli sulpliate of carbon, and Avith a nuinure of potass
which has l)cen found useful. The labonr of so dressing
an infected vineyard is paid by the State, the proprietor
])aying only for the chemicals employed. Two Ameri-
can vines, called here 'Eiparia' and ' Jacquet,' are gene-
I'ally proof against the teeth of the phylloccera, and
the black Catawba grape, the one which has a smell
of I'aspbei-ries, and which covers the Crimean slopes,
is now largely cultivated for ihe same reason in tlie
CORN, WINE, AND OIL. 67
canton of Nice. But its juice can only be used to mix
with other wines, a process always largely resorted to
here where the country produces so little wine that for
seven out of the twelve montlis of the year it has to
rely on the produce of other countries. The best red
wine is that of Bellet near Nice, and the best white ones
are those of Gillette and La Gaude. It is also good at
Pegomas, where a spur of the hills comes down into the
broad alluvial valley which the Mourachone waters. I
have often drunk this wliite wine, which the mistress
of the beautiful farm of Terres-Blanches calls Oros,
because the dairette grape from whi(^li it is made grows
on the rocks above Pegomas. The process of making
a Avhite wine is always a tedious one, requiring greater
care than the preparation of a red wine, and there is
the fear that a second fermentation setting in inoppor-
tunely may turn the wjiole cask sour. It requires to
be racked and cleared very often, and the waste en-
tailed during the repetition of this process makes the
wine dearer. White Avine will seldom fetch less than
from eighteen to twenty pence a litre, while a very
good red wine can be drunk, and is drunk in my house,
at seven pence the litre.
So much for wine and oil. Now for the corn.
Through all the winter days we have seen it pushing
bravely in the httle fields, drilled in between the vines
and the beans, and sheltered by a network of peach-
and almond-trees, from which, wdien spring appears,
there Avill drop a rosy snow.
What would our Nortliern farmers not give to have
anything like these tall, fresh green stalks, in all their
F 2
68 THE MARITIME AITS.
healthy straightness of growth, which liave feared no
winter's rages, and wliich will be ripe for the sickle
before the 20th of June ? But on the other hand the
]S"orthern farmer would be scandalised at tliese weeds, at
the sword lilies and tlie liemlock, and the big arum
leaves, and tlie clumps of borage which adorn the
fields. Then sowing and reaping as practised in
Provence would strike him as very ai'cliaic. And so
they are. Machinery for agricultural purposes is un-
known, and broad-footed oxen tread out the grain on a
paved tlireshing-floor, to which not even the authority
of Scripture could now reconcile a Scotcli bailiff.
Yet he would Ijc quite mistaken if he despised the
Provencal farmer, even in departments where la petite
culture prevails. Every means for increasing the fer-
tility of the soil is known and practised, and the small
farmer who can ])roduce wlieat, maize, pulse, grapes,
figs, ahnonds, peaches, liemp, tobacco, and fiax, along
Avith ])luuis, mulberries, liaricots, madder, roses, arti-
chokes, and green peas, must be allowed to be a
]ierson of no common experience and ingenuity.
Tn the arrondisseinent of Nice tlie wlieat represents
a money value of about 50,000 francs, but the rpiantity
gi'own is not suflic^icnt to ])r()vi(le for the p()])ulation
during eight months of the year. In this way the
numeraire of the district (grossly augmented as that
annually is by the influx of strangers) does not remain
in the country, but leaves it to purchase the bread re-
quired for daily consumption. It appears therefore
that, in spite of the perpetual sunshine which settles on
il, llio districl of the Maritime Al]is is a poor one, nor
CORN, WINE, AND OIL. 69
is there any promise of a golden age for agriculture.
Quite the reverse. Wheat, which it costs forty francs to
produce here, can be bought on the quay of Marseilles
at thirty-five francs, and that after the freight from
America, and the duty, and the octroi de la ville have
all three been paid. This fact is the death-knell
of such Proven(j'al farmers whose fields lie in a zone
higher than that which can grow oranges, lemons, or
flowers for the perfume trade. The taxes are already
a fifth of their rental, and the land is no doubt mort-
gaged for another fifth, so that, considering the rising-
price of labour, the prospects of the agricultural class
may be said to be as gloomy here as they are in Great
Britain. I have hitherto spoken, however, only of the
case of the landowner ; it remains for me to speak of the
farmer, and of the husbandman — to whom the ground
does not belong, and who have to I'eckon with a land-
lord.
70 THE MARITIME ALPS.
CHAPTER Y.
ON THE FARMS.
'The distribution of a number of small properties among the peasantry
forms a kind of rampart and safeguard for the holders of large estates : a
peasant propertj' may, without exaggeration, he called the lightning-conductor
that averts fi-om society dangers which might otherwise lead to violent cata-
strophes.' — E. DE Laveleye.
Peasant proprietors were by no means unknown in
France before the Revolution, and in Provence they not
only did exist but they also suffered less from the pressure
of the feudal system than in the northern districts of the
kingdom. During the Crusades, and during the wars
of the Countesses, the great lords could not pretend to
cultivate their estates. Nor as time went on did it become
more possible for them to do so. The family of Grasse,
for example, held forty fiefs; tlie Yilleneuves spread all
along tlie coast from the Var to Hyeres, and tlie barons
of liuux, who held lands from Aries to Ventimigha,
were the masters of seventy-nine cities, known as les
places Baussenques. Such proprietors thought of no-
thing so little as of turning tlieir swords into plougli-
sliares, but they liit on the plan of giving grants of land
to tlieir luniiiiu's, or dependants. Tlie grants to these
ca.slan.s were of two kinds : either in franc-alleu, or
subject to the cens — a duty paid yearly, but to be levied
also whenever the ground changed hands, by barter, by
ON THE FARMS. 71
sale, or by death. These hommes for centuries have
cropped the soil and built the terraces of Provence, and
have drawn from the gronnd a livelihood which their
superiors, lay or clerical, taxed more or less heavily.
The feudal rights of tlie lords were too many and too
complicated to be all enumerated here. They comprised
the corvee, or forced labour on the lands of tlie supe-
riors ; liability to military service, not always for de-
fensive purposes only, and an obligation to grind their
corn at their lord's mill, and to bake tlieir bread at
the banal oven. Peasants sometimes paid in money,
sometimes in fridt, or in hens, and while the Abbot of
the Lerins took every alternate basket of iigs, the
Villeneuves of Vence liad a disagreeable way of asking
for one pig out of every two. There were also tolls
and ferry dues — a penny a foot for every horse or
mule ; and there was a hard law forbidding the cen-
sitaires to sell their wine so long as the lord's wine
remained unsold. Yet the censitaires held on for
centuries, and, except when a war or a pestilence
decimated their numbers, they made a living of it as best
they might. They even bought land occasionally, for
they could raise money from the Jews and Lombards
on the unexceptionable security of their real property.
The Italian colonists settled l3y the Prior of the Lerins
at Vallauris, and those whom the Bishop of Vence
originally planted at Biot, held grants of land on the
most favourable terms, so that small holdings cannot be
said to have been created in Provence by the Eevolu-
tion.
What it really did was, iirst, to increase tlieir num-
72 l^HE MARITIME ALPS.
bers. and, secondly', to free them fi'oiii t]ie cruel exac-
tions and restrictions of feudal tenure.
Out of the proprietors in France M. Leonce de
Lavergne used to reckon that 5,000,000 were rural
owners, and about 4,000,000 were actual cultivators of
the soil. Of these 3,000,000 possess, on an average, a
hectare^ or nearly two and a half acres of land. It is
easy to see how the freedom of such a farmer makes all
the difierence to him between comfort and starvation.
It has been calculated here, in Maritime Provence, that
every grain of corn must bring forth threefold before
it represents the bare equivalent of the seed and time
bestowed on it. Supposing tlie retura to be only
threefold, the revenu net would tlien be none at all.
Supposing it to be fourfold, tliere would still be l)ut
little margin left for tlie husbandman. The royal
taxes (reckoned by so iw^ny feux in each canton) had
first to be paid, and tlien there was the dime of the
C^liurch, and hnall}^ the feudal dues, from the cens on
tlie land down to the baking of tlie loaf. But the
peasant proprietor of to-day has only the first of tliese
burdens to bear. The taxes are heavy — about a fifth
of the annual value of his farm, but for the rest he
may manage as he thinks best. If the harvests are bad
then he and his must live more meagrely, and themai'ri-
agesofhis children must be postponed, but if a good
year comes, if corn and wine and oil are plentifid, then
he is master of his own gains, lie has seed-corn to
sell, he has no arrears, and if he has not got a lawsuit
on hand, he can put by some money, and forget the
leanness of past seasons.
ON THE FARMS.
73
Almost every peasant lias, or has liad, or is going
to ]iave, a lawsuit. Sit, as I liave clone, sketcliing
for lialf a day on the doorstep of a notary's office,
and you will be surprised to see the number of feet that
cross his tlireshold. Needless to say that these litigious
habits lead to debt, and that many of the small holdings
of France are already mortgaged up to one-fifth of tlieir
value. If to this amount of debt overhead aii)^ peasant
happens to add heavily in his own case, it is easy to see
that bankruptcy is not far below the horizon of practi-
cal politics for him. At the best of times a very strict
econoni}'- is required ^ to make the ends meet,' and it is
a question whether, as education spreads and the wants
taught by education increase, the class of peasant ])ro-
prietors will remain such as it now is. It could not, if
it were not that the wants of others are increasing at a
still more rapid pace, and that the demand for what a
little farm can supply makes the farmer more sure of a
sale for his calf, his eggs, his grapes, and his carrots.
This is his great opportunity, and it is one which might
make his fortune if the movement of modern life did not
also reach to his own threshold, and had not sometimes
crossed it. The passionate chase after money, and those
material pleasures which money can buy, is already
spreading downwards from the hourgeoisie, and botli
debt and lieart-burnings appear in many liumble homes.
Jean and Marguerite Firniin could tell you something
about all that. They have lived long and liappil}^ on
their farm where their little inn was so popular that
their wine needed no bush under the creaking; sig-n of
the Cheval Blanc. It is true that the doorstep has a
74 THE MARITIME AIFS.
pool of very dii't}' water in front of it, that there are
sacks of grain on tlie landiiitj-, and tliat a lot of feathers
in a sliallow basket shows the fate of tlie little white
cockerel newly killed for yonr dinner. But the kitchen
is a w^arm place, a savoury mess of polenta smokes on
the board, and a bit of meat is stewing on the lire.
(31d Jean lias grown stifi'witli rheumatism, but lie has a
good face, and his old woman looks at liim with kind
and anxious eyes. A young woman, Avith a handker-
chief tied round her head, waits sulkily on the carters
who are at table. That is their daugliter-in-law — one
of the new school. She has a bonnet and white stock-
ings in a box upstairs ; she dislikes the farm, and tlie
chickens, and tlie barn wliere the golden straw is
stacked, and most of all she dislikes exerting herself in
the house, while her husband is in the field, and his
parents are too infirm to w^ork as they used to do.
Madame Fanchette is a fine lady in her w^ay. The last
time I saw her was at the little station at St. ;
the handkerchief had disappeared, she was, as the
Italians say, ve<stita da j^ciina, had on the bonnet and the
white stockings, and dangled a little bag in her hand.
She was very gay : talking with the cure and with the
station-master, and with many neighbours, who when
they had seen her start for town, on a visit, as she
averred, to the dentist, loudly pitied old Jean and his
■good old Margoton. The new fashions have brought
quarrels to tlie Ckeval Blanc, and it will go hard to be
thought that debt and jealousy, and something worse,
may come some day soon should the young farmer's
smart Avife make many trips to town.
ON THE FARMS. 75
The real drawbacks to the system of small holdings
are not felt to Ijc drawbacks in the eyes of the land-
owning peasantr}^ It may be too true tliat the isolated
and jealous individuality in which they live threatens
the death of public virtue in France, because the pea-
sant does not look beyond his personal interests, and
because Arcadian simplicity is generall}^ very selfish.
But in France we must rejoice that the landowning and
cultivating peasantry exist in sufficient numbers to form
some counterbalance to the doctrinaires of the big towns,
whose theory is that la projyriete, dest le vol, and to the
artisans, whose practice is communistic. These peasant
landowners are still tlie drag on the wheel, the true con-
servatives and defenders of the rights of property, and
la petite culture will find its markets increasing as towns
grow up, and as communication becomes more easy.
In the whole department of the Maritime Alps there
is not one farm let at a fixed rent. Landlord and tenant
are alike convinced that where crops of olives and
oranges are concerned a fixed rent would be fatal to
both their interests. The leases are all short ones — for
three, six, or nine years — and entry is generally at
Michaelmas, By far the largest part of the territory of
the Maritime Alps is worked on the metayer system, and
on verbal contracts. Because you see a man carrying
a sack of ohves, or a bag of violets, or driving a cartful
of calves to market, it does not follow that he owns
them. He has but a part interest in the freight, being
the metayer of some landlord, who neither can nor will
work his own farm. Who are the persons who take
farms on the metayer plan? Men accustomed to
76 Tin: MAR [TIME ALPS.
liiLsbaiuhy, or owners of adjacoiit plots, or perhaps the
former owners of small ])roperties wliich they have
ceased to possess. I ^vill put a case: —
A peasant of the name of Isnard, in the arrondisse-
riient of Grasse, had a small estate. Four bad olive
crops began his troubles, but they were followed by the
death of liis mule. Isnard liimself fell sick, and hnally
died, leavin<x behind liini a lawsuit, a widows a lame
daushter, two mortojases, and three sons. Of these, the
younp:est was a coachman in Marseilles ; the second was
with his regiment at Nice ; and Paul, the eldest, had
always Uved and worked on the farm. The property
came to be divided. A conxeil de fainiUe was held, and
it was agreed to put the land up for sale. No sooner
was it in the market than it Avas bought in by what
Paid called la bande noire, by some notaries, holders
of house property in Grasse, Draguignan, or Toulon,
Avlio became its joint or its single proprietors. The
sale Avas effected in about tliree weeks' time, and the
widow and daughter migrated at once. They took
a room in the nearest little town, wdiere they had some
relations, and there they vegetate. There they creep
al)out the chapels, pick olives, collect manure on the
roads, and w^atch the funerals, as they roast their coffee
in the little dark street. Paul, tlie eldest son, is not on
good terms willi them, for he lias often said very hard
tilings to his sister, whose linnipback has kept her
single, and whose presence in the house had prevented
liim from l)]'inii;ino- home a wife. He determined
|)ri\ately to make an offer foi' the old house and farm as
its iin'tayer, and, as soon as his offer was accepted, ho
ON THE FAKAJS. 77
liad tlie bauns for liis marriage with Miclieline Baziu
put up witliout delay. Wliile they all lived on the
farm marriage had been out of the question for Paul :
there were already too many mouths to be fed ; l)ut
now he and Micheline will try to make a living oil" it.
They marry, and their prayer is that their landlord may
never set his foot in the place. To do tlie notary
justice, he will not do so, unless it fares with him as old
Tusser sings, that
Jankin and Jennykin cozen him so,
As to make him repent it, ere year aljout go.
Tlien indeed he may come to inquire into things, and
quarrels will grow apace, for there is not a point on
which a dispute may not be hung. It is the landlord
who has to buy both the mule and his harness, to pay
the window tax, and to provide a new bucket and chain
for the well. If the mide casts a shoe it is the landlord
who has to pay tlie blacksmith's bill, and even if the
animal dies it is not difficult to prove that it was in the
exclusive service of loa patron that it lost its life. On
the produce of the olives the metayer only gains one-
third ; but then he has not to pay for the pruning ;
while on the cereals he secures one-half. The iinjjots
(window tax and the like) are all paid by tlie pro-
prietor, and of the octroi dues, that used to press so
heavily on Paul and his father, the patron halves the
expense, whether live cattle or dead meat be taken into
market.
In short, the system is one of the most minute and
complicated arrangements, all of which are palpably
favourable to the metayer. It is notably favourable to
78 TffE MARITIME ALPS.
liiiu if tlie joint coiicerii between })ropriet()r and tenant
slionld l)e a cJieptel, or cattle-lease, as in tliat case the
tenant is, at the expiration of tlic lease, entitled to one-
lialf llie additional value, if he can prove that by and
through his means tlie joint property has l)een in-
creased. In the face of these conditions it is difficult
to believe tliat tlie doctrine so ap[)lauded in Aberdeen-
sliire (under a very different re(/iine) is ])eing l)roached
in Provence Yet so it is, and you are sometimes told
that the land ought in the end to belong to the man who
has tilled it in the sweat of his brow. Considering that
all the advances, and all the taxes, are paid by tlie land-
lord, tlie injustice of tliis proposition is monstrous, and
no one ought to be more convinced of its injustice
than the Paid who now lives comfortably as a metayer
on the very spot where his father was ruined as a
proprietor. Many good judges are of opinion that
inetdymie is an obstacle to agricultural progress, and the
whole system has been ridiculed l)y others, who forget
that here too we have a means for the preservation of
social ordei- which is M'orth preserving. When the
Paul of whom we have been speaking is a partner with
his landlord their commnnity of interests is better than
either a iixcd antagonism, under the ordinary system of
rents, or than the slow ruin of the fields in the hands
of a small and ])overty-stricken owner.
All pro])rietors are by no means ruined. On the
contrary, some of the cultivators j-ound Grasse are very
wealthy, and, l)eing landlords themselves, they have
none of that ill-will towards the upper classes which
makes the danger to society in countries where the
ON THE FARMS.
79
ownership of the soil lia])pens to l)e concentrated in a
small nnnilier of families. What they do complain of
is the valuation under which the taxes are levied, and
the fisc to be paid on every change of ownership. This
is exacted whether the mutation arise from purchase
or from inheritance, and it is estimated to reach
throughout France the sum of 8,000,000/. per annum.
The legal system of transfer is in itself simple and
expeditious, and an estate will change hands here in
less time than it would take an English attorney to
rub his spectacles, adjust them on his nose, and read
over the titles The price of land in the Maritime Alps
varies in different localities. In the neighbourliood of
the towns it has now assumed a tariff of prices which our
o-randfathers would have called fal3ulous. This is owino-
to the passion for speculation in house property, which
went on unchecked till the Whitsuntide of 1883. No man
will continue to grow olives in a held for which he can
get from three to sixty francs a metre, and there is no
Naboth so stifl'-necked as to refuse to part with liis
vineyard if the Englishman, who means to build a villa
on it, will offer to purchase it, at a price varying from
sixty to a hundred francs a metre.
I am surprised that more capital has not been
invested by speculators in rose-gardens and dairy
farms. A sewage farm woidd certainly soon pay its
expenses in rearing the pritnenrs, for whicli l)otli this
climate and the jietite culture of the spade and hoe are
so well adapted. Every stranger has been struck with
the terrible two-pronged b<'git, the instrument with
which a labourer can dig a trench nearly two feet deep.
So THE MARITIME ALPS.
He Stands in Irunt of liis work, pulling the earth towards
liiiii as it is loosened. Vineyards and rose-fields are
dug in tliis way, and tlie soil thus ])r('pared is ready to
receive the slips at once. Tliough the physical labour
of this method is great, it is thought to pay better
tlian the gentler and often repeated work of the plough.
The rule liere is to manure every fourth year, but the
luxuriant wild |)lants and the leavings of tlie clover-crops
act as a natural food for the soil. In some districts near
Nice the loam is both extraordinarily deep, free of
stones, and rich in iron, but roses and violets, like
oranges, are very gross feeders, and they require con-
stant mulching with the most stimulating manures. The
fields so cropped are generally placed in the neigh-
bourhood of towns.
The Comte de Paris has recently purchased an
estate near Mougins, not as a speculation, but for experi-
ments in horticulture. Their Royal Highnesses, who are
both fond of gardening, will there have a fine collection
of plants, Alphonse Karr's best advice about them, and
charming o[)portunities of seeing what the Provencal
soil and climate can do under good management.
Nearly e\ery Ijranch of agricultural and horticid-
tural enterprise is capable of vast development here,
and any labour so bestow^ed would be of the sort to
ensure ])ublic as well as private opulence, to ' maintain
a natural tendency of things towards im])rovement,'
and to ensure a magnificent future. It is a pity that
fni- ^jie time being the l)uilding oj)erations of the Societe
J''in/ciere Lyonnaise have turned all Provenyal heads.
New streets and boulevards contiiuie to rise in every
ON THE FARMS. 8i
direction, and before long the villas from the Siagne to
the Eoya will form a continuous mass. Fortunes will
be made, but they liave also been 'unmade — ' Grande
facilite de paiement' is a charming advertisement, but it
really means a system of gambling in lots of land in-
stead of in shares, and as such it has ruined, and it
now threatens to ruin a good many of the proprietors
and would-be proprietors of the Maritime Alps.
G
82 THE MARITIME ALPS.
CHAPTEE VI.
GRASSE.
' L'activite industrielle cle ce moyen ;tge si orageux est iin fait bien remar-
quable.' — .T. Ampere.
The town lies against the hill, Hanked by its escarp-
ments, and supported by that fine natural terrace which
first pointed out Grasse for a strongliold to the Celto-
Ligurian tribes. A less important town than either
royal and ])arliamentary Aix, or tlian strategical Dra-
guignan, I greatly prefer it to eitlier of them, and had
I been a Provencal great lady I sliould always liave
wislied to spend my winters in Grasse.
The view from the Cours is chai'ining. Now and
again a group of cypresses detaches itself from tlie mass
of ohve woods, tlie distant mountains have the sun-
sliiue on tlieir lieads, tlie range of tlie Tanneron is pine-
clad, roses fall in clusters over tlie terraces, and far
below are the stretching coast-lines of Maritime Pro-
vence, and the shimmer and glistening of the sea.
Besides this sunn}^ Cours there are dark and narrow
streets: there are chui-ches and chapels, with the graves
of along-biii-icd e])iscopate : there is a charter-i'ooiu with
the dusty records and seals of Provenyal sovereigns, and
little, dusky gardens where the chanoine's old woman cuts
the lettuces for his supper. There are also tall chimneys.
GRjiSSE. 83
and worksliops where the tinsmiths lianimer all clay lono-.
All these things you may see for yourself on a May
morning, but tliere are two tilings you would never even
suspect unless they were pointed out to you : old fashioned
drawing-rooms with old paintings, little bits of Trianon
lingering in these provincial streets, and a lal^j-rinth of
cellars where the rose-leaves are stored. Picked in
the dewy fields at the very first sign of the dawn, the
roses are brouglit into town before tiie heat of tlie
May day makes itself felt, and stoi'ed in these cellars.
You wade up to the knee in their pale, moist, pink
petals, and I once lay down and buried myself under
them,
Grasse possesses a monopoly in France, perhaps in .
the world, for the production of perfumes, soaps, oils, /
and bonbons. The olive M^oods cover 3,000 hectares., and
sixty-seven hydraulic mills give an annual product of
7,500 kilo of oil for the table. Its perfumed gloves used
to be famous, like the leather of Cordova, and, though
this particular industry no longer exists, the seventy
distilleries of Grasse have a large and always increasing
business. The city of Cologne alone orders 60,000
francs worth of the essence of ' Neroly,' made from the
flowers of the bitter or Bigarrade orange, each kilo of
the flowers furnishing one gramme of the precious sub-
stance, and in this way it is easy to understand how
200,000 kilo of blossom are annually worked up in
Grasse. Cassia, jasmine, tuberose, violets, verbena, and
jonquils are bought up by the distillers, who will pay
from six to twenty francs a kilo for cassia-lieads. The
mounds of jonquils are a very pretty sight when tliey
Cx 2
84 THE MARITIME ALPS.
are lirst laid down at the lactory door, but rather less
pleasing is the discoloured heap which consists of the
same golden flowers, after they have suffered a ' change '
in a caldron of hoiHng lard. Bevies of girls are occupied
by this business : sorting the blossoms, picking the lard,
packing the bottles, making the straw-plait for the
cases, pasting on the labels, and selling the pretty
coloured sachets which always attract tonrists. The
heavy work is done by men. There are foundries for
the coppers and stills, with much stoking of furnaces,
blowing of glass vessels and retorts, making of packing-
cases, and all the carting and carrying of a trade which
bids fair to assume really gigantic proportions. Ger-
many, Russia, and, above all, America, send immense
orders, and the attar of roses now made in Grasse (at
I twenty francs a drop) will soon compete successfully
with the export from the Levant. Essential oil of
almonds, and the more deadly extract known as prussic
acid, are made here, with orange flower water enough
to float a frigate. Orange-blossoms constitute the riches
of Cannes, Cannet, Grasse, Vallauris, Mougins, liiot, La
Cros, Vence, and St. Panl-du-Var. The scent from this
mass of flowers is very trying to nervous people, and
as it produces an exasperated and exasperating form of
hay-fever, some patients are tempted to run away from
this coast, and, hurrying back to England, to arrive just
in lime for llie twenty-ninth snowstorm of tlic sprint?,
'i'lie period of fl()W(M'-])icking extends over thirty days.
Crowds ol'woineii and mrls <2:o to work on the orange-
farms, and it is an odd sight to sec them perched, like
so many monkeys, in the branches of the ronnd-headed
GRASSE. 85
trees. There they chatter and smg till the noonday heat
silences their voices, and the season is fortunate if it
passes over without one or more cases of the peculiar
syncope to which orange-blossom pickers are subject.
I have seen a man lie insensible for so long that a doctor
had to be summoned, the pollen of these flowers acting
occasionally as a poison to the nervous system. Creo-
sote and strychnine can be used as antidotes, but I
confess I find an oranoje-farm a disao-reeable neioli-
bour, and am better pleased when roses de mai are
in season. The muscadine^ the semi-double, pink rose
used for distilling, is aromatic even to the tips of the
long green sprays that are bound over in half hoops,
like raspberry canes. The pungent perfume of this plant
is said to drive away moths, while that of the flower is
so delicious, that it is difhcult to appreciate the old
sanitary rule for Jerusalem, that residents were not to
grow roses in the city, or keep a ' Ginvath Varidin ' (or
rose-garden) close to the walls. The plant and the trade
are both of Oriental origin ; begun by the Persians, it
was known to the Arabs, and to the Jews, who also
taught the medicinal qualities of rose leaves.
The French kings patronised the perfumers of
Grasse. We hear first of a certain Doria dei Eoberti
(1580), medecin du roy^ but <!i\s>o ijarfumeur de la royne ;
and again of a certain Tombarel, who called himself ' of
Florence,' because these men were, in the matter of
their art, proud to ])rofess themselves disciples of those
perfumers of Florence to whom the Medici Avere wont
to resort for their perfumed or poisoned gloves. Tan-
gier, the perfumer to Louis XYL, lived in the house
86 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Avliicli is now the Hotel de la PosLe, but the expansion
of the llower trade of Grasse since the Revolution is
entirely owing to the initiative of M. Perolle. This
generous citizen, the same who presented the Eubens
pictures ^ to the chapel of the Hospital, sent two boxes
of his wares to Paris, and from this timid venture com-
menced the trade Avith the capital and with Europe.
Grasse now coins money from flowers, and she will con-
tinue to do so through her flowers, after American wheat
has undersold the corn, and phylloxera ravaged the
wine, and disease diminished the oil of the district lying
between the Siagne and the Var,
The burghers of Grasse are very wealthy, and
fortunes are being made rapidly, to say nothing of those
which have accumulated here since the days of the
consular city. This is in fact one of the most flourish-
ing towns in France, nor does it require a prophet's eye
to foretell that Grasse must continue to prosper. As
the sea-winds dcj not reacli ii]) to its esplanade, it will
become a health-station, and there are many delightful
expeditions to be made from it. If you choose to go
in a southerly direction, you can drive to Mouans, with
its modernised castle : or to Sartoux, with its Eoman
ruins : or to Pegomas, with its anemones : or to Penna-
fort on the Loup. You can also go eastwards — to
Tourretes, with its mills: to tlie gorges of tlie Loup, to
Gourdon on its crag, or to Le liar, the cradle of the
Counts of Grasse. All these expeditions among uj)-
' Three line .specinieus of Rubens' early style, painted in 1G02,
tor a (•(tnsent cliurcli in Rome when the artist was twenty-live yeai's
of age, and wlicii his colouring was still thai of his master, Otto
Venius. 'I'licy wen' jiainted in three iiKuitlis.
GRASSE. 87
turned ledges of limestone, wooded dells and vawniii<>-
gorges are enchanting. No winds blow, and the soft air
breathes through the j^ines while the sunshine glorifies
the ruins and the little, tortuous streets. What is
more, tliese excursions are fitted for persons of moder-
ate strength and moderate means, but enterprising
tourists miglit by passing westwards do greater deeds
than these. They might explore Cabris, and the grot-
toes of St. Cesaire, or the sources of the Siagne, and
the native camps of St. Vallier, There are also the
ruins of Cahan and of Montaroux, the oak forest of
Beauregard, and the bridge and mill of Mons in tlie
gorge of the Siagnole. There is the Eochetaillee to be
seen, and the Clus de St. Auban, the Eoman villa at St.
Ferreol, and the little summer-stations of Thorenc and
Brian^on to frequent. Any traveller who explores this
country will be well repaid, whether his hobby be ruins,
or sketches of ruins, or deep, shadowy glens with river-
pools, or fragrant meadows, or hedges of medlars and
jessamine, whether he seek for vestiges of the Tem-
plars, or for such strange Orchis as the 0. hircina, the
0. militaria, and the 0. albida.
But to-day, instead of going so far afield, let us
remain in Grasse. Let us drink of the well of Crassus,
and stand under the gaunt vigie., mount the stone
stair of the palace of the fair Queen ' Jeanno,' and pray
in the chapel adorned by Bishop Mesgrigny, and tliink
how Vauban planned the steps up to the western front
of the church. Let us visit the dwellings of a dead-and-
gone society, and go down to the gloomy Villa Malvilan
to see the Fragonards, and turn over the dusty records
88 THE MARITIME ALPS.
of tlie Consuls par la r/rdce de Dieii, and then, when the
dayhght fails, let us pace the Cours, and listen to big
' Martin ' as lie makes the evening air and all tlie woods
quiver witli his heavy stroke, of which the blow and
the echo keej:) sounding above the town hke the vibra-
tions of prayer through the human heart.
The possession of these Fragonards will some day be
disputed witli Grasse, for the Louvre is very anxious
to possess such fine examples of a master who, if born
in Grasse, seemed to realise in his talent all the grace
and all the sparkle of the society of the eighteenth cen-
tury. They certainly look a little out of keeping with
the dark corner in which tliey now reside, but the Villa
Malvilan is well worth a visit, and so is the Hotel Mira-
beau. Another great town-house, near Negre's shop, is
now a school, but tlie house of the conventionist Isnard
may still be seen in the Place des Aires. It is always
easily recognised by its balcony, an interesting piece of
liammer-wrought iron, which Isnard was profane enough
to have stolen out of a church.
The town-house of the Counts of Grasse no longer
exists, and the family has disappeared from the district
in which they once held over forty fiefs. To say no-
thing of a supposed descent from Ehodoard, Prince
of Antibes, tliis family of Grasse is interesting from its
alliances and from its distribution over the country.
The names of twenty-eight of the Counts figure in
Vertot's list of the Knights of Malta, where we read of
the Lords of Grasse-Bar, Grasse-Cabris, Grasse- Valette,
Grasse-Mouans, Grasse-Montaroux, Grasse-St.-Tropez,
and Grasse-Brianron. The first-meiitioiu'd of tliese may
GI^ASSE. 89
be looked upon as the elder or representative brancli of
this lordly house. Eaimbaud de Grasse obtained pos-
session of the fief of Bar in 1255, and it is from his
grandson that the many cadets de la maison derive their
lines. The castle of Bar is still an imposing mass,
though the rooms in which Francis I. once spent three
days are now used for a cafe. It was on the occa-
sion of the kind's return from visitinsj the lands of his
Savoisienne mother that Francis lionoured with a visit
this Provencal noble who was actually his cousin, through
a marriage with a daughter of the house of Foix. This
connection with ro3'alty if it procured the excitement
and expense of a royal visit for tlie lord of Bar did
nothing more for tlie stability of the house. Nor did the
Counts of Grasse ever possess rights over the town.
Charters dating from the days of the Berengers, and
of the magnificent ' Jeanno,' liad ever served to pro-
tect it from the exactions of feudal neiGchbours who
were not allowed to play any great pait in its local
history.
The branch of Grasse-Cabris, after giving an abbot
to the Lerins in 1477, died out, in 1691, in the person
of the Abbot of I'Enfourchere, and Cabris was then
acquired by the Clapiers, who had been in Provence for
more than three centuries, and who were alread}^ related
to the Grasse family by marriage. It is rather a ques-
tion who was not ? Glandeves and Castellane, Grimaldi
and Lascaris, Barras and Villeneuve, d'Agoult and
Lombard — we find all these great Provenyal names in
the list of the alliances of a family which, just before
its extinction, could boast of one of the bravest of
90 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Freiicli seamen. Tlie family is now re])resented by a
solitary individual. This grandson of tlie Admiral's is
an officer of marines, and at the time of the Washing-
ton banquet he was nnich surprised to receive an invi-
tation, and to find that his presence, like that of a
descendant of Lafayette,^ was desired by America. He
learnt then that the gallantry of the Admiral Joseph
de Grasse-Brian9on has never been forgotten by the
republic of the West, to which he lent such great and
timely support.
When Grasse was inhabited by the local nobility it
was further removed from the trade and movement of the
world, but on the other hand life there must have been
more full of incidents than it is now. At this moment the
chief events are perhaps a rise in the price of cassia, or
a fall in the price of soap, the nomination of a new houh-
prefet (which happens at least once a year), or the death
of an asthmatic Canon, or the news telegraphed to the
ci\ il authorities that a celebrated Fenian has just been
traced to an hotel in Cannes. But when Marie-Catherine-
Louise de Mirabeau, Marquise de Cabris, reigned in that
big, dark house near the steps up to the Cours, which
is still known as the Hotel Mirabeau, life never lacked
for incidents, or for scandals. Louise was the youngest
and the fairest of the sisters of the orator. She had the
same gift of eloquence, the same })ower of attracting
friends and of making enemies, the same shamelessness,
and the same restless energy. Her eldest sister was a
nun in a convent at Montargis, and the othoi-, Madame
de Sailhins, had less singular gifts than Louise, or indeed
' The late amiaLle Mai'(|uis, Jules de Lasteyrie.
GJ^ASSE.
91
than lier parents, who had made all Europe ring with
the story of their unseemly disputes.
Louise, when quite a girl, was married to an un-
suitable mate, to Jean-Paul de Clapiers, Marquis de
Cabris, son of a sharp-tempered old marquise who lived
in the town-house of the family, and who had no reason
to be proud of her descendant. Part knave and part
fool, the vices and the unhallowed imaginations of this
Marquis Jean-Paul sometimes culminated in attacks of
genuine insanity. His marriage with a girl who joined
all the violence of the Mirabeau to all the licence of the
Vassans was very unfortunate, and not likely to be
mended either by the amours of Louise with a certain
unqualifiable scamp, Denis-Jean- Augustin de Janserandy
de Verdache, co-seigneur de Brian^on, or yet by the ap-
pearance in Grasse of her brother the orator. Honore
de Mirabeau, aged twenty-four, and already married, was
at that moment under a cloud, and supposed to be living
under a lettre de cachet in the dull, little town of Manosque,
near the paternal acres and the castle of Mirabeau. He
suddenly broke out of bounds, and presented himself at
his sister's house. When, two days later, the walls of
Grasse were found placarded with an indecent squib at
the expense of all the ladies of the neighbourhood, it was
not unnatural that its publication should be connected in
men's minds with the advent of one more of those children
of wliom their father, the Marquis de ]\iirabeau, once
declared that ' there never had been anything seen like
them.' All Grasse discussed the lampoon ; the lawyers
on the Coui's foretold the causes ceVebres that could not
fail to arise from it, and even the nuns behind the
92 THE MARITIME ALPS.
cirilles, who ought to liiive known better, specuhited as
to its aiitliorsliip. M. de Yilleneuvc-Mouans said tliat,
in his opinion, no one could have been guilty of it but
' Miraheau et sa triste sveur.'' The brother and sister, who
Avere in truth as much surprised at it as their neighbours,
determined to be revenged on tlie man who made so free
with tlieir names. Wliat they determined to do liad to be
done quickly, for Ilonore was not onl}^ in fhigrant riqdiire
de ban, l)ut l)ouiid on another errand of some moment in
tlie neighbourhood. He had really come to the south to
see if he could not arrange a marriage between a Made-
moiselle de Villeneuve Tourretes and a man of the name
of Gassaud, wdiom he suspected, rightlj" or wrongly, of
an admiration for his own wife, iiee Mademoiselle de
Mari<nian. He did fjo to Vence to consult there witli
the amiable Sophie de Yence, but lie also found time to
make himself terribly notorious in Maritime Provence.
He and his sister arranged a breakfast in the country,
under a ])alm-tree wliicli is still supposed to mark the
spot near Mouans. Covers Avere laid for four, for
Louise was accompanied Ijy her lover, De Briancon,
and, to amuse her brother, Louise had invited a certain
Mademoiselle de la Tour-Roumoule, wliom he w^as sup-
])osed to admire. After breakfast tliey walked on in the
direction of Mouans, and, at about 12. oO, they came
up with M. de Villeneuve. He was an elderly man,
wJio, bareheaded, but witli an und)rena over his liead,
was at that moment superintending tlie labour of some
work-people. Mirabeau" rushed at him, and beat him
in the most savage way. Such an outrage could not
be allowed to go unjninished. M. de Villeneuve
GRASSE. 93
put the affair into tlie hands of the tribunal, and
Mirabeau's hiwless absence from Manosque added
not a httle to the scandals of this lawsuit. All tlie
papers referring to it are still in the possession of
the notary whose ancestors did the business of tlie
Cabris family. The details in this instance are, I am
told, unspeakably coarse, nor does it mend the matter
to learn that the filthy pasquinade which had raised all
the stir really emanated from the pen of the half mad
and wholly immoral Marquis Jean-Paul de Clapiers-
Cabris. The breach between Louise and her fjimily
was now complete. Her father, wlio loved a quarrel
for its own sake, whatever might be its merits, took up
this matter, and sided, as he could hardly avoid doing,
against the mistress of De Brian^on. Another lettre de
cachet was taken out by him, but this time for Louise :
who was sent up to Sisteron and desired to repent of
her sins at leisure in a convent of Ursulines. Her mad
marquis and their only child (afterwards Madame de
Navailles) lived on in Grasse w^ith the dowager, and
Honore, after remarking that all the parties in this
business had been fools, w^ent towards Aix. When he
came to solicit the votes of his equals in that city, he
found that the Mouans outrage was by no means for-
gotten there, and he solicited in vain, so that it was only
as the representative of the tiers etat in the Senechaus-
see of Aix that he was returned as a deputy, and first
threw his line in the great deep of revolutionary politics.
Louise, in the meantime, was disturbing Sisteron as
she had effectually disturbed Grasse. The Ursulines
soon had cause to regret their charge of a lady who,
94
THE MARITIME ALPS.
because she had several lawsuits to conduct, invited all
the hnvyei's of the district to her house and table.
This, she pleaded, was on account of business, but she
presently invited the ixarrison ; admitting this time that
she did so for pleasure. She told such anecdotes as
not only made the good sisters stare, but presently
divided Sisteron into two camps about her reputation.
By most people she was spoken of there as a viper !
She had however friends enough, and wit enough to
carry her point, and after some months full of the most
surprising incidents, she managed to get reheved from
her sentence, to leave the Ursulines of Sisteron to a
well-merited repose, and to return to her parents.
Louise was truly an extraordinary woman. If she
]iad her mother's coarse appetites and unbridled tongue,
she was, like her father, gifted with strong intellectual
tastes, and her correspondence with celebrated men ^
serves to exhibit one side of her versatile character — a
side without which this sketch of society in Grasse at the
close of the eighteenth century would be very incomplete.
Tlie years 1788-89 found lier again in Grasse, in
the midst of what she called ' tlie eilervescences ' of a
mob which had attacked lier castle and threatened her
property. Louise, though often on pleasure l)ent, had so
much of a frugal mind, that she complained loudly of
tlie danger to tlie cliarter-room at Cabris, and took
her measures accordingly. Slie swept off all lier papers
to Grasse, placed tliem at her lawyer's, and liad tliem
' Her letters, like the rest of the Mirabeau Papers, were i)laced
in the hands of Monsieur and ]\ladanie Louis de Lomenie. The
deaths of those two gifted and charming persons have delayed the
puVilication of the memoirs, and saddened many hearts.
GjRASSE. 95
all inventoried and registered, in the Jiope, as she said,
that it might be possible for her one day to be rein-
stated in all her rights and dependencies. That day
never came, but many darker ones were in store. Her
husband took flight ; tlie populace grew accustomed to
success and crimes ; society closed Hl^e a gulf above
the old regime ; wit, gallantry, and good company
disappeared from the Cours of Grasse; and so did the
Chapter, for Mirabeau being dead, tlie throne and the
altar had nothing more to hope for, and the Bishop of
Grasse lived in exile, and on alms. The prisons of
Draguignan gradually filled with detenus^ public and
private plate was melted up for national purposes,
twenty-one judgments were given in Grasse against the
emigres^ the mills and manors of Cabris were sacked, and
Loidse herself liad to fly from a town of wliicli the re-
volutionary passions were aptly represented by Tsnard.
Tlie hope and prayer of the emigi^es was to return to
France — through ten years of poverty, and of abandon-
ment by the powers who recognised the new regime,
they nourished a hope whicli in too many instances
was never to be realised. Some families were actually
exterminated — all that the guillotine, the flight, and the
fields of La Vendee had left, succumbing to fatigue and
penury, to the putrid fevers of their lodgings, and to
the sickness of hope deferred. Both Louise and her
husband were of those who lived to return, and to an
altered life, altered in all l)ut tliis, that their own worst
and most extravagant qualities were being reproduced
in their only married daughter. But time succeeded at
last in doino; for Louise what neither convents nor lettres
96
THE MARITIME ALPS.
de cachet, uor convent ])i'lls, nor niotlier-in-law liad been
able to do — it tamed her. It was not for notliing that
slie liad crossed the torrent of blood which separated
the world she had left from the one on the threshold of
which she was to sink down, nnpitied and unknown.
She retnrned, neither to Grasse nor to Cabris, the scenes
of her extravagance and her gnilt, bnt to mined Mira-
beaii, the fonntaindiead of her strange race. The pea-
CABRIS AND ' LOU CABREP.'
sants had wrecked the castle, but witli its collected stones
she built herself a cottage, and there, with the greatest
])atience and devotion, she nursed the second childhood
of her miserable husband ; and there, wearing out ' the
close of lier voluptuous daj^' she died. Grasse and her
Trianon like house, Avith the gilt goats' heads {cabre.s) on
the alcove, she never beheld again, and of the castle at
Cabi'is thei'c remain now only a lew vaults where the
GRASSE. 97
peasants store their hay, and some green mounds above
the crags where the goats browse and leap.^
There is another figure that rises before us as we
pace the Cours of Grasse, in marked contrast with
either this laughter-loving Provencal dame, or with the
painter Fragonard, so inspired by their graces that he
could catch the smiles of such light-hearted lemans,
and fix them on his canvas for ever. It is the austere
form of Maximin Isnard.
Born at Grasse in 1758. he belonged to its indus-
tries, married a girl from Dragiiignan, and went to start
a soap work at St. Raphael. Business there did not
go on well, and Isnard may perhaps be reckoned among
the victims of that wounded self-love of which Chateau-
briand averred that it made so many fine heroes of revo-
lution. At all events his Avife (Mademoiselle Clairon)
grumbled, and seems to have had no instinct of the
career which, opening before her husband, was to give
a terrible immortality to the name of the conventionist
Isnard. His first public discourses got him into so
much trouble that he had to fiy into Italy, and his whole
career was one of opposition. His hand was against
every other man, whether as member of the Legislative
Assembly, or among the Girondins, or as proscribed till
after the fall of Eobespierre. In him, as in the Mira-
beau family, we find the Provencal gift of eloquence, the
qualities of a tribune, and a diction lending itself to
every style of argument. His first great speecli against
1 This little sketch, done by the late Honourable Henry Graves,
was the last work of the kindly artist, and sent to me a week liefore
his death, in 1882.
H
gS THE MARITIME ALPS.
the priests wlio refused tlie oath pointed him out to
the execration of the wliolo i-oyahst and clerical pai'ty.
Tliey accused him of atheism. lie flung back the
accusation, for, like Danton who said, ' We have not
destroyed superstition to found atheism,' this fierce
tribune preserved some sense of religion. Isnard's reply
was,'! have looked on the face of the earth. I am
not a fool : I believe in God, but law also is a divinity
for me.' The words are remarkable when we remember
how man}" strange j^ears were to elapse before Maximin
Isnard, ranging himself on the side of order, wrote a
paper on the immortality of the soul, and dedicated it
to the much-enduring Pope Pius VII. His early defence
of the Ptevolution was a masterpiece of eloquence. He
heard its opponents blame it because it had brought,
not peac(^ but a sword. 'What!' he cried, 'would
you believe that tlds Revolution, the most astonishing
thing on which the sun has ever shone — thiH Revolution,
which has robbed despotism of its sceptre, aristocracy
of its rod, and theocracy of its golden treasure-heaps —
wliicli lias u {"rooted the oak of feudality, and split the
cypress of parliament, wliich has taken the arms from
intolerance and the frock from the monk and the
pedestal from the peer, which has rent the money-bag
of the tax-gatlierer, and shivered tlie talismans of super-
stition — that this Revolution, I say, which is ready to
go ibrth and rouse the nations, to nud<e all crowns bow
before tlie law, and, as sucli, to shed ha])piness over
the globe — you would believe perhaps that this revolu-
tion is to accomplish itself in peace ? — you believe,
perhaps, that no one will try to make such a birth mis-
GRASSE.
99
carry? — Xo : the French Eevohition needs must go on
to its fiihihnent.' One can conceive Isnard thunderiniz
sucli words Avith such a trumpet-voice, to tlie terror
of all the line ladies and fine gentlemen whose chairs
used to be carried about the streets of Grasse when
lie first left it to go and make soap at St. Raphael.
One can fancy the Avhole chocolate-drinking, card-
playing, wig- and patch- and powder-wearing society
vanishing before his fiery words, like dead leaves before
a November storm.
There is an allusion to the olive-woods of Grasse in
one of Isnard's greatest invectives. When sent on a
commission of inquiry to Marseilles aftei- the fall of
Eobespierre, he inveighed against the violence of the
Mountain and the crimes of Freron, in a j)assage
which Cicero or Junius might have envied. " At
every step I take through the south, I find the marks
of blood — shed by you. Every soul of man denounces
you — the very stones cry out against your cruelty, and
wherever I meet with crime there I meet Freron ! I
see towers fallen, and I ask, " Did Heaven's thunders
level them ? " — Xo ! it was Freron ! What hand over-
threw those gates? — It Avas Freron! Only last night I
dreamed that I met the pale spectre of crime wander-
ing among the scaffolds of the slain — and it was Freron !
But for you the olive-trees that beautify my native land
need not have ceased to be the emblems of peace.'
Isnard never forgot his native place, and after the
18th Brumaire he l)egged from the First Consul the
ofiice of receveicr des finances in Grasse. ' Give that
wolf a bone to gnaw ' were the unflattering terms in
H 2
loo THE jr.lRIT/ME ALPS.
-\vliicli Jiuoiiaparte granted the request, but he also
conferred on the conventionist the title of Baron, which
Isnard weakly accepted. Tliis ' ribbon to wear on his
coat ' alienated from him many of his former friends,
and once again Isnard found himself in antagonism with
those who had started in the race with him, Ronhard,
who represented Grasse in the legislative assembly,
was especiall}^ provoked at the former 'wolf's' attitude
of contrition, and one day when Isnard informed him
Avith some emphasis that he was going ' dans son temple
adorer VEternel,' the doctor replied snappisldy, ' jndsse-
t-il outlier que tufus criminel.' It is difficult for history
to forget it, and one is tempted to prefer to so much titled
decorum the scaffold of Danton, who, in d^dng, confessed,
'I instituted this infamous tril)unal, and lask pardou for
it, from God and from men.' Baron Isnard's fine castle
and his high park walls are also a curious comment on
his threat that if the capital of France proved untrue to
the principles of the Eevolution strangers might one day
have to ask ' on Avliich bank of the Seine Paris had stood.'
We have fieen both Louise de Mirabeau-Cabris and
Maximin Isnard conducted by strange paths to a late
repentance, but the nineteenth century has not given
any citizens to Grasse who belong to the same race of the
giants. Isnard died tlierein I8!:25, and his grandson, the
present Baron Isnard, wlio is tlie last of his direct de-
scendants, is childless. Madame de Navailles {nee Cabris)
has left no heirs, and tlie race of Mirabeau (if we exclude
the illegitimate son of the orator who bears the name
of Montigny) is now represented only by two grandsons
of his brother the vicomte, known as ' le Tonneau.'
CHAPTER VII.
VENCE.
' CJrasse profondera,
Nice joncheres sera,
Antibes bombardera,
Vence, Vence sera !
Et donnera du vin
A qui n'en aura pas.' — Vide NOSTRADAMUS.
* Cette villa a traverse les Ages sans rien perdre de son antique physionomie.
Elle conserve encore son ancienne enceinte, ses tours, ses portes arquees, ses
vieilles inscriptions, ses rues etroites. Sa cathedrale est batie sur le temple de
Mars et de Cybele.'— TiSSEEAND.
'Provence, antique patrie de ces libertes de la commune, fille.s de Grece et
de Rome, assises de temps immemorial sur une large base.' — Ct. Alexandre
DE St.-PeIEST.
Of all the towns of the Maritime Alps, Vence is the one
which possesses the richest Church history. Four sees
originally divided the coast — Nice, Antibes, Vence, and
Frejus — and for the second of these Grasse was only
substituted because the assaults of pirates laid Antibes
open to constant dangers of sacrilege and ruin. Of
the four, Mce and Frejus have alone survived, but the
records of the two suppressed bishoprics are rich in
local interest, and in pictures of local manners. This
country under the hills is that of Audimus, of St.
Veran, and of St. Lambert ; it sent canons and cajnscok
to many Chapters, and it still venerates the memory of
several learned and saintly men.
Provence was early Christianised. Legends tell
I02 THE MARITIME ALPS.
liow. ill A.I). o7, a coloiiy of saints drifted to tlie headi
of Maquelonue. And wliat saints! — Mary and Martlui
and their liandmaid Marcella : while following them
ranie Victor, ' tlio man who was born blind,' and Maxi-
mian, and Lazarus, ' wakened from Ids four da3"s' sleep,
eiiduj'ing life again,' so as lie might present the truths of
immortality to the heathen, weighted with such a testi-
mony to tlie Life Everlasting as never earthly preacher
has had at his command. The legend of St. Mary
Magdalen in the Sainte Baume is the best known and best
loved page in the hagiology of Provence, and Correggio
lias sliown her to us, half hidden by her liair, wearing
out in a cavern tlie close of her remorsefnl day, with
no shelter but its rocks, and no couch but its stones.
This story, with that of the foundation of Les Baux by
the Three Kings, forms, so to speak, the miraculous
genealogy of the Church in Provence, though we liardly
touch the terra firma of reality when we come to the
mission of St. Barnabe, in the district between the
Ehone and the Var. He is said to liave suffered in the
reign of Nero. This herald saint is now only the patron
of the poor, little parisli of Coursegoules, but his fine, old,
Christian name of Barnabe, still lingering in genidne Pro-
vencal circles, has contrived to outlive the Eaymonds
and Ilelions of the feudal age, and even to hold its own
along with Numa and Marius, as brought into fashion
by the Eevolution.
The precise date of the evangelisation of Yence has
never been fixed. The town lying at some distance
above the Aurelian road liad long been a favourite
si i-(iiigli()ki and an enlrenclied canij) of tlie native tribes.
FENCE. I03
Eoman patricians and priests came to people it, and
incense was burning liere to Mars and to Cybele, wlien a
Christian teacher, who had turned his footstejDs north-
ward, discovered that its citizens were ' too much given
to idolatry.' Whether St. Trophimus was that Christian
teacher is uncertain, hut lie enjoys the reputation of
having first placed a jxistor in Yence (a.d. 161-180).
The martrydom of St. Bassus, first bishop of Nice, took
place A.D. 250, and that of St. Pons, still commemo-
rated in the valley of the Paillon, occurred about a.d. 260.
But Christianity had by this time taken a firm root in
the country, and during the episcopate of Audimus of
Vence there was already a sacred edifice in the town,
under every cohimn of which the builders had buried
the image of some false and fallen god. What was so
well begun Avent on equally well, the ecclesiastical
annals of Vence remaining both rich and consecutive ;
and this mainly because its sheltered position preserved
it from many of the blows aimed at Nice and Antibes
by the barbarians who overran the country.
St. Yeran was the greatest of all the early prelates
of the see. He w^as the son of one of the pupils of
Honoratus, and his own life was like that of Chaucer's
ideal parson : —
By many followed, and admired by all :
(Such was the Saint, who strove with every grace,
Reflecting, Moses-like, his Master's face :
In him courage and learning met, and they glorified life
under the harsh reign of Genseric. At this early stage
of the world's experience to found a religious house for
study, prayer, and culture, was to perform the highest
I04 THE MARITIME ALPS.
act, of Christian foretliought aiid usefulness. It is not
surprising therefore to find St. Yeran building a convent
near tlie preseut bridge at tlie mouth of the Loup. The
mills of La Dorado which now occupy its site are chiefly-
built over its foundations, and it is not possible to ascer-
tain wliat were tlie original proportions of the religious
liouse wliose bells, sounding to matins and to evensong,
first woke the echoes of this wooded shore. The career
of its monks liad to be at once that of men of the
altar, and of men of the plough, but the secular clergy-
were soon to give to Vence another great example of
Christian virtue, wisdom, and grace. St. Lambert's
luime is still venerated in Vence. He lived there in
such poverty, and W'ith such evangelical simplicity, that
his goodness became a proverb, and, till tlie Eevolu-
tion, miracles were said to be worked by his bones.
His era w^as that of the introduction of the Templars
into Provence, soon after their foundation in 1118. It
Ax'as the age in Avliich the Church not only levied the
dhne grosse and the dhne memie, the droits de paree, the
droits de premice, and the droits d'autel, but when it
possessed also the monopoly of ideas. It could give its
visa to one page and fix its brand on another, but it was
fortunately represented here by a bishop like St. Lam-
bert, ready to tend the lepei", to cultivate the glebe, and
to keep in his diocese, with tender human care, the great
liook of liuman life for peasants whose lot united the
extremity of hard usage to the extremity of hard woi-k.
Vence flourished : for its burghers had begun to grow
rich, and to boast of ihcir charters. But life here and
at Tourrctes was soniclhinu- of a struifi>'le for cazlans
VENCE. 1 05
and poor folk. Besides the trelzihne du roi, wliicli
was indirectly levied (the assessments being reckoned on
so inciuj feiLV to each district of the vu/uerie), there was
also the fonrteenth of the fruit demanded by their lords
the Villeneuves, suzerains who also asked for a twenty-
fifth of the flax, and for one pig out of every two —
an exaction very hard for the owner of a pig-sty to
bear, even when there were no hailstorms to spoil the
grapes, and when the galleys of the Barbary pirates
were far. The Great Plague, in the time of good King
Eene, was a terrible epoch here, so terrible that Raphael
Mosso, the then Bishop of Yence, had to import Pisan
colonists to till the valley of the Var. In that way only
conld a new industrial life be infused into the desolated
region.
Provence had as we know many civil wars and
many changes of dynasty, but in the towns there lived
on a succession of burgher families, always ready to
assert themselves, and to render their consuls par la
grace de Dieu more independent. ' These magistrates
WTre,' says Sismondi, ' the chiefs of a people who de-
manded only bread, arms, and walls. Every city felt it
had strength only in proportion to the number of its
citizens, and each vied with its neighbour in efforts to
augment the means of defence. The smaller towns imi-
tated the greater. . . . Cities and towns, the first ele-
ments in some sort of what forms a nation, arose and
defended themselves.' Archasologically considered, their
history is a curious study, and for Frenchmen it has ac-
quired a more than merely antiquarian interest, since, in
March 1871, their sympathies were divided between a
io6 THE MARITIME AIPS.
representative goveriiinent iiiultM' one head, and tlie
claims of tlie modern Connnune. M. de Portalis used to
say tliat he considered the government of Provence, with
its Governor, its tAventy-two inijueries, and its many com-
munes, as the beau ideal of all methods for developing
self-government witliout quashing patriotism, for assur-
ing liberty Avitliout giving a door to licence. But the
great and essential difference between the consular cities
of the middle ages and the modern Commune is, that the
latter is a principle of disintegration, while the former
was, especially here in Provence,, the base of a great
social edifice. Cluseret, when he conceived of France as
of a vast federation of united communes, lost sight of the
fact that the old consular city represented the capability,
the wealth, and the experience of the liaute bourgeoisie.
Nothing could l)e more unlike it than the fool-fury of his
democratic mob, which had for its leaders, not the best,
l)ut the least educated citizens, not the owners of pro-
perty, l)nt all the dreamers and all the jail-birds.
The old oi'ganisation had for its skeleton the municipal
law of the old liomau world : it ])rovided that the three
orders of men who have a majority of interests in com-
mon should be represented, and its watchword was pre-
servation. Such was the construction on which Proven(;;al
society was intended to repose, and tlie ' Statuts de
Frejus,' as drawn up by Pomeede Villeneuve, let us into
the smallest details of its mechanism. It was only when
an unequal representation, with arbitrar}^ taxation and
clerical tyranu}^, had disordered its balance and cumbered
its working, that the aristocracy, like the Church, became
iinj)oj)ular, and that revolution was brought to the door.
VENCE. 107
Montesqiiieii said ot" feudalism that ' it ])roduces
order, with a tendency to anarchy,' and it is lucky that
feudalism in France so early found a counterpoise in tlie
growth of the municipality. Useful history may be said
to begin with that of tlie communes. In the eleventh
century we find them in Provence assuming coats-of-
arms, and in the twelfth demanding greater liberties from
barons who had enrolled themselves as Crusaders. The
consuls found that an excellent occasion for enlarging
tlieir borders, and groups of small republics soon
covered the south of France. At the best, of course,
tlie}^ were not really free ; they were too often like tlie
creature tliat had ' ower moiiy maisters ' — as, for example,
in Marseilles, where one division held under tlie bisliop,
another under the abbot of St. Victor, and a third
from the Yicomte, who in his turn held from the Count
of Provence, who owed obedience in part to t]ie French
king, but ultimately to the Emperor.
If tlie magistrates of a town could free tliemselves
so far as to achieve self-government, they called their
chief magistrates consuls par la grace de Dieu. The
office was not for life, but if a consul died in office liis
funeral was paid for by the town. A consul of Grasse
once declared war with the Pisans, a consul of Antibes
promised galleys to the king of Aragon, and all this
w^ithout consulting their neighbours ; but in general
tlieir business was self-defence, whether in watching local
interests too niucli at the mercy of the viguier and of the
juge clu rag, or in providing for their poor. ' A lively
pride,' says M. Seranon, ' in their condition was de-
veloped in the townsfolk. Tlie citizens placed their
io8 THE MARITIME ALPS.
wliole aflectioii in their coiriiiiiiiic, aiul were ])r()ii(l of
the position whicli they held, and of tlie name given to
their little kaU.' The policy of the sovereign was, as a
rule, favourable to these municipalities, and many of
tliem got leave, as bonnes villes, to quarter the Jleur de
/i/s, and to send their mayors to assist at the coronation
at Rheims. Aix and Antibes had this honour. Cannes,
Mougins, and Vallauris, on tlie other hand, wore the
pahn-brancli of their patron Honoratus : all these places
holding from the chapter of the Lerins. Biot placed a
Maltese cross to mark her tie to the Hospital, while
Marseilles, Toulon, Antibes, and Frejus had a right to
quarter the Crusaders' cross. Vence, if she made no
such boast, was ])roud of her charters and her archives,
of the liberties of her ' consuls, manants, et habitants,'
as she had also good cause to be of the develo])ment of
her social life.
The spirit of the Eenaissance as felt in Vence showed
itself in the bias of the townsfolk towards figurative art.
The chapels and altars of Grasse and Vence are interest-
ing — indeed, I remember a. picture in a little cell-like
cha])el jnst outside Biot that touclied me extremely by
its Perugino-like tenderness, by the grace of that indi-
genous art which sprang up here as it did in the Tuscan
towns. That art, identical with the growth of the
commune, bears comparison with the Jirt-life of the
smaller Italian ]'e[)nblics. By it the churches were
beautified ; we hear of pubHc lectures on Virgil, of
Minorites who drew crowds to their sermons, of portions
made for young girls, and of ])erpetual olyifs foi- the
kindly souls uf c()nsuls and canons who while they lived
VENCE. 109
certainly deserved well of their neighbours. Life went
on ' rondement, na'ivement, a la vieille Frajiqaise, avec
liberie et bonne foy^ for patriotism is attracted, not
merely to the natal soil, bnt to the institutions and the
customs which exist. The inventories of Vence remain,
and they have preserved to us the names of Bellot the
sculptor, of Clerici the painter, of Giuliani the organ-
builder, of Bonetta the architect, and finally of the
Canamisi. They w^ere a fiimily of local artists, decora-
tors of the chapels and altars ; many of their pictures re-
main to this day, and it is pleasant to find that they were
well paid for the trophies and shields which were ordered
from them, and which they executed before Francis I.
and his train were received at Yilleneuve-Loubet.
The episcopates of Simian and of Grimaldi, the
two bishops w^ho preceded the reformed movement in
Vence, w^ere by no means rife in local scandals, but the
times were evil, and the great offices all in commende.
Christianity had gone through a series of sad and hu-
miliating developments, and along with the sale of in-
dulgences there was a noticeable lack of personal holi-
ness in the Chapters. Reforms were called for, yet the
Reformation in the Maritime Alps had rather a political
than a theological importance, which, after the con-
spiracy of Amboise (1560), it assumed, to say the truth,
all over France. In this way society was effectually
stirred by it, and the question of moral and ecclesiastical
reform was pressed on the notice of some men who
might otherwise have missed its importance. The culture
of the Renaissance, in Avhich Provence participated
fully, had already been tried, but it had been essentially
no THE MARITIME ALPS.
waiitiiiL!" ill llio liiijlicr tones of morality. It liad too
little of that spiritual earnestness hy wliidi alone men's
lives are lifted beyond sensuous things, nor liad
political energy gained much from its luxurious charms.
Only the intellectual liglit it liad brought prepared men
for freedom of inquiry, and then the study of Scripture
acted as a moral stimulant to Huguenot scholars, theo-
logians, statesmen, and captains.
The wars called ' of religion,' which trained many a
good soldier, agitated France from 1502 to 1-398.
Yence first received specific orders about lier
Huguenot congresations in 1560. Louis de Beuil de
Grimaldi was then in possession of the see, and the castle
of Villeneuve-Loubet belonged to a Lascaris, Comte de
Tende. As the despot there was uncle to the bishop, and
as the chapter of Yence consisted of a Du Port and a De
Hondis, cadets of the noblest families of St. Paul-du-Yar,
it was evident that the issue of any conflict with the
Calvinists Avould turn here on local interests. The bishoj)
took u]) tlie (jiiestion waniily, and when summoned to
attend the Council of Trent lie excused himself, on the
Sjround of tlie troubles which ' tlie new religion ' daily
evoked in Provence. Three liundred men were raised
to deal witli them, but the temper of the Yenrois rose
also, and in 1-302 ' armed bands of vagabonds and
seditious men' met in many ])laces. Kene de CVpieres
collected forty liorsemcii in Nice to (h'feiid his co-
religionists, St. Jeannet declared for tlie reformed laith,
and the Governor of Yence, who sided with Bishoj)
(irimaldi, could only forbid ' any citizen to lodge or
conceal a Huguenot, in any house, gdrden, or vineyard."
VENCE.
Domiciliary visits took place, and thirty luiines were
posted ' as absentees for the sake of the new tenets.'
The peace of 1562, actually secured to the Huguenots
the right of holding as-
semblies outside the city
walls, and it is to this re-
gulation that Vence owes
her Hue des Huguenots,
wliich may be seen to
this day. But 15G7 was
anotlier very troublous
year, and troops were
posted on every direction,
from Sisteron, on the Du-
rance, to the fords of the
Var — even in tlie little
eyrie of Gourdon on the
Loup — with orders to
watch the movements of
the reformed party.
The Calvinists in Sos-
pello w^ere very hardly
dealt with ; but it was
lucky for the Calvinists
that Lascaris, who repre-
sented the royal, Catliolic,
and tlierefore the perse-
cuting element in Maritime Provence, was not a blind
zealot. He Avas in many ways superior to the Court
party, so much so that he refused to execute the royal
orders for any massacre of the Calvinists consequent
GOURDON ON THE LOUP.
112 THE MARITIME ALPS.
on the success of the o-reat attack made on llieni in Paris
on the eve of St. Bartholomew. Christopher de Ville-
neuve sliared his determination to be no party to sucli
measures, and accordingly all remained quiet within their
jurisdiction. Lascaris died as the fourth war of religion
broke out in 1572. His family, like so many others of tlie
demoralised and des])otic grandees of tluit epoch, had a
tendency to degeneration, and liis inheritance passed into
tlie hands of an only daughter, Ilenriette de Lascaris,
the wife of the most celebrated Leaguer, the duke de
Mayenne, became mistress of Villeneuve-Loubet at a
moment when her native district was the scene of grave
])oUtical difficulties. And tliat time is always rife in
private grudges and local quarrels. Just such a bitter
feud was tlie one wliich now distracted Provence. Car-
cistes fought witli Pazats : and men who cared personally
little for either c^reed or catechism threw themselves into
the local quarrel. Blood w^as slied, till the Carcistes,
having had the l)est of it, wrung from the Parhament of
Aix terrible sentences against their o})ponenls, as ' raisers
of illicit assemblies.' Accusations of magic, of idolatry,
and of treason were freely interchanged, as freely as
they had been during the great trial of the Tenq:)lars,
and Catherine de Medicis had to go to Aix in ])ersoii
before a peace could be patched up between country
neighbours and relations much too nearly connected
to lay aside their jealousies so long as any cloak of
public interest could be flung over them.
Tlien the plague appeared in Vence. Butchers and
leakers' shops were shut, and the bishop had to migrate
to St. Paul-du-Var, Avhere it had not yet made itself
VENCE. 1,3
iclt. In fjxct the condition of Vence was so deplorable
that it was difficult to conceive how even the Leag:uers
could add niucli to its miseiy. But now appeared upon
the scene the greatest of all the Huguenot captains, the
young, the invincible Lesdiguieres — the friend of Conde
and of Henri IV., the terror of the Due de Mayenne —
flushed with recent victory, and marching eastwards
upon Vence.
What were the Ven^ois to do ? The Leaguers, com-
manded by the Baron de Vins, levied troops it was true for
the Catholic cause, but to join Lesdiguieres there hurried
all the Calvinists of a disaffected district. How divided
the great families were will be seen when we notice that
with the Huguenot captain there went the Counts of
Villeneuve- Vence, Villeneu ve-Tourretes, and Villeneuve-
St.-Cesaire, the d'Oraison, Forbin-Janson, Monclerc,
Eevest, Montaud, Canaux, Grasse-du-Bar, Villeneuve-
les-Arcs, Villeneuve-Greolieres, Villeneu ve-Vaucluse,
Grasse-Montaroux, and Grasse-Calian. This might seem
to represent, even to exhaust, the local families : but not
at all : for ranged under the banner of the Baron de
Vins were the houses of Villeneu ve-Trans, Villeneuve- la-
Berhere, Villeneuve-Thorenc, Villeneuve-St.-Jeannet, De
Ponteves, Besaudun, La Palud, La Molle, the Forbin-
Sollies from near Hj^eres, the La Verdiere from a glen
behind Castellanc, the formidable Carces, the lords of St.
Andre and of La Roquette, with the D'Agoult, and their
kinsman the Comte de Sault. Th.e whole country from
Aix to Brignolles was in the hands of the Leaguers,
and Vence bristled with troops, when the news reached
Maritime Provence of the murder of Henri HI.
I
114 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Thence arose a inoineiitary hope of peace, tlie more
flatterii^u- tliat De Viiis had fallen before Grasse, and that
the Bishop of Yence was dead ; but tlie Leaguers, rather
tlian acknowledge the white p]ume of Navarre, promptly
oilered Provence to Charles-Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy.
Two thousand Italian troops soon heralded on the frontier
the coming of this candidate, and so unpatriotic were the
Leaguers that the Piedmontese stranger was everywhere
well received. It must be said that as far as the consuls
of Vence were concerned they at least were very help-
less either to choose or to refuse him, and that the only
observation they had to make to their new and foreign
ruler was ' that there was now nothing left to feed the
poor.' While they were thus asking for bread, and
wliile Charles-Emmanuel pressed on to Aix, as to the'
capital of his new principality, Lesdiguieres swept down
from the valley of the Durance, and, passing rapidly
through the Esterels, divided the Duke of Savoy from
liis adherents on the Var. In vain did the Leaguers pe-
tition tlieir nominee to retrace his steps from Aix : Les-
diguieres cut liim oir, and in June (lo8l^) he appeared
before tlie walls of Yence.
Tlie great Huguenot captain had the reputation of
being invincible, and the Yenyois had every reason to
fear the worst at his hands. No very clear account has
ever been given of why this terrible soldier either
received, or appeared to have received, aclieck before a
place where he certainly lost a great nmnber of men.
He raised the siege, retired beyond the Esterels, and
desired the Comte de Grasse to hold Antibes for Henri
lY. In this repulse and deliverance the Catholic party
VENCE. 115
discerned a miracle, worked for llieiii, as tliey believed,
by the ])rayers of the Capiscol of their Cathedral, and
b}^ the ]-elics of those famous saints of Vence, St. Veran
and St. Lambert. The real explanation of Lesdiguieres'
change of front was probably to be found in that general
movement in favour of Henri IV, which convinced the
Duke of Savoy that in Provence he was only playing
a losing game. The country had become essentially
French, and it meant to continue so ; thug Avhen Charles-
Emmanuel retired to Turin, Vence made her submission
to the Bearnois. Grasse got a new charter from him,
and Maritime Provence settled down to her duty under
the heir of that Antoine de Bourbon who had once
spent three weeks of summer with Francis I. at Ville-
neuve-Loubet. Many of the Huguenot leaders followed
the example of the king when he joined the Church of
Eome. Lesdiguieres did not do so till 1622, but
Scipion de Villeneuve and the lord of Tourretes con-
formed at once : Carcistes and Eazats shook hands, and
marriages took place between families which had quite
recently been ranged against each other in battle.
A Catholic revival now took place. A great deal
of new life was certainly infused into the Chnrch by
the efforts of St. Francis of Sales, but royal favour is a
powerful stimulant, and a strong monarchy gradually
gave its tone even to districts which like Vence
had once ^ been leavened with Protestant principles.
' At this moment the Protestants of the districts of Vence, La
Gaude, Cagnes, Gattieres, and Carroz, number about fifty persons.
The "pastPAirs of Cannes, Nice, and Mentone collect subscriptions for
the work of their missions throughout the canton of Yence.
I 2
ii6 THE .}rAR/TnrE ALPS.
In the reign of Louis XIII. tlie cities and villages of
France were \mi nnder the protection of the Virgin ;^
most of the little statuettes of the Mother and Child
on the walls and gatewaj^s of Provencal towns date from
his reign, and districts which had before possessed only-
some local or distinctive appellation began, from the
building of some new chapel, to be called of ' St. Pierre,'
of ' Ste. Helene,' or the like.
Where Catholicism was so dominant, it w^as fortunate
for the Ven^ois that the bishop's throne was con-
stantly filled by men of great merit. Pierre de Vair, a
prudent and conciliatory prelate, brought back to the
Church most of the influential burghers Avho had left
her pale, Avhile Antoine Godeau would almost require
a volume to do justice to his great acquirements. Born
in 1G05, his life was full of incidents and full of study ;
' the people,' said Dom l)onaventure d'Argonne, ' loved
him as a pastor and a father, Rome esteemed him, the
Court distinguished him, theologians listened to him, and
everybody read his books.' The last sentence has ceased
to be true, for of many of them the themes no longer
interest us, and the taste of tlie })resent generation,
formed as it is on the prose of Chateaubriand, of George
Sand, and of Maxime du Camp, or on the poetry of De
Musset and the songs of Beranger, no longer appreciates
the taste of the Hotel Rambouillet. It was there, and
at Madame de Montausier's feet, that Godeau fashioned
himself. Petted by a circle which called him ' .lulie's
dwarf,' his good sense and his great parts attracted
the notice of Pierre do Vair, tlie aged Bisho]^ of Vence,
' August 1.^ 16.38.
VENCE. 1 1 7
wlio, in (lying, expressed liis wisli to have Antoine Godeau
for his successor. One of the twelve original founders
of the Academic Fran^'aise (1634), and one of tlie
forty of whom that learned body was composed (1635),
Godeau had waited to be thirty years of age before
taking Holy Orders. His tastes up to tliat time might
have been called frivolous rather than serious, and his
admiration for the beautiful, red-haired Mademoiselle
Paulet, which continued to his death, made his friends
suppose that his thoughts would hardly turn towards
theological studies, or to a pulpit out of Paris. But
his letters at the time of his consecration betray a
deep sense of the solemn duty he was about to take
on himself, and Richelieu showed his usual insight
into character when he named this idol of the Hotel
Rambouillet to the see of Grasse (1636). Godeau said
of his charge that he should find more thorns there than
orange-blossoms, and so it proved, though his entry
into Grasse, in 1637, was a sort of triumph. He found
a war going on with the Spaniards, cannon thundering
on the Lerin islands, and the funds of the commune
exhausted. Worse than this, Antibes, as a nest of Cal-
vinists, defied all ecclesiastical authority, and in 1644, in
spite of the complaints and resistance of both their
Chapters, the dioceses of Grasse and Yence were united
under his charge. When united, they consisted of fifty-
two parishes, and their cathedrals were separated by
only three leagues of romantic, hilly territory. Godeau
dared not show himself in Vence : he was stoned, and
the very Marquis de Villeneuve, co-seigneur of Vence
with himself, treated him with marked incivility. The
ii8 THE MARITIME ALPS.
bishop, tliougli always temperate and patient, was the
first to perceive that liis position was untenable, and
to advise the king to withdraw tlie decree by which the
union of the sees had been effected. He was allowed to
take liis choice, and, in spite of the rougli reception he
liad met there, he selected Vence to be his own portion,
leaving Avhat he called ' la cjueuse parfumee,' Grasse, to
another suitor, and another master.
Here under the hills he continued to live and work.
Nor was he forgotten. We find him summoned to preach
at Aix before the king, the queen-mother, Conde, and
Cardinal Mazarin. His last years were agitated by the
local quarrels of the Ven^ois with the Yilleneuves, as
well as by the Jansenist controversy. Like his munificent
neighbour, Monseigneur Mesgrigny of Grasse, Godeau
adopted a strictly orthodox view of this dispute. He
(iondemned the propositions of Jansenius, traced a splen-
did sketch of the connection between the Church and
the State, built a seminary, and published a commen-
tary on the Xew Testament, wliich has been favourably
noticed even by Protestant writers. Godeau had now
only four years to live, and his eyesight was affected,
but it is pleasant to find him surrounded by the good
wishes and sympathies of many of the best men and
women in France. Madame de Grignan came to visit
him before his death, to talk to him about her mother,
and to remind him how he had known her predecessor,
that first wife of the Governor of Provence who was
a daughter of the house of lianibouillet. At length came
tlie Passion Week of 1672, and Godeau, full of years
and labour, was sin«j'iu<r the Tenebrw before the altar
VENCE. 119
of his cathedral of Vence. The last candles were nearly
extinguished when tlie bishop fell, stricken with apo-
plexy, and so passed, to where, ' l^ej^ond these voices,
there is peace.'
Snrian w^as a man of a totally different type. He
was a shepherd-boy, Avho had tended his flocks among
tlie heaths of Provence, who had never seen Paris,
or lieard of tlie wits of tlie Hotel Ptambouillet. He
ran away with thirty-five sous in his pocket, applied to
the Oratorians for help and teaching, and so impressed
them with his talents that tliey educated him with a
care to be amply rewarded by his subsequent success.
Surian, who has been called the Massillon of the south,
was made bishop of Vence in 1727. He lived with great
frugality and economy, but saw many evil days when
Croat regiments devastated the country, and while the
old internecine strife went on in the town between the
VenQois and the Villeneuves. Bitter as that quarrel had
always been, the eighteenth century was aware of nn
increasing tension in the popular feeling against the
nobles — an aristocracy which lived exclusively in Paris,
whicli made debts there, and which had nothing to com-
mend it or its exactions to the poorer neighbours who
had to pay all the taxes. ' Honour and arms,' might still
be the watchword of the nobihty, but luxury and want
now went side by side in many a chateau, where empty
coffers and unpaid bills, splendid arms and torn, dirty
linen, long pedigrees and heavy mortgages, were to be
found in unhealthy proximity. Society seemed worn
out ; there was a want of careers and occupations for
young minds, the tiers ctat was crippled by unfair
I20 THE MARITIME ALPS.
restrictions, the different ordei-s of men seenied to
stand in eacli other's way, or to have only opposing
interests ; there was a liollow-eyed and scantily-fed
peasantry ; there were scholars averse to recognise in
the Church any claim to regulate the actions or beliefs
of cultivated and responsible beings ; there were cour-
tiers satisfied Avith the delights of tyranny and lascivious-
ness ; there was a spirit of discontent begetting in men
what Plato called ' uncertain and unfaitliful ways ' —
under tliis clouded and threatening sky the gentle
Surian died.
The see Avas then given to Charles Pisani (of La
Gaude), and over his devoted head the tliunder broke.
He was a good, simple-hearted man, wlio did his utmost
during the three years of famine which preceded the
outbreak of the Eevolution. But revolutions are not to
be stemmed by some loaves of bread, or even by a few
kind words. Pisani, though humble, was courageous.
He reminded the malcontents of tlie debt whicli liu-
manity owed in southern France to a Churcli tliat had
existed before the State. But lie could not obtain a
hearing, and, after the death of Mirabeau, Pisani had to
give up any hope of the return of order in his diocese.
Already Monseigneur Boisgelin, the Archbishop of Aix,
and the Bishop of Toulon luid left tlieir posts, and now,
in his turn, Charles Pisani formed ]^art of that great
emigration of about four thousand priests, who fled
from France, to avoid the liated Oath, deatli on the
scaffold, or the bloodshed of tlie streets of Paris.
The see of Vence lias never been restored. The
VilleneuveSj who emigrated wlien the bishop did,
VENCE. 12 1
though the}' afterwards returned to the district, have
since sold the last yard of tlieir territory, and the
old jealousy between the castle, the Chapter, and the
bourgeoisie is now at rest for ever.
Vence is a very quiet, dreamy place. No one would
believe that the regiments of Cliarles V. once bivouacked
in its square, that the bold Lesdigiiieres had to raise
the sie^e laid to her i^ates, or that Massena drilled in
her streets soldiers who were to go out and conquer
the world. Vence now grows violets for tlie perfume
factories, and the dust has gathered deep above the
tombs of her bishops, as over the bones of her saints.
THK MARITIME ALPS.
CHAPTER YIII.
THE rnvrii about the man in the iron mask.
'Jl faudra qi;e personne ne sache ce que cet homme sera devenu.' —
Louis XIV.
' Toutes les conjectures faites jusqu'alors sur co prisonnier sont fausses.'
— Louis XV. Au Due de Choiseul.
' Quand on a envoj'e ce pris-^nnier a Sainte-Marguerite, il n'a dispavu de
TEurope aucnn personnage important.' — Voltaire.
I.v tlie bay of Cannes, and distant only 1,400 metres
from the point of tlie Croisette, lies the island of Ste.-
Margiierite, famous for the State prisons built uj)on its
northern face. The view from the flaostafi' of tlie
fortress, over the towns of Cannes and Cannet, is
as sunny and varied as the place itself is melancholy.
The one is a magnificent panorama of light, life, and
industry, bathed in glowing sunshine ; tlie other is made
up of sombre rooms, whitewashed walls, and sliabby
grass-grown courts. Only the steep, paved road whicli
leads up from the Admiralty Pier to Vauban's gate-
way is picturesque ; but soldiers and prisoners alike
look bored, and those are the only pleasant days in llie
week when they are allowed to go over to Cannes to
bu}" tlie necessary stores.
Ill tlie spring of 1687 (as nearly as can be two
liuiidred years ago), tliis island, with its so-called castle,
awoke to a state of unusual excitement. Yet no foreign
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 123
galley was beached to-day on the Tradeliere reef, as in
the storm that drove Charles V. ashore ; neither was
there a Spanish fleet hovering round, as in 1636 ; nor yet
did any Barbary corsairs sweep the seas, intent on sack-
ing the monastery, and on carrying off' the Church plate
of the seven chapels on the Lerins. Workmen, however,
moved hither and thither, boats laden with stones and
beams lay at the little quay, and tubs of mortar stood
in the court beneath the flagstaff. Mass had ceased to
l)e said in the old chapel because a new one was being
arranged, and it was even reported that the roof of the
governor's house was about to be raised a story.
What food for conjecture was here ! And the reasons
assigned for so much activity were even more delight-
ful ! Not only was a new governor coming to reside
on Ste. -Marguerite, but he was ascertained to be already
in correspondence with M. de Grignan, the Governor of
Provence, about the guns of a fortress, where it would
be his business for the future to guard a prisoner of
rare importance. For more than two months did the
workmen labour, and the Abbot of the Lerins soon
learnt /(9r a fact that the new prison on the neighbour-
ing island was complete, that it had a grated window
and a vaulted corridor, with a chapel that might be
reached without crossing the open court. It wanted
nothing but a prisoner ! Speculations were accordingly
rife about the keeper and his charge.
Benigne d'Auvergne, Comte de Saint-Mars, hailli
and governor of Sens, and somewhile governor of the
State prisons of Pignerol and Exilles, was known to
be a favourite at Court, and to have enjoyed rapid
124 THE MARITIME ALPS.
])rt)iiK)tioii since, as an enfant de troupe., lie entered the
arniy in 1G38. lie was now a trusted tool of tlie
]\iinister of War, and to liini as sucli Louvois liad
already committed various responsible charges. Fou-
quet had lived m his keeping at Pignerol, and from
Matliioli he had only parted when, in 1681, he exchanged
tliat fortress for the more remote castle of Exilles.
Named governor of Ste. -Marguerite, Saint-Mars had
once already inspected his island residence, but as he
was ill during his short sojourn there, he had been but
little seen, and expectation now stood on tiptoe as the
spring days lengthened and as his advent came daily
nearer. The gossips of Cannes knew that he was mar-
ried, and they were prepared to congratulate his wife
on exchanmnu!; the storms and orUiciers of rockbound
Exilles for this ' rosette of the sea.' Here was a genial
climate and a choice of neighbours, for to say nothing of
the Prior and his monks on St. Honorat, Antibes and
Toulon had garrisons of troops, and every now and again
a galley of Malta would pass, with no wind to fill her
sails. All this was true ; yet Madame de Saint-Mars,
fortunate though she misfht be deemed, knew from
experience that the place of a jailer's wife, as understood
by Louvois and as practised by Saint-Mars, was not a
cheerful one, and possibly she had no illusions about
the island castle which she was about to inhabit.
Late in A})ril, and when the road by Embrun was
open and possible for her litter, the governor started
from Exilles. He brought with him his wife, his family,
his baggage, his company and its lieutenants, his servant
Eu, and a ' mashed pnisonei^' whom eight Piedmontese
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 125
carried every league of tlie way in a covered chair.
The jailer and his train must have been glad when
Grasse was readied. Winter and rough weather had
been left behind tliem in the long zigzags by which they
crossed into Provence, and now they marclied easily
down the sunny slopes by Mougins and Cannet to
the coast. Cannes they entered by the old Cannet
road, just where the present railway station stands.
Then, indeed, the hadauds noted Avitli joy tliat Saint-
Mars (a little, ugly man, near-siglited, bent almost
double, and walking with a furtive step) was the very
picture of a jailer, and that he really had brought with
him a mysterious prisoner, over wliose chair a frame was
fitted covered witli oilclotli. Watertight this cover was,
but surely also most oppressively hot in the rays of an
April sun. No one saw that prisoner's face, and no one
heard the sound of his voice. A boat was waiting ;
the governor stepped on board, and the boat, pushing
off without dela}^ carried over to the island prison the
man to be known to Louvois and his satellite as ' le
prisonnier de Provence^' but to be called by tlie world
during two hundred years, ' the Man in the Iron Mask.'
Whoever the victim might be, he was exhausted by
the journey. Years ago he had been a restless and im-
patient captive, given to tears and rebellion, but blows
and stripes had not been spared, and now, not daring
to complain either of the oilcloth-cover of liis chair, or
of the mask of black velvet which he wore, he did
none tlie less, on arriving at the island, fall sick and
keep liis bed. Ilis cell was spacious enough. Saint-
Mars boasted to Louvois that in all Europe there was
126 THE MARITIME AIPS.
nothing to compare to its tliick A\"alls, tri})le iron
gratings, and corridor where the prisoner might take
exercise without being seen. There were a few prisoners
ah'eady in the fortress : insignificant Huguenot pastors,
Avho sang hymns to the sea waves, and were beaten for
doing so, but there was nothing in their case to divert
pubhc attention from the ' masked prisoner.' No human
being, liis jailer reported, had set eyes on him during the
journey southwards. ' All along our route (owing to
the way in which I concealed him) people did seek to
know who my prisoner might be. They all declare here
that he is either M. de Beaumont, or a son of Cromw^ell.'
For nearly two hundred years has the w^orld, like the
gossips of Grasse and of Embrun, tried to guess who
the masked prisoner might be ? Voltaire Avas the first
to draw public attention to the romantic tale of a
princely person, whom as ' the Man in the Iron Mask ' he
has rendei'ed famous. All through the eighteenth cen-
tury the legend grew. First one hypothesis was started,
and then another, till at length nothing was felt to be
too wonderfid, or chimerical, to be put forward as the
explanation (?) of the misfortunes and mystery of ' the
Man in the Iron Mask.' This was sure to be the case
in the eighteenth century. History then consisted of the
repetition of certain conventional facts, and no light was
suffered to be thi'own upon the arbitrary measures or
upon the telltale record-offices of absolute kings and their
irresponsible ministers. If any man got into disgrace
and so found his Avay to a prison, or into one of its
Dtibliettes^ so much the worse for liim. No questions
were asked about his fate, and any reversal of his sen-
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 127
tence was hopeless. Private influence of course might
be brought to bear, but as often as not it happened
that men in disgrace had no friends, and prisoners out
of siglit were so emphatically out of mind that ministers
of state have owned to completely forgetting the name,
as well as the sentence, of some miserable captive grown
grey in the gloom of the Bastille. The State prisons
were full, and popular officers like Saint-Mars found in
their charges a means of economising upon all the allow-
ances, and of thus growing rich through the responsi-
bilities of their position.
Very few facts are known about the man who lived
for thirty years under the safe keeping of Benigne de
Saint-Mars, I will make a memorandum of them here,
collecting them from the letters that passed between
the jailer and the Minister of War. When Voltaire
wrote his brilliant conjectures so many years ago, the
existence of these letters was not suspected. When M.
Topin, only a few years ago, determined to make us
believe that Mathioli had worn the ' mask,' he also
had taken little pains to look for tlie secret where alone
it could be found — viz. in the letters of the period. These
letters exist, in the Archives of War, and in the Archives
of Foreign Affairs.^ We have further tlie diar}^ of
De Jonca, the Lieutenant of the Bastille, and, finally, we
have the extracts from the register of the parish of St.
Paid, long kept in the Archives of the Hotel de Ville
of Paris, and fortunately preserved in print, since the
originals perished during the Commune of 1871.
' The references to them in Jung's volume are exhaustive and
correct.
128 THE MARITIME A IPS.
The facts are as follows : —
The ' Mask ' was a man — that is to say, he was
neither a child, nor a boy, nor a greybeard, when
Loiivois first caught him, and consigned him to Saint-
Mars' care.
The letters of Loiivois first indicate a warrant taken
out against him, with orders to waylay him if possible.
He was actually taken at the fords of Peronne, March
1673, and hurried to the Bastille, where Louvois says
that he saw him. He was then sent off to Pignerol,
and was smuggled after dark into its dungeon on
April 7th, 1673, and then for the first time Saint-Mars
beheld the man of whom Louvois had written to him,
but whose name had never been mentioned in any of
the despatches. The papers belonging to this political
prisoner were also seized near Peronne ; a man of
the name of Nallot bein«; fortunate enough to secure
them for Louvois. Most unluckily, those papers are
now a-missing. Nallot, who seized them, died a fcAv
days after his exploit, and liis death, whether by the
hand of some enraged conspirator, or by the order of
the crafty Louvois, is one of the many enigmas of this
strange affair. Louvois continued to write about the
' Mask,' as ' the man j^-ou know about,' or as ' the pri-
soner of Peronne,' but neither by Louvois, nor by his
father Letellier, nor by his son Barbezieux, was the
name or the Christian name oj this victim ever written.
What Louvois does say about his character is this :
' Though obscure, he was none the less a person of
consequence ; tliat he was a prodigious scoundrel, who,
on a very im])oilaiit matter, had cozened many persons
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 129
of distinction ; ' that he was ' to be liardly treated and
jealously secluded fi'oin every eye ; ' and ' you are to
give him only the things necessary for life, with no
comforts whatever.'
Under this pleasing re</iiiie the 'Mask' began his im-
prisonment. Saint-Mars complied with all the minister's
orders, and sent liim a plan of the tower in which
his enigmatical charge was lodged. We fnid in the
public archives the names of all his other prisoners,
with the record of their arrivals, departures, deaths, or
changes of lodging, nor can there be any dispute about
the governor's own removal from Pignerol, April 1G74,
Avhen appointed to the charge of the fortress of Exilles.
With him there went away only two prisoners, whom
he called his '• cJeiav merles' — a Jacobin friar (arrested for
treason), and the ' Man in the Mask.' Exilles is sitvuited
in a snowy gorge on the north side of the range of
the Mont Cenis, and thei'e jailer and victim continued
for thirteen years to reside, till their removal to Ste.-
Marguerite, via Embrun, Grasse, and Cannes, in 1687.
The ' Mask ' dwelt in his famous ' new prison on the Island '
till the autumn of 1698, when Saint-Mars, having lost
his wife in Provence, gladly accepted the highest promo-
tion that a minister had to give, and went u]) to Paris, to
become Governor of the Bastille. The ' Mask ' travelled
with liim, and ate at the same table, but a loaded pistol
lay beside Saint-Mars' plate. De Jonca, the Lieutenant
of the Bastille, was in waiting to receive them. The
' Mask,' placed for a few nights in a temporary lodging,
was finally incarcerated in the Tour Bertaudiere, and
in a south room. But he had now been a piisoner
K
I30 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Ibr more tluiii a tjuurlcr of u (•eiituiy, lie was no longer
young, the change of chniate tried him, and he fell
sick. Nelaton, a surgeon, says thai he saw liis tongue
and felt his ])ulse, but that he never saw the face of
' le prisonnier de Provence.' He died rather suddenly,
without the last sacraments, just as winter set in,
November 11), 1703. The register of his death is
signed by Eiel, the surgeon of the Bastille, and his
funeral is entered in the parish of St. Paul as that of
' 2L de Marchiely.' The funeral cost forty livres. His
clothes and his mask were burnt, and there, but for the
legends that have grown u]:> about his birth and his
fate, the tale of the ' Man in the Mask ' ought to have
ended, when one more unfortunate went to his death
in the prisons of Louis XIV.
It is not true that his mask was of iron. It was
made of black velvet, but it had a steel spring in it.
It is also a fiction that he wrote his name on a silver
plate and threw that out of his window, to be picked
up by a boatman of Cannes. Saint-Mars' letters show
tlial one of the Huguenot ])astors once wrote on a piece
of pewter and was beaten for doing so, but though the
linen of the 'Mask' was always steeped to prevent
corres})ondence througli the laundress, Saint-Mars never
detected the ' Mask ' in any attempt to use his shirt as
writing-paper. He was over the middle height, tall,
and wxll-nuide, and towards the close of his life he told
tlic governors servant that he was sixty years of age.
He spoke French, but with a Ibreign accent, sang, and
was fond of niti^i<'. There is no trace in all the letters
about him of his ever having been treated as royalty.
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 131
When at Pignerol liis clothes were expected to last fur
three years, and when lie left Exilles his bedding was
reported as only fit to be burnt : indeed there can be
no doubt that Saint -Mars amassed a lai'ge fortune by
stinting those State prisoners for whom the Govern-
ment made him a ver}" liberal allowance. The ' Mask '
belonged to the Church of Eome, confessed, heard Mass,
and communicated at stated times. When first im-
prisoned he Av^as passionate and clamorous, l)ut he found
submission the better policy, and he ended by attaching
to himself both the servant Pai and the lieutenant De
Jonca.
Now that we are in possession of these few facts Ave
shall see how far wide of them j-ange the eleven hypo-
theses about the ' Man in the Iron Mask.' He Avas said
to be — -
1. The Gomte de Vermandois, son of Louis XIV.
and of Louise de la Valliere. His sister, the beautiful
Mademoiselle de Blois, afterAvards Princesse de Conti,
Avas passionately attached to this young soldier, and
her grief kncAv no bounds Avhen he died of tlie smallpox
at Courtrai, on November 18, 1683 ; ' muni de tons les
sacrements de VEglise.'' The ' Mask ' lived twenty years
longer.
2. The Due de Beaufort. This rough and liare-
brained person, though he did give some trouble during
the Fronde, Avas ncA-er anything but, so to speak, the
cloAvn of the Bourbon family, to Avdiich by his illeo-iti-
mate birth he belonged. The fact of his death at
Candia, on board the ' Monarque,' and the succession
of M. d'Yvonne to the post of admiral, are all matters
K 2
132 THE MARITIME ALPS.
of history. As lie was born in 1616, he Avuuld liave
been eighty-seven in tlie year of tlie 'Mask's' deatli.
There is no proof or hint that the ' prisonnler de Pro-
vence' was ahnost a nonagenarian.
3. The Duke of Momnoiith. It is conceival)le tliat
FrencluiKMi sliould entertain tliis opinion, but it is
not necessary to convince EngUshnien that the son of
Charles II. and of Lucy Waters died on the scaffold in
1685, while the ' Mask ' was safe in Exdles.
4. Tlie Armenian patriarch Avedic. This touciies
on one of the genuine romances of histor}^ of which
the career of M. de Ferreol should fill one volume, the
disaj)pearance of Avedic a second, and the papers of
poor Mademoiselle d'Aissa a third. I can recommend
these themes to all who care for facts far stranger than
fiction. Avedic really was for a time a Frencli prisoner,
his imprisoiimeiit liap|)tMiiiig in this way. M. de Ferreol,
a gentleman of I)aii])liiiiy, lirst got himself sent as
ambassadoi* to Constantinoj)le and tlien occupied hinj-
self with the religious and political intrigues of the
place. Jesuit missionaries were at that time very
zealous, but just as ]\[. de Ferreol S3'mpatliised with
llicir objects, so Avedic, the Armenian patriarcli, looked
on llic (^itliolic party with hatred. The Frencli am-
bassador in i-eturn hated Avedic, ' the mufti who
governs the Empire,' and he was able to bring about
the disgrace of a minister who was certain to have
])k'nty of rivals. Avedic was deposed and exiled, but
tlie bold stroke of having him kidnapped by a French
ves.sel originated in the scheming head of De Ferreol.
liaiided at Marseilles, Avedic contrived, by means of
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 133
a Greek named Spartali, to make his f:xte known, and
as he was seen alive in Turkey in 170G, he coukl not
possibly have been the ' Marchiely ' buried from the
Bastille in November 1703.
5. Nicholas Fouquet. The Superintendent who had
been the rio-ht hand of Mazarin's g-overnment, and the
friend of Madame de Sevign(% the lord of Calais, of
Havre and of Mont St. Michel, the patron of Corneille
and Molicre, and the pretender to the favours of Made-
moiselle de la Valliere, was certainly a prisoner who
needed to be shut ofi' from every helping hand. Ills
guilt was of the deepest dye. Having the ileet at his
disposal, he had formed a project for a civil war of whic-h
the plan exists to this day in his own handwriting.
He was arrested at Nantes, and sent to Pignerol to the
care of its incomparable jailer. But Saint-Mars always
names Fouquet in his letters to Louvois. He writes of
Fouquet's tears, illness, repentance, and inquiries about
his wife and family. He even names Fouquet's valet,
and, after describing his apoplectic seizure, he mentions
the Superintendent's death at Pignerol in the arms of
his son in 1G80. This death did not occur till after
Saint-Mars had ceased to be personally responsible for
him, for he left for Exilles (taking his ''deux merles''
with liim) in 1674.
. 6. An elder brother of Louis XIV., but not a son
of Louis XIII. The ' Grand Monarque ' being born in
September 1638, a brother who was his senior must
have been sixty-six years of age when the ' Mask ' only
owned to sixty. There is little to be said either for or
against this imairinary beincr's claim to the mask, since we
134 THE MAR /TIME ALPS.
possess not niie sinirle fact from wliicli to argue. It has,
])ei-liai)s for this very reason, been tlie most po])iihir
version of the mystery attaching to a prisoner of whom
Lonis XV. said tliat ' lie never liarmed any one but
liiniself.' AVild as was the original invention of tlie Yv^e
of tliis poor bastard prince, it liad to become tlie
foundation of a legend still more romantic. While on
Ste. Marguerite the ' Man in the Mask ' is averred to
have been the father of a little boy who was sent over
to Corsica, and there given into faithful hands. The
only message transmitted to its guardians was, ' II fan-
ciullo vi viene da huona jyirte^' and my readers need
not be asked to discern in such an infant the founder of
the Na])oleonic family and dynasty!
7. A twin-brother of Louis XIV. The whole story
of his birth, and of the warning sent by the shepherds to
liichelieu, may be found in Grimm's Correspondence.
It reads delightfully there, but unluckily it is not sup-
ported even by probability. The delivery of the queen
was witnessed by seventeen nol)K' j)ersons, but Eichelieu,
so far IVoni being anxious or ready for action, was not
even present. He had left Paris in July, for a tour in
the northern provinces, was at St. Quentin when the
birth took ])lace, and only returned to the capital in
October, after an absence of many weeks.
8. A son of Mazarin and of Anne of Austria. The
relations between the queen and the Cardinal were
often questioned, and by no one so much as by that
Duchess of Orleans who was a Princess Palatine.
Tlic Cai'diual died in IGdl, and any son of his might
naturally enough, alter his death, have become the
THE MAN TN THE IRON MASK. 135
object of ])ersecution, but we have no trace of that
child's fate during the twelve j^ears that must be
accounted for before Saint-Mars received him (then a
full-grown man !) at Pignerol at the Easter of 1C73,
9. A son of Cromwell. Here as^ain tlie dates make
the idea preposterous.
10. A son of Anne of Austria and of the Duke of
BuckincfJiam. Tlie Eno-lish ambassador admired that
queen, and was once forward enough to express his
feeling, but forty-eight years elapsed between the adieux
of Anne and of Buckingham and the incarceration in
Pignerol of their imaginary child. Where and how were
those years spent ?
11. As historical researches have increased the ten
suggestions I have enumerated have gone slowly but
surely out of fashion, till only one claimant remained for
the honours of the Iron Mask. Many historical diction-
aries, and the work of M. Topin, gravely assure us that
it was worn l)y Ercole-Antonio Mathioli, an agent of the
Duke of Mantua, who sold the secret of a French intrigue
about the cession of Casale. Named originally to Louis
by the Abbe de I'Estrades, he was called up to Paris
to see the king, who paid him 100,000 livres. But he
sold his secret to tlie persons most interested in the mis-
carriage of the French design upon Casale, intrigued
beyond his deptli, and was ultimately denounced by his
accomplices. Mathioli fell a victim to his own devices.
He was himself overreached and arrested, and was
received by Saint-Mars at Pignerol on May 2, 1679, six
years after the ' Mask ' was sent there by Louvois. In
all Europe no facts were better known than Mathioli's
136 THE MARITIME ALPS.
small treacliery and its instarJ ])unisliment. No sort of
mystery was made about eitlier it or liim. He wore no
mask, and he kept a servant, and Saint-Mars invariably
in his letters mentions both by their proper names,
though he does not speak of this cozening Italian as
much as he does of Fouquet and Lauzun, those splendid
instances of the instability of fortune. When Mathioli
was troublesome lie was beaten, and once, when he was
ill, Louvois sent orders to bury him like a common sol-
dier. He did not die then, and Saint-Mars (when he
took his ' deux merles ' to Exilles) left him l)ehind in
Piornerol. There Mathioli lin2:ered till the ' Man in the
Mask' liad left botli Pignerol and Exilles, and had lived
for seven years beliind the gratings at Ste. Marguerite.
Then (1694) orders came from headquarters to dismantle
Pignerol, and to transfer Mathioli and his servant to
the island prison in the Bay of Cannes. He came, but,
being in very bad health, he only survived tlie journey
twelve days. There was as little secrecy about his death
as there liad been al)out his fault. On April 30, Saint-
Mars wrote to tell the authorities in Paris that Mathioli
was dead, and to ask what he was to do v/ith his valet.
The demise of the Mantuan agent in Provence was re-
corded by its historian Papon, who had learned it from
the almoner Faverol,an(l by no possibility could this ])Oor,
scampish Italian who could not sj)eak French, and who
had only lived through twelve springdays on Ste. -Margue-
rite, have been '■ V ancien prisonnier ; I' ho mine de Peronne;
le prisonnier de Provence,' as Louvois and his successor
described their nameless victim in the mask. That num
we know wenl into I'lLiiicrol seven vears before Mathioli,
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 137
and lie died in Paris nine years after the Mantuan. A
fanciful resemblance between the words ' Mathioli ' and
' De Marchiely ' is positively the only hook on wliicli
to hang tlie assertion that that cozening agent was the
mystery — the man who wore tlie mask.
But truth Avould be strange, much stranger than
fiction, if, instead of any of tliese royal, semi-royal, and
wliolly imaginary beings, there liad really sinned, suf-
fered, and died a Monsieur de Marchiel — a man in
middle life, bold, adventurous, and accomplished ; a
man who, ' though obscure,' to quote louvois' words,
' was not the less of importance ; ' a foreign emissary ;
the travelling agent in a conspiracy to poison Louis
XIV,, with his principals in London and Amsterdam, and
also in very distinguished circles in Paris. Sucli a man
there really was. A plot to murder the king was dis-
covered by Louvois, who believed, and wlio made tlie
king believe, that his former mistress, Madame de Mon-
tespan, was privy to it. To conceal her guilt Louis
made as light as possible of the danger he ran, while
on Louvois devolved the task of unravelling the threads
of this most portentous intrigue. He gave orders
that a suspicious agent, a traveller known as Louis
d'Ollendorf, as the Clievalier de Kiffenbach, as M.
Harmoises, or des Armoises, and as M. de la Tour, but
more commonly as AL de Mareschal, de Marcheuil, and
de Marchiel, should be waited for at Peronne. That
adventurer was accordingly secured at the ford, between
the ni2:ht of the 28th and the mornina; of the 29tli of
March, 1 673, and was instantly forwarded to the Bastille,
where Louvois states to Saint-Mars that he had an
138 THE MARITIME ALPS.
interview with liiiii. What passed between tlieni Louvois
does not state, and lie is silent also as to tlie contents ot
De Marcliiel's ])apers, whidi had just been seized by
]iis agent Nallot. The sudden and immediate disap-
pearance of Nallot is, as I have said before, one of the
enigmas of this mysterious affair. His death, however
brought about, has been a great misfortune from tlie
historical point of view. In fact it has been an
irreparable one, as Nallot alone could have divulged
the secret of De Marcliiel's papers, and the nature of
the errand on wdiich he was travelling, in the interest
of employers of far greater rank than his own.^ It is
certain that Louvois knew it, and that possessing such
a secret the War Minister was able for the future to
defy l)oth enemies and livals; to threaten all the greatest
people in Fi-ance — yea, Turenne and Conde themselves ;
to make his father participate in his honours, and to
leave his reputation, and his papers, in the hands
of the son who became his successor. The great plot,
whatever it may have been, was utterly frustrated that
dark night at IVTomie.
Plotters and prisoners at that moment fdled the State
prisons of France, nor was it till 1778-80 that the
tribunal known as the Chainhre ardente took cogni-
sance of crimes wdiicli liad su(di strange elements of
necromancy, cruelty, perfidy, indecency, and treason.
But justice was not even-handed ; and, being without
' It is just possiblfi tliat the prisoner may have in confession
divulged Ijotli the nature of liis guilt and the names of his employers,
and that his statements were sent to Rome. If this were so the
archives of the Vatican hold this secret, in addition to many more.
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 139
the knowledge which Nallot for tliose few (hiy.s possessed,
we are now quite at a loss to understand wliy tliis De
Marchiel should have Inid so great and so lasting a sliare
of Louvois' interest. Why was he not, like Lemaire,
discharged, and ordered never again to enter France F
or, like Eolian, Van Enden, and Des Preaux, belieaded ?
or, like Gallet, hanged, to save further trouble? He
Avas sent to Pigner^jl, and, thougli his na>ne is never
once mentioned, he evidently remained the object of
such incessant solicitude to the minister and to the jailer
that he ran no chance of being, like the Comte de
Montemayer, forgotten in his dungeon. His life was
spared for some reason whicli Louvois never divulged,
but Avhicli possibly was one of personal rather than
of national importance.
Who was this De Marchiel ? and is there any thing-
known about him to identify him further with the
masked prisoner ? He was a Lorrainer, and probably a
bastard of some creditable house, for the families of
Ollendorf, Kiffenbach,La Tour, Armoises, or Harmoises,
whose names he alternately assumed, were families not
only then existing in Lorrahie, but all inter-connected
by marriage.^ He is known to have lived in Paris and
' Jung expresses a hope that in Lon-aine further researches
about these families may yet throw some light on the mystery. The
name of Harmoises once oddly enough did figure in a mystification
in Lorraine, an impostor so called having tried to personify Jeanne
d'Arc. I have been able through the kindness of M. Favier,
librarian of Nancy, and of the late cure of Contrexeville, to satisfy
myself that the family of Armoisps is now extinct in the country.
As for the name of Marechal, I found it as late as 1738 certainly
worn by persons of good birth, for a certain Ladislas Marechal de
Barcheny is mentioned as ' Vecuyer du feu roy de Pologne ; ' but at this
T40 THE MARITIME ALPS.
in Brussels, to liave served in a cavalry regiment, and
to have run away with a married woman, while he
corresponded with those political malcontents of whom
Eohan, the lover of Madame de Montespan, was the
head. Those plotters had another travelling agent, De
Treaumont, who was a Huguenot, but De Marchiel was
assuredly a Catholic. He spoke several languages,
was musical, and had both the tall figure and the
energy that belong to the role of the soldier of fortune.
Like Madame de Brinvilliers' lover, Gaudin de Ste.-
Croix, he sought in treasonable conspiracies the dis-
tinction, the excitement, and the luxuries he loved, but
his career ended at Peronne ; his life from that day
became a blank, and his name was a secret till ha was
' iu»n'c sur le registre M. de Marc/iieli/, que ran a jjaye
40 liv7'es d' enterement.'
I give this hypothesis as the last and perhaps the
best solution that has ever been put forward. I give it
for what it is worth, for material proofs can never be
a('(]uired with{jut those papers which Nallot seized, and
of which Louvois — abundantly as he Avrote alxnit
' lliomme de Peronne ' — never divulged the contents.
History cannot be built upon conjectures, nor can an
historian work from deductions only, and nothing what-
ever has been 'proved by the minister's letters, or by
Jung's resiwie of them, except that the ' Mask ' was none
of the other eleven i^ersons he has been supposed to be.
moment it seems to belong rather to tlie class of artisans. It occurs
in the hamlets between Tvoyes and Nancy, as Marcclial, Marclial,
and Marchial : and is in such common use that it cannot serve to
prove anything, or to identify anyone.
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 141
In 1072-1703 there were plenty of rogues in French
j^risons, and the charge of a prisoner of State in middle
hfe and of average health was as good as an annuity to
the governor of a royal prison. Saint-Mars was ever a
favourite with Louvois. The minister was not likely to
fall into the eiTor of telling his friend all tliat he himself
knew about treasonable plots and plotters, and it may be
that Louvois simply meant to do Saint-Mars a kind turn
when he sent him, as a very ])aying boarder, ' a man
who, though obscure, was not the less of consequence.'
Whatever was his motive, or whatever the crime of De
Marchiel, they have between them contrived to bestow
a strange sort of immortality on the prisoner whose
name will live for ever as that of ' The Man in the Iron
Mask.'
CLOISTERS OF ST. 1I0^'0KAT.
CHAPTER IX.
ST. HON OR AT.
' Ce n'est pas d'ailleurs en qnelques lignes qu"on pent ecrire Thistoire reli-
gieuse, litt^raire, dramatique, souvent troublee, quelquefois glorieuse, d'une
societe qui a vecu pres de qualorze siecles.' — Lentheric.
Lexokmaxt, when speaking of some antiquarian investi-
gations, once said feelingly tliat ' when our native soil
is in question no search can be too lal)0]'ious or too
niiuute.' The fouudations of Christianity in southern
Gau], and the labours of its Gallic evangelists, make
such connnon ground for us all of the eai'ly Christian
sees, that a man must be, I think, singidai'ly devoid of
emotions if he is not awai'e of any waruitli of feeling
when for the first time he lands on tlie island called
'St. Ilonorat.' Tliere a good and l)rave man planted
the CVoss, and there monasticism, wliich in the East had
adopted a faquir-like singularity, wore its gentlest and its
ST. HO NOR AT. 143
wisest aspect. The Convent of the Lerins liad many
learned and many pious sclioLars, but it liad no jnllar-
saints, and tlie rule of Honoratus, instead of isolating men
from one another, united them by such strong ties tliat
tlie monastery became tlie home of all the wise, and a
philosophical school for Euro})e during the darkest
centuries of her history. The life which was one of
prayer and of holy observances, was also one of manual
labour. So rent and torn was the Empire that under
her barbarian conquerors it might have been doubtful
whether any civilisation could have survived had not
the patient monk preserved some of its graces in his
garden, his chapel, his cloister, and his cell. Our
business to-day is with the founder of the great religious
House in the Bay of Cannes.
It is early in the fifth century. Leontius is Bishop
of Frejus, and both Yence and Cimiez have their
churches, while at Hyeres there is a scliool of cenobites
who imitate the solitaries of the Thebaid. Honoratiis,
immediately after he Avas converted to Christianity,
was seized with the desire to visit the East. It was
from the East that civilisation first came to Maritime
Gaul. Long relations with Greece and Carthage ]iad
enriched a coast where eartli, air, and skies possessed
already a something Oriental in their beauty. It was
from Syria that Christianity had dawned ; Jerusalem,
Antioch, and Alexandria were all names of power, and
still in the daily offices of the Church men heard the
most pathetic of prayers arising in Greek, ' Kyrie eleiso?i,
Christe eleison, Kyrie ekison.' In every respect the age
of Honoratus was more nearly connected than we can
144 THE MARITIME ALPS.
now realise with Palestine, and with tlie first brightness
of His Rising who liad dispelled the tliick darkness of
the peoi)les. But tlie fatlier of Honoratus forbade the
journey, and liis elder brotlier Yenantius laughed at the
proposed pilgrimage. Saddened and discouraged, the
young disci [)le saw no hope of carrying out his plan,
and devoted himself with such patience as lie could
acquire to works of almsgiving and mercy in liis own
home.
Tradition, which places that home in one of tlie
north-eastern provinces of Gaul, goes on to say that
Honoratus was a tall, handsome, fresh-coloured youth,
witli cliestnut hair. Such as he was he did not shrink
from one of those frightful lepers who used to roam
the country, and lurk in solitary places. He received
tliis poor Avretch with tenderness, and, taking him to
his own room, l^egan to anoint his most miserable
sores. Suddenly the scarred face of the leper became
a radiant one. Honoratus, l)hiid witli excess of light,
sank on liis knees before a patient who was none other
than the Lord Jesus in person, and then lieard a voice
bidding him be of good cheer. It was declared to him
til at his brother Venantius would not only witlidraw
his opposition to Christianity, but would become one
of those elect disciples who by their virtues encourage
and enlighten others. So it proved. Honoratus pre-
sently found that Venantius was a convert, and then the
brothers applied themselves to finding a guide willing
to accompany them to the morning-land of their faith.
Capraisius, a learned man and grown grey in ])rayer,
lived on one of the islands near the mouth of the llhone.
ST. HO NO RAT. 145
He felt syiiipatliy for the two young disciples whose
hearts burned to tread the soil of Palestine ; he joined
himself to them, and they started on the journey
which was to be so memorable for Gaul. Venantius
died at Messina. He never reached the distant and
sacred goal of his travels, but in dying he exhorted
Honoratus to courage. ' Fear not,' he cried, ' fear not,
oh my brother, for God intends thee to do greater
things for Him ! ' There is surely something pathetic
in this death by the wayside, in the message sent back
to the father in his distant and pagan home, that he was
bereaved of his firstborn, as well as in this humility of
the elder brother who meekly realised that he at least
was not destined to leave upon earth any victorious
footprints. As for the future which he foretold for
Honoratus, that has far exceeded their largest hopes, and
for the one brother, lost in early manhood, Honoratus
was destined to receive, both during his lifetime and
after his departing, a long succession of spiritual bre-
thren, of the sons and the workers for God.
But in the first freshness of his sorrow it seemed as
if travel had lost all its charms. He would not go to
Jerusalem without Venantius, so he hastened back to
Gaul, and, as tradition says, to the companionship of
his sister. That gentle and beautiful girl, who had also
embraced Christianity, had received at her baptism the
name of Margaret, in honour of the fair saint of
Antioch who vanquished the fiery dragon.
The first hermitage of Honoratus was the baunio or
grotto of Cap Eoux. There for many months he saw
the waves rise and fall, and heard the winds {uiistral
L
,46 THE .MARITIME ALPS.
and iibcccio) rave; round that noble promontory. Did
he never regret his Eastern travels, and never at tlie
dawn be found dreaming of Jerusalem set round witli
liills. or of Antiocli's marble pavements, and of Alex-
andria's sacred lore ? Or was lie content to hope that
Not l)y Eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light :
In front the sun climbs slow : how slowly !
But westward look — the land is bright ! ^
Distant about half a league from the shore, and as
if anchored in the Bay of Cannes, lie the two islands
which the country folk call the ' rosettes of the sea.'
Honoratus heard that they were named Lero and Lerina,
and he found that, rising only a few metres above the
level of the water, they were covered with woods, and
separated l)y tlie narrow channel of Friuli. All around
them lie reefs of rocks, some of which would seem to
deserve the title of islets, since one is now called of St.
Ferreol, and another, the little ' Translero'' of antiquity,
is the ' Tradeliere ' of the Cannes boatmen.
Honoratus was charmed with tliem. Tliey were
solitary, for tlie old settlement of ' Vergoanum ' as men-
lioiicd ])y Dliiiy, like the 'cities' once noticed by Strabo,
now presented no features; and probably for this reason,
that Lero, the larger of the two islands, does not possess
a single spring of fresh water. Lerina, a natural shelf
of I'ock of about half a kilometre in extent, was a desert.
'I'lie air he noticed Av^as balm}^, and the thickets were
lull ol" ()(lni-()us ;iii(l lu'nllh giving plants. There were
tlu! wild sarsa})arillii, tlie milfoil that banishes melan-
' Clougli's J'oinis, Aol. ii. p. 19.5.
ST. HONOKAT. 147
clioly, the rc.'^iiious pines, the sleep-<4iviiig lieubaue, and
the fennel and the aloe that strengthen the eyesight.
This seemed to be tlie very place for a hermit's home.
But it liad two great drawbacks. In the first place
Lerina swarmed with poisonous snakes, with brown,
barred adders, squirming among the sunburnt stones or
hissing from among the lush grasses. In tlie second
place, there Avas no well, or spring, or streamlet^
' water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink ! '
The legend tells how the saint lirst summarily disposed
of the serpents, and then pondered how to ol^tain a
supply of water for an intended monastery. On one
spot grew two tall palm-trees. Thither he repaired, and
striking the ground three times in honour of the Trinity,
which he invoked {^ pregiia la trenitat''), he bade the
waters How. A sparkling and abounding fountain in-
stantly burst forth. The limestone rocks often contain
such springs, the outcome of a subterranean deposit of
fresh Avater, and to this day ' St. Honorat's well ' con-
tinues to supply the island and the monastery called
' of the Lerins.'
Honoratus determined to settle on this enchanting
and enchanted spot. His convent \vas built. Xo doubt
it was at first a rough and homely affair — possibly wat-
tled like the cells of Marmoustier, where St. Martin lirst
ruled over eighty monks clad in serge and goatskins.
But of this new monastery it was a primary rule that
no foot of -woman miglit pass its threshold ; in fact its
founder, like his imitator St. Senanus, thought it best
to forbid any wonum to land on the island. Thus
Margaret, banished to tlie adjacent island of Lero,
L 2
148 THE MARITIME ALPS.
foiiiul lierseif a-; much sliut ofl" from her brother as iii
the days of hLs early travels. She reproached him
finally witli his neglect of her. Honoratus replied that
so far was he from l^eing iudillerent to her, tliat it still
cost him many struggles to wean himself from her affec-
tion and from all worldly concerns. He had in fact
come to the determination to visit her only once a year.
Margaret burst into tears. ' Let me at least know
at what season I may look for your coming. It will
be the only month in the year for me.' The saint
replied that he would come ' when the cherry-trees
were in flower.' For many days did Margaret weep
by the little caranquo from which she could see the
landing-place of Lerina. The cherry-trees were bare.
But Margaret prayed earnestly tluit tliey might not
only flower early, but keep their flowerets late and
long. To her surprise and delight the trees burst into
flower. She sent over a branch to the convent, and
Honoratus came. Tlic days grew to a week, and the
weeks grew to a month, and still those fair blossoms of
a fruitful tree might be seen, hanging white in the island
gardens. Honoratus came again, and tliis time lie com-
forted his sister. He told her that lier strong crying
liad prevailed at Heaven's high gate, and that lie had
himself learned how precious is an allection like hers
\\\ tlie eyes of Him who measures tinu; by Love, and
not by years.
0])inions diller as to the exact date of the settlement
on the island. Some place it as early as a.d. 375, but tlie
best authorities, like Mabillon, say tliat it ouglit to be
n.\-c(l at A.D. 110. It lias often been asked. What was
ST. HO NO RAT. 149
the rule of its founder? From tlie early notices of the
' Eegles cle Lerins ' it is plain that a rule was both used
inside the convent and admired outside of it, but it
cannot now be recovered. It was superseded by that
of St. Benedict, and all trace of the orifjinal has dis-
appeared. We maj" infer that it was not very intricate.
If it did not aspire to being very comprehensive from the
theological jDoint of view, we must remember that the
aims of Honoratus were all moral and spiritual ones.
The two truths grasped most strongly by him were the
Fatherhood of God and tlie brotherhood of men, and
his rule was intended to form men in a rude age. He
sought to teach them that faith, love, liglit, order, dili-
gence, and peace are at once tlie true freedom of the
human will and the l)est consecration of the human
spirit. He taught them tliat life can so go on in study
and in prayer that death presents at the last hardly any
palpable change ; that religion, so far from narrowing
men's hearts, brings us a larger sense of the presence of
God, and of the Communion of Saints. In this way he
permanently enlarged the horizon of his Christian asso-
ciates, and the popularisation of his teaching did, in the
fifth century, serve to unite all the congregations that
adopted his rule. Very striking in that dark age was
the action of Christianit}' in binding society together.
The Church had not yet asserted her right to punish
error in the persons of those who held it, the times were
felt to be evil, and Christianity acted on mankind less
by dogmatic utterances than by forming a Church, and
by proclaiming an aim of l)rot]]erly concert under the
banner of her Invisil)]o and Immortal Head.
I50 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Honoralui=; was not allowed to end liis days on the
island which he loved so well. The Church had need
of her leadinix men, so ho was chosen bishop of the
])remier see of Aries, and there, at a veiy advanced age,
he died. His heart, ever full of an intense appreciation
of the burden of evil, reverted fondly to his quiet con-
vent, and he used to visit the Lerins once every year ;
but now he was to start on a much longer journey,
and for a more silent House. It was at the Epiphany,
before the cherry-trees flowered, in the year 427, that
he left a Church which he had quickened to a deeper
and a richer life. He did so among the regrets of
Churchmen. The champion at once of a Divine morality
and of a Divine charity, he had warred only against
violence and intolerance. He never imitated them, and
he has thus left behind him the reputation, not only of
a holy life, but of a simple, persuasive s]:)eech, and of a
singidarly sweet and patient temper. About his mira-
culous gifts, as well as al)oiit the details of his real
work, there is much that is dark and fragmentary.
We can at best oidy peer at them through the shadows
of a remote past ; but the figure of the saint stands out
distinctl)^ and ' surely,' cried one of his disciples, ' if
ever Charity should consent to sit for her portrait, she
will l)()i-i'ow the featui'es of Honoratus.' ^
' A \ery curious Vida de Sant Ilonorat was written by a
monk of tlie Lerins, Raymond Feraud, who fought under Charles
of Anjou. The poem, in 10,000 lines, is a singular picture of
mcdian-al ideas, legends, and maimers, and the miracle hy which St.
Ilonorat saves tlie innocent Guall)ore de Bellande, under the ordeal
liy fire, is very dramatic. A ruined tower of the castle at Nice,
where this tragedy tonic ])l:ice, is called the ' Tour de Bellande ' to this
day.
ST. HO NORA T. 151
Tlie disciple wlio tluis fondly described him was
Eucherius, and he, like Hilary, watched by the deathbed
of the prelate. The vacant see was presently offered to
Hilary, whose forebodings regarding his own advance-
ment were justified by the man}" troiil)les and responsi-
bilities of his episcopate. The Church of the West
seemed not content Avitli those doctrinal subtleties and
definitions which it already owed to the Alexandrian
schoolmen, but it agitated itself afresh with questions
of grace and freewill. Those were points which
St. Augustine once endeavoured to set at rest, but
which, so far from being laid, appeared in the fifth
century, and were again, like uneasy ghosts, to rea])pear
in the seventeenth century, with the Predestinarians
and the Jansenists. As the monastery of the Lerins
was one of the first philosophical schools in Europe it
did not escape this conflict, or the reproach of semi-
Pelagfian tendencies. How far the teachincf of its mem-
bers — Salvianus (called of Cologne), or of Faustus of
Eiez (called the Breton) — was or was not heretical, can-
not now be clearly settled. The writers are long since
dead. They cannot be cross-examined as to which side
of the controversy they really leaned, while from cer-
tain passages, and their contexts, a good deal might be
both proved and disproved.
Of all the theologians whom the house produced,
the greatest beyond doubt was the one who is still called
' St. Vincent du Lerins.' He was of northern, some say
of Belgian, extraction, and as a soldier he had oppor-
tunities of seeing the miseries of his country and the
incapacity of the Ca3sars. He entered the convent on
152 TJIE MAR/ TIME ALPS.
tlie Lerins. There, transplanted to a small, wooded
i.^land. lie tasted tlie calm but austere delights of
the monastic life. There, jjlaced between the two im-
mensities of the cloudless sky and the dark blue sea
which seem to repeat each other when they meet on an
uiibi'oken horizon, he was able to forget for a little ' the
shipwreck of tlie present world.' He began to turn his
attention, less to the furious tumults of the heathen, or
to the futility of rulers who always imagined some ' vain
thing,' than to the purity of Christian dogma. His
' Commonitorium ' became instantly famous. It kept
its credit through the Middle Ages, was early translated
in Scotland, and admirably edited by J3aluze in 1G60,
Avhile in our own nineteenth century it continues to
receive a good deal of notice. This is not because of
its pretensions, for it is a very modest little treatise,
divided into thirty-three short chapters, and purport-
ing to be written by ' Pellegrinus, the least of the
servants of God.' Something it assuredly owes to a
style which lias been compared to that of Tertullian,
but the book is supremely interesting to theologians.
It maintains that Holy Scripture contains all things
necessary for salvation ; but, as regards the inter]iretation
of Scri{)ture, it confronts many of the po])idar heresies
and heresiarchs of the day with the i-eniark that, ' a
unanimous or almost unanimous consent of the Fathers
should be taken as authority.' Few unins])ired sayings
iiave been so acceptable or have been so often quoted
as St. Vincent's test for orthodoxy: ''Quod semper, quod
■iiltKiHi'^ tjiiixl (il) oiimihufi creditum est.' He bids men
shun Um- p('ij)lcxilies of ' wii'ioiis error,' while it is certain
S7\ HO NO RAT.
153
tliat no prececlino' writer lias tlirown so much liglit on
tlie interpretation of Scripture. He handles severely
the heresies of the Donatists, Nestorians, and Arians,
but he aims his blows chiefly against that doctrine of
Predestination which, as being an innovation, cannot,
he contends, stand his test of antiquity, universahty, and
consent. His book is verj^ interesting from the way
in which it> anticipates, as it were, the utterances of
the Athanasian Creed. The resembhance between some
passages is so striking that, in the absence of any proof
as to the authorship of that Symbol, it has sometimes
been asserted that it came from the pen of St. Vincent
of the Lerins. The reader can judge for himself :
Coinmonitorium, Cap. XII.
' Perfectus Deus, perfectus
homo : in Deo summa Divinitas,
in homine plena humanitas.'
Credo.
' Pei'f actus Deus, pei'fectus
liomo : ex anima rationali et
liumana carne subsistens.'
Himself a very judicious and careful student, he in-
veighs against a loose and irregular use of texts. He
always puts the authority of Scripture first, and, while
using tradition as a guide and interpreter, he adopts a
strictly conservative attitude as regards the ' prof;ine
novelties of voices.' He never sets up tradition as a
rival to Scripture, and his theory is one of the most
important in the history of human thought. By no
subsequent theologian has his subject been treated so
as to receive much additional clearness, and I need not
point out how, in the centuries that have elapsed since
he wrote in his cell on the Lerins,^ men have l)oth ^one
1 He died about 4-50.
154 THE MARITIME ALPS.
far l)c'3-oiul him, and falK'ii I'ar l)eliiiid him, in tlieir
methods of investigating dogma.
His work witli those of Eiicheriiis, and with the
conferences of Cassianiis, form what we may call the
classics of the Island Sanctuary.
Lii])us was another of its monks, but his fame was
not earned by the pen. When Attila was returning
irom Oi'leans, he crossed the Seine above Troyes.
liuined by former invasions, that city had neither walls
nor garrison to oppose to the liery Huns. Lupus,
the bishop, went out in his robes to meet a concpieror
who agreed to spare the city if he might enter it and
have its bishop for a hostage. The inhabitants fled to
the woods witli which this part of France is still thickly
covered.^ ' Enter, scourge of God,' cried Lupus,
' enter, and march where the wind of the Divine wrath
drives thee ! ' But at that moment, says the legend,
a thick mist enveloping the whole country hid Troyes
from the sight as it also preserved it irom the cruelty
of Attila. The life of Lujnis, after he left the con-
vent on the Lerins, Avas one long warfare, now with
these barbarian invaders, and now with the Arians of the
north-eastern provinces. Till quite lately, the dragon
Avhich he is said to have conquered was yearly carried
in ])rocession through the streets of Ti'oyes, and his Avars
willi hei'esy have secured for ' St. Lou]) ' a ])lace among
the mythical dragon-slayers of France.
It is hardly possible to exaggerate the importance
of French monasticism during those early centuries. It
' The district between Troyes, Cliaumont, Contrexeville, and
Mirecourt, provides nearly all the oaken furniture of France.
ST. no NO RAT. 155
was tlie monks wlio rendered Christian a new world
reclaimed from utter barbarism ; it was the monks who
taught the Gospel, who preserved the vestiges of clas-
sical learning, and tliis humanising mission is the glory
which can never be taken away from them. They were
the priests, the chroniclers, the gardeners, the doctors,
the schoolmasters, and, above all, the missionaries of
Europe.
By none of the missionaries educated on the Lerins
was the name of its founder more chei'ished than by St.
Patrick. It is perhaps on this account that many of the
legends told of the Irish missionary are identical witli
those origmally ascribed to Honoratus. Take, for
example, the clearance out of Ireland of venomous rep-
tiles, wdiich is borrowed from the destruction of the
serpents on the Lerins. It is the nature of the myth to
change its local habitation in this waj^, while it preserves
the spirit of the action, or of the miracle, which it em-
bodies. B}^ far the most touching point in the history
of St. Patrick is the tradition of his cruel sufferings in
youth at the hands of the heathen Irish. So far from
bearing any ill-will to those savage masters, his mind
dwelt on their miserable darkness. As the truths of
Christianity took an always firmer hold of him, his
memory reverted more incessantly to the scenes of his
early slavery. Burning with Divine charity he deter-
mined to make himself the apostle of a people who had
done him nothing but harm. His self-chosen task of
converting them must, as he well knew, be all the
harder because Ireland had entirely escaped the civilis-
ing influences of Eoman rule. No roads had o])ened
156 THE MARITIME ALPS.
up a coiinlry Avhere Avild in its woods and morasses its
savage peoples ran ; no irrcat wall had ever been built
to curb the raids and forays of rival clans ; no villa
of the proconsul set a pattern for elegance or comfort ;
no cohorts enforced discipline, and no Cliristian bishops
had come, as in Gaul, to fill the places vacated in the
towns by Eoman officials.
The parents of St. Patrick, who were Christians,
offered no opposition to his wishes, and during a staj^ on
the Lerins he at once perfected his own education and
prepared himself to be a missionary among the Irish
Celts. The bold, simple, objective teaching of St.
Patrick, as it has come down to us in tlie ' Book of
Armagh,' may be taken as a specimen of the Avay in
which the monks of the Lerins proclaimed the message
of their faith. In the halls of Tara the daughters of
King Lodghaire asked St. Patrick and his friend if they
Avere not fairies {Dhuine Seidhe), or men of tlie hills.
Tlie saint replied, ' Would it not be better for j^ou to
confess to the true and living God than to inquire of us
concerning our race ? ' The next question of the Irish
princesses w^as, 'Who is God?' and tliis elicited one of the
most beautiful confessions of faith that has come down
to us from the primitive teachers of our Church. I will
only quote a few sentences from it, and I have selected
tliem, less because of tlieir reference to the Erin wliere
St. Patrick uttered tliem, tlian on account of an evident
allusion to I lie sunn)' Lei'ina wliere lie once ])rayed and
studied.
God iiispirotli all tliiiii^'s . . .
\\i' .sustaiiK'tli all tliinn's
ST. HONOR AT. 157
He giveth light to the Ivjlit of the sun.
He hath made springs in a dry (jround,
And dry islands in tlie sea.
Might not those illustrations of the Creator's power
have been suggested to him by the famous well of
Honoratus, and by the sunshine which warms the
islands in the Bay of Cannes ?
T}1K CASTLE ON ST. UONOIIAT.
CHAPTER X.
THE MONASTEIiY ON THE LERINS.
' From men thus abstracted from the commerce of life the Church would,
from time to time, receive new treasures of learning, and new lessons how to
live above the world. And even if any of them should be called away and
leave no visible fruits, think not, ye seekers after a sign, think not that they
must therefore have been of the idlers of the earth : for what know ye of
their influence upon those around them ? how dare ye scan the mystery of
their faith in God 1 What did Simeon but " wait " / ^Vhat did Anna but
" fast and pray " ? '—J. R. IIoi-E ScoTT.
Till'] ei-;i of l(\ii'en(l and of Iradition is left l)clnn(l l)y
the time that we reach the date at which Amand, as
Prior of the Lerins, ruled over three thousand seven
liuiidrcd monks, and substituted the rule of St. Benedict
ibr the hrst simple statutes of the founder. Witli
niodilications, tliat rnle continued to be observed on
the island and in tlie d('])en(lent liouses till tlie time
when neither refoi'ined congregationists of l^t. Maiir,
nor Cassinists of Padua, had cliarms sufficient to allure
disciples to tlie convent on St. lloiiorat.
THE MONASTERY ON THE LERINS. 159
We now approach the era of Oharlemairiie, l)et\vecii
whose conquests and those of Clovis tlicre is all the
difference between power and brutality. The mind of
that great emperor was even more powerful than the
sword which he had wielded in life and which is buried
with him in Aix-la-Chapelle. ' He made war on bar-
barism, and to dissii)ate its darkness he founded schools.
Another of his great objects was the unit}^ of the clergy,
and to promote this he placed it under the safeguard
of that temporal power which he first really secured
to the popes. On these two piers — learning and uni-
formity — he designed to build an empire more enduring
than his campaigns, or even than his life. His nephew,
St. Bernard, once visited the JiCrins ; and we may be
sure that that nol)le monastery did not escape the
attention or the sympathy of the emperor. The
worldly possessions of the convent increased ; its
chapels became famous, and pilgrims from all parts of
France and Germany repaired to its seven shrines. He
who visited them seven years in succession got a palm-
branch from the Prior, with the assurance of the
forgiveness of his sins ni this Avorld and in the next.
Once upon a time there lived in the mountains of
Provence a poor man, who, having already resorted
thither six times, begged his master to allow him to
make his seventh and last visit to St. Honorat. But
his master was one Avho feared not God, and who had
no compassion for the servant, whom he roughly bade
to go tend his pigs, and to speak no more of wanderino-
to the shrines of the Lerins. The poor SAvineherd, after
weeping and bewailing himself, fell into a deep slumber.
i6o TJIE .}r.-lRITIME ALPS.
Ill liis sleep he fancied liimself again on the beauliful
island. There his ears were ravished by the chanting
of psalms, and by the soft nuirinur of the sea breeze
amonij the pines. He forgot both liis hard lot and the
ill-temper of a master as swinish as his herd, when he
received Avith rapture from the Prior that palm which
crowns the seventh pilgrimage to the seven shrines of
the Leriiis. Suddenly he awoke. It was at the edge
of a cork-wood ; tlie lanky swine were crunching acorns
all round him ; the island sanctuaries were far away,
and no bell here rang to prayers — yet, lo ! by his side
the much-coveted palm-branch lay : for an angel had
brought it to comfort him !
The dependencies of the monastery of the Lerins
gradually reached all along the coast from Genoa to
Barcelona. But as its riches increased, and as silver
shrines and jewelled reliquaries accumulated in the
island, the convent became an always greater tempta-
tion to pirates. As early as the beginning of the eighth
centu]-y, the Moorish chieftain Moussa ravaged the
coast, and did so almost unopposed. In fact, Gaul,
when possessed l)y Franks, Burgundians, and Visigoths,
was the scene of such disorders that it was incapable
of self-defence, and lay open as a field where Normans,
Saracens, and Vandals might sack and pillage at their will.
Contemporary with the weak reign of Louis le De-
bonnaire (814) was the life of the celel)rated Ilaroun-
Al-Raschid, whose pirates not only landed in Provence
and in Corsica, but, carrying terror up tlie banks of
liif 'I'ibcr, burnt tlie basilica of St. Paurs-without-the-
walls of Pome. In 846, these pirates landed beyond tlie
THE MONASTERY ON THE LERINS. i6i
Esterels, and, after establishing tlieniselves at the Garde
Fraxinet, between Frejus and Ilyeres, they pnshed up
into Daiipliiny, and even into Bresse. In 940, Frejus
was sacked by the Moors; and in 972, St. Mayeul be-
came their prisoner.
Every movement causes a counter-movement, and
there can be no doubt that these constant invasions of
the Saracens did much to stimulate the pious passions of
the Crusaders. They roused in due time the patriotism
of William, Count of Marseilles, of Gebelin de Grimoald,
and of Isarn, Bishop of Grenoble. They felt how deci-
sive to them was the question, whether Europe was or
was not to be subject to a Semitic sway ? They raised
troops, and delivered their districts from invaders who
had held their footing good in southern France for more
than a hundred years.
But the monks on the Lerins had no troops, and
they had treasures. It became necessary for them
therefore to make a stronghold to wdiich to retire
when threatened with lire and sword. Abbot Adelbert
11. began the square tower, or v'ujie^ of Cannes ; and in
1088, the castle of the Lerins was built. 'It is,' says
Lentheric, ' the true type of those strongholds, at once
military ajid religious, which from the eleventh to the
fourteenth century rose along the coasts of Provence.
In them every detail recalls the passions and the vio-
lence of the Middle Ages, of tliose centuries so full
of strong convictions. All the stones employed for this
now dismantled building are mutilated remains of the
Koman epoch.' The building is now a shell, but is none
the less remarkable for its proportions. All the columns
1 62 THE MAIUTJME ALPS.
are anti<iuo. and <>n one may bo read llie name of Con-
stautinc, Avliile oilier blocks seem to have been the
fvravestones of tlie earhest colonists. This o-reat tower
served as a z;/V/zV, as a beacon, as an arsenal, and as a
library. It was certainly not built too soon, nor was
it altogether successful after it was built, if ^ve may
credit the tale of the terrible massacre of 1107.' That
fell at the time of Pentecost, when the island must have
well deserved the description Avhicli St. Ambrose once
gave of it : ' Among such fresh springs, such leafy
groves, such smiling vistas, and such scented airs, the
eai'th seems opening Paradise.' All nature was serene,
and the festivals of the Christian year had run their
course. Only St. Porcaire, the Abbot of the Lerins,
was uneasy. He had been warned in a vision of a
danger threatening the connnunity ; it could not be
a mere fancy, it must be an intuition sent to him by
that Paraclete whose seven-fold gifts of wisdom the
Church then invokes, and never invokes in vain. He
therelbrc bade his moidvs be wary. They were to
bury their treasures, and, while ju'epared for the worst,
' Cdrtalarium Ahhaticn Lirinensis, cccvi. ' Sita est insula que-
daiii apiul Provinciani undique circumcepta freto Tirreni equoris
que ab incolis vocitatur Lirinus, quingentorum martirum cruore
atque capitibus Domino Jhesu Christo olini dicata. cujus victorise
dux et signifer extitisse legitur sanctus abbas Porcarius, debacante
super eos gente Sarracenorum : inter quorum sepulcra condiuntur
ossa veneral)i]is Alfgulphi, ejusdem loci abbatis et Dei martiris
egregii. . . . Hoc autem munus libertatis et honestatis quod monas-
terio concedo in honorem sancte Dei genitricis Marie et beatissimi
Honorati confessoris Christi fundato, confirmo et propria manu
cor()t)oro hoc tostarnentum, lit inviolatum pcrsistat nee quilibet
temerario ausu infringere presumat.'
IN THE CASTLE OF ST. HONORAT.
THE MONASTERY ON THE LERINS. 163
must earnestly coiniiieiul tlieir souls to the God in
Whose Hand are the destinies of the greatest and
of the most obscure. The vision came true, and only
all too soon. The Abbot was saying Mass, when shouts
of pirates crying ' Allah ! Allah ! ' broke in upon the
chanting of the choir. The corsairs had landed: the
white turbans and the dusky faces of the pirates were
already at the door, and five hundred monks, along with
St. Porcaire, bit the earth tliat day. Many more wei-e
carried off as slaves. The victorious Moors havingf left,
as they believed, not a soul behind on the island, sailed
off for Agay. There four of their Christian prisoners
contrived to escape. They first hid in the forest of the
Estercl and then made tlieir way back to the Lerins,
where tliey were welcomed by two companions, who
during the massacre had managed to hide among the
rocks. From this small nucleus the life of the monas-
tery had to be built up anew.
It may not be uninteresting to anyone wdio will
take the trouble to read these pages on the Island, to
endeavour to reahse what this great media?val monastery
was like.
The first thing that struck the eye was the main
square of the building, with its cloisters, on one side
of which the church was built. Inside that church
the most remarkable thing was the curtained-off choir,
where the brothers sat in their stalls, and from wliicii
the sound of chanting proceeded as the monks repeated
their vesper psalms, or the ])athetic Office for the Dead.
There were in the square a large schoolhouse, the
well, the library, the hospital, the rooms for guests,
m2
1 64 THE MARITIME ALPS.
and tlie liouscs of the Abbot, Prior, and novices. Willi
dormitories, refectories, stables, wine-presses, cellars,
lanndr3% o;oat-stablc, frnit-room, kitclien, forge, looms,
slangliter-liouse, oven, l)arns, byre, and pigsties, the
convent covered a large space of ground ; but tliere
were no mills on this island, and no vineyards. Their
flour-mill was at Mougins, and their planks were sawn
at L'Abbadie, near Pegomas, while their vineyards lay
round tlieir summer-house of Yallauris. The officials
of such a House liad many duties, and were necessarily
of many grades of importance. Let us pass them in
review, and fancy tliat we see tliem in tlieir black habits
as they lived :
There was first the Abbot : generally a Grimaldi, or
a Castellane, or a cadet of some other great, local house,
such as that of Villeneuve.
2. The Vicar-General.
o. The Claustral Prior, to whom belonged the keys
of the house, church, chapels, castle, and lodges.
4. The Sub-Prior.
5. The Sacristan. His duty was to see that the
lamp burned continually before the altar. He had to
snp])ly the oil for this purpose, the incense, and the
candles used during service, as well as the great hran-
don of red wax, which is lit on Maunday-Thursday and
burns till Pentecost.
G. The Dean, whose residence on the island was
obligatory.
7. The Camerier. In his department was the furni-
ture of the cells and chapels.
8. The Pito;icfg/', who drew the lights from Napoule,
THE MONASTERY ON THE LERINS. 165
valued in the time of Doni Balthazar Moricaud at 2,900
livres.
9. The Vestiaire, wlio had to get the serge from the
looms, and to keep in order the hangings, stoles, altar-
clotlis, and robes.
10. The Cdbiscol, or precentor. Subject to him were
the chanters and choristers. It was his duty to train
tlie voices, and to conduct the musical services of the
convent. The preservation, like the preparation, of all
scores and instruments fell to his share.
11. The Infirinier. To him were confided the four
surgical instruments, the probe, the lancet, the razor,
and the pliers. By liim were prepared the white and
the golden ointments, the salves and unguents, for all of
which he collected the herbs most in repute. His jars
were full of electuaries, while bundles of herbs and rolls
of linen lay ready for use in the hospital. He put his
faith in certain times and seasons and combinations of
the planets as being favourable for the exhibition of his
remedies ; thought madness dependent on the moon,
l)ut held melancholy to be fairly amenable to borage and
hellebore, to milfoil and pimpernel, while the rest-harrow
cured delirium, and the star-thistle stopped the plague.
In consideration of his trouble, and of his charity in
giving out such remedies as tarragon and absinthe and
feverfew for the fevers of the poor, he had a right to all
the alms collected in Cannes on the festivals of All Saints
and All Souls, while the lands of Cannet were especially
apportioned to the infirmary. It is even thought that
there was a ' convalescent home ' in that sheltered
locality, under the protection of the two strong towers
1 66 THE MARITIME ALPS.
of Danis and Placette, wliicli tlie monks built there in
the lonrteentli and liiteentli centnries.
12. The Econonie, or book-keeper.
13. The Treasurer.
14. The Procureur. He had to register and preserve
all the papers bearing on the legal and civil interests of
this great community. His office is sometimes spoken
of as that of tlie notary, or ' hailli de la curie de Levins.''
15. The Librarian. As the Lerins was a Benedictine
house a great deal of copying and studying was done,
but till the fourteenth century the number of volumes
in conventual and collegiate libraries was really small.
There was wealth of calendars, and psalters, and choir-
books, but, for example, the Dominicans of Dijon were
thought to be rich when in the fourteenth century they
possessed a hundred and forty volumes, of which twenty-
nine represented patristic learning.
IG. The Cellarer.
17. The Eegistrar of Woods and Forests.
IS. The Almoner.
19. The Master of the Novices.
20. The Mayor of the Serf Labourers.
21. The Porter.
22. The Armourer.
23. The Gardener.
24. The O^i'rzVr, whose place was ecpiivalent to that
of clerk of the works. The masonry and roofs of the
house were under his char<]fe.
Each of these officials liad a staff under him — a large
staff if the work lay in the kitchen-garden or in the
vineyards ; and besides the regulars there was a body of
THE MONASTERY ON THE LEKINS. 167
hiy l)r()lliers (wlio took the tlirec vows Ijut did not
observe tlie rule), who were liewers of wood and drawers
of water, who tended the cattle and fed the pigs, and
either saw to the nets or worked the boats that plied
between Cannes and the island, or even carried saintly
messengers to Home.
Cannes belonged to the monastery of the Lerins —
that is to say, the Abbot w^as its feudal superior — and the
town paid to the convent a tax on all its produce. Corn
was rated to owe one-tenth, wine one-eleventh, flax and
hemp one-fourteenth, and so on ; but then, on the other
hand, it was an Abbot who added a feAv feet to the pier,
and who built the tower on the Mont Chevalier. In fact
the whole dignity and interest of this piece of coast is so
centred in the Convent on St. llonorat that we wonder
how the House ever came to ruin.
The Great Schism of the West was the first thing
that damaged it, for the Popes of Avignon had no
friendly feeling for it, and, what was w^orse, they invented
the system of putting the abbeys into coinmende. In
this way the abbot could be a layman — some prince or
baron, who was useful to them, and who never drew less
than a third of the rental of the House. A great change
of feeling necessarily took place. Such an abbot- com-
mendatory was a hireling and a stranger, an embodied
piece of grasping worldliness ; while the Trior, left to
reside in the cloister, had no control of either the riches
or the interests of his House, but fulfilled its duties with
nonchalance, and in narrow circumstances.
By 1500, this abuse, like many others, reached a
climax. As an example, we need go no farther than
i68 THE MARrriAfE ALPS.
a certain Agostino Triviilzio, presented in 1-317, by Pope
Leo X., to tlie see of Grasse. His nomination was not
nnsnitable. Grasse was, as St. Ambrose said of Pro-
vence, ' more Italian than Italy itself,' and the bishop
came of a noble Milanese family. But this same Agos-
tino appears in the list of the bishops of Toulon, and in
til at of the bishops of Bayeux, and while he was chief
slu'plicrd of tliree French sees this pluralist was also
commendatory-abbot of Nanteuil and of Fontfroid-
He never so much as visited Grasse, and lie died in
Eome, where his tomb, in the church of S. Maria del
Popolo, may be seen to this day. It is curious, how-
ever, to hear the way in which the very pope who had
ai)pointed liim thundered, at the Council of the Lateran,
ao"ainst this system of the conunende. Too many inte-
rests were, however, involved in it, so the abuse went
on, and it went on to be that disintegrating element
which gradually but surely brought the monastic houses
to ruin.
The monks of the Lerins lived on the very worst of
terms Avitli tlieir abbots-commendatory. Sometimes
they had the best of it, l)ut once, when the Abbot
happened to be a high-tempered and crafty Grimaldi, they
got very much the worst of it. He treated tliem simply as
serfs attached to the soil of his fief, removed them one
and all, and had tliem replaced by some regulars of
tlie Order of the C'assinists of St. Justina of Padua.
But even this stern measure did not secure peace,
and the quarrels continued till the middle of tlie
eighteenth century. The years tliat were so ])ainfully
fertile in jars produced notliing else of great or good,
THE MONASTERY ON THE LERINS. 169
and tlie calm wliicli fell at last on St. Ilonorat was less
that of ordered discipline than of moral inaction. In
1740, a body of Cluniacs was introduced ; but the new
blood could not revive a life that stagnated, while all
around this dying monasticism there lay a w^orld of
thoujTlit and business — a world strusfo-liiio- to be born.
Among Protestants there is a common impression
that when the Eevolution of 1789 came, it found the
religious orders in France idle, affluent, over-fed, and
full of empty pretensions. As representing an ignorant
intolerance, they are supposed to have then fallen victims
to the just wrath of a populace whom they had robbed
of bread for the body and of freedom for the mind.
Nothing can be farther from the truth. The institution
was more than two-thirds dead, and the houses, in six
cases out of ten, already worn out and condemned. It is
true that for too long the sluggish and egotistic lives of
tlie regulars had possessed nothing in common with the
fortitude, simplicit}^ industry, and wisdom of St. Ilono-
ratus and of St. Benedict . Neither was the stagnation of
the eighteenth century tliat Peace, passing all under-
standing, which rebukes tlie fire of human passions,
while it lightens the grievous pains and fills the vacant
spaces in solitary lunnan hearts. The founders had
truly made of their institution ' a great centre for na-
tional and rehgious life ; ' but the world now demanded
different specifics, and it confessed to having very diffe-
rent ailments from those of the fifth century. The vast
multiplication of convents rendered them a mistake,
Avhile, thanks to the system of the coDunende^ it was not
uncommon to meet, as Mr. Gibbon did, ' an abbe who,
I70 THE MARITIME ALIS.
by reiiouiU'iiiL!- tlie world, liad secured to liiiuself an
income of 100,000 livres a year.' That this ineoine
was perhaps spent in the ante-room of a Madame de
Pomj)adonr naturally did not do anything towards
elevating either the system or the men.
By the last half of the eighteenth century French-
men had become philosophical. The libraries, even of
country-houses, were full of the works of the Ency-
clopedists, and the jokes and anecdotes of Grimm were
more in demand than the ' Commonitorium ' of St. Vin-
cent of the Lerins. The court and the camp had more
charms than the cloister, so })rofessions became scarce,
except among women, and few men of note adopted
the religious life. The convent of Port Eoyal had been
perhaps the last expression of monastic fervour of w^hich
monarchical France w^as capable, and its results were
not such as to tempt the next generation to repeat them.
The press had become a power, for a new aristocracy,
that of literature, began to assert itself. In a very rude
age the monastery had really incarnated the doctrine
of brothej'iiood, and there men liad learnt ' how good and
blessed a thing it is for brethren to dwell tog;etlier in
unity.' But now a new philanthropy had its votaries.
Jean-Jacques Piousseau liad just argued before the
Academy of Dijon the equality of men, and tliough it
might have been difficult to deduce from tlic ])ages of his
' Emile ' a definite theory of education, yai the book, like
the rest of Eousseau's works, did, by its style and its
enthusiasm, herald a new era of thought, of sympathies,
new claims, new aspirations, and new eflbrts — when
difl'erent methods both of primary and of secondary
THE MONASTERY ON THE LERINS. 171
eduf-ation came to i-eplace tlie old ones, and wlieii learn-
ing no longer lived on herbs in a cell, hard by the one
where the painter laid his palette, or the prior told his
beads.
The Government never took on itself to abolish the
institution of monasticism, and even under the tyranny
of the old reyiine it was not forbidden to men to live
together in communities. The State only determined
to cut off some dead branches, and it obtained canonical
sanction for its operations. Worldly as it was, it felt a
sort of clemency for those seats of ancient learning, the
cynosures of so many pious fancies, records in stone of
an age when contemplation brought heaven doAvn to
earth, Avhen pious hands first cleared away thorns and
briars from the fields of France. ' Time,' it has been
said, ' trieth Troth,' and time in this case brought to
judgment both the method and the men. No revolu-
tion did it, only time succeeded where pirates and
heretics had failed. The cloisters had the same dim
religious light, the gardens had the same careless
beauty, the orchards the same russet fruits, while
over the valleys, where the rich abbeysteads stood
between breadths of cornland and vineyards, there
brooded the same sylvan peace. Only the spirit
that is in man had changed, and practical Frenchmen
could no longer fit themselves to a conventual life.
Thus it happened that near Eouen there was a priory
in which only one monk remained : many congregations
were suppressed for lack of members, and the Govern-
ment ordered three hundred and eighty-six useless
religious houses to be shut.
172 THE MARITIME ALPS.
A bull of Pins VI. did, in 1787, iinite the abbacy of
the Lerins to the see of Grasse, and when, in 1788, the
pontifical commissioner came to look into the affairs
of a House already canonically suspended, tlie fact
transpired that there were but four monks in resi-
dence on St. Ilonorat. The seven chapels had lost their
popularit}^, and ])ilgrims no longer flocked to their
shrines ; only the plant of 'panlon ^ still showed its
s})ikes of yellow flowers on tlie beach where martyrs had
died under the blows of Moorish pirates. The moment
had arrived for the secularisation of St. Ilonorat. In
this case, as in every other, the Government undertook
to indenniif}" the survivors. An inventory of the pro-
perty was made. The list proves how wide of the
mark is tlie })opular picture of cellars full of old wine,
and of sideboards covered with old plate. The very
library was by no means intact, and the four monks, as
they had had little to enjoy, had now very little to leave.
Dom Theodule, the Prior, was a native of this district.
Perliaps lie loved liis island, witli its shrines and its
myrtle-llowcrs, with tlie washing of the waves, and the
sound of the tishermen's bells when they drew their
nets by night in the bays where the corallines grow.
Perhaps he had for years counted the stones of the
great House whose tower was familiar to him since
childhood ; certain it is that Dom Tlu'odule never
went out of sight of his lost ])riory. lie retii'cd,
Avitli his pension of 1,500 livres, to Yallauris, and
died tjiere, in the house of his sister, Madame Gazan.
.Dom Marcy, on the same ])ension, became Yicar of
' Llierhu dull I'ardoun, the CltuwarUi inarUlitia.
THE MONASTERY ON THE LERINS. 173
Antibes : not quite an ignoble berth, as Antibes, once
the seat of a bishop, was extra-diocesan and in the
direct gift of the Holy See. Dom Lassans died the
humble desservant of a hamlet near Grasse ; while Dom
Chardon, after drifting as far as Avignon, died there
a professor in a public school. Thus the old order
gave place to tlie new, and tlnis on tlic Lerins died
Love and Zeal.
The year 178(S was followed by the more stormy
one of 1789, and socju tlie seaboard of the Maritime
Alps was startled, not by the ringing of any Angelus
bell, but by the voice of Mirabeau, which w^as as the
roar of the mistral, by the shouting of the ' Marseillaise,'
and by the booming of the English guns. The spring
of 1815 brought Napoleon to land witliin sight of the
Lerins, but by that time tlie monastery had become
a heap of ruins. In its palmy days it once had an
Abbot so fond of meditation that every night he was
wont to pace the path between the seven chapels and
the little mole. It w^as reported that long after his
demise the ghost of St. Yirejile haunted his accustomed
walk. Assuredly in the early days of this century
St. Viro-ile could have noted nothing during his walks
but an abomination of desolation, for the rank stalks
of the fennel and the smilax tangled above the place
where his abbey had stood.
The Bishops of Frejus-and-Toulon made a note of
these desecrated shrines, these empty altars, and this
deserted beach. Both Monseigneur Eicher and Mon-
seigneur ]\Iichel wislied to get possession of the island,
and as the property had been already twice put up for
174 THE MARITLVE ALPS.
sale, to be l)()iiglit, first by an English clergyman, and
then by a French actress, there was hope that it might
a<^ain come into the market. Accordinixly the late
bishop, Monseigneur Jordany, Avas fortunate enough
to buy it in. The Jordany belong to Cannes, and a
Jordany had once been Prior of the Lerins, so it was a
double gratification to have obtained possession of tlie
island. A colony of brotliers of tlie Tliird Order of St.
Francis was first placed there. Tlieir l)usiness was the
cultivation of tlie soil, and tlie training of orphan
boys on a model farm, but they have latterly been
replaced in the monastery by some Cistercian monks.
The pious gifts of Catholic visitors have enriched the
new foundation, and the tall belfry of the new con-
vent now serves as a landmark to mariners from St.
Tropez to the Cap Garoube. Visitors of the fair sex
are not permitted to enter the convent, and they
are of course proportionately anxious to do so. I was
once deluded by a friend who can prove a descent from
Edward III. to hope that because I have some of the
blood of Kin g Robert the Bruce we might together
have been able to gratify our curiosity. I should then
have had it in my power to report to my readers
about the cloisters of the Lerins. But H.R.H. the Com-
tesse de Paris undeceived me. She told me that the late
amiable Queen of the Netherlands was the only woman
who lias entered there as by right., and that though she
had herself crossed the threshold an ex])ress permission
had previously been obtained from Pome. I must there-
fore ask gentle readers to be content with a photo-
grapli, and gentlemen to visit for themselves a House
THE MONASTERY ON THE LERINS. 175
of wliicli I am told that tlic monks are pardonably
proud. The brothers are also very mucli pleased to speak
of the rights which render their estate free of muni-
cipal dues. Cannes formerly depended from the Lerins,
and, but for the existence of certain admiralty rights
of foreshore, it appears that even now the Mayor of
Cannes could not set his foot uninvited on the island of
St. Honorat.
It is unfortunate that the books of the old library
have not been recovered. The papers were originally
sent up to Grasse. During the Eevolution they ran
many risks and were carted off to Draguignan, where
they lay for years at the mus -'prefecture. They are
now at Xice, and the great disorder in which they
were found augured ill for such a classification as
might lead to a discovery of their merits. The Societe
ilea Lettres, Sciences, et Arts des Alpes-Maritimes has,
however, taken the matter in hand (1883). The big,
brown, wooden book, containing a hundred and fifty-
two leaves of parchment, has been catalogued and re-
printed,^ and in this way we possess a list of the gifts,
grants, sales, and privileges of the monastery during
the ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth centuries. A
second series, comprising the charters from the thir-
teentli to the eighteenth century, is in preparation. The
Prince of Monaco possesses one curious and original
document from the charter-room of the TiCrins. It is
' Cartulaire de VAhhaye de Lerins, jjuhlie sous les auspices du
Ministere de V Instruction Fublique, by MM. H. Moris et Ed. Blanc.
The printing press of the convent was employed for the production
of a volume which can be bought from H. Champion, 1.5 Quai
Malaquais, Paris.
176 THE MARITIME A IPS.
literally as well as riiji;iiratively a ' rent-roll,' for on a
roll, eleven inches wide, but fourteen feet in length, is
preserved a list of all the fiefs, lands, and tenements
belonging to the Abbey. Each entry is attested by the
local notary, and the document is one of the greatest
interest for the topography of all the districts once con-
trolled by the abbots of the Lerins.
The plate and silver shrines, which were dejjosited at
Grasse when the abbey was united to the see, were
early sent to Marseilles to be melted up for national
purposes, but there are a few relics of St. Honoratus still
preserved in the diocese. The Chmse is at Grasse. It
is a small, arched, wooden chest, with curious archaic
figures, representing scenes in the life of the saint, such
as his arrival on the island, and his conquest of the ser-
pents. One of these, a monster apparently fourteen feet
long, plays the heroic part in the composition. The
Chdsse is empt}^, but the church possesses a bone, and
Cannes also has a relic of him, which is carried through
the old town on the festival of the Saint. I met it once,
being escorted by M. Barbe the cure^ with a dozen priests,
and a hundred white-veiled children, but this small, an-
nual procession is all that survives from the olden time.
It must have been a good deal more animated when the
pilgrims from Eiez, appearing in Cannes, fought the Can-
nois for the right to walk first, next to the great crozier
of the Abbot, in the triumph of St. Honorat's Day.
Thus fades the renown even of those who have ' l)uilt
churches and chapels : ' thus sinks in clouds the little
day of every human system. ' God,' said a wise French
preacher, ' only elTaces to write a fresh inscription.'
THE MONASTERY ON THE LlllUNS. 177
The speech of Moiiseigneiir Jordan}', wlioii lie recovered
the island of the Lei'ins, showed that he had read ari^-ht
the 'fresh inscri[)tion,' tlie larger message of the nine-
teenth century. He dwelt on the virtues of Ilonoratus
and of his disciples, l)ut he told the crowd, ' that both
saints and martyrs, l)otli bishops and fishermen, both
priests and men of the Avorld, l^elong alike to God, and
have a message from Him to the Avorld.' It would hardly
be an exaj^jj^eration to add that we are all. Catholics and
Protestants, the children of the Middle Ages, and that
the Ijells of this cloister, like those of the fabled city
sunk under the sea, stir our hearts. They remind us nf
a time Mdien the founder had an ideal, an ideal which
was that of the Beatitudes, and an impersonal zeal for
the coming of the Kingdom of God.
178 THE MARITIME ALPS.
CHAPTER XI.
NICE.
II y a un pays, ou la nult sans voiles,
Pleine de parfums, de sourdes rumeurs,
Laisse scintiller une mer d otoiles —
Des etoiles d'or, trerablaiites lueiirs.
II est un pays, ou I'oiseau qui passe
Gazouilie, et benit I'dternel printemps,
Pays de jeunesse ardente et d'audace,
Ou les coeurs epris ont toujours vingt ans.
Ce pays — c'est toi . . .
Noel Blache.
'Les evcnenients cfTacent les uvenements— inscriptions gravces sur dautres
inscriptions - ils i'ont des pages de I'iiistoire des palinipsestes.' — Chateau-
briand.
The county oi Nice is like a l)cauliful ^volll;nl, and lier
history is tliat of tlie con(|uei"ors wliu ^vere at once lier
lovers and her lords, k^hc has never liad a continuous
life of lier own, and slie lias had many vicissitudes ; only
tlie sky is still brialit wilh all lier smiles, and the sea of
the Baio des AiKje^i is salt witli all her tears. A strong
life runs in her veins, snow-clad mountains stand round
a])()ut her, her red eartli l)riiigs forth wine, and roses,
and seented ]icrl)s, lier sunsliine gives liope to tlie
dviiig ; she was, and she is, and she ever will be, so long
as the sunshine lasts, ])eaiiliriil, pciriimed, rich, laughing,
and warm. Yet her liistoi-y has hardly been a happy
one. Its storms would 1111 a volume, and I ])ropose
therefore to throw it into the form of some clirono-
NICE. 179
logical tables, Mliicli can he consulted at pleasure, or
passed over at ^vill.
The connli-y lias ever been wasteful of human life.
These hills that slo])e to the sea have at all times
tempted strangers and invaders. The Ligurian races
succeeded to the Pelasgic builders on Mont Agel, and
a Celtic emigration into the Maritime Alps took ])lace,
perhaps two thousand years before Christ. No date
can be iixed for it, or for the exploits of the Tyrian
Ilercides at Yillefranche and Monaco, or even for the
foundation of Cimiez.
The legend of the foundation of the earliest Greek
colony in Provence is as beautiful as the sea which first
bore to the mouth of the llhonc the galley of the
Phoca3an youth. It is a legend, yet if it be true, as
Schiller says, that 'a high soul underlieth childish play,'
tlien this story may be held to be desciiptive of the way
in which Provence, like the king's fair daughter, has
over and over again given herself to a stranger, has
adopted and absorbed into herself new strains of blood,
and has given to her ])opnlation a tinge, now of Greek,
now of Moorish, now of Jewish, and now of Genoese
blood. At the present moment the currents of Anglo-
Saxon and of Piedmontese life are sensibly alteiing the
populations of the coast.
But here is the legend of the first Greek settlers, as
told in Marseilles, a place still so Greek in its colouring.
Nann, the king of the Segol)riges, held high festival.
His chiefs sat round his table. They were brave and
they drank deep, as they filled a bowl to 2:)ledge fair
Glyptis, the only daughter of their king. White-robed,
N 2
i8o THE MARITIME ALPS.
Avitli liair ilial iVll to lici' knees, I'rincess Gly[)ti.s slip-
ped iiilo file liall. Slie M'as to clioose a mate to-day
IVdiu llie braves wlio were Iut J'allier's most trusted
friends. They all drank to liei', and as they ])raised her
loveliness, they whispered, ' On whom will her choice
fall?' To whom would Glyj)tis give the cup noAv
brimming in her white hands ?
None but the brave,
None but the brave,
Deserve the fair !
But the fair have their ca])rices. Glyptis had
known these braves since her childhood. She knew
their jokes, their thick beards, their gruff voices, their
exploits, and their drinking-songs. A strange face near
the door caught lier eye. Ah! M^;;^ no dou1)t was the
Phoca3an j'oulh of whom King Nann liad s])oken, and
whom he had bidden to his table to-day, so that young
I'rotis might, on his return to the isles of Greece, tell
his fellows how men feasted in the halls of a kinjj all
whose soldiers were brave, and whose only daughter
was beautiful. Glyptis gazed, and hesitated. The land
from which this stranger came was far away — nearer to
the sunrising than the white cliffs of her home; but
there men spoke in a softer speech, and looked not
uidike the gods to whom they prayed. 'I'he maiden
looked auain; then slie fjlided throu<i'h the rows of the
Gaulic chiefs which had Ojiened to \vi her pass, and
slie j)laced in the hand of Trotis the cup that was
her 1 rot h-])light. Every fairy tale ends in tJie same
way: 'and so they were married, liad sons and
daughtei's, and lived ]iap])y ever afterwards.' That
NICE. i8i
is tlie 1)1(1, orthodox fn)<th% and the legend of Glyptis
and Protis is no exception to the ride. They did
live happily, and they fonnded in the dominion of
Massalia a city of which Chateaul)riand could say that
she was 'Athens' youngest rival.' Nice and Antibes
(Anti})oli8) Avere children of this parent Massalian
colony, but being weak they had more to fear from
the fierce native tribes. It was the Greeks of Antibes
who first summoned the Roman legions to their assist-
ance. This occurred B.C. 237 ; and the conquest of
the district Avas so obviously templing to the Eomans
that tlieir first promenade militaire was followed by
others, and the Latin element thus introduced into the
Maritime Alps was destined to be soon, and for ever,
the dominant one.
B.O.
Passage of Hannibal into Italy . . . .222
P. C. Scipio lands at Villefranche . . . .201
Pomans defeated at the fords of the Var . . . 18G
Cannes destroyed by Q. Opimius and tlie 22nd legion 155
P. Flaccus defeats the tribes . . . . .127
Aix, in Provence, founded by the Romans . .126
The Via Domitia made . . . . . .125
The Cas^rnm of St. Vallier built . . . .125
Pompey goes into Gaul . . . . . .77
Siege of Vence by the Romans .... 60
Victories of Augustus as recorded at Turliia . . 13
Tiberias gives freedom to the cities of a coast of which
Cimella (Ciraiez) was the Roman, or militarv, a.d.
capital, and Nice the emporium of Greek trade . 14
Mission of St. Trophimus . . . . . (?)
Mission of St. Banzai )as . . . . . . (?)
Battle of Arluc, near Cainies . . . . .72
Amphitheatre of Cimiez built (Hadrian) . . .130
Pertinax born at Turbia . . . . . .193
- St. Bassus, iii-st Bishop of Nice . . . . 200 (?)
lS2
THE MARITIME A IPS.
A.D.
2G1
302
]\fiiityr(loin of St. Pons at Nice
Diocletian persecutions in Gaul
St. Hernientariiis, first Bishop of Grasse . . . 1
St. Acceptus, lirst Bishop of Frejus . . . . ?
St. Eu.sel»ius, tir.st Bishop of Veiue . . . . 1
St. Honoi-atus founds the Convent on the Lerins circa 40G
Appearance of the Visigotlis ..... 406
The lu)in;iii cixilisat ion was so ])ei-fe('t in laws,
ill arcliiteclurc, in military strenotli, and in social
refinenionts, that any iiiaii n(^w foretellinu' a return to
I M\| \N I I I |)( I ()| ( \SM
l)arl)arism would have seemed as one wlio dreams.
Flourishing towns were threaded like ])earls along the
Aurelian Way : Frejus, Cannes, and Ant ibes had their
theatres; Arlnc and IMaiKUTu'ii their altars of Venus;
Clausonne and A^allnni'is tlieir a(iiiediiets; WMiee and
Grasse tlieir temples to the twelve great gods; Turbia
had its ti(t|)liy ; Na])oule and Auribeau their granaries;
Cannes \\< bridge; Fri'jus and Taureiitinm their ])orts ;
while farther to the easlwai'd fliere \vere villa^^ on the
NICE. 183
Cap Martin, a wall at Mcntone, and a circus at Venti-
miglia.
The (lestrnetion of Cimicz must liave been a great
blow, not only to the power of tlie proconsul, whose
villa occupied tlie brow of the hill, but to the whole
social organisation of the coast. No niore beautiful
spot than this old Eonian capital ! The steep hill-
side bristling witli vigorous groups of trees, the rosy
orchards and the nol)le olives, all make up a most
charming picture. Below, in the valley of Paillon, is
the stony river-bed, and the Avhite roads that lead into
tlie rocky gorges of St. Andre and Tourretes. No
M'iiids blow at Cimiez, and a gentle sadness hung at
once over the silent Roman villa, and over the shadowy
paths that led up to the convent and the white tombs
of the dead, till some staring modern boulevards came to
drive away these visions of an historic and of a religious
past. But seated for an hour at the door of the church
under these spreading ilex trees, between the ridned
amphitlieatre and the Christian graves, we can pass
in review a long succession, both of the soldiers who
studied war, and of the sons of peace. Ediles and pro-
consuls and centurions here planned either military busi-
ness, or the gladiatorial shows of a circus built to hold
four thousand persons, and then, after the delights of
the theatre, they would tramp away in the early dawn
to Antibes, to the port where the triremes rode, and
whence these Eoman colonists drew their supplies.
Nice, with her harbour of Limpia, was occupied by the
Greek traders, for whom very dark da^^s were now in
store.
i84 THE MARITIME AIPS.
A.n.
Nice and Cimicz sacked l>y Burguiidians
414-32
473
510
537
571
713-35
INIartvi'dom of St. Yallier, Bisliop of Antibes
Ai»peai*auce of the Ostrogoths
Conquests of the Franks
Ciniiez destroyed by the Louil)ards .
First Saracen invasions
We have noted the introduction of the Latin element,
so I ]nust panse liere to s])eak of tlie first Semitic
wave that strnclc on the coasts of Soiitliern Europe.
After Christianity liad Ijeen driven from her old strong-
holds — Palestine, Egypt, and Carthage — a new danger
threatened her in the development of a spirit of mili-
tary fanaticism among the disciples of Islam. This
has in some ways proved a blessing in disguise, since
long before Soutliern Europe could recover iVoni t]ie
assaults of tlie Ijarbarian races of Cinibri, Ambrones,
Teutons, Vandals, Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Normans, Lom-
bards, and Iluns, her Semitic colonists had a richer
civilisation. These new comers were called sometimes
Saracens, or people from tlu:> Yarl\ or East ; some-
times Moors, or ])eople from Western Mauritania. They
were nominally Mahometans, but tliey really lield a
mixture of Egyptian, Persian, Sal)iean, Chaldean, and
Jewish creeds. Essentially nomadic in their origin, we
shall see tliem become first sailors and then colonists,
able like the fairer Moors of Granada to reach the
highest ])laces in arts and refincnicut : 'slandiug,' says
Deutsch, ' together with the Jews, at the cradle of
modern science.' The Berbers, who were the rougher
element, may be said to be now fairly represented
by the m(jdern Kab3'les, and by the Arabs of the
Tell.
NICE. 185
The Feudal Age.
A.D.
Saracens land on the Island of St. Honorat . . . .730
739
750
770
879
948
1008
1070
1080
1099
Second invasion of the Saracens .....
Antibes and Cannes given by Pepin to Thilmud
Chai'lemagne gives fiefs to G. di Ventiniiglia .
Charles IV. gives Provence as a fief to Bozon I. .
Bozon II., titular King of Aries .....
Consuls appointed in Nice ......
Tower of Cannes begun ......
Castle on St. Honorat begun .....
Order of St. John of Jerusalem founded
Berenger, Count of Barcelona and Forcalquier, acquires the
fiefs of Provence . . . . . . , .1112
Pope Gelasius comes to Provence . . . . . . 1 1 1 G
Provence divided between the Counts of Toulouse and the
Berengers, Counts of Barcelona and Forcalquier . . 1132
This is tlie age of cliivalry ; Crusaders, Templars,
Hospitallers, and Troubadours jostle each other on the
stac^e. Arabic and Jewish learnino; filter through the
Pyrenees, and the Albigeois heresy advances beyond
the territories of the Counts of Toulouse and of Pro-
vence. The world is young, but growth is in every
limb. The feudal princes are powerful, and country
life — a thiufT unknown to the Eomans — beoins round
the castles of the great barons. The communes are,
however, still more full of vigour, a strong patriotic
life of commerce and self-g;overnment animatin<>: the
towns of Provence. It had to strus^CTle both aii:ainst the
barons and the tyranny of the Chapters.
A.D.
Earliest charter of Grasse . . . . . . .1181
Albigeois crusade ......... 1 20G
Statutes of Frejus drawn up by Romee de Villeneuve for
Raymond-Berenger IV. ...... 1235
^Beatrix, youngest daughter of Raymond-Berenger, married,
at Lyons, to Charles of Anjou ..... 1240
i86
HIE MARITIME ALPS.
Charles's sliips I)uilt at Nice .
He goes to tlic Holy Land .
St. Louis lands at Hyeres
Charles, at the instigation of Pope Urban, starts from Nice
for the conquest of Sicily
Cliarles, after the murder of Manfred, crowned King of Sicily
Massacre of the Sicilian Vespers .
Charles IT. (the Lame) gives a charter to Grasse
Charles II. builds Villefranchc
Charles II. surrenders the Templars to Philippe-le-Bel . 1
Robert I. (the Wise) sides with the Guelfs
St. Roselyne de Yilleneuve dies .
Jeanne, heiress of Provence and of the Two Sicilies, marries her
cousin, Andrew of Hungary .....
Andrew is murdered ; the Queen marries Louis of Tarento
Jeanne and Louis land at the Ponchett<?s of Nice, and go by
Grasse to Avignon ....
Jeanne sells Avignon to the Pope (Clement VI.)
The great plague visits Nice and Biot .
The Lasearis and others rebel against Jeanne
Ci^il war .......
Jeanne gives a charter to Grasse .
Jeanne adopts as her heir Louis of Anjou
Ci\il war in Provence. Charles of Durazzo proclaimed as
Charles III. Jeanne flies to the Tour Drammont, and
sails from Agay for Naples .
Civil war. Antibes sacked by the Arniagnacs
Castle of Napoule begun
Tower of Cannes finished
The Grimaldi get possession of Monaco
Genoese corsairs sack the Lerins .
King Rene embarks at Antibes .
Frcjus burnt by the Barbary corsairs .
After the deatli of Rene, Provence, ceded to Louis XL, is
united to Franco .......
Palamcde de Forbin-Sollius, fii-st governor for the King
Jews expelled from Spain by Fci-dinand and Isiibella : eniigra
tion into Provence ......
Passage of Charles VIII. through Antibes into Italy
Louis XIT. creates the Parliament of Provence
A.P.
1246
1247
1254
1263
1266
1282
1287
1293
307-8
1318
1329
1347
1348
1348
1348
1349
1352
1354
1306
1380
1381
1390
1390
1395
1395
1405
1452
1475
1488
1489
1492
1494
1517
NICE,
187
A.D.
Charles of Savoy fortifies Nice, and weds a princess of
Portugal 1521
Pope Adrian VI. conies l)y Villefranche to Nice . . . 1522
Visits the Convent on the Lerins ...... 1522
Wars of Francis and Charles V. \ the Emperor conies to
Nice 1524
He takes Villeneuve-Loul^et, Vence, Glrasse, Aiitibes, and
Cannes .......... 1524
Augustin Grimaldi, Bishop of Grasse and Alibot-Comnienda-
tory of the Lerins, disloyal to the King. . . . 1524
Battle of Pavia 1525
The Knights of Rhodes found a house in Nice . . .1527
They get Malta from Charles V 1529
Immense floods ........ 1530-31
Descent of the Barbary pirates at Napoule .... 1530
Charles V. burns the forest of the Esterel .... 1536
He comes to Cannes, and leaves in a fishing-boat . . . 1536
Napoule burnt by the Moors ...... 1536
The Pope Paul III. and Francis I. meet in Nice . . .1538
Charles V. lands at Villefranche . . . . . .1538
Treaty of Nice, called 'f/« ^a Croix </^ J/rwir-?' . . .1538
Louis d'Adhemar de Grignan, governor in Provence . . 1540
The Turks who besieged Nice repulsed Ijy Doria . . .1542
They take Nice 1543
Charles III. of 8avoy succeeded in Nice l*y Philibert, who
marries a daughter of Francis I. . . . . . 1553
Huguenot church in Napoule ...... 1554
Battle of Lepanto . . . . . . . .1571
Plague brought to Cannes ....... 1580
The League in Provence ....... 1587
Pompee de Giusse murdered at Mouans .... 1588
Napoule burnt by the Duke of Savoy ..... 1589
Frejus and Antibes taken from the Leaguers . . . 1589
Who sack Antibes and Cannes ...... 1589
Lesdiguieres enters Pi^ovence ...... 1590
He obliges the Duke of Savoy to give up Cannes, Grasse, and
Antibes 1592-99
But sutlers a defeat before Vence . ..... 1592
Henri IV. joins the Church of Rome ..... 1597
Charles Emmanuel of Savoy enters Nice .... 1603
1 88
THE MARITIME AITS.
His sou, Victor Amadous, marries Princess Christine of F
Siege of Cannes .....
War between France and Spain .
The Lei'ins taken by the Spaniards
Guitaud governor of the Islands .
Miracle of Laghet ....
Vauban's woi'ks at Nice
Vauban's woi'ks at Antiljos .
Cassini's observations ....
The Masque de Fer goes to Ste.-Marguerite
War with Savoy : Nice taken by the French
Mathioli dies in the prison of Ste. Marguerite
The Masque de Fer leaves Provence for the Bastille
Military operations on the Var ....
Pegomas ravaged by the troops of Savoy
Marshal Berwick razes the Castle of Nice
Vaul)an fortifies Ste.-Marguerite . . . .
Nice is restored to Savoy .....
Peace of Utrecht ........
Monseigneur Mesgrigny, Bishop of Grasse
Plague at Marseilles ......
Charles Emmanuel III. .....
Fragonard born in Grasse .....
War with Spain : the Infant Philip enters Nice .
Tlie enemy, whose headquarters are at Cannes, presses tl
the country as far as Draguignan .
English ships take the Lerins ....
War with Maria-Theresa : General Brown quarters 1:
in Vence, Biot, and Grasse ....
Inhabitants of Cannes fly to the islands
Evacuation of Grasse ......
Mirabeau lioi'u .......
Eartluiuake (of Lisbon) shakes this coast
Massena born at Levens, near Nice
Barbaroux born at Marseilles ....
Corsica handed over to France ....
Napoleon l)orn, August li^ .
Canni't made into a commune ....
Su]ipi'cKsion of the order of the Jesuits .
J)cath of Louis XV
rough
ms(df
A.D,
1G19
10:1.3
1G35
1635
1G37
lGr)2
1675
1680
1G82
1687
1690
1694
1G98
1703
1707
1710
1712
1713
1713
1720
1720
1731
1732
17II
1715
174G
1716
1746
1747
1749
1756
1758
17G7
1768
1769
1773
1773
1774
NICE. 1 89
A.D.
Death of Charles Emmanuel III. ...... 1775
Napoleon goes to France . . . . . . .1778
The Bishop of Orleans, last Commendatory- Ahlxjt of the Lcrius 1 779
Pisani, last Bishop of Vence ....... 1783
The monastery on the Lerins closed, and its four monks
dispersed ........ 1787-88
Napoleon goes to Valence and to Marseilles .... 1787
Assembly of the Hats of Provence ..... 1788
Mirabeau named deputy ....... 1789
Riots at Yence and St. Jeannet ...... 1789
Tlie convocation of the provincial assemblies at Aix
and at Lambesc was rapturously hailed in Grasse, where
I'runieres was bishop, but where Mougin de Eoquefort
was mayor and v'Kjuier. He it was who lirst in Mari-
time Provence called by the name of ' Eevolution ' those
demands which, in imitation of the patriots of Dauphiny,
he formulated for his country. Those demands were
not only reasonable, they were elementary, but, as the
weeks went on, passions grew fiercer, and holy zeal turned
to blind fury. The whole country was in a ferment,
and an emigration began which was to make a radical
and a lasting change on the face of Provencal society.
The ceaseless wars of Louis XIV., the disorders of the
regency, the profligacy of Louis XV., the sufl'erings
of the peasants as described by Vauban, the weak-
ness of Louis XVI., the unpopularity of the queen,
the lack of ])opular representation, the selfishness of
a more than half-ruined nobility, the corruption of
Churchmen, the decay of piety, the philosophical and
deistical tendencies of the eighteenth century, the hope-
less embarrassment of the national finances, with three
years of famine, had all ])repared the way for these
catastrophes.
190
THE MARITIME ALPS.
Troubles in Griisse ......
Suppression of the Bislioprics of CJrassc and Vcncc
Death of Miraheau • . . . .
Nunihers of hnvjres go to Nice
Castle of Bar destroyedby the moll
Riots at Grasse ......
Castles of Cabris, Montiiroux, and Caliau sacked
AVar on the right bank of the Var
The French army enters Nice
Napoleon ^vith the artillery in Nice gets a step, and becomes
chef de ha tail! on .....
Massena commands a battalion in a regiment of volunteers
of the Var ......
A bridge over the Var built ....
Louis XVI. beheaded .....
The Terror proclaimed .....
Nice wishes to be united to France
Massena retreats from St. Martin-de-Lantosque
Battles of Sospello and Utelle
Riots in Nice ......
The allies evacuate Toulon ....
Hoclie named to command in Nice
Madame Letitia Buonaparte lives at Antibes
Fiirhtinff at the Col de Tende
Buonaparte lives at No. 1 Rue de Villefranche
He Avalks to Vence .....
Four hundred Piedmontese repulsed by Sclierer
The Directory ......
Napoleon nominated U) the command of the army of Italy
He is again in Nice .....
Nice is made into the department of the ^laiitime Alps
Massena defends Genoa ....
Suchet occupies Cagne, and Pascalis Antibes
Alberti held Lantosquc ....
Napoleon made consul for life
DuVjouchage prefect of Nice ....
Napoh'fni declared Emperor ....
Is crowned Kingof Ituly ....
Pius VII. reaches Nice on his way to Fontiiinebleau
Pauline Buonaparte lives in Nice, at Villa A\ igdor
A.P.
1790
1790
1791
91-92
1792
1792
1792
1792
1792
1792
1792
1792
1793
1793
1793
1793
1793
1793
1791
1791
179-1
1794
1791
179-1
1795
1795
1795
1796
1799
1800
ISOO
1800
1802
1803
1.^01
1805
1809
1810
Massena disgraced by Napoleon
Pius VII. passes tlii-ougli Nice
Rejoicings in Grasse for the birth of the King of Rome
Abdication of Napoleon
Nice is restored to the House of Savoy
Passage of Austrian troops ...
The Prince of Monaco returns to his principality
Napoleon lands at Golfc Jouan
Joachim Murat resides in Cannes .
Massena, Due de Rivoli and Prince d'Essling, dies
Lord Brougham's fii'st visit to Cannes .
Charles Albert comes to Nice
Pier of Cannes opened ....
Battle of Novara : Charles Albert goes by Laghet to the Yar,
and sleeps at Antibes
Islandof St. Honorat bought by the Bishop of Frejus and Toulon
Battle of Solferino ....
Nice ceded to the Emperor of the French
Emperor ofi'ers the title of Duke of Nice to Thouvenel
Mentonc and Itoquebrune sold by the Prince of Monaco for
4,000,000 francs
M. Gavini de Campile, first prefect of the A.jM.
Railway open from Frejus to Nice ....
Emperoi-s of France and Rus.sia visit Nice .
Death of the Tzarevitch Nicholas- Alexaudrovitch at Nice
Death of Lord Brougham ......
Demonstrations in Nice after September 4 .
Great floods : bridge of the Brague breaks under a train
The Marquis de Villeneuve-Bargemon prefect of the A.M.
Tower of Cannes (previously damaged 1786 and 1796) .struck
by lightning .....
The Queen of Holland winters in Cannes
Burning of the Opera House in Nice
Queen Victoria visits Mentone
Great snow-storm on the coast
Exhibition at Nice ....
Death of H.R.H. the Duke of All):iuy at Cannes
Great financial crisis in Nice and Cannes
The waters of the Vesubie l>rought into Nice
Cholera breaks out on the coast of Provence
191
A.D.
1811
1811
1811
1814
1814
1815
1815
1815
1815
1817
1831
1836
1838
1848
1858
1859
1860
1860
1860
1860
1864
1864
1865
1868
1870
1872
1872
1875
1876
1881
1882
1883
1884
1884
1884
1884
1884
19:
THE MARITIME AITS.
Facts can be entered in tliese tables of dates, bnt
Nice mnst be seen to be realised. The beauty of its site,
tlie majesty of its mountain ranges, the variety of its
aspects, the loveliness of its vallons, like its cosmopolitan
crowds, its Carnival, its noise, its smells, its Ijonquets,
its dusty torrent-beds, its palms, its shops, and its long
Avliite ])i-omenade, all seem to be conjured up by llie
fancy. It is the most noisy and the most lonely place
in llie world. Twenty or thirty years ago it possessed
a very agreeable society of strangers, grouped round the
nucleus of the local nobility and officials. These met
of evenings in a simple way, or spent long, sunny days
among the woods and hills. But all tliat is now a thing
of tlie past. Tlie quantity of tlie Avinter visitors has
greatlv increased, the quaHty has greatly gone off,
the old colony has been sadly broken u]), and tlie
boast of a fashionable guide-book is true when it
says that here, as a rule, ' les relations sociales sont
faciles^ exemptes cV obligations genantes et des exigences
de V etiquette'
The environs of Nice give as much pleasure as its
mongrel crowds inspire disgust. The valley from St.
Andi'c to Tourretes is as ruo-o-ed and bold as t1ie goroe
of tlie Chiffa. Falicon lies smiling to the sun, while
the deserted villnge of Chateauneuf is on the other
hand desolate beyond words. From the Aspromont
road the view up the valley of the Var strikes me as
unique, for the river comes stealing out from the feet
of the hills, and the villages group themselves on every
rocky knoll.
Then I know no coast so beautiful, especially if
NICE. 193
you turn to Villefranclic, ^villi its foi't and towers and
its fairy roadstead, where the big frigates swing ahiiost
on a level with those church bells which for centuries
have announced to red rocks and blue-green waters
all the dramas of human life, the landings of popes
and emperors, the deaths of peasants, and the burial-
days of kings. Beaulieu is so beautiful that the opening
of a sea road through its woods was positively an event
for public rejoicing, but not so the cutting of its woods
to build villas for visitors to Monte Carlo ! Eza is the
most picturesque thing on tlie coast, whether seen from
the high road into Italy, or gazed at from its sunburnt
beach. I call it sunburnt, and j-et I do not forget its
splendid carouba trees, or the little garden where the
Abbe Montolivo, a iirst-rate botanist, grew so many
rare plants, among the boats and nets and all the
fishing tackle that divided his heart with his flowers
and with the Municipal Library of Nice.
Even more delightful than the coast is tlie scenery
of the vallons. They are of great extent and variety, ac-
cording as you push your explorations far into the hills, or
remain within a walk of the town. Some veiy beautiful
spots, like the vallons of Fabron and of Mantega, can be
reached wdtli little exertion. The first of these opens
behind the Chateau de Barlas, on the Antibcs road ; the
other is reached l)y a path at the back of the Memorial
Chapel of the Tzarevitch, near St. Etienne. In its fern-
fringed recesses where even the sunbeams only rarely
penetrate, there is a solitude such as a hermit miirht
travel far beforo he met with again. Spring there is
redolent of fancies, of flowers and scents ; the peasants
194 THE MARITIME ALPS.
still seem imsopliisticated ; cliiklreii sing in llie cane-
brakes ; under tlie olives the great, white hoods of the
arums look like tlie tents of the fairies, and delicate
coronillas hang veils of green and gold over every steep.
As you rest among the myrtles you cannot believe that
you are Avithin half an hour's walk of the station at
Nice, but rather fancy yourself to be very far indeed
from the ' maddinix crowd,' and from its ' isjnoble strife.'
195
CHAPTER XII.
THROUGH THE COUNTY OF NICE.
' II levenait par les ruelles en pente qui longent les anciens murs d'cn-
ceinte du chateau, ruelles desertes encombrees de broussailles etde ces graudes
herbes de St. Rocli (bien a leur place dans ce coin moyen-age), et ombr^es de
I'enorme ruine dechiquetee en haut du chemin. Le village qull revoj'ait,
baraques anciennes quelques-unes abandonnees, sentait la raort et la desola-
tion d'un village italien.' — A. Daudet.
The fastnesses of the Maritime Alps can only be reached
through the valleys : by following to their sources tlie
Tinee and the Vesubie, which pour their waters into the
Var. I have long had the greatest wish to explore
the country which lies between these two streams, and to
push my travels to the eastern limits of the department.
But ' circumstances over which I had no control ' liave
on two occasions rendered it impossible for me to carry
out an intended visit to the Alpine districts of Eastern
Provence. I must therefore ask my readers to be as
much pleased as I am to read an account of them from
the pen of a more fortunate traveller. A few years ago
Mr. James Harris, Her Majesty's Consul in Nice, accom-
panied the then Prefect of the Maritime Alps, the
Marquis de Villeneuve-Bargemon, in an official tour
through a country which English tourists liave few
opportunities of knowing. Mr. Harris says of his jour-
ney that it lasted a week, and that it was undertaken
2
i.;6 THE MARITIME ALTS.
in June: nol too late a season for the exeursion, since
he and his companions saw a great deal of snow, and
reaUsed niudi ol' llie misery of tlie hill j)()i)uh\tions, wlio
snfler from g-oitre, and look half-starved on tlieir cakes
of chestnut-floiir. I have Mr. Harris's kind ])ermission
to make the following extracts from liis jonrnal :
In the first carriage were the Prefect, Baron Roissard (deputy),
and myself ; in the next came the General of Division and his stati' ;
and in a third went some military and civil officials, including an
army sui'geon, our goal being Puget-Theniers, and our lousiness an
inspection of the conscripts liable for service. . . . Having skirted
the left bank of the Var for two hours, we passed on the one hand
the villages of St. Isidore and St. Martin, and on the other the
valley of the Esteron, the hamlet of La Gaude, and the cliffs of St.
Jeannet. We here entered a narrow gorge called ' I'Echaudan,' where
we noticed the junction of the Vesubie with the Tinee. The former
is a rusliing torrent of bluish snow-water, and the latter is as yellow
as the Tiber. This is a curious feature ; but still more noteworthy
is the fact that though these two streams through summer and
through winter pour a great volume of water into the Var, but a
fractional part of their volume ever apj^ears at its lower end, or at
the mouths of a great torrent which seems to have absorbed their
coiitiiliutions into its ^•ast and stony bed. . . . Before reaching
Yillars \\w country had become uninteresting; but I sketched
during an inspection of recruits, and was glad to notice, when we
left Villars and the valley of the Ripert behind us, that the lime-
stone cliffs were becoming more bold and precipitous. Presently the
village of Touet-de-Beuil came in sight — a mass of dark, overhanging
roofs perched half-way up the hill on our right, four hundred and
forty-one metres above the sea. We ascended to the village, and
entered the church which is at its farther end. In the centre of the
nave is a grating, and on looking through it we could see a small
torrent leaping in a series of cascades to join the Var. Tlie church,
which is dedicated to St. Martin, spans this tori-ent l»y means of an
arch, and is, as far as I know, unique of its kind. . . . Puget-
Theniers and its sons-prefectnre were reached in due coui'se. The
town is unskctchablc, and but foi" its sou\onirK of the Templars
whose garden occupied the site of the present Grande Place, it would
TJJ ROUGH THE COUNTY OF NICE. 197
be uninteresting. It lays claim of course to having been founded by
the Romans, and to have been governed by a prpetor under the
orders of the Prefect of Cimella (Cimiez). In the eleventli century
the abbots of the Lcrins acquired jurisdiction over the churches of
Ste. Marie and St. Martin, privileges which they owed to the piety
of two of the Balbi family, lords of the fief, and married, the one to
a Castellane, and the other to a Glandevez. . . . The road from
Puget to (iuillaumos being unfinished, it was necessary for us now
to mount the mules provided for the party, and to commence the
ascent of the Col de la Crous. This meant a ride of three hours, and
a visit to a small mine of copper which some enterprising Englishmen
have begun to work eight hundred and twenty-two metres above the
level of tlie sea. Guillaumes, which we reached Ijefore sunset, is
most picturesque, l)acked by curious needles of limestone, Avhich,
rising as they do out of the steep mountain- side, look like a con-
tinuation of the foi'tifications of a town that, like so many more in
Provence, can boast of a castle built by Queen Jeanne. It will
speedily be able to boast of a new bridge and road, putting it in
direct communication with Puget-Theniers and Nice. In fact, the
question of roads is everywhere the most prominent one, and wher-
ever we appeared the Prefect was besieged with verbal petitions
about them. ' When was le goiivernement going to take into its
serious consideration the wants of ces jyopiolations dcsheritees 1 ' Then
was the moment for producing the deputy, and Baron Roissard
always declaimed that their interests were so safe in his keeping that
so long as they granted him their confidence there was no fear of
their missing ' the realisation of their most legitimate aspirations.'
The peaceful nature of the said ' aspirations ' shows how far we are
removed from the old warlike days when Charles VIII. , Louis XI.,
and Francis I. made this frontier town the basis of their operations
against Savoy. . . . The valley of the Guebis, which was followed
from Guillaumes to Peone, is both steep and narrow, and Peone is a
lonely spot. Founded originally by some Spanish workmen, a legend
accounts for its subsequent prosperity by telling how the heir of the
odious Lord of Beuil was once carried ofi" and hidden in a cave by
vassals who threatened to let the child die of hunger unless the
stubborn Grimaldi yielded to their just ' aspirations.' The inhabit-
ants of Peone charitably rescued the poor little hostage, and obtained
in consequence rather extensive grants. ... At the top of tlie wild
Col de la Crous (2,849 metres) we had to traverse large fields of
198 THE MARITIME ALPS.
snow, in wliicli our mules sank up to their girths, and we were not
sorry to call a halt at the village of Roya, whence a steep valley
runs down to join that of the Tinee. The sceneiy now began to im-
prove at every step ; the wooded and precipitous glens were beautiful,
and it seemed as if at every moment we must have our progress
stopped by some sheer descent into the bed of the Tinee. But the
mule-path that zigzagged do^\■n the face of the mountain led us
safely to the level of the river, and as we approached St. Etienne-
aux-Monts the inhabitants trooped out to meet the Prefect with
many signs of rejoicing. . . . St. Etieniio lies in a basin where the
Ardon runs to meet the Tinee, and beyond the gorge of Jallorques,
which leads to St. Dalmas-le-Selvage, may be seen the snowy heads
of the Enchastraye. The prosperity of this place, which used to
have a large seminary, depends on its water-meadows and on the
dykes that preserve them. In the days of the Romans, Diana had a
temple on a spot, called Delinsula, and in the fourteenth century a
shrine was built here by the Templars called La Madonna grande,
and adorned with an excellent fresco — a painting far superior to
anything I have seen in this country. Durante mentions it in his
' Chorographic du Comte de Nice.' The parish church is a fine
structure, one which resisted the earthquake of 1-^64. , . . Next
morning we rode down to Isola — a town which has been twice
carried away by the torrents, and t^vice reconstructed. When we
left Isola in the afternoon, we realised a little of the fury of the
Tinee, for on arriving late at St. Sauveur the whole party admitted
to being deafened by the unceasing roar of a river which had sounded
in our ears for many hours. The whole district bore evidences of its
terrible power. . . .
The families of Balbi and of Criinaldi were successively lords of
St. Sauveur, a place of which the name goes back to the tenth cen-
tury, but which has an abundance of Roman remains to testify to
its far greater antiquity and importance, when its Latin conquerors
had a fort to keep the Ectini in order. Our adventures may be said
to have ended here, as we found a can-iage-road leading to Rimplas,
another Roman position, under the inaccessible crag between the
mountains of Sisette and La Magdeleine, in the valley of the Blore.
Here we saw the ruins of a castle built by Alfonso of Aragon, and
bui'nt by Marshal Belle-Jsle in 1717. This miserable village once
belonged to Peter Ball)0 ; but he was depi-ivod of his estates because
he sided with the Angevine party against Charles of Durazzo, and his
THROUGH THE COUNTY OF NICE.
199
liefs passed into the hands of tlie Grimaldi, lords of Beuil, wlio,
since 1380, had already held thirty other liefs in the uplands of the
county of Nice, and lived on very bad terms with their neiglihoui-s
the Cais of Roure and of Gilette.
A tolerably fertile plateau is descried from th('.s(^ lici<,dits. It is
called Valdcblorp, and contains the villages of 8t. Dalmas, La Roche,
and La Bollene, celebrated for their cheeses. The road continues to
ascend till the col is reached which separates the valley of the Tince
from that of the Vesubie, from whicla a view is gained of those
northern peaks which in their tui'n divide the Vesubie from the
Gesso and its watershed (into Italy), opposite the Col della Finestiu
and the Col di Fremamorta. The Mont Gelas and the Clapier,
preserving even in June their ]nantle of snow, are the great fea-
tures in the view during the descent upon St. Martin-de-Lantosque.
This ride occupied more than a couple of hours. ... St. Martin,
which is rather a popular summer station, possesses one very
steep street and several inns, of which the Hotel des Alpes and
the Hotel de la Poste are the best, while a considerable number
of villas have sprung up in their neighbourhood. The scenery is
really remarkable, but it becomes even finer at Roquebiliere, an
hour and a half to the south of St. Martin, where magnificent groves
of chestnuts spread in every direction. To the left of this place, and
on the plateau of Berthemont, stands another summer station,
Ijoasting not only of a good hotel, and of some hot sulphur springs,
but also of an excellent carriage-road which connects it with Nice,
and with La Bollene, a place in great repute among the Nicois, who,
in spite of its mosquitoes, resort to it dui'ing the hottest months of
the year. If one of the curious sights of St Martin be its Sanctuary
of tlie Vii'gin, which acted as a hospice for travellers near that great
crag through ^n\\o%^, finestra the daylight is seen, equally interesting in
the environs of La Bollene is the w-alk up the valley of the Gordolasca
to the Lago Lanzo, where, throughout the whole summer, miles of
snow remain unmelted at an altitude of eight thousand feet above
the sea. Lantosque stands about a mile and a half below La Bollene,
picturesquely perched on a rocky promontory, from which it was
very nearly shaken, once in 1348, and again in 156G, by the severe
shocks of an earthquake. As the descent upon Nice is made, the
mountain gorge grows wider, and tlie Vesubie is crossed at a point
where a mule path leads up to Utelle. Tliis is a very ancient place,
once held Iiy the Templars, and still possessing a chureli of the
200 THE MARITIME ALTS.
earliest workmanship, witli massive towers, and fine twelfth-century
carving. The road now follows the left bank of the Vesubie, rising
gently till at Duranus it attains a height of six hundred feet above
the bed of the stream in the perpendicular precipice wliich has
received the name of the ' Saut des Fran9ais.' . . .
This ominous name commemorates a reverse of
the repubUcan troops under Massena. Nice and the
county of Nice are full of traces of that ' spoilt child
of foi-tune.' Born in Levens the little, dark-eyed
Jewisli lad who began life as a potboy, and was in-
tended to fniisli it as a fencing-master, was reserved
ibr a strange destiny. He developed also qualities very
alien to his race ; lie had genuine military abilities, and
a barbarity of wliicli the Duke of Wellington said,
in referring to his retreat, ' that it had seldom been
equalled, and had luckily never been surpassed, as it
was revolting to human nature.' He died rich. When
he surrendered his command to Marmont, and retired
to Bordeaux, he took with him 800,000 dollars, but
his life was shortened by debauchery, and one cannot
forget that, brave as he might be, he was never at
heart thoroughly loyal to either the Emperor or the
Jiourbons. There is a spot near the Quatre Chemins, on
the Genoa Eoad, which the Niyois like to point out as
having been the place of the Marshal's breakfast, just
as the Ven^ois show tlie house wliere he lived, and the
spot where he drilled liis volunteers. But this ' Saut
des Francais ' has less pleasing associations. In 1792,
Massena led the vanguard of a division charged to
hold the valley of Lautosque. He liad M'itli him the
coiinnissaries Ferus and Baudoin, and these three pure
re])ublicans spared their fellows neither requisitions nor
THROUGH THE COUNTY OF NICE. 20 r
doiniciliar}" visits. Tlius their names became feared
and hated throughout the whole district, nowhere more
heartily than in Levens, which had had the honour of
giving birth to the future marshal. The castle of
Eainaldi was sacked, flocks and herds driven oif, and
tlie inliabitants were terrified, when tlie appearance
of six tliousand Austrians at the Col della Finestra
delivered them from these exactions. But tliese first
excesses led to an obstinate resistance to French supre-
macy, and the fastnesses of the Maritime Alps were for
two years the scenes of many strategical movements,
executed too often in spite of deep falls of snow and of
great want of provisions. At this ' Saut des Frangais,'
some repul)lican troops Avere hurled into the Vesubie
by the inhabitants they had so long harassed and ill-
treated, and the people of Levens and of St. Blaise could
not conceal their satisfaction Avhen Massena, thanks to
tlie jealousy of his rival Anselme, found his way into
a prison in Xice, not very far from tlie quay that now
bears his name.
Of the marshal's native place of Levens, Mr. Harris
says, ' It stands in a plateau commanding so fine a view
of the basin of the Yar that it is easy to realise that
this must have been a military position of importance.
Xothing now remains of its fortifications except a couple
of arches, Ijut its destruction is of a date far anterior to
the revolutionary epoch, since Charles Emmanuel, Duke
of Savoy, destroyed it in 1622. From Levens to Nice
the descent occupies rather more than two hours.'
Mountain excursions from St. IMartin-de-Lantosque
may l)e made in every direction, wlietlier in searcli of
202 THE MARITIME AITS.
flowers and ferns:, or of more exciting sport, and thongli
mountain storms occur at all seasons, it is only after
the equinox that invahds need fear the approach of
cold weather. The Comte and Comtesse de Caserta have
a villa just beyond tlie town, ^ and from this point Ilis
Eoyal Highness starts on hmg expeditions through
tlie Alps, in pursuit of tlie chamois, tlie wolf, and the
l3^nx. Artists might find plenty of work here for the
pencil, and I remember Mr. Freshfleld once saying
to me that they seemed to him to be most strangely
neglectful of the beauties of a district which he con-
sidered as savage and as noteworthy as those of any region
yet explored by the Alpine Club. A few years ago the
dresses and costumes of the peasantry added to the
picturesque element in any sketches made at St. Martin ;
but old customs are fast disappearing, and Avith tliem
the clothes, dances, tunes, and merrymaking of the
peasants, who are learning to dress like ' Franciots^
and to build jieiwions. Yet in s])ite of their ])rogress
towards nineteenth-century fashions, it must be long
before these upland pastures, these wild gorges, and
these sunburnt, httle villages cease to have a freshness
and a typical charm of their own.
' T am indebted for tlie view of St. Martin-de-Lantosque, wliicli
forms tlie frontispiece to this volume, to the kindness of Il.R.H. the
Comtesse de Caserta. It is one of a series of photographs made by
her husband of the emirons of their Alpine home.
CHAPTER XIIL
ST. PAUL-DU-VAR.
' Le soleil de St. Paul est le plus beau de la Provence, et le pays oii croissent
les plus belles oranges de toutes especes qui sent la en plein vent, hiver et
ete, ce qui ne se trouve point ailleurs, hors A, Hy^res, car elles ont gele k St.
Laurent. Ce territoire est couvert de vignes, d'oliviers et de figuiers, et dans
la meme terre on y volt communement de ces trois sortes de plantes dis-
posees par alignement avec des bles entre deux, de sorte que le meme heritage
porte du ble, du vin, des olives et des figues. Tout cela est cultive avec beau-
coup de soiu, mais le naal est que la secheresse les d^sole et rend tres souvent
leur travail inutile.' — Jiaj)port de Yauhan, dc^josc aa dcjjut general des Forti-
Jieations, torn. ix.
' Arbre, place, ravin, herse, eglise, chateau et rocher, tout cela se tient, et
forme un tableau charmant et singulier qui ne ressemble qu'a, lui-mSme. Le
contraste de ces apres dechirements avec la placidite des formes environ-
nantes, est d'un reussi extraordinaire. Les peintres qui comprennent le vrai
snnt d"heureux poetes. lis saisissent tout ii la fois, ensemble et details, et
resument en cinq minutes ce que Tecrivain dit en beaucoup de pages : ils font
le portrait des aspects sentis, portrait penetrant et intelligent, sans Peffort des
penibles investigations.' — George Sand.
Whetpier you start from Nice or from Cannes it will
take you rather more than two hours, with a pair of
horses, to reach St. Paul-du-Yar. The place is seventeen
kilometres from Cannes, six from Vence, and about
fourteen from Nice, but hardly five from the station
of Cagnes, from which a good walker will reach it in
little more than an hour's time.
2 04 THE MARITIME ALPS.
I licive been six times to St. Paul, and eacli time
tlnit I liave seen it it appears more interesting, beautiful,
and unique than on tlie former visits. It is, in truth, so
unhke our workaday world of hotels, villas, railway-
stations, and shops, that a gifted and artistic companion
Avas riglit when she said to me, ' One can hardly believe
ihat this ])lace is real^ and tliat we are not seeing it in
some ha])p3^ dream.'
It is very real, liowever. It iias its modern life of
births, deaths, and marriages, and its ancient history,
dating from the ninth century, Avhile it was to tlie
strui^^le between Francis I. and Charles Y. that this
little place on the Yar owed tlie strength of its fortifica-
tions. Its extraordinary beauty it owes to a combina-
tion of form and colour, and of the bold and unyielding
lines of its masonry with the most graceful, varied,
and liarmonious natural outhnes. To reach St. Paul
i'rom Cannes you must take eitlier of the roads whicli
pass by Yilleneuve-Loubet, and in both cases you must,
before reaching La Colle,^ turn to the right, and leave
tlic valleys of tlie Loup and tlie Lubiane for that of
the Malvans.
I will imagine to-day, however, that tlie reader
means to approach it with me from Nice. In that case
we either take the train to Cagnes station, meaning to
follow the course of the Cagnette into the hills on foot,
or, leaving Nice by the bridge of the Magnan, we can
drive on to the i^reat bridge over the Yar. Underneath
us then lies the vast, stony bed, and the little, wandering
streams of water that in dry weather represent the Yar,
' La Golle is the birthplace of Eugene Sue.
ST. PAUL-DU-VAIL 205
tlie most funiiidable of all the Alpine torreiiis, which for
centuries constituted the lioundary of France on the side
of Nice and Italy. On each bank stand the great parallel
dykes of Yigan, a colossal work, so colossal that Yauban
thought ' no one could ever get back a thousandth part
of what it would cost to confine between banks the
strongest and the most ill-conditioned river in France.'
A road must now be followed by us which ^vill land
us presently among the figs and the orange gardens
of St. Laurent. Throughout all the Maritime Alps
it is a generally conceded point that if you wish to
eat the best figs and to hear the purest Provencal
spoken, you should make some stay in St. Lauren t-du-
A^ar. It is a rich little />ay-v, though naturally it did
a bigger business before the railway came to carry all
the traffic past the place which had l^een for so long
the established frontier-town and toll-house. The town,
with its square belfry, groups itself well on the bank,
and by looking up the Avide and wandering bed of the
river a fine view of the Alps is to be obtained. The
sweep of the Yar round the foot of the hills is j^erhaps
actually less striking here than it is when observed
from the opposite side, or from the Aspromont road,
but still it is very beautiful, and full of that charm
which a subalpine landscape always possesses for me.
You have beauty here, without any of the desolation
or the oppressive gloom of the genuine Alpine pass,
and you have also a sharp contrast between the rich,
happy, and highly coloured foreground, so full of
human life and endeavour, with those white mountain
peaks that, in a grim kingship, seem to tower over all.
2o6 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Up tliere no soiiu- of i-c;i])L'rs is ever heard, only tlie
crashing of tlie avahmclies and tlie cry of the geiers
that sweep ronnd the glacier as it grinds a slow passage
down the mountain-side. Down lierc mule-bells tinkle,
children sing in the brakes of the tall reeds by the river,
and man goes forth to his labour till the evening.
At this moment tlie hour is still early, but the
mists have cleared away from the heights of St. Jeannet,
so we will tui'u our horses' heads that way, to return
presently, and to cross the ridge of La Maure. St.
Jeannet is itself only a dirty scrambling village which re-
ceived its name from the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem.
As a place it does not repay a visit, though we read of
it in the ' wars of the Countesses' and in the religious
wars of the League, when it was a stronghold of the
Huguenot party. There is nothing remarkahle al)out
it now, except the popular saying that all the women
in it are witches. There have been some such reputed
' witch-villages ' in England, and I think that in Lidia
there are still some to be pointed out. The saying
probably arose in a fixed jealousy between near but
by no means friendly tribes; and in the Middle Ages
the accusation of witchcraft sufficed to excuse any
amount of uncharitableness of word and deed. At
La Gaude the inhabitants at one time professed the
Albigeois heresy, and were exterminated for their pains,
so it is possible that some old odium tlieologicum is
at the bottom of this unflattering saying about the
ladies of St. Jeannet. It is only wdien you have
reached tlie town itself that you realise how possible
it would be, by the way of the high plateaux^ to scale
ST. PAUL-DU-VAR. 207
a rock wliicli from tlic low country looks as inaccessible
as anything that can be conceived. Tlie clitf of St.
Jeannet is a bold, overhanging headland, as it were,
of limestone ; a natural bluff, formed by the abrupt
termination and weathering of one of the lateral spurs
of the liill. The sliarpness of its outline and tlie
warmth of its colourino- render it a landnuirk for miles.
It deserves, in fact, all tlie praise which I have heard
Mr. Lear the artist bestow on it, when he told me that
not in Corsica, and not even in Calabria, had he met
with a landscape of nobler forms than this natural
terrace under tlie hills from St. Jeannet, by Tourretes,
Vence and Grasse to St. Cesaire — in a word, from the
basin of the Var to the head of the Siagne.
From the earliest period of European history the
fords of the Var had been felt to be of great strategical
importance : well worth fighting for, and still better
worth defending ; thus it happens that all these ham-
lets of St. Jeannet, le Broc, St. Paul, Gattieres, and
La Gaude had a troubled history. Over and over again
have they been harassed by troops. At one time the
Moors took a fancy to the district, and settled them-
selves on a spot known to this day as La Maure. It is
said that La Gaude derives its name from a Celtic term
signifying a wood, and the district was certainly once
much more densely wooded than it is now, for the vine-
yards have a great reputation, and every year one may
notice that some patch of coppice has been cleared and
built up into terraces, so as to increase the quantity
of white wine which La Gaude supplies. We will l)uy
some in St. Paul for our breakfast, and if it is more
2o8 THE M.i KIT/ME J LPS.
tliaii live years old we shall fnid it ^v()l•l]l drinking.
The ^vino in question is of a [(ale and)er colour, and
it keeps as well as it carries, but, like eveiy thing else
in Provence, it would be improved by a little more
care being bestowed on it. I remember once fainting
in the little, dark street of St. Paul, and a woman
jiivino- me some white wine, in whicli the win<>- of a
wasp and tlie hind-leg of a fly floated about, along with
other extraneous matter that had found its way into
the bottle! No white Avine can be sold at so low a
price as a red one, not because of au}^ especial value of
the straw-coloured clairet grapes, but because its pre-
paration implies so much more time, labour, and waste.
It has to be racked so often that a considerable quantity
is lost, and there is always the danger of a second fer-
mentation setting in, and turning the whole cask sour.
As far as I have been able to learn, this wine of La
Gaude cannot be drunk under seventy-five centimes by
the cfrowcr, and it costs in the retail trade from 1 fr.
50 c. to 2 francs the litre : Avhereas a very sound red
wine can be got from the grower for sevent)- centimes
the litre. This famous Provencal wine is sold neither
in bottles nor in casks, but in those huge, round, glass
vessels with the straw envelopes which go by the name
of a 'Dame Jeanne.' The dame in question must really
have been one of the most ' niei-ry wives ' of Provence,
for lier namesake holds from ten to foi'ty litres!
The country wdiich produces this good wine is also
iicli in flowers. If ynwv \isit be not too early in the
sj)ring, you will lind the milk-wort, the llower ofEogation
Days ; and if it is later you can gather the Hypericum,
ST. PAUL-DU-VAR. 209
that cliarms away tliuiKlerstorms, and that tlie monks
called fuga dcemoiuDu. Tliere is in the fields plenty
of that pink saintfoin wliich they esteemed as the
'Holy Hay of the Manger of Bethlehem,' while in the
vine- drills grow the white, and the more uncommon
yellow 'Stars of Bethleliem,' Avliich tlie peasants call
la dame de onze henres^ as the petals remain closed till
within an hour of noon. On tlie walls grow rpiantities
of the small, jnirple Miiscari, the grape-hyacintli tliat
smells like a baby's mouth, and in the fields you
find tlie other kind, tlie one Avhich has no ])erfume,
but a large, feathery tuft. The little woods are blue
with hepaticas, primroses linger about their edges,
while on the suimy banks the Ilrospermum shows its
globe of hght, and the bee-orchis the velvet of its
lips. The peach-coloured cistus — the fetir de St. Jean
— fiowers on the rocky ledges ; the sword-lilies push
bravely through the corn ; the large periwinkle, and
the lesser one (the flower of Jean-Jacques Eousseau)
trail beside the stems of the oak trees ; Eu])horl)ias
of the most brilliant green spring up among the very
stones of the road ; the tulips lure you down into the
damper fields ; and you can fill your hands with allium
looking like snowdrifts, or with the pink convolvulus,
the blue flax, and the aromatic, purple th^^me.
At the bottom of the valley which we have uoav
entered, the Malvans runs, showing by its pale greenish
tint that its waters have been fed from the snows on
the Cheiron range. St. Paul now appears to your left ;
but to the right, and nearer to St. Jeannet, opens the
gorge of Bufile. That romantic spot was the lair, or
P
2IO THE MARITIME ALPS.
favourite liidinu^-place of tlie celebrated liigliway roljljer
— tlie Robin llooel of Provence — Gaspard de Besse.^
When not cno-a<xed in wavlavinu; tlie jewellers and
packmen avIio passed tlirouji'li the Esterels on their Avay
to the fan's of Grasse and Mce, or in frig-htenino- the
rethme of a vicar-general at the fords of the Yar,
Gaspard Avas wont to retire to this place, and from it
to ])lan fresh exploits and fresh hairljreadth escapes.
])ut ' tant va la cruche a lean ' that it ends in wttino-
l^'oken, and perhaps Gaspard de Besse, when the day
of reckoning came for him at last, and he passed
through the dark streets of Aix to the place of execu-
tion, remembered with a sigli St. Jeannet's glorious cliff,
with the free air blowing about its head, and the happy
orcliards at its feet.
But here is St. Paul. Turning sharply round a
screen of tall cypresses, we lind ourselves on the
esplanade and before the frownino- fjate of this little
' fenced city.'
After the campaign of Marignano, and after that
disastrous raid of Charles V., when he crossed the Yar,
sacked Antil)es, and lit in the forest of the Esterel a
conflagration that blazed foi- fourteen days and nights,^
Francis I. bethought liimself that the passage of the Yar
ought to be better defended for the future. Some coign
of vantage must be selected to act as a post of observa-
tion, a de])ot foi' provisions, and a l)ase of operations
' Besse, the fief from wliicli tlie i-ohlxT took liis name, is a
liaiiilet near Carnoules.
^ There is a curious hurlcsque poem on tlie advance and retreat
of Charles V. into Provence. The Meygra Entrepriza Catoliqui
Trnprratoritf, per A. Arenam. was publislicd at Avignon, 1537.
.ST: PAUf.-DU-VAR. 211
for ail army [)laiife(l uii the iVoiiticr.s of I'rovonce. lie
lieard that in Aries tlierc lived a noted military engineer
of the name of Mandcm. Those avIio have seen the
sketch-books of Lionardo da Vinci will iiave realised
how, at the beginning of the sixteenth centnry, the most
cunning heads and hands in Europe occupied themselves
with the science of fortilication. The invention of fire-
arms had revolutionised tlie old Eoman, and the older
Celtic systems of entrcnclied camps, and opphJa; Init as
the new guns did not carry far, tliere was sco])e given
in the plans of every fortress for the melee and the scal-
ing-ladder. 'Noble Mandon,' Avlio was supposed to be
master of all these secrets, came at tlie king's summons.
Francis tlien bade him go over tlie district, and choose
tlie town, or the spot, most suitable for the combined
purposes of observation and of defence.
The engineer selected St. Paul-les-Vence, as it was
then called — a rich little town, with a royal charter that
dated from 1391, and which in the thirteenth century
had been, first the chef-lieu of a viguerie, and later the
residence of the seneschals of Provence. It occupied a
position of great beauty and, what was more, of great
strength on a )iiauielon, or rocky parcel of a lateral spur
of the hills that is driven boldly down into the Malvans
valley, and from which the ground falls away sharply
on every side but one. Its continuous Avail (the Avork
of Mandon) has sucli foundations in tlie natui'al rock
that itAvould l)e hard to break, and harder still to scale,
and this circle of masonry (.-an only be entered on one
side — ^naniely, by the gate.
The esplanade SAveeps up to it in a direction from
r 2
2 12 THE MARITIME ALPS.
nortli-oa>t to south-west. l)iit the gateway does not
stand fair to the esplanade, and any besieging force was
])re vented in this way from approaching the gate in
nund)ers, or in solid array of battle. Moreover, this
espLanade has two great flanking toAvers or bastions,
Avhich serve to mask the embrasures from which two
culverines coukl pour a cross-fire, and so rake and
scatter the enemy wlien prepared to wheel and form in
front of the portal. Arrived there, the enemy stays
perhaps to parley for a moment. He summons the
place to surrender ' to the most noble, the most puissant
prince,' &c. The reply comes in the form of a shower
of molten lead, poured through the machicolations of
the tall gate-tower. A strong portcullis, studded with
iron, and well secured by bolts and bars, has already
dropped into its groove just inside that gate. This
would seem to bar the way indeed; but Ave Avill ima-
gine that it has yielded to force or fire, and then, in
such numbers, and in such order as is possible for
him, the invader presses on, through a space that is
not more than eight feet Avide. The lead shoAvers con-
tinue to fall on his rear, and, Avorst of all, this gatCAvay
turns out to be really a long, covered passage, and
to have an opening to the right Avhicli communicates
Avitli the Avestern ramparts of the toAvn. Tlience rushes
in a contingent of troops. A hand-to-liand miiec, noAV
begins ; but the enemy is strong enough to liold
on, and to attempt both the second ai'clnvay and the
second bolted portcullis, through the ])ai's of Avhich lie
is able to see that tliere is a third and last arclnvay,
and bej^ond that a glim])sc of a narrow, sloping street,
THE GATE OF ST. PAUL-DU-VAR.
ST. PAUL-DU-VAR. 213
Avliicli is densely lined Avit Ii lieads and javelins, and wliicdi
conmiunicates (on tlie lel't) with tlie long lines of mns-
keteers and bowmen who man both the ramparts and
the north-eastern towers. They are in nnmbers snffi-
cient to overpower the few and sorely pressed men who
ma}' have been rash enough to push through the hrst
]iortcullis. Not one of tliem escapes. The attempt
had been a hopeless one, for the place is, as ' noble
Mandon ' promised it should be, unassailable by any of
the engines of war of the sixteenth century. By guns
of long range it could of course now be destroyed in
an hour, but those risks did not exist when St. Paul
was built to defend the passage of the Var, and the
masonry of its Avails stands as Mandon left them — not
a bastion cracked, not a stone amissing.
Such was the art of fortification in France exactly
a hundred years l)efore Yaid^an was born. Tradition
says that the king was deliglited with the work, but
that, for fear Mandon should ever turn skill so consum-
mate af>'ainst France, he ordered the oreat eno-ineer to
be hung ! Fortunately for the memory of a king wdio
nursed the dying hours of Lionardo da Yinci, this cruel
stor}^ is a myth : nuxde on the lines of the tale which
says how the Tzar Ivan-Veliki put out the eyes of the
Italian architect wlio built his great cathedi'al for him.
' Noble Mandon,' so far from haviug been hung from
his own ramparts, returned to Aries, and lived there
happily in the society of some of the Du Ports of St.
Paul, with Avhom he had allied himself in 1536.
Tlie ])arish church of St. Paid is Avell wortli a visit,
with its crypts and family vaults, and its carved dhovuiin^
214 THE Af.iRlT/AfE ALPS.
a piece of workiuaiHliip wliicli the Hotel Cliiny iniiilit
be ])roiid to liave in its inuseuin. But, in tnilli. all the
chapels of this curious town are rich in carvings, for
in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the chisels of
Henri Palanibaca, of Pierre Tassone, of Jacques Bellot,
and of Jean Etienne were busy, and native talent was
i-ife in the j\Larilinie Alps. The patron saint of this
jilace was St. George, but the church, being dedicated
on tlie Feast of tlie Conversion of St. Paul, had a pic-
ture of the Conversion presented to it by the family
of Yilleneuve-Thorenc. The house of Panisse-Pacy
gave one of the processional crosses, and though the
Revohition swe})t off much of the so-called 'treasure'
bearing the arms of Guise and Joyeuse, Prosper Meri-
mc'e could still find relirpiaries and small silver sta-
tuettes enough to ex(Mte the admiration of an expe-
rienced archaeologist.
IJeautiful as St. Paul is, it is very dillicult to get a
good sketch of it, because one that docs justice to its
outlines can give no idea of the esplanade or of tlie
gateway, which ai'c botli, so lo speak, hidden away on
its northern side.
I'he whole country is (me great fruit-garden. The
oranges are famous in tlu^ local markets; peach and
almond ti'ces stand, all rose and silver, above ])eds of
violets; ]>right carnafions glow l)eside a lilllc shrine,
ovei- which the si ill' and lioarv <'vpresses tower like
sentinels ; and down in the ]-avine, where the Malvans
laughs and runs, you sec the ])casant pruning his olive-
trees, '{'ill I had seen this doiu^ in Provence, I never
realised the promise that in the Kingdom of Peace men
ST. PAUL-DU-VAR. 215
' shall turn tlieir spears into ])riiiiiii<i--liooks.' The only
hooks I knew were the sickles of iho Scottish harvest-
fields, and nevei\ I thonght, could any spearhead be
beaten out into a long, thin hook like that ! But the
' pruning-hook ' in question is really a short and hooked
knife set obliquely on the top of a long, slender reed —
just such as might have previously served to carry a
javelin.
St. I^aul had always a royal governor. Nothing
can be more rural, however, than its present aspect.
Its solitary cannon, a long, narrow, sixteenth-century
piece, of the kind one meets with in the designs of
Renaissance monuments, lies rustins; above the o-ate,
and throui^h that gate no lono-er comes a clatterins:
company of gallants, with his Excellency the Governor,
all ermine and steel. The main street is quite as dark
and narrow as the others, but I should advise a visitor
who wishes to see some of the vestiges of past greatness
to follow it beyond tlie draw-well, to a cafe on the riglit
hand. The cafe itself I found Avell worth a visit. It
is a big, vaulted place, coloured by centuries of wood
fires to a rich amber colour ; in the outer half of it
there are chairs and tables, but the inner half serves as
the dwelling-place of mine host and his wife. Both are
well stricken in years, and the husband lias the strongly
marked Celtic type Avhicli may be noticed in this
district under the hills. A cuckoo-clock ticks from
the wall, and near a fine large ' Queen Anne ' window,
which lights up the whole place, there sits a very old
woman. She is so old that she takes no heed of
strangers; she sees only the blonde mass at the top of
2i6 THE MARITIME ALPS.
\\Qx distafr. and. as lier spiiulle twirls and falls, the
thi'ead forms itself nieehaiiieally under her lean fingers.
IVrhaps she thinks that it is her beads she is telling, for
Avith sunk mouth and pallid lips she says over to herself
the psalms that she has known for more than eighty
years. ' Secundum magnam misericordiaiii fiiam,' she is
whispering, and 3'ou feel that before many months are
i:)ast she Avill be gone over to the silent majority, to
Avaken no more till the long night has departed, and
the shadows lied awa3\
From mine host you can get ])ermission to see the
old townhouscs of the Du Ports, the De Ilondis, and
the Barcillons.
The last named, like many of the great fjimilies
of this coast, came from S|)ain : a certain Arnold de
Barcillon, an Aragonese, having been made Bishop of
A^ence by Eobert of Anjou, Count of Provence (fiither
to la reino Jeanno)^ in 1337. The Jiarcillons, once
planted, took care to grow. They were ever known as
' no1)les et egreges chevaliers,' and they made good alli-
ances among the Castellane, Glaudeves, Espitalier, and
the like. Claude de Barcillon, judge for the king in
St. Paul, married Lucrece de Grasse-Brianson, and lived
hei'c in a \ery liandsome house. Its staircase of honour
is low. with sliallow steps. On tlie ])linths there are
pheasants and vases, and mei-niaids and llowers, while at
each angle tliere ci-awls and grins an heraldic monster
about tw(j feet high. Halfway u]) the landing there is
a pretty, five-sided entresol, a room evidently used by
the present proprietors of the house. The first floor
is mainly occupied by a handsome ball-room with a
IN AN OLD HOUSE.
ST. PAUL-DU-VAR. 217
carved mantelpiece, and out of wliicli opens a smaller
' withdrawing room ' witli a still finer fireplace. These
apartments are lit by four noble windows, through
which the western sun pours. They command first a
view of the hanging gardens of oranges and lemons,
tlirough whicli vines scramble, and among which the
tall Campanettes (Abiitilon) toss their orange and scarlet
bells. Lower down come tlie ramparts with their
groove-like banquettes and passages, and far below lies
the valley, Avith its paths and its rosy trees, and a back-
ground of the wooded hills that border the rapid Loup.
Eighty couples could easily have stood up to tread a
measure in this great hall. But liow are the mighty
fallen ! The mantelpieces have classical subjects : the
siege of Troy is there, wdth the parting of Achilles and
Briseis, the death of Hector, and the piety of ^Eneas :
but what terrible squalor in these stately rooms !
There, in one embrasure, stands an old couch. No doubt
it once had damask cusliions on Avhich the Judge's Avife
leaned, wliile tlic Governor whispered compliments to
her. Now tlie rats and the mice play in the ball-room,
and tlie mistral sweeps and Avliistles through each
deserted chamber. Some of tlie rooms are noAv in
common, very common ! use, and the pen of a Zola
Avould be required to do justice to the unmade beds,
the desordre acheve of their owners. One must know
Provence Avell to l)elieve it, even if it were all catah^gued
by me. Sufiice it to say that here is no rustic ])lent3'
or poverty, but that the modern inhabitant of St. Paul
keeps his old clothes, his warming-pans, his boots, his
ledgers, his mouldy apples, his rags, and his nuts, along
2iS THE MARITIME ALPS.
^vitll liis dirty ])latos, and \\\\\\ tlie straw uii wliicli his
grapes repose — ' Guarda e passa ! ' Tlie gentiy are all
gone from the town. Yon look in vain for the De
Ilondis, Avho used to send so many canons to the
Chapter of Yence ; for the Courmis, whose veteran,
Eaphael, fought for France Avhen he Avas more than
eighty years of age ; for the Aymon and the Malvaus,
witli tlu'ir many branches and. their Avide kinships ; for
the Baudoin, one of Avhom i)lanted the French flag on
the walls of St. Jean d'Acre ; even for the haute bour-
geoisie., like the Tombarel : they have left not a wTeck
behind. Their great, echoing rooms, their chapels,
their carved balustrades, tlieir vast cellars, their coats-
of-arms, and their broken lutes remain, Init witli the
easv classes a whole civilisation has perished.
What has the country gained ?
Personal independence, freedom from the terrible
burdens of wliich Yauban described the pressure, the
representation of the peo])le in the Chamber, primary
schools, and numberless chances, such as provoke to
spontaneous action tliroiigli llie estal)lisliment of a new
social system.
In it we find too truly the dearth of much that
ennobles society, and the midtiplication of a narrow
and envious bourgeoisie, to say nothing of the bitter
sense of tlie inequality of happiness Avhicli devours the
more brutahsed proletariat. Jkit in looking at the small
life of small towns it must not be forgotten that these
narrow-minded people, Avho are bourgeois hut not citicens,
have every possibility in their future, and that we liave
liere a hierarchy of men placed above Avant, and al)ove
ST. PAVL-DU-VAR. 219
every form of injustice, except tliose wliicli tiieytake an
extreme pleasure in j)ractising on each otlier.
It may be that, starting from this phatforni of per-
sonal liberty and of the vast multiplication of careers,
the lower and tlie lower-middle classes ma}^ ^^et achieve
a civilisation of their OAvn. Of this no one ought to
despair, for tlie incidents in tlie great drama of Life
and Country are never really allowed to ihig. It may
be that, though ignorant of liistory, they will become
sensible to patriotism : and that, though scepticalh^ im-
patient of tlie claims of religion upon reasonable men,
they will recognise some moral law that can restrain
desire ; tliat God will stir the air from above, and fling
over a land too much disposed to deny Ilim, anew light
and a better destiny. But at present the social aspects
promise badly. True secular progress has ever been
seen to come far more from high s})iritual aims than
from that phj^sical well-being which presages rather the
decline than the rise of a national greatness, and of all
the combinations in tlie world, that whicli is now most
despised, as an archaic mistake, has had the greatest
tenacity and the strongest life — I mean the Christian
Church. But the French lower orders can see no form
or shapeliness in the old, pale images of sorrow and
sacrifice, and they have but two ruling j3assions — Enjoy-
ment and Equality.
How joyless and graceless home life is let these
tattered and unsavoury rooms speak, and it is in vain to
reply that true Provencals ask for only simple pleasures
— love, oranges, sunshine, a ripe melon, and the like.
It is true that if their climate were a more severe one
2 20 THE MARITIME A IPS.
tliey could not endure the l)ai'eness and tlie ii'auntness of
a liunie from ^vhicli one only wonders tliat fever and
cholera should ever be absent, but tlie true reason for
this extreme nastiness must be found in the absence of
real relinement, and perhaps even in the presence of ex-
treme stinginess. In the meantime I know nothing more
depressing than tlie dead level of such lives and tlie
narrow round of such pleasures. Yes ; there is one thing-
still more grievous: their incessant lawsuits, and the
harshness of their dealings with all whom they think
they may safely injure, or overreach.
The absence of manufactured articles in a town of
over eifrht hundred inlial)itants is anotlier curious sia'n.
These townsfolk are not positively ])i'imitive, like the
peasant who makes his lantern of a hit of oiled paj)er,
l)ut tlieir paillasses are made of the sheaths of the
maize, and in their mattresses of wool there lurks many
a burr. They have none of the wants of their lordly
predecessors. No armourer's shop is needed here for
tlie vant-bi'aces of a kniglit ; no one ])uts a saddle upon
anytiiiiig l)ut a beast of burthen ; there are no fans, or
gloves, or ruffles, no viols or mandolines, no carj)ets
or torclies, no pi'inting ])ress, and no looms. Shops
are only needed I'or collee, boots, and knives, because
the wine and the oil, tlie Hour and tlie ilgs, all belong
to the man wlio consumes tlieni, and Avhose riclies
consist in liaving a few baskets of lemons to sell.
Animal food is much more freely eaten than it used
to Ik", but still tlie fastidious a])])etitc has to clioose
between the cow llial died too late, and tlie calf
tliat perished too soon. Tlie market held in St. Taul
ST. PAUL-DU-VAR. 221
twice a week shows liow few are tlie expenses of a
population that is not in w^ant, tliongli it seldom lias
any money. What they have they do not spend ; tliey
only quarrel over it, and marry, and make wills so as to
tie it up securely. Life has been stagnating here for the
last sixty years, and nothing flourishes now but Litiga-
tion, the eldest-born of Avarice. Before the nineteenth
century expires, however, it will l)e generally noticed in
France that Avarice has a younger and a more fasci-
nating child. Her name is Speculation.
CHAPTER XIV.
VIL LEXE U VE- LOT BE T.
' E deutro alia present e ruargherita
Luce la luce di Ilomeo, di cui
Fu r opra grande e bella mal gradita.
Ma i Provenzali die fer contra lui
Non hanno riso, e pero raal cammina
Qual si fa danno del Ijen fare altiui.
Quattro figlie ebbe, e ciascuna reina,
Kamondo Berlinghieri, e ci6 gli fece
Borneo, persona uraile c peregrina.
E poi il mosser le parole biece
A dimandar ragione a questo giusto,
Che gli asseguo sette e cinque per diece.
Indi partissi povero e vetusto :
. E se il Mondo sapesse il cuor cli' cgli ebbe
Mendicando sua vita a frusto a frusto,
Assai lo loda, e piu lo lodereblje.'
Paradiso, Canto vi.
AViiEX Nice belonged to the House of Savoy you ahvays
heard this castle called ' Yilleneiive-in-Fi-aiicc.' Tliat
was, no doubt, what Charles V. called il in liis om'ii
VILLENEUVE-LOUBET. 223
mind, when, on sitting down to supper here, lie rul)l)ed
his hands and exclaimed, ' Poco a poco, re di Franeia ! '
To be master of Villeneuve-on-the-Loup was to hold
already one castle in France, for it lies beyond the Var,
and it owes its real name of Villeneuve-Loiibet to tlie
fact that the Loup runs under its bastions. In tlie
eleventh century the Yilleneuves bore as a cognisance a
castle az\ir on the l)anks of a river avijent^ identifying
themselves thus with the mountain stream wliich swept
round their towers, and turned their mills.
The castle is about four kilometres distant from
the station of Cagnes, from which it can be easily
reached on foot. If you drive to it from Cannes, you
must allow a couple of hours for the drive, and you
can bait vour horses at a little inn (in tlie villa<>'e of
Yilleneuve) between the parish church and the river.
A friend of ours, on sketching bent, once slept at tliat
small hostelry for a couple of nights, and he can recom-
mend this as a certain method of getting a very sharp
attack of rheumatism !
Tlie Antibes road which you must follow from
Cannes is so well known that we will pass along it to-
day without a word. No ! I am w^rong ; it is impossible
to pass the Tour Bellevue without a cr}^ of joy. The
panorama of the Alps, from the Cheiron to the Col de
Tende, and from the glacier de Mercantour to Bordi-
ghera, is unrolled before us, while by looking back you
maj^ catch an exquisite vignette of the roadstead of
Golfe Jouan, with two ironclads framed, as it were, at
the end of a vista of trees. And Avhat shall we say of
this bit of foreground ? The ivy-leaved geranium trails
224 THE MARITIME ALPS.
over a garden wall : under this oak-slump suuie dark
blue periwinkles lurk, and there rises a great aigrette
of vegetation. Tlicre is the aloe, witli its grey-green
sheaths, and its towering flower-stem, a true candelabre
(km hon Diou, as the peasants say, and close to it is a
bush of pale pink china roses, through which the iris,
the /leiir de St. Joseph, pushes its great flags, and its pure
white flowers.
After Antibes yow get down on to the cold, draughty
j)lain of the Brague, and I'eacli the stream itself. The
road to Biot turns off here to the left, and the meadows
that lie between it and the river are a happy hunting-
ground for botanists. Most delicate grasses and orchids
are to be found here ; tliere are tansTfles of the sino-le
pea. Haunting beds of scarlet tulips, pale grey ilax,
and daisies with stems nine inches long, while everv-
where, to right and to left of you, spread tlie daffodils
of Enna, that Narcissus — tazzette — wliich in tlie days of
Proserpine loved the brackish meadows of the Sicilian
shore, and loves such meadows still. Of these pale
straw-coloured llowers you might rea[) sheaves. Tlie
fields seem to dance with t]iem. It would be easy in
the course of half an lioiir to lill the carriage. But I
would not advise anyone to do so. In the first place
3'ou cannot be long in discovering that these tazzettes
have a scent ^ owlj less powerful tlian tliat of the white
Narcissus-of-the-poets, the one which causes the slicjv
herds of Daupliiny 1o swoon sometimes in tlie fields.
' Tlie best Jewisli critics hold, as does Canon Tristram, tliat, to
be scientifically correct, tins Narcissus (laz'^ctte) is the Chavalzelelh
Ilasharon, the ' Rose of 81iaron ' of the Song of Songs.
VILLENE UVE-L O UBE T. 225
In tlie second place this flower always has its feet in
cold, brackish water, so to the invalid who shall per-
sist in playing at Proserpine along with tliem in a
damp meadow, Dis (in the shape of the doctor !) will
not be long of appearing.
The road to Villenenve turns off to the left as soon
as you leave the shore. It looks unpromising at first,
as if it would grow narrower and narrower, and end by
going up a tree, but it really is a very fair road, and
takes you through a pretty country, past rocks and
ruins, and little homesteads, till you come to the crossing
of the Loup. Here a beautiful sketch may be got. A
long, wooden bridge, over which the white poplars
droop, now replaces a fc^rmer one in stone which
the river carried away in one of those iits of rage
that earn for it the name of the ivolf. Of this
older bridge the crumbling piers compose a charming
foreground, as the greenish stream sweeps away under
their shadow. Just in front of them is the village with
its church, and above that is tlie great portal in the
outer wall of the castle of Villeneuve-Loubet. Through
that arched gateway, and up that steep paved road,
kings came and went : Charles V. when he crossed tlie
Var as an invader, and lay here before going up to
attack Grasse ; Pope Paul III. when he came here as a
pacificator ; and Francis I., who lived for three weeks
under the tower of Komee de Villeneuve, when that
tower was already three hundred years old.
Tlie vegetation of the castle slopes is tropical.
Palms and palmettoes flourish ; the Barbary aloes
throw up their flame-coloured spikes ; the veronicas
Q
2 26 THE MARITIME ALPS.
and the damask roses grow in tliiekels ; and tlie white
spirea trails along the foundations of the i-amparts.
You can take a walk not oidy round tliese massive
walls but also inside them, for a narrow, flagged
passage runs, like a groove, in tlie thickness of the
walls which surround what seems to be a modern
dweUing-house. The castle is really an ugly, quad-
rangular affair, wiili ])lenty of yellow plaster, and
tlie most commonplace-looking windows, of wliich the
green shutters are a serious blow to a tourist in search
of a sketch ! I never saw anything so ugly or so
meagre, except, indeed, the old Government House at
Aix in Provence, in which the Grignans used to hold
their court. That is as hideous as this plastered front
of Villeneuve-Loid)et, but then it only proves that both
axe eyesores ! The inner quadrangle, which is paved,
has a few coats-of-arms on the walls, and there you
may still trace the lances of Yilleneuve, and the star of
the terrible barons of Baux. There is a ruinous chapel,
and the rooms upstairs have some old books and furni-
ture, which, however, you cannot see Avithout getting a
permission from the owners. But you need not regret
it, for the rooms have all been modernised, and
there is nothing to recall the visit of Francis I. or the
days of Dante's noble ' Eomeo.' The place has changed
hands many times since that great seneschal of Provence
built the spur-shaped tower beside the fast-running
liOup. Tradition, which has been so busy about
Romee's \)\x\\\ and career, avers that he had it built by
his Moorish slaves, and it is certain that its spur-shape,
and the small, square stones employed, with the rows of
VILLENEUVE-LOUBET. 227
flat oriiaiiieiitatioii near tlio to[), all point to a Saracenic
taste, and prove tliat it is certainly not the work of
the Pisan bnilders who constructed the watch-towers
of Antibes, Cannes, and Grasse. This vicfie, of Ville-
neuve — ninety feet in height and visible for miles — -was
for long one of the wonders of the country. A local
rhyme says :
Casteou di Caguo,
Tourri di Villanovo,
Et gran jardin di Venoo,
>Soun cliacun bello caouso
Que Ton ves in Prouven^o.
The view from it is very fine. You not only see the
coast, but you can follow the windings of the Loup,
the mills at his mouth, the wooded gorges, and the
tower of La Trinite. Of this ruin the peasants will tell
you without hesitation that it belonged to the Templars.
It is probable that it once did, but as after the ruin of
their Order their lands were divided and granted to other
religious bodies, the very name of this ruin would seem
to connect it with the Order of the Trinity, with monks
who are known to have had estates in Provence, as in
the case of their foundations at St. Etienne-aux-Monts.
Those Mathurins, or red friars, who had for their
founders St. Jean-de-Matha and Felix de Yalois, pro-
fessed for their special object the rehef of prisoners.
They were bound to devote one-third of their revenues
to this purpose, and in all their chapels to say masses
for the souls of the men who lay among the Moors.
But it is time for us to come down from the watch-
tower. No Moorish galleys sweep the seas to-day ;
Q 2
228 THE MARITIME ALPS.
tliere is iiolliiiig in siglil more tlircatciiiiig than the tall
masts of the ' Chazalie ' going round to coal at Nice, so
we may descend, and choose a shady spot in whicli to
eat our luncheon. Nor when lunclicon is finished will
we forget to take some scraps to Clairon and Trompette,
two beautiful, yellow dogs whom M. de la Panisse-Pacy
keeps chained in his stable-court. After having fed
tliose good dogs we can lie on the grass, and as we
watcli the oranges falling Avith a heavy thud from tlie
trees, one can try to discover wliy Yilleneuve-Loubet
has had so many owners, and why it now belongs to
the Comte de la Panisse-Pacy.
The truth is that, beautiful as it may be, this castle
is a'' joorte-malhenr.' To begin Avith the legend of Dante's
'Eomeo.' Good and wise as the seneschal was, he is repre-
sented as liaving been traduced by enemies, and obliged
to vindicate himself from the most odious charges. He
was not, however, the poor and wandering pilgrim
[roiiiu'ii) of whic]i the legend tells, but the Jiusband of
Delphine Grimaldi, and a cadet of tlie noble house of
Villeneuve-Trans. He was, along witli Raymond, bishop
of Frejus, and two other ministers of Eaymond-Berenger,
the compiler of those Statuts de Frejus which were for
many centuries llic written code of Provenyal laws, and
of wliich a copy (i)robably the original. 1235) still
exists in the archives of St. Paul-du-Var. Dante is
correct, however, when he speaks of the royal master
of his 'Romeo,' of Raymond-Berenger IV., last of the
counts of Barcelona, loi'ds of Foi'cahpiicr and of Pro-
vence, and of the four daugiiters of lliis couiil, wlio all
made royal marriages. It was from this alliance of
VILLEXEUVE-LOUBET. 229
Beatrix, the youngest, with the brother of St. Louis
that sprang all those events which unite the history
of Provence with that of France and of Naples. The
celebrated Queen Jeanne, of whom we shall have to
speak in the next chapter, was the great-granddaughter
of this little Princess Beatrix, to whom old Romee de
Villeneuve acted as guardian after the death of her
father, the last of the Berengers. Here, in this castle
by the Loup, the seneschal pondered over the mar-
riage and the fortunes of his ward, and then took the
httle girl to L5^ons to give her to her proud, dark-
browed bridegroom ; here he corresponded with the
Grand Master of Rhodes, and here he died in 1250,
lord of Loubet, of Cagnes, of Thorenc, of La Gaude,
of Coursegoules, of Malvans, and of Vence, which his
family retained for so long, and where his last will and
testament are preserved to this day. The branch of
Villeneuve-Vence which descended from him intermar-
ried in the eigliteenth century with the Simiane family,
and thus mingled with their own the blood of Madame
de Sevigne. They became extinct only recently in the
person of Helion, twenty-sixth lord of Vence, whose
heiresses sold the estates of Vence and Tourretes in
1862.
Just two hundred years after great Eomee's death
his castle passed out of the hands of the Villeneuve,
who had possessed it during those two centuries so full
of romance and incident, and rendered so eventful in
Provence through the wars of the Countesses, and the
career of Queen Jeanne. It was sold to Pierre de
Lascaris, count of Tende and of Ventimio;lia. That
230 THE MARITIME ALPS.
descendant of the emperors of Constantino])le was tlie
very type of the semi-royal despot of the fifteentli
ceiitur}'. The Lascaris were masters of Nice as well as
of that country beyond it wliich tlie peasants describe
generically as la Moimia(fini : just as we speak of the
Perthshire Highlands. Pierre's motlier was a Grimaldi,
and from her lie learned a vaulting ambition, so that
no j)rouder despot ever hnxled it over his neighbours
near the Var. He had the misfortune to lose his
heir, and on his death a granddaughter carried the
estates into the house of Savoy-Sommariva, an illegiti-
mate branch of the ducal house of Savoy. A certain
Claude de Sommariva Avas tlie landlord of Yilleneuve-
Loubet who was asked to lend his castle to Francis I.
The election of Paul HI. had obhged that king to sus-
pend for a little both his operations in Italy, and those
further demonstrations against his great enemy the
emperor on which his mind was fully set. So hostile
was his policy, that any reconciliation between the
august rivals seemed to be a task even beyond the
powers or the tact of Alexander Farnese. Yet this new
pope had, during the reign of four pontilTs, watched all
the fjital consequences of those intrigues and quarrels
which not (mly drenclicd ]uiro])e Avith blood and
(Ii'miiumI lu'i" of treasures, but also left her open lo the
nii'oads of the Tui'ks. l*aul ILL, therefore, not only
pio])osed an interview between Charles and Francis,
but offered to come himself to Nice to arrange a peace
which he considered essential ibr I he best interests of
("liristciidom. Such an offer could hardly be rejected.
It is true that IVoiii the st iipciidoiis edifice t>f the
VILLENEUVE-LOUBET. 231
Papal power many stones luicl been already pulled
out. Its supremacy was rejected already by England,
Denmark, Sweden, and more than the lialf of German}^
as by a part of Switzerland ; but tlie belief of Paul III.
in his own prestige and influence was unsliaken, and he
so far prevailed over the French king as to persuade
]iim to come to Villeneuve-Loubet, and tliere to await
the arrival of Charles Y.
May was smiling with all her roses, and the fields
were growing white already for the harvest. Tiie
coast seemed alive with shipping, and the roads with
messengers and estafettes. The handsome Valois king
arrived at the castle. With liim came his son (Henri
II.) and his wife Eleanor : besides the Cardinal of
Lorraine, uncle to Mary Stuart, and Antoine de
Bourbon, the father of the kings to be. This goodly
company lived within the ramparts ; the companies of
lansquenets were lodged at Yence, and tlie country, l)y
no means ricli since tlie disastrous inroads of Charles Y.,
was scoured to find capons, Mid, /raises de Mai, for such
a host of guests. Local artists, who had decorated
the castle for his reception, hastened to ofTer their re-
spects to a king who was popular in this the sunniest,
if the most insecure, province of liis fair France. Then
a messenger came riding out from Nice to say tluit tlie
galleys of the emperor were in sight. He was followed
by another, who trotted sharply through the fords of the
Yar to say that the emperor had landed at Yillefranche ;
and then the Provencals, remembering how the forest
of the Esterel had blazed at his last coining, and how
the road from Aix to Cannes had been strewn with
232 THE MARITIME ALES.
dying men in liis last retreat to the coast, trembled at
his very name. In llic mind of Francis it stirred such
bitter memories that he refused to see his rival. Charles,
it seemed, had precisely the same antipathy to seeing the
kincr, or to revisitino; Villeneuve, which he had entered
last as a conqueror. So the Pope had to make him-
self the intermediary, while Francis found in a visit to
him at Nice the opportunity for one of those displays
Mdiich his picturesque vanity so dearly loved. Imagine
the narrow, dirty Kue de France thronged with this
amazing procession :
80 lansquenets of Wiirtemberg,
400 nobles on horseback,
400 lancers,
115 rows of pikemen, seven abreast,
37 rows of pikemen with corselets,
21 rows of halberdiers,
9 banners,
150 rows of pikemen,
70 rows of bowmen,
Tlie Count of Nassau, with 250 gendarmes,
GOO caparisoned horses.
The Duke of Lorraine, Avith 100 horses,
and an inlinite number of nol)les, and lastly, the Dau-
])]iin, llie Duke of Orleans, the Archbishop of Milan,
Cardinal Contarini, and Jerome Ghinucci of Siena. In
this state did the kin<^r cross the Yar and the Ma^nan,
and salute the Pope.
His Ilohness soon after announced a return visit to
Francis in the castle on the Loup. No man ought to have
known the road thither better tlian His Hohness. As
VILLENE UVE-L UBET. 233
Alexander Farnese, lie had been bishop of Vence, and
more familiar to him than to anyone else in the castle
should have been this green valley of the Loup. He was
now an old man ; how he looked his portrait shows to
this day, and we can fancy those piercing eyes gleaming
from his litter, as with his purple train of prelates and
followers he was borne up the paved road and through
the gate of Villeneuve-Loubet, recognising now and
again some half-forgotten face, and blessing the crowd
which had collected to see him pass.
Tlie Pope, who had to go now to the one, now to the
other, promising, reproaching, and entreating them to
abandon their incompatible pretensions to the possession
of the Milanese, at last prevailed on the rivals to make
a peace of ten years. It is the peace commemorated by
the Croix de Marbre at Nice, and which, though often
called the ' Treaty of Nice,' really received the signa-
ture of the king in this Castle of Villeneuve-Loubet,
June 25, 1538.
A few words more about this curious historical
house, and the estate which was soon again to have
another owner.
Durincf the wars of religion Villeneuve belonofed to
the great leaguer and antagonist of Henri IV., the Due
de Mayenne. He had obtained it with the hand of
Henriette de Lascaris, but presently the Lascaris dis-
appear from the castle walls, just as the Villeneuve
had done, and in the days of the Jansenist controversy
we find that the place belonged to the Bouthillier.
One member of that family was governor of Antibes,
and, Provenc^als themselves, these Bouthillier were con-
234
THE MARITIME ALES.
nected by marriage ^vitll the Mesgrigny of Troyes, one
of wliom was tlie celebrated bishop of Grasse, and the
otiier (the well-known engineer) was son-in-law to
Yaiiban. One likes to fancy that prince of all engineers
during his visit (1680) to this coast, pacing the ram-
ARABS AT WliliK.
parts and adniii'ing tliis five-sided tower, from wliich he
could judge of tlie wliole aspect ofllio country tliat lies
between tlie mountains and the sea.
Tlie next owner Avas the Marquis do Tlionias, who
acfjulred the estate ])y [)urr]iase ; but here again it soon
VILLENEUVE-LOUBET. 235
changed hands, and passed (by marriage contract) into
the possession of the family of Panisse-Pacy, to whom
it now belongs.
But Villeneuve-Lonbet keeps up its reputation of
being ^ iiorte-malkeur. Its owner has recently had the
sorrow of losing two children here by diphtheria, and
since liis great loss he has never returned to liis castle.
Clairon and Trompette are all alone in the stable
court. They are overjo^^ed to see a visitor, and will
lick your hands rapturously. ]3ut at nights, and when
the moon is hi<Tli over the cfreat tower of Eomee de
Villeneuve, these good dogs howl. Perhaps they see
under the palm trees the gliding shadows of his Saracen
prisoners, of the dusky builders who were all slaves.
236 THE MARITIME A IPS.
CHAPTER XV.
JEANNE, QUEEN OF NAPLES, AND COUNTESS OF
FROVENCE.
* Cette princesse interessante et malhenreuse est toujours vivante dans le
souvenir des Proven9aux, malgi'e ses fautes et ses grandes erreurs.' — Garcin.
' Jeanne avait une intelligence tres cultivee, des habitudes d'elegance et de
raffinement semblables d celles qu'on rencontrait dans les cours italiennes.' —
Marquise DE Forbin d'Oppede,
' Mid gods of Greece and wamors of romance,
See Boccace sits, unfolding on his knees
The new-found roll of old Mseonides :
But from his mantle's fold, and near the heart,
Peers Ovid's " holy look " of " Love's sweet smart." ' — Coleridge.
In the liistory of a country we sometimes meet a man or
a woman whom we recognise to be not only a person-
age Ijut a type. Ciesar was the embodiment of Eoman
power and capacity, as St, Louis was of medieval piety,
wliilo ITeiii-i IV. is felt to have been a typical Frencli-
maii, and Lincoln a rejjresentative New Englander.
Bismarck as undeniably illustrates the Prussian ideal,
in its commanding intellect, its physical grossness, and
in all the harshness of its self-will.
To personify Provence what should we require?
Extreme beauty, youth that does not fade, red hair
that holds the sunlight in its tangles, a sweet voice,
poetic gifts, cruel passions, regal pereinptoriness, a Gallic
wit, hiN'i.'^h hands, genuine magnanimity, and rhapsodical
JEANNE, QUEEN OF NAPLES. 237
piety, with strange indecorum and bluntness of feeling
under the extremes of both splendour and misery. Just
such a lovely, perverse, and bewildering woman was
'/a reino Jeanno^ the great-granddaughter of Raymond-
Berenger IV., the pupil of Boccaccio, the friend of
Petrarch,^ the enemy of St. Catherine of Siena, the most
danoferous and the most dazzlin<T woman of the four-
teentli century.
So typically Provencal was this Queen's nature that
had she lived some centuries later she might have been
Mirabeau's sister. She had the same terrible 'gift of
familiarity,' the same talent for finding favour and for
swaying popular assembhes, while the same generosity,
and the same shamelessness, along with great sensuous-
ness and the boldest courage, were to be found in this
early orphaned, thrice-widowed heiress of Provence,
in this large-thinking, eclectic, beautiful, but terrible
Jeanne. Like Mirabeau, she seemed to hold the keys of
a coming era. Behind her reign in Provence lay the more
chivalrous thirteenth century, with its ckiuso jyarlnr, its
discreet fictions, and all the mysticism that inspired
the Commedia of Dante, and the Sunima of St. Thomas
Aquinas. But before her was unrolled that learning of
the classics wdiich was as the twilight of the gods. She
was born among the strife of antagonistic principles,
when the Monarchia of Dante contended that the ideal
' ' . . . ti diro brevemente che in quanto a codesta nol»il Regina,
io mi chiarao sodisfatto, e pienamente contento ; conciossiache, se io
non m' inganno credo clie 1' anima sua generosa, benefica, et serenis-
sima, nulla che di lui o di me fosse degno avrebbe saputo di sua
spontanea volonta negarmi giammai.' — Lettere di Petrarca, vol. v.
lett. 17.
23S THE MARITIME ALPS.
of unitv and order rests in the Empire, but when St.
Thomas declared tliat Christian society marches towards
eternal salvation under tlie guidance of the Pope, in
whom is vested the authority of the universal Church.
Yet in this fourteenth century all civil and social insti-
tutions, not omitting the Church itself, showed symp-
toms of decay, and contemjxn-ary with Jeanne lived Cola
Rienzi, the tribune, the embodiment of a new political
ideal, the emblem of something like popular opinion in
Rome. If Delphine de Sabran was inculcating the
merits of virginity and poverty, and if St. Catherine was
pleading for moral reforms, there was Boccaccio on the
other hand, to form the judgment and imagination of
Jeanne on a semi-pagan pattern, while Petrarch was
the almoner of a queen who certainly preferred Ovid
to the Golden Legend.
Jeanne with her small head, and her red hair, does
even now, through her smile, remind us of the sun-
shine of a fine day, and on her tomb her face looks as
if she had never known a care. It would be more true
to say of her that she had never known a blush :
Yet he who saw that Geraldiue
Had deemed her sure a thing divine,
and to this day the memory of the reino Jeanno lives in
her native land, associated with a number of towers and
fortresses wliich do by the style of their architecture
really attest their origin under lier reign. As that was
in many ways a disastrous time in Provence, it says a
great deal for her personal fascinations that, so far from
being either cursed or blamed, she is still remembered and
JEANNE, QUEEN OF NAPLES. 239
praised. The ruins of Griinaud, of the Tour Dranimont, of
Guillaumes, and of a castle near Roccaspervera all bear
her name ; at Draguignan they will tell you that her
canal has supplied the town with water for generations :
at Flayosc it is the same tale, and in the Esterels the
peasants, who got free grants of land, still invoke their
benefactress ; while at St. Vallier she is blessed because
she protected the hamlets above the Siagne from the
vexations of the Chapters of Grasse and of the Lerins.
At Aix and at Avignon her fame is undying because she
dispelled some bands of robbers, while at Marseilles she
became popular through a legislation that modified the
loc£il government, and settled the jurisdictions of the
vicomtes and the bishops. Go up to Grasse, and
in the big square where the trees throw a flickering
shadow over tlie traders of the streets, you will see
built into a vaulted passage a flight of stone steps, and
there is not a barefoot child but can tell you that those
steps belonged to the palace of la reino Jeanno. The
walls have been altered, the gates have disappeared
but down those time-worn steps once paced the liege lady
of Provence, tlie heiress of the Berengers, the incom-
parable ' fair mischief,' whose guilt, both as a wife and
a queen, must ever remain one of the enigmas of
history.
To realise Jeanne's relations witli Provence we must
remember how before he came to die, and by the ad-
vice of old Eomee de Villeneuve, Eaymond-Berenger IV.
betrothed his youngest daughter Beatrix to Charles
of Anjou. She was five years of age when she was
taken away by the old Seneschal to be betrothed to the
240 THE MARITIME ALPS.
stern brotlier of St. Louis, to the prince whose statue
at Hyeres says that lie was ' le gran roy qui conquit
Sicile,' and who was a haughty and a bigoted man.
His conquest of tlie Two SiciUes, and the deaths of
Manfred and Conradin are all well-known features of
Italian story, all the better known because the struggle
tlius begun, and tlie questions tlien raised, continued to
vex Europe till the close of the Middle Ages.
Charles and Beatrix were succeeded by tliat
Charles II. who surrendered the Templars in Provence
to the cruel will of Philippe le Bel, and whose marriage
with Marie of Hungary opened a new and tragical
chapter in the history of the house of Anjou-Sicily. He
had two sons, Charles-Martel, King of Hungary (father
of Andrew), and Eobert, King of Naples, father of the
celebrated Jeanne. Petrarch praised this king under
the name of the ' buon re Roberto.' He certainly was a
cultivated man, but not an able one, for he said of him-
self that he loved letters dearer than liis crown, and
Dante says of him that he was more fit to preacli tlian
to reign. ^ It was certainly no j)roof of wisdom to
have surrounded liis heiress with baseborn favourites,
wlio in tlieir schemes for power perverted the instincts
and lowered the morality of a child who was to be
l)rouglit up for the tlirone. By such training Jeanne
Avas assuredly ill-])reparcd for tlie ' heritage of woe ' to
which she succeeded at seventeen, and that after a
childhood compared with which tlie youth of Mary
Stuart might be considered to be fortunate, since the
Guises, with all their faults, ought not to l)c named
' ' E fate re di tal che c da sormone.' — Paradiso, viii.
JEA.XXE, QUEEN OF NAPLES. 241
aloiiir with the Catanese woman wlio misguided Kiiif
Eobert's grandchild.
Betrothed at seven years of age to her cousin
Andrew, Jeanne's affections seem to have Lain dormant.
Andrew was unattractive to her, and tJie so-called
Neapolitan party,^ Avith the Catanese and Louis of
Tarento at its head, were jealous of a youth whom
some historians declare to have been ' as a lily among
princes.' They worked on Jeanne to postpone his
coronation, but Andrew prevailed on her at last to
yield to him hi a matter which would give him at least
a better standing as le mari de sa feinme. A day w^as
fixed. Jeanne was pregnant for the first time, but the
enemies of A-udrew contrived to inveigle the royal pair to
a lonely castle near Aversa (September 1345). There
Andrew w^as murdered ; foully and cruelly done to
death in the presence of his young wife, who, while
he was being hung from the balcony of her bed-
room, never stirred from her pillow. Fear of the
Catanese may well liave kept lier passive that night,
but her speedy union wdtli Louis of Tarento, one of the
party implicated in tlie murder, has inflicted a lasting
stigma on her name. The King of Hungary instantly
set forth to avenge Andrew, and Jeanne, who had
nothing to say for lierself or for her new husband,
thought it best to retire to her kingdom of Provence.
It is now that w^e behold Jeanne and her Provencals
' ' E perche Andrea piu giovane delta moglie stato sarebbe dis-
adatto a reggere il freno del regno, ne avrebbe voluto prendere il
governo la vedova Regina Sancia d'Aragona, nomino Roberto un
consiglio di Reggenza, di cui pose alia testa Filippo di Cabassoles,
vescovo di Cavaillon.' — Lettere di Pelrarca, vol. ii., note to lett. 1.
R
242 THE MARITIME ALTS.
in a characteristic li_u"1it. They cared little for her
guilt or her innocence. She was their own : slie
was a woman, and a 1)eautiful one, so the crowd
cheered her, and the great barons who like Baiix and
d'Agoult were lier kinsmen, made use of her. She
landed at Xice, at the Ponchettes, and the consuls
came out to assure her of their devotion. ' I am
come,' replied the heiress, to whom her wit always
suggested a happy phrase, ' to ask j^ou for your
hearts, and for nothing l3ut your hearts.' She did not
allude to her debts, so the pojndace threw up their
caps ; the Prince of Monaco, just cured of the wound
got in Crecy's hard-won held, put his sword at her
service, and the Baron de Beuil, red-handed from the
cruel murder of one of the CaYs of Nice, besought her
patronage; which, per]ia])s, out of a fellow-feehng for
homicides, she promised him witli great alacrity.
She travelled by the old 'roule d'ltahe,' behind
Antibes, Clausonne, Yallauris, and Mougins to Grasse.
There she won all hearts, and made many promises.
Tliese southern cities, being already full of aspirations
JEANNE, QUEEN OF NAPLES. 243
for tlie lil^erty witliout wliicli trade could not be carried
on, liad favours to ask from their Queen. Part Jew,
part Greek, and part Italian, the tiers-etat of maritime
Provence lived in these semi-Moorisli cities, in constant
jealousy of their neighbours the feudal barons. Jeanne,
suffering at that moment from the power of her barons,
was lavish of charters to the cities, and she was so
evidently capable of governing that the Provencal
municipahties looked for a period of prosperity.^
The goal of tlie Queen's journey was Avignon.
There she could not only rejoin her husband, but get
her marriage recognised by a pontiff in whom she dis-
cerned a protector. Pope Clement VI.^ was really well
disposed to her, yet morality actually obhged him to ask
Jeanne to vindicate her conduct, and to explain her recent
change of husbands. The queen pleaded her own cause
before the three cardinals he appointed to be her judges.
Not a blush tinged her cheek, and no tremor altered
the pitch of that melodious voice, as Jeanne stood before
' The consuls of Grasse had already made a grant to the Beren-
gers of ground in the city on which to build a palace ' dans
I'endroit qui sera le plus a sa convenance,' and Raymond-Berenger,
after having the ground valued by an expert, paid for the site of a
house Avhich he was never destined to build, or to inhabit. But
Jeanne, eager for popularity, and anxious to feel at home among her
Proven9als, instantly set to work, and had the palace built which
filled the upper part of the present Place des Aires. Till the inva-
sion of Charles V. this edifice remained, and till the seventeenth
century the property continued to stand on the list of royal de-
mesnes. It was sold, and all that now remains of the palace is the
kitchen-stair, and a few mouldings that testify to the antiquity of a
property which is held by one of the many families of Isnards of
Grasse.
2 Pierre-Roger de Maumont, a Limousin.
244 THE MARITIME ALPS.
tlie red-robed ])niices of tlie Clmrcli, and narrated, in
fluent Latin, the nuirder of Andrew, the death of her
baby (a girl), and her subsequent marriage with Louis of
Tarento. Wliile she spoke Louis stood by her side, and
tlio wilv Pope noted behind tlieni some proud Provengal
nobles, like the Villeneuve, come to meet tlie descend-
ant of Beatrix-Berenger. The D'Agoult were there in
the person of her Seneschal, Foulques d'Agoult, Comte
de Sault ; ^ with the Baux, and the Lascaris, bringing
promises of fealty from the hill country above Xice,
and Eoustan de Courmis come down from St. Paul-du-
Yar, with neighbours like the Barcillon, all avcU worth
cultivating. Jeanne, on her way to Avignon, when
eager to be acquitted, and to make sure of the barons,
had sworn to them ' that she would never alienate or
wrong her royal and loyal estates of Provence,' and not
.'I liint did slic tiicu dro[) to the effect that, l)eing deeply
in debt, and liaving already sold her jewels to the Jews,
slie was at that very moment covenanting with the
Pope to sell him Avignon, the fairest inheritance of the
Berengers, for 80,000 ])ieces of gold.
The trial having run its lengtli, the ])ontifl' declared
the Queen to be blameless. This was satisfactory as far
as it went, but wlion the barons discovered the price that
their Queen had really paid for the verdict they were
aghast. Remembering her recent oath to them at Aix
they declared the sale illegal. Jeanne explained that
slie and Louis were ])enniless, and tlie Pope maintained
his bargain, so Avignon was sold, and Clement began to
' Soncsclial of Provonco, VPtht) : Cliiuiccllor, and Chaiiiberlaiii of
Sicily, 13G0 : mamed, 1325, to Alix dcs Baux.
JEANNE, QUEEN OF NAPLES. 245
build that palace of the Popes which still looms so
grandly across the Rhone. Jeanne quitted Provence al-
most immediately, but the palace well served to remind
the Proven9als how their sovereign had betrayed them,
and, as they never forgave her, Jeanne had reason to
regret her lost popularity when, on a later occasion,
she had to embark at Agay in haste, and in unpitied
tribulation.
If it be true, as the poet sings, that
The wind that beats the mountain hlows
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
Who are cast in gentle mould,
tlien it must be conceded that Jeanne was not formed to
pass quietly tlirough the changes and chances of royal
hfe in the fourteenth centur)^ Her orphanhood, the
deaths of three of her husbands, and of her child, would
alone have sufficed to fit her for the heroine of a tragedy,
while every circumstance seemed intended to enhance
the lights and deepen the shadows of her strange career.
In her reign occurred the great Plague of Florence.
So terrible was the disease that neither summer heat
nor winter cold, nor mountain ranges could stop it. It
spread from the coast. Marseilles was decimated, Cannes
w^as in mourning, Biot was stricken, and the streets of
Nice were only less full of the dying and the dead than
were those of Avignon. In her reign happened the
great fiood of the Durance, when the river, no longer
the ' palhd stream ' about which Petrarch wrote, swept
over leagues of country, and left famine along its banks.
In her reign Eienzi roused the passions of the Roman
246 THE MARITIME ALPS.
populace; and, liiuilly, the life of Jeanne was compli-
cated with the so-called Great Schism of the West, when
dui-iiiLf thirty years, Christendom, doubting whether he
who idled St. Peter's chair were the true Pope or not,
trave a divided allemance now to Urban VI. and his sue-
cessor, and now to the Antipopes. In that way, though
the concept of the papacy remained unaltered, the Chris-
tian popidations saw the Pope divided from the papacy ;
and every Euro})ean prince deliberately sought his or
her advantage in sidin^ with the one or with the other.
Jeanne, true to her Proven9al instincts, upheld in
Clement VII. a subject of her own, and by so doing she
stirred to deeper wrath St. Catherine of Siena. That saint
supported Urban with all the passion of her elect and
fervent soul, and the correspondence between the two
women is extraordinarily curious. The saint began by
addressing the Queen in the terms of the highest re-
spect, praised her supposed intention to go to Palestine,
and advised a sovereign so ready to ' dar sangue per
sangue,' to continue ' permanente nella santa e dolce
reliijione di Dio.' It is hard to imaoiue that Jeanne
I't'ad such letters without a suppressed smile, for
worlds are not more asunder than were tiie minds
and temperaments of two women whose interests were
soon to clash. Catherine's tone then changed. She
wrote that slie hoped to go to Pome to admonish ' la
reino,' but, Avhen unable to do this, she wrote again,
reproacliing her with the vices of the Antipope, and
threatening the laughter-loving Queen Avith dark days
to come. ' You will be,' cried the prophetess, ' set as
a beacon to terrify all who rebel.' Considering the
JEANNE, QUEEN OF NAPLES. 247
many difficulties and the very unstable policy of Jeanne,
it was unlucky for the ' fenimina Najjohtana,' as the
saint called her, that she should have such antagonists.
Urban undoubtedly had the largest share in her reverses.
It must be added, however, that here, as ever, Jeanne
had herself to thank for the great dilemma in which
she found herself. She liad first constituted Charles of
Durazzo, her niece's husband, her heir, and then, witli-
drawing her promise to him, slie put forward Louis of
Anjou, a French prince, and a supporter, like herself,
of the Trans-Alpine Pope in Avignon. Urban, on the
other hand, supported the pretensions of Charles, so
that Jeanne's position, weak in the Two Sicilies, was
only strong in Provence. It would be more correct to
say that it ought to have been strong there ; but, alas !
broad lands had been sold, and oaths disregarded, and
Jeanne had too often broken a promise that positions of
trust in Provence should only be given to Provencals.
Her Seneschal could no longer keep order. The cruel
civil war called of Les Baux devastated the country.
Corn in Nice was at famine price, and Draguignan was
ruined, having to buy indemnity from the companies of
Armagnacs and Ecorcheurs at the price of ten thousand
florins, and two thousand sheep. In short, Jeanne's
popularity was lost. She might and she did plead that
necessity has no law, but then the necessitous must ex-
pect to have few friends. Finding the Angevine party
altogether too weak for reliance, the Queen was rash
enough to sail suddenly from Agay, and to trust herself in
a city that could only be fatal to her. Charles of Durazzo
asked nothing better than to see her run into the very
24S THE MARITIME ALPS.
jaws open to devour her. In Naples she became vir-
tually liis ])risoiier, yet, as she was clever enough as to
be formidable even in weakness, he felt her presence
there to be a menace. Tlie Angevine party might rally,
and Provencal gallej's might anchor some day in the
bay. A company of Hungarian soldiers was fortliwith
sent to despatch Jeanne in the lonely castle of Muro in
the Basilicata. Some liistorians say that the Queen was
smothered, others that she was strangled when at her
2:)rayers ; but about tl!0 deed itself there can be no
doubt, and so on tlie morning of May 12, 1382,
perished that Countess of Provence wliom Boccaccio
used to call the ' singular pride of Itaty.'
Unless it might be her restless and Ixmkrupt cousin,
irund)ert, tlio last of the Dauphins of the Yiennois, no
creature was ever more curiously com})ounded tlian was
tliis perverse child of genius. Opinions and evidence
will always differ as to her gallantries. Every man of
note of the day has been credited with having been her
lover, and witli liaving enjoyed the favours of a woman
wlio at fift}' years of age was allowed to liave still been
beautiful. Yet il liardly seems as if tliis Jeanne of tlie
foni' husbands had leaned to the soft side of the heart.
Her Jiabits of sensuality, like her strong intellectual bias,
rendered her a sceptic even as regarded pleasure ; tliere
Avas no tenderness in lier nature, and quite as much of
poHcy as of passion in lier conduct. Love was only the
crown of that supremely Epicurean conception which
she formed of life : tlie otovcs and laui>-hter of the
Decariierone having replaced any antique belief in love's
fatality. That slie ahowed the episodes of Alaciel's
JEANNE, QUEEN OF NAPLES. 249
career to be copied from lier own shows an indifTerence
to shame, and we blame her all the more because there
is no instance of genuine infatuation on her part that
can at all compare with the ruinous passion of Mary for
Bothwell. Jeanne thoroughly enjoyed existence. For
her the troubadours Vidal, and Sordello, and Castelnau
sang : for her Giotto painted, for her Petrarch spoke,
and for her, ' constrained,' as he says, ' by the authority
of a superior,' Boccaccio w^rote tlie more indecorous of
his pages : to regret them bitterly in later years. When
this jocund Queen went to Eome, Petrarch did the
honours of the Holy City to a scholar well able to un-
derstand all its charm, and, after the procession of the
fourth Sunday in Lent, the Pope gave her the Golden
Eose, ' that type of cheerfulness, joy, and contentment;'
a gift perfumed with musk and balm, a thing to be
coveted by kings, and granted but to very few.
Perhaps because of her cheerfulness this Queen, who
ate in her peasants' houses, has still a charm for the Pro-
vencals.^ I asked a man once wdiat had been the merits
of her person or of her reign, because, to the best of my
recollection, the wars and civil wars of those years had
wrought most cruel evils for her kingdom. He replied
that he did not know ; but that when Jeanne was queen,
' on avait le temps que Ton voulait ! ' I doubt if seed-time
and harvest were different then ; but it is quite certain
that many of the charters and statutes of this great
Countess of Provence remained \\\ force for centuries,
and that her influence has been an undying one. If the
pious aspirations of St. Catherine of Siena were destined
' Tlie street in Nice called de la Heine Jecouie is a modern one.
250 TJIE MARITIME ALPS.
to receive a lutiire gratilication in the iiiovemciit wliicli
we call the Iveforinatioii, it must be said that the classi-
cal and artistic sensibilities of Jeanne were also destined
to live on in tliat other movement Avliich Ave term the
Eenaissance. When she began to reign real learning
resided only with Arabic and Jewish scholars, and the
' twilight of the gods' had not daw^ned upon Provence.
Thanks to her reign, and above all to her personal cha-
racter, energy, and culture, Provence came to enjoy a
premature and an intensified knowledge, not only of
European politics, but also of the revival of classical
learning so soon as it was felt in Italy.
THE TEMPLARS IN MARITEME PROVENCE. 251
CHAPTER XVI.
THE TEMPLARS IN MARITIME PROVENCE.
I almost saw the armour glance
In every chance sun- ray,
And feathers move and horses prance
Amid the cataract spray-
When swift within me rose the thought
Of some chivalrous forms
Who boldly here had dwelt and fought
With worse than Nature's storms —
The warriors of the Sacred Grave
Who looked to Christ for laws,
And perished for the faith they gave
Their comrades and their cause.
They perished in one fate, alike
The veteran and the boy,
Where'er the regal arm could strike,
To torture and destroy.
While darkly down the stream of time.
Devised by evil fame,
Float murmurs of mysterious crime,
And tales of secret shame.
And still the earth has many a knight
By high vocation bound,
To conquer in enduring fight
The spirit's holy ground.
And manhood's pride and hopes of youth
Still meet the Templar's doom :
Crusaders of the Ascended Truth,
Not of the empty Tomb.— R. M. Milnes.
To realise the pathos of these verses from Lord
Houghton's graceful pen, I invite the reader to go up
to Yence, and to view the ruined Castle of St. Martin-les-
252 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Yence. It was tlie lionie of Ilugonin de Capitou, Lord
of Mandelieii, and last Coininaiider of tlie Temple in
Provence. Seen in llie eaily morning, when the shadow
of its hollow walls is Hung over the russet woods, it is a
study for a painter — it is at all times a theme for a
poet. Tlie bosky dell at its feet, so full of blue liepa-
ticas and morning songs of birds, is fit for an idyl of
Theocritus, and it is hard to associate such sylvan
beauty witJi the black-and-Avhite l^anners of the Tem-
plars in their noonday of pride and ferocity, still less
Axdth the dark deeds of their evil fame, or with the
horrors of their fiery fate. In Provence they are re-
gretted, even tliough tradition does not spare tliem.
Take, for exam})le, tlie legend of Ste. Croix-de-Pennafort.
The Templars of Yence had a grange there. The
place, now often called Eoquefort and Castelleraz, lies
on the Loup, on the road between Grasse and La CoUe
Tlie knights must have been pleased when they lirst got
it, which they did, as a gift, from the monks of the Lerins
in 1137, for it is an enchanting spot. The Loup, for-
getting the rapidity of its earlier course, here creeps
over sandy sluillows. Above a clump of osiers rises a
little hamlet. There are red roofs, and a white gable,
and pools full of dappled shadows ; goats browse among
tlie honeysuckles, and the air is perfumed by a dozen
scents, for the buds of the cherry and the chestnut trees,
and the resinous firs on the Pennafort hill, like the
myrtles and the tufted grasses, all give out their breaths
— all assure us that Nature is ever hopeful, because
she is for ever young. Yet over Pennafort a shadow
broods. Tlie path up to the ruins is on the opposite side
THE TEMPLARS IN MARITIME PROVENCE. 253
of the high road, and is so steep that it must be followed
on hands and knees. Over this brow the legend tells
that rran9ois de Eoustan, the Commander, flung that
golden goat which was the object of the secret and
obscene rites of the Templars, and which he thought
it most politic to destroy when the dark days of 1307-8
began in Provence. There are but few vestiges of this
house remaining, only the gable of a chapel, which was
once forty-five feet long, by twenty feet wide, and. which
was dedicated to St. Michael. It is noteworthy how
this warlike Order generally chose warrior patrons,
like St. Martin, St. Michael, and St. Dalmas : never, as
far as I can charge my memory, putting its buildings
under the ' vocable ' of a patron of the feminine gender.
Here, in this valley, the grange is called Ste. Croix, but
from this dedication I am inclined to suspect that it was
only so named by the Knights Hospitallers, when they
had fallen heirs to the estates of the Templars, and they
wished to celebrate the Cross on their own shield.
Founded in 1118, by a Proven9al, the Order of the
Temple was always strong in Provence, and rendered
more than usually popular there at once by the constant
piracy of the Moors, and by the connection of the Beren-
gers with those kingdoms of Aragon and Castile, where
military knights were highly honoured, and often needed
to hold the frontiers against the Caliphs. Apt expres-
sion of an age even more mystical than martial, the
Templars were the bravest of the brave. They have
been called the Turcos of tiie Middle Ages, and though
this epithet describes their appearance, as they spurred
about on their small and fiery barbs, it is one that is unjust
254 THE MARITIME ALTS.
to tlieir culture. Tliey were furbidden to give quarter, or
to ask for it, even wlien they were as one to three, and
their oatli forbade them to yield, even in that unequal
death-struggle, ' one incli of their territory, or one stone
of their fortress.' With their 40,000 honors (manors),
their immense wealth, their conquest of the Balearic
Islands (1229), or their sieges of Acre and Damietta,
we have not to do in this place, but rather to see how
much of Eastern and Maritime Provence belonged to
the Temple.
To begin near the shore, there was the great Com-
manderie of St. Martin-les-Vence on the road to Course-
goules, and from it depended the granges of St.
Raphael-de-Vence (destroyed by the Croats) and of Ste.
Croix-de-Pennafort, which I have just described, with
the castle in the valley of the Grande Valette, now called
' La Trinite.' Farther off, and on the right hand of tlie
departmental road, about one kilometre out of Tourretes,
and nearer to the bridge of the Loup, was Tourretes-
les-A^ence, and the house known as St. Martin-de-la-
Pelotte. Tliere is also St. Dalmas-les-Tourretes, of
wliicli the bell still exists, St. Jeannet (or St. Jean),
and, to the south of Gattieres, the great house of
La Gaude, with ruins still sufficient to identify its some-
time size and strength. Nearer the sea, but with only
some walls left on a little mound, is La Cros-de-Cagnes.
Beyond Grasse Ave have another group of manors belong-
ing to them. There is St. Martin-de-St. Yalli(^r, l)uilt l)y an
architect of the name of Mag^nico, the ^ranRcs and cuves
of Tignet at the passage of the Siagne (near the Col noii-),
and a great commanderie at Clans, of wliicli tlie por-
THE TEMPLARS IX MARITIME PROVENCE. 255
tion of ruins still remaining can be identified as having
been used for housing the Caslans, or free labourers,
of the Knights. The fine castle of Thorenc continues
to possess memorials of them, though it has had many
changes of masters since the catastrophes of 1307-8.
Their secularised lands were finally divided in 1520,
between the Villeneuve of Greolieres and the family of
Raissan, by consent of a certain Jean de Grasse, in whose
castle of Calian this deed of partition was executed.^
In the valley of the Esteron the Templars possessed
Collinges : behind Antibes they held Clausonne, and thus
approached very near to the monks of the Lerins in tlieii"
summer quarters at Vallauris, but in Nice I have failed
to find any vestiges of them, except the fountain called
' of the Temple,' on the Genoa road. At Sospello they had
a commanderie and a really magnificent house, which
after their ruin was given to their rivals, the Johannite
Knights. Higher up in the hills, and in the valley of
the Tinee, they held Isola, St. Dalmas {il selvatico)^ and,
far beyond the reach of even modern roads, the granges
of St. Dalmas-le-plan, where their flocks grazed in
summer. St. Martin-de-Lantosque was also the seat of
a commanderie ; at Utelle they had a store of salt, while
the houses of Beuil and of St. Martin-d'Entreaunes (on
the Upper Yar) bring us up to the most northern com-
manderie of Puget-Theniers, with its farm of La Croix,
to tlie lead mines, and to the foundation at Glandeves.
Anyone who chooses to look out these places on the
^ The deed is preserved in Grasse to this day, and is in the pos-
session of M. Frederic Perolle, whose family have had for four hundred
years a notary's business in Grasse.
256 THE MARimrE ALPS.
ma]) of rrovciire may realise the territorial importaiire
of the Templars, and can iiiiderstand how many enemies
such importance gained for tliem. Professionally, the
Hospitallers were their rivals, and theologically, the
Dominicans suspected them ; but here, and in Western
Provence, they had also given umbrage to the great
barons, and to such Chapters as those of tlie Lerins and
of St. Victor of Marseilles. Overgrowth has dangers,
and to be rich is sometimes to be hated ; j^et the pride
Avhich was the great feature of the Order, led the
Templars to suppose themselves invulnerable.
When the fourteenth centur}'- opened, the Temple
consisted of 15,000 knights all told, Avith 40,000 manors,
and a treasure such as no king could reckon on.
PhiKppe le Bel, when once sheltered in tlie Temple,
noted that theirs was a bank in which lay gold enough
to set him at his ease, even after his disastrous cam-
paigns. He first proposed tluxt he should be made
a member of the Order, but finding that idea un-
acceptal)le he tlieii hinted tliat, for tlie future. Tem-
plars and Hospitallers should no longer have separate
Houses, but be merged in one. The Master of tlie
Hospital was frightened, and Foulques de Villant, o})in-
ing that such a suggestion from such a quarter could
bode no crood, even to Joliannile kniiji;]its, iled, and so
put seas between himself and I he cruel, fair-faced king.
Tlie Grand Master of tlie Temple, less prudent, was only
angry. All that ' mi/ptrhe' of which Coeur de Lion used
t(j complain was roused. ' Tell the king,' cried Jacques
de Molay, ' that the religion is rich enough and strong
enough to defend itself against the world.' No man and
THE TEMPLARS IN MARITIME TROVENCE. 257
no iiistitiition is really strong enough to stand against
malice, and the Templars, so far from being blameless,
were brntaliscd by power, wealth, and impunity. They
owned no lay and no clerical superior, their- Grand
Master's style was ' Par la grace de Dieu,' and they
could confess and al)solve each other. It is probably
false that in the Canon of the Mass they omitted
the terms of consecration, tlie ' Hoc est enim corpus
i/icum ; ' l)ut it is certain that peculiar rules of their
own had come to supersede the rule of St. Benedict
to which they had first been subject. They were said
to wear as an amulet a string which recalled the
string of the Brahmins, and they were reported to
worship a goat, a toad, and a cat, to say nothing of a
mysterious wooden idol adored in their secret rites.
Their guilt or innocence of the crimes imputed to them
must ever remain an enigma, as enigmatical as was the
creed of these superstitious and voluptuous men who,
from long residence in the East, had been led to modify
their own faith. Those developments of Islamism Avhich
gave birth afterwards to the sect of the Druses, probably
left their mark on the Templars, while in Southern
France they would be tempted to add the Manichean
doctrines of the semi-Gnostic Albigeois to their own
half digested Mahometanism. Fierce and self-willed
they refused to take warning from any of the signs of
the times. The great Albigeois crusade began in 1209.
The Lombards were persecuted in 1291 ; Arnaud de
Villeneuve,^ denounced by the Dominicans, had to fly
' We have seen how retentive is the Provencjal memory with
regard to its reino Jeanno ; it is equally so with regard to Arnaud
S
258 THE MARITIME ALPS.
from rraiicc; and the Jews of Langiiedoc were in 1306
driven from the homes and counting houses which they
]iad possessed tlirougli seven centuries of commercial
and intellectual hfe. What if the turn of the Templars
was now come? In 1272, and again in 1289, they had
received warnings, and Boniface VIII. thundered against
them in a bull (1208-9), which told them that in the
Holy Land their future presence would be undesirable.
Yet the storm when it burst found them incredu-
lous of dans^er.
When Philippe le Bel first supported the election of
the Archbishop of Bordeaux for the papacy, it is said
that he made his candidate promise him six favours in
return. The nature of the first five was soon disclosed,
but the sixth remained in petto till the moment came
(1307) when the king was ready to spring a mine on
tlie Templars. He has been specially blamed because
of his descent from the crusading king St. Louis of
France, but if conduct like that of Philippe le Bel
can admit of any excuse, perhaps one might be urged,
wlicn we recall the facts of the battle of Mansoura in
de Villeneuve. Born 1238, there seems to be a doubt whether he
was really a scion of the great Provengal house of Villeneuve. The
discoverer of .sulphuric, muriatic, and nitric acid, of alcohol, and of
the medicinal qualities of turpentine, he was held to be part alche-
mist, part astrologer, and part wizard. The peasants about Grasse
will .still say of some remedy that it is like
L'onguent dc Mestre Arnaud,
Que ne fa lie ben lie ni:in.
Pope Clement v., so far from sharing this opinion of hi.s prescrip-
tions, summoned to Avignon the doctor already banished and con-
demned for heresies. Mestre Arnaud sailed from Italy to go to the
Papal Court, l>ut was drowned on the voyage.
THE TEMPLARS IN MARITIME PROVENCE. 259
Egypt, and llie sul)se(|iiL'ut refusal of the 'J'cinplars to
pay 30,000 livrcs for tlie rescue of St. Louis. At all
events, the king was determined to rnin the Order;
it remained to have the help of the Pope, (jf the
Dommicans, and of the Count of Provence so as to
effect it.
The Grand Master, Jacques de Molay, with a hinidred
and forty knights, w^as suddenly sunnnoned to Paris to
be present at a royal l)aptisni. Few ro^^al events were
in those days ungraced by the presence of the proud
Templars, and Jacques de Molay, if he remembered
how Guillen de Montredon had once brought up an
infant king for Aragon, can have seen nothing novel
or threatening in an invitation to act as sponsor to the
child of Philippe le Bel.
On Friday, October 13, he and his kniglits were
haled and flung into prison.^ Then from out fair France
there rang a cry which was as a blast from the trumpets
of the Day of Wrath and Mourning. It was the time of
vintage, but of the wine of their grapes the Templars
were fated never to drink : rather to tread alone in a
Gehenna of faggots and coals of lire. Sixty knights
were seized at Beaucaire, and nine in Sens ; the alarm
spread to Poitiers, to Troyes, to Caen, to Pont de I'Arche,
to Bayonne, to Beziers, to Carcassonne and to Cahors.
The majority of the Templars fled to the mountains
of Dauphiny, and called on the Alps to cover them, for
their Grand Master was in the o'l'ii) of a kini'^ who
^ Furent les Templiers sans doutance,
Tous pris par le royaume de France,
An mois d'Octol)re, mi. point d>i jnvr,
Et un Vendredi fut le jour ! — Old Ballad.
s 2
26o THE MARITJME ALPS.
never spared, aiul wlio liad secured tlie participation of
the Pope.
Clement, willing to make some show of hesitation
or legahty, proposed to sunnnon a Council ; but the
kino- made him feel that such a course was much
too dilatory. A pontitical commission was formed,
and the trial of the great and self-governed com-
nuinity of the Temple before this court of mquiry
Avas the longest, as it was also the strangest, and the
most important legal proceeding of the fourteenth cen-
tury. It lasted for months. Two hundred and thirty-
two witnesses were examined, of wliom not six gave
testimony exonerative of the accused. The allegations
made were horrible, but not quite strange to a genera-
tion that had heard of the crimes imputed to Boni-
face YIIL, that believed in sorcery, and that had some
reason to fear lest in two hundred 3'ears of life, a
])r()ud and austere Order, Avhich St. Bernard had once
hailed as a permanent crusade, might have under-
gone painful changes for the worse. The Church had,
however, the grace to Ije ashamed of the matter, if
not of the manner, of the trial, and only two copies
of the proch verbal w^ere allowed to be taken. Of these,
one was till last year preserved under tri])le lock and
key in the Vatican, and the duplicate, which remained
in France, has recently been printed and edited by
Michelet.
The result of the trial was the Bull ' Faciens Miseri-
cordiani ' (August 12, 1308), and the condemnation of
1 he Order, not as guilty, but as ' Suspect.' It was accord-
ingly canonically suspended ; but the murder of Jacques
do Molay and of his rouipanions liad nothing whatever to
THE TEMPLARS IN ATARITLME PROVENCE. 261
do either ^vitli tliis stupendous trial, or witli its verdict.
It was the personal and irresponsible crime of PliiH])j)e
le Bel. By tortures too dreadful to be described tlie
king wrung from the Grand Master and his kniglits
confessions of mysterious guilt. But Jacques de Molay
and his fellow-sufferers afterwards witlidrew all their
self-accusations, and they died bravely in the streets of
Paris at fifty-four stakes. While they were being racked,
tormented, and murdered, the papal tribunal was still
sitting at Avignon, and its proces verbal contains this
short but pithy notice of the day on which their fiery
death Avas intimated to the commissioners :
In ista pagina niliil est scriptum.
Many pages have, on the other hand, been filled,
and by many hands, with discussions as to the guilt of
the Templars. Voltaire vindicated them, l)ut Napoleon
confessed that he had not been able to make up his
mind. Theiner expresses a very adverse opinion, while
Eaynouard's is on the whole a favourable one, and
Milman pleads strongly in their behalf. Sismondi says
that the quantity of truth in the accusations can never
be known, but that presumption ought to be in favour
of men whom both a king and a pope agreed in 1307
to condemn ; and it is certain that if the century was
one of depraved morals it was also one of Manichean
tendencies, and one of still greater injustice in all judi-
cial matters. Though torture was used by the Spanish
Dominicans, no confessions of any kind were got from
any knight except in France., and the guilt of the Pope
lies especially in this, that he did not insist on being
sole judge and sole referee in tlie case of kniglits who
262 THE MARITIME AIPS.
li:ul ii(» lay siij)L'fi()i-. Tliis duty devolved on liiiii as of
ritj-ht, and it is hard to sup^jose that he was either
ignorant or indiiierent to his position as Supreme Head
of the Church. Had he been so, the University of
Paris had just pressed the matter on him, for Philippe
had referred to them, and they dechned, till the Pope
had spoken, to give any sentence for or against the
Temple. What the University would not assume Clement
was base enough to forego, and Jacques de Molay
estimated the pusillanimous crime at its true Avorth.
When bound to the stake he declared his imiocence, and
with his last hoarse accents summoned to the tribunal of
God both the Pope and the king.^ They were to meet
him there within the year, Clement was the first to obey
the call : dying at Ptoquemaure on the Phone, in April
1314. The cruel king carried about the dying Templar's
curse for seven long months. He Avas but sixty-four
years of age, and, says De Nangis, ' his face was still
fair when it began to pale from some nameless disease.'
Philippe le Bel had ' neither fever nor visible malady,' but
none the less, and to the astonishment of leeches and
courtiers, the king departed, to meet his victim at the
Judgment-seat of the most just God. He died at
Pontainebleau, November 1314. By 1328, and through
the deaths of his three sons, the direct line of his house
had become extinct, and the crown of France was worn
for the next two centuries by princes of the house -of
Valois.
' III 1824, ami dui'iug the episcopate of Monseignour de Quelen,
a Mass was celebrated at 8t.-Genuaiii-rAuxerrois for the souls of
Jacijues de Molay and his coinpanions.
THE TEMPLARS IN MARITIME PROVENCE. 263
IIow fared it meanwliile Avitli our Tein])lars of Pro-
vence, witli the Comniander.s of AY^iice and Sospello,
and Pnget-Tlieniers, all subjects of Cliarles II., tlie
Lame, King of Na])les and Sicily ?
The cruel arm of Philippe le Bel stretched be-
yond the Rhone to the Maritime Alps. lie made
Charles II. believe tliat the Order would give him
trouble in Cyprus, and, by promising territorial wealth
to be gained by its ruin, he bought the connivance
and assistance of liis kinsman. The secret of the
plot, first hatched in 1307, was ill-kept, the letters-
patent made out by Charles not coming into imme-
diate use, so that the Templars had in many cases
time to escape. Bouche says that forty-eiglit in all
were netted. The papers relating to their seizure are
now at Marseilles. The order runs tlius, tliat ' k ce
jour que je vous marque, arant qiiil soit clah\ voire
plustost en pleine nuict vous les ouvrirez.' . . . The
knights were to be committed to ' prisons les plus
fortes et dures,' and all this ' surtant que vous craignez
de perdre vos corps et biens.' The goods of the
Temple were, on the other hand, to be carefully inven-
toried. The inventory of Puget-Theniers goes to prove
that, so far as hfe was concerned, this cruel measure
caused more cry than damage. In the castle of Rigaud,
the usual residence of the administrator of the Order,
only the Bailli, and one young layman, named Michel de
Roquette, were seized.^ Local tradition at Yence main-
tains, however, that the Commander of St. Martin was
' Rrg. Temj'lari'irii, vol. iii. A.D. 1308 : vide Archives du Departe-
ment dcs IjO>irJirs-di(-RJiune.
:>64 THE MARITIME A I PS.
less fortunate, and that at niidniglit Hugonin, the hist of
its Templars, was seized, and — by way of Castellane and
Pertuis — carried to prison at Tarascon. The archives
now at Marseilles do not contain a notice of the death
of this Hugonin de Capitou, so we may hope that he was
not, as the legend goes on to tell, one of the forty-five
kniohts burnt to deatli at Beaucaire : ' Qui eurent
moult k soufrir, et furent ars.' Still there is an entry
by Du Puy which does look ominous for him, as it says,
' all the Provencal knights were condemned to death
and executed, their goods being confiscated to Duke
Charles of Provence, who made over s'ome part to the
Pope, but presented to the Hospitallers their lands and
building's.' The benefit to tlie Johannite kniolits was
enormous. Here on the coast they settled themselves at
St. Jeannet-du-A^ar, tlie Mathurins succeeding them at La
Trinite, and the Carthusians at La Celle-Roubaud, while
they divided the ground at Xice with the Dominicans.
As for the refugee Templars, all who escaped
the arm of the king made tlie best of their way
over the mountains into the nortliern provinces of
Spain. There they found in Catalonia and Aragon
almost the same Occitanian speech, and on the frontier
lands of the Crescent and the Cross they met with a
welcome from princes to whom the power of Islam was
]iot a memory, but a stern and an ever-present realit}^
Many of them enrolled tliemselves in the Orders of
Calati'ava and of Mendoya,' and otliers took advantage
' Foi* an account of theii- reception in Spain tlie reader sliould
consult Illstoire des Chevaliers Templiers, et de leum PrCietidua
Succt'.ssenrn, by E. de Montagnac. Paris, 18G4.
TrrE TEMPLARS TN MARITIME PROVEXCE. 265
of the ])rolectioii of the sovereign to enter the Order
of Christ, founded in Portugal by tliat King Denis
who was called ' The father of his country.' Thus
enrolled, tlie ' Christi Milites ' enjoyed a sort of second
life, and it is pleasant to think that over Yasco di Gania
there floated tlie black-and-white banner with its legend
of '-Non nobis,' wliicli had once fluttered before tlie proud
knights of the long since ruined Order of the Teni])le.
266 THE MARITIME A I PS.
CHAPTER XVII.
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES.
* L'aristocratie ne pent d'aillenrs improviser nn noble, puisque la noblesse
est lille du ttmps.' — Chateaubriand.
Shall I be thought singular if I say that at fourteen
years of age I had a fixed and famihar ideal of a Frencli
]\l(ir(juis? He was a person not to be confounded in
any way witli sucli of his English equivalents in rank
as I had the iionour of seeing;. JSTo : all rural matters
were beneath the notice of that Marrjuis, of a man
who wore a sword and buckles, and who carried a
snufF-box set in diamonds, whicli was the gift of his
sovereign. My Marquis was a man who took pains to
please, and to be pleased. He sang little songs, witli a
little, cracked voice, took snuff, and made incomparable
bows. His talk was of courts and camps, and thougli
parents, as a rule, did look askance on all foreigners,
still no one could have helped being charmed with
that Marquis. Of course his name was to be found in
tlie Memoires de Sully and in the Lettres de Sevigne(t]ie
only French books I had read), and had he but visited
our lonely castle by the sea, in the remote province
of Sutherland, he must liave proved an acquisition.
I liave never yet seen that Jlfarquis, l)ut in France
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 267
I liave met witli his likeness, once or twice in a ])i('lui'e,
and also I think on a tomb ! And then the Frenchmen
I ham seen are so ludike him ! Some of the (joiiiineihv
are (Poole regnante) more like Englishmen than my fancy
at fourteen could possibly have admitted. Some have
titles that go back to the Germanic Empire ; some date
from the Second Empire of the Buonapartes ; and some
have no titles at all. They belong to the frigates that
swing in the roadstead, or perhaps to the magistracy,
debout or assise ; or else to the great, provincial world
of doctors, artists, and notaries. Not one of them
resembles that pattern on my nail, that charming
Marquis ; and the French nobility in 1884 is just as
unlike the French noblesse before 1787. The gentlemen
Avho now represent, more or less well, the Crusaders,
Templars, Leaguers, and courtiers of France differ essen-
tially from their ancestors in this, that they no longer
possess a vested, and nearly exclusive interest in the
soil. It is no longer a question of pit and gallows, of
droits de chasse, of pigeon-house or warren, of tlie four
banal for the bread, or of the winepress for the grapes
of the poor. The Eevolution deprived them of all those
feudal rights ; exile and bankruptcy have caused their
hotels to change hands ; a great many families are posi-
tively obliterated, while those that remain have no Court
at which to shine. Neither do they any longer raise or
command regiments, every soldier of whicli is now sup-
posed to carry in his knapsack the legendary bdton.
In Provence, where the territorial importance of the
barons was great, feudal princes first held land on a grant
from the Emperor. To the titular kings of Aries sue-
2 68 THE MARITIME ALPS.
ceeded the Bozons and tlie Berengers, and the counts of
Anjou. These were quasi-royal, or wholly royal houses,
and such rulers, wlio liad seneschals and prothonotaries,
botli coined money with their own image and super-
scription, and made peace or w^ar as best they pleased.
Marriages took place between them and other crowned
heads, but also among their great leudes^ and thus the
families of D'Agoult, Car am an, Simiane, Grimaldi, and
Villeneuve, to say nothing of Les Baux, became closely
alhed with reigning dynasties, and threw their weight
now into one scale, and now into the other. For such
barons it was thouglit a creditable item to have a Pope,
a Grand Master of the Temple, or a Bailli of Malta, in
their genealogy, to say nothing of suitable alliances, and
of a shield well known in battle. The heraldic tree
was always carefully preserved, and for this reason, as
an old com])iler of peerages pitliily observes, ' That the
Gospel opens with a genealogy, and that the oldest
authors, Moses, Homer, Pausanias, and Plutarch, like
Josephus, gave pedigrees to their heroes.'
The same writer, M. Barcilon de Mauvans, goes on to
argue that genuine nobility ought not to be confounded
witli the titles of the novi Iioniiues, and he enumerates
tlie distinctions to be recognised. First, there are tlie
' nubles de sang, d'armes, et de noni,' descendants of those
braves by whose help the kings first reigned. Sucli
were companions of princes, their parentage being lost
in the mists of antiquity. On their shields and mottoes
our autlior dwells with delight, and he waxes ironical
over tlie way in which, in a degenerate age, the word
noble ' came to Ije misapphed. It was given to indi-
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 269
vidiials who, like tlie engineer of St-Paul-dii-Var, excelled
in anyway; 'we have,' he says, 'noble merchants, we shall
probably soon have noble potters ! ' M. de Barcilon liked
not the tiers etat, and was jealous of a class which, had
it but had fair play given to it in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, might have secured a broad and
national basis for social hfe in France. But to our local
peerage-maker it seemed best that nobility should be a
caste and not an institution, and he passes on rather
contemptuously from the nobles de race to the third
category of nobles, that of the ' anohlis.'' He pauses
to admit that their existence is a proof of great power
in a king who ' is able by letters patent to create that
which did not previously exist.' To the fourth rank he
relegates the nobles de robe.
All these distinctions did in their time give rise to
mighty pretty quarrels, and Nostradamus, D'Hozier,
Eobert de Brianson, and Ansclme lost many friends by
entries in their histories and peerages. Eobert de Brian-
son gravely says that ' many have lost their lives in pur-
suit of the knowledge of the peerage of Provence.' I
should not like to imperil those of my readers by such a
course of study. They may pass over this chapter if
they have no taste for it, but some of them may like to
turn over the leaves of De Brianson's book. The copy
I use is in three small volumes, and it originally belonged
to the monastery on the Lerins, where it was in truth
composed ; for De Brianson was a monk, and one who,
to avoid quarrels with his neighbours, inscribed them
all in his peerage in alphabetical order only. Of pre-
cedence he would not allow it to be a question ; but even
2 70 THE MARITIME ALES.
as it was, his pages must have had many a curious and
many a quarrelsome reader. Tliey are dedicated to tliat
strange, old Marquis de Mirabeau, Jean-Antoine de
Eiquety, better known in Pi-ovence, after his wound, by
his sobriquet of ' col cfargent.' Married to a Gastellane,
he had none the less a good deal to fear from a peerage-
maker, because his family, though of andent Tuscan
extraction, belonged for long after their arrival in France
simply to the roture of Marseilles. De Brianson treats
this fact mercifuU}', and seems to have been anxious
to speak well of all ]]is neighbours. For this reason
M. de Barcilon de Mauvans contradicts liini frequently,
and launches forth into invectives or innuendoes against
his own greatest neighbours, the Counts of Grasse.
How those descendants of Ehodoard prince of Antibes
acquired the title of Counts of Grasse, and forty fiefs in
Maritime Provence, I have already had occasion to tell,
so I need not refer to them here, but go on to the con-
sideration of some of tlie otlier ]x")werful landowners on
this coast.
The best patent of nobihty whicli any of tliem can
show is the Eed Book of good King Eene.^ His nobles
' Twenty-two Provencal families still exist whose names occur
in the Red Book, and their Diner clu Roi Rene has become a feature
of the Parisian season. At the one which took place on May 28,
1884, forty-eight representatives of these houses were present. The
Honorary President is always the General Marquis de Gallift'et, and
on that occasion the President was the Marquis de Forbin. The
Prince de Valori-Rusticlielli read a poem descriptive of many historic
sites in Provence, and the viemo was ornamented by the shields of
the families. Some of their Masons are of the old punning sort, the
armcs parlnntes of the heralds — for example, a castle for Gastellane,
and a grasshopper for Grille. Tlic dinner took place at the Grand
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 271
were all well known to liini, and the story goes that
after his deatli (1480) a list of tliem was found in tlie
king's handwriting. Tiie same roj^al hand had ap-
])cnded to eacli name a qualification distinctive of the
ciiaracter whicli the liouse bore, or ]iad long 1)orne.
The continuous inlieritance of certain qualities in his-
torical houses is not quite a fancy, and though King
licne sometimes dipped his pen in gall, still the notices
are on the whole so far flattering that the present
owners of the names can Avell afford to smile. To have
had a history during four hundred years may console
anyone who reads of the ' shnplicite de Sabran.' ' Sottise
tie Grasse ' is less soothing ; but who knows ? Authors,
even royal ones, are at best an irritable race, and perhaps
tlie Comte de Grasse had mistaken King Eene's last
chaunt for ' something he liad heard before : ' or had
just been detected yawning during a long extract from
the royal poem of ' La tres doidce Mercy ! '
The most powerful famihes of Maritime Provence
were the Grimaldi, the Lascaris, and the Yilleneuve.
Of the first I shall speak wlien we meet them in their
rock-bound little kingdom of Monaco, so I pass at once
to tlie Lascaris. Greatly feared were they in Nice and
in the hill county. Theirs is that grim town house in
the dark street behind tlie Prefecture ; and when you
have looked at its l3alustrades, I beg of you not to forget
Hotel : one of the guests told ine that they had passed a clianninof
evening : yet the last lines of the poem recited have an eclio of sad-
ness :
Revons, mes bons amis, a cet ilge prospere,
Ou deux epoux royaux, I'amour et la pri^re,
Gouvernaient tour i\ tour un peuple chevalier,
GeutilshomiDCs, rcvous ! Rever, c'est oublier !
2 72 THE MARITIME ALTS.
that these despots once lorded it, not only among the
avalanches of Tende, but also at Yilleneuve-Loubet, and
in tlie lemon-groves of Gorbio. They once possessed
Cypieres, in the valley of the Loup, but having let it
o-o to the D'Agoult by marriage, they kept themselves
for the future rather to the eastern side of the Yar.
Their villa of the Piol still exists, just outside Nice,
in the suburb of St. Etienne. Like the castle of
Gorbio, the Piol is a huge, unshapely mass, part fortress,
part granary, with an escalier dlionneiir of countless
steps, and with many echoing rooms, now inhabited by
peasants. Peasants also crop the vast garden, a place in
which, till quite lately, you might dream away many a
sunny hour. I have spent long days in it, sketching
under the \\yc\\ elm, or fancying ' Beatrice di Tenda,'
hapless daughter of the despots, gliding under the Cyprus
trees. There are broken fountains, all fringed witli
delicate maidenhair ferns, and red arbutus berries
lying by hundreds on the grass, but the kings of
Cyprus and Jerusalem are forgotten, and the mistral
sighs, and the tall reeds rustle where the Lascaris
used to give laws to their vassals, or plan a campaign
aizainst the Turks. Paul Lascaris de Castellane, Bailli
de Manosque, was named Grand Master of the Order of
Malta in 1636 ; his brother, Don Pierre Lascaris de
Ventimille, occupying a secondary place in tlie same
noble ' aul)erge de Provence,' and in an Order })0ssessed
of enormous wealtli as well as credit. Pope Urban
VIII. regarded it with eyes as unfriendly as those with
whicli we have seen Pliili])pe le Bel counting the
treasure in the Tem])le at Paris. But tlie seventeenth
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 273
century not lending itself to such summary methods of
destruction as could be employed in tlie fourteenth
centujy, Urban only undertook to revolutianise tlie
Order witliout consulting; its Grand Master. He gave
to the commanders power to test, or bequeath by will.
This had ere long the effect of emptying the treasure ;
fewer galleys could be equipped, and the hands of
Lascaris were pretty well bound. But he was not
easily subdued. He endowed a commanderie at Nice
out of affection for the auberii^e de Provence, and sought
to be long remembered near his palace of the Piol.
But, in truth, his rule was very fatal to the ' relvjion.'
European wars prevented money from coming in from
Germany, Venice, or Poland, and many sovereigns
seized the opportunity for alienating from the Order
manors and riglits which it was never able to recover.
Nor was Innocent X. more friendly than his prede-
cessor had been. In vain did Lascaris represent to the
crowned heads of Europe that he could not struggle
with the Turks if his hands were tied by the Spiritual
Head of Christendom. Then came a famine in Malta,
galley slaves were lacking, and, in 1654, Lascaris found
himself embroiled witli France on a question of pratique.
Louis threatened, in consequence, to appropriate all the
goods of the Order in his kingdom. This luckless
Grand Master died in 1657, aged ninety seven, in the
middle of a war with the Turks, and when Tenedos had
just been surprised by the infidels.
Between the years 1551 and 1676, thirteen men of
the house of Lascaris entered this military Order.
There is not now one male descendant of the despots of
T
2 74 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Nice, Teiide, and Ventiinille, and tlieir line became
extinct qnite recently in the person of the Comtesse
de Greffuhle.
To Eastern Provence belonged tlie Blacas, with tlieir
estates at Garros, on the lower valley of the Yar ; the
Ponteves, wlio sent forty-fonr knights to the Order of
Malta, and wdio had a castle near Le Bar ; the Pisani of
La Gaiide (wdio gave tlie last bishop to Vence), the
Crisp of St. Cesaire (now extinct), tlie Eoustan of
Cannes, and tlie Montgrand of Napoule.
Napoule always attracts the eyes of visitors, and
tlicy ask immediately if it liad not a history of its
own. It had. The monks of Lerins kept an eye
npon it, the Yillenenve-Trans possessed it, and the
Leagners hnrnt it with as little pity as the Barbary
corsairs had ])illaged it ; finally, the Montgrand bonght
it, in 1719. They were liked as landlords, and having
been brave soldiers, it is a pity that tlieir name and
fame should both have disappeared from the tall ruin and
from the rocky bay. The last of the family, Joseph de
Montgrand, was created a marshal by Louis XVI., but
he lived little at Napoule, preferring the castle of Cannes,
the same which in its present ruinous state belongs to
M. Ilibert. The lands of Napoule were sold in 1876, and
the name of Montgrand-de-Mazade is no longer heard
in the Maritime Alps.
The Lombard of Gourdon made great marriages.
Thus we find among the brides of that house a Lascaris
of Tende, a Grasse-Cabris, a Villeneuve-Tourretes, a
Gilette of Nice, a Glandeves, a Grimaldi, and a Castel-
lane. For their dwelling-place they had a real eyrie
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 275
— a desolate heritage at the ex})eiise of wliicli a local
rhyme makes merry :
Auril)eau sur Siagne,
Bandol dan.s les bois,
Gourdon sur le Loup,
Sont trois niauvais cndroits.
Till quite lately the village and castle could only be
reached by a mule-path of countless zigzags, but now
you can drive from Grasse to Gourdon by an excellent
road, and l)oth visit the native camps and look at the
portraits in the castle. A certain Fran(^ois de Lombard
was Lieutenant du roy during the siege of Grasse ;
Annibal Avas a Knight of Malta, and one regrets that
their names should be forgotten in Provence. The
Loml^ard are now extinct, and by their last representa-
tivie the estate was bequeathed to a Villeneuve.
The Durand of Mouans-Sartoux are an exception
to the disappearance of its local gentry from the
old viguerie de Grasse. When counting the towers,
and admiring the pines of that old-fashioned bosquet
at Mouans, it is pleasant to remember that though
Mouans was originally a iief of the Yilleneuve, these
Durand go back to the reign of King Eene, and many
Knifjhts of Malta belono-ed to their house.
At St. Paul-du-Var lived tlie Courmis, who enrolled
five knights under banner of St. John of Jerusalem, the
De Hondis, the Barcilon, the Mauvans, and the Baudoin.
High up in the hills we find the Lescheraine, and tlie
Gul)ernatis of St. Martin-de-Lantosque, Avhose name
is commemorated by a street in Nice. Below them
were the Cais, witli the Espitalier-de-Cessolcs, D'Orcstis
2 75 THE MARITIME ALPS.
of Conte, and the like — to say nothing of Del-Borgo,
Constantin, Benil, and Aspromonte, all relations of the
CTeat house of Grinialdi, as settled in Monaco and
in Cagnes. Neither ought we to forget the Eoubion,
whose town house exists in tlie Eue St. Fran^ois-de-
Paule, or tlie Massengy, whose estate is now covered
with princely villas, or the Chateau-neuf, intermarried
with the Fayeres of Cannes. But the native aristo-
cracy of Nice had been, as was inevitable, recruited
from Piedmontese families, for a Piedmontese sovereign
brought with him thither now a D'Ossac, a D'Oncieux,
a Caudia, or a De Sonnaz, according as he required,
or rewarded, their services. Nice is now essentially
cosmopolitan. Its families are but as a drop in the
bucket in a society wliicli has no local ' cachet.'' The
battle of life tliere is no longer to tlie strong, but
to tlie rich ; the Templars and Johannites are all for-
gotten, and the ' chevaliers ' to be seen in Nice are not
' de Malte^' but only ' (Tmdustrie.'
I have kept the tree of Villeneuve till the last, be-
cause it requires and deserves the most careful investi-
gation of its rich, varied, and historic past. There is a
good plan for commencing an acquaintance with the
heroes, seneschals, saints, beauties, worthies, and authors
of this race — viz. by reading an historical romance
called ' Lyonel, ou la Provence au treizieme siecle.'
This is the work of a Vicomte de Villeneuve ; the plot
is not exciting, but tlic notes are exceedingly curious.
I found the book doubly interesting wlien it was
perused, in (lie dusk of an autumn evening, in tlie
beautiful library of the Marquis de Forbin-d'Oppede.
I was at St. Marcel, and under the roof of one of tlie
OF SOME NOIU.E FAMILIES. 277
most accomplished of Frenchwomen,' liersell" a daughter
of the house of Villeneuve, who in her distinction of mind
and hohness of spirit was no unmeet representative of
her great ancestresses, St. Eoseleyne de Villeneuve and
Delphine de Sabran. Tlie hour was late ; I was
working, as it were, against time, and the charming
young secretary, a niece of Dr. DoUinger, smiled as
she handed down now another and another volume.
Tlie firelight glistened on tlie balustrades of the gallery
of the library, tlie house was fragrant witli the late
roses and fruits from the slopes of St. Marcel, yet
when our host appeared at length to summon me
to a place beside him at table, I felt as if I had been
living out of this work-a-day world. I was not within
an hour's drive of Marseilles, but, with Raymond de
Villeneuve, I had just seen Cliarles of Anjou start for
Sicily, and with Mabille de Villeneuve -Vence I had
beheld in the court of Love, that Queen of Beauty
crowned at Aix.
The Villanova came originally from Aragon. King-
James I. of Aragon mentions them^ honourably in his
Chronicle, in the same ' Meinoires pour servir a Thistoire
de son temps ' in which he tells how he went one spring-
to Lerida, and there met his kinsman Raymond-Berenger,
Count of Barcelona and of Forcalquier, and Count of
Provence. To these Berengers the semi-Spanish extrac-
tion of the Villeneuve, so far from seeming to render
them aliens, helped them to favour and fortune. Tliey
^ Marie- Aglae-Roselyne de Villeneuve-Bargemon, Marquise do
Forbin-d'Oppede, died at St.-Marcel, 1884.
^ A Villanova goes into battle with King James : C/mmir/f,
ccccxxviii. ; and of Bertrand de Villanova he says, 'My own born
subject, a man whom I know and loved well.' Chronicle, ccccxxix.
278
THE MARITIME ALTS.
]ield estates iroiii the Var to Toulon : from Esclapoii, on
the hilly ledges under Mont Lachen, down to Napoule's
yellow sands. This great and powerful house soon split
up into branches. The eldest was that of Trans-Arcs-
Barreme, which by virtue of the iief of Trans was able
to arrogate to itself the place of the senior marquisate
of France. The second was that of Yence. The great
features of this line were its descent from the Seneschal
Eomee, and its intermarriage, in the eighteenth century,
with a great-granddaughter of Madame de Sevigne.
The third was that of Tourretes-Fayence, from which
descends the present family of Yilleneuve-Bargemon.
Time and sj^ace would fail were we to enumerate the
lionors (hefs) which at one time or another were held by
the Yilleneuve, or to trace all the ramifications of their
house. I will only draw from the roll of the Knights of
Malta a list of the Yilleneuve who took its vows. They
were ninety-one all told, but even my short list will
give a notion of their possessions, which can be looked
out in the map of Provence. There are enumerated
knights of the houses of-
A^illeneuve of Traus,
Villeneuve of Greolieres,
Villeueuve of Vence,
Villeneuve of Tourretes-
Fayence t (of Bargemori),
Villeneuve of La Berliere,
Villeneuve of Barreme,t
Villeneuve of La Carisette,
Villeneuve of La Villevielle,
Villeneuve of Rebaut,
Villeneuve of Croisille,
A'^illcncuve of Cloniensaux,
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
Villeneuve
of Esclapon,t
of Mons,
of Thorenc,
of FlayosCjt
of Mouans,
of Napoule,
of Flamarens,
of St. Eulalie,t
of Maurens,
of Clumassens,
of Cananilles.
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 279
The fiefs marked with a cross still beloiifr to
branches of this illustrious house. Gourdon on the Loup,
and Le Eouret, have been recently left to them, while
to his lands of Beauregard the Vicomte of Villeneuve-
liarreme has lately added a new estate near Avignon,
to say nothing of the villa in the Eue de France, of Nice,
which his amiable father inhabited for so many years.
In the valley above Les Arcs is the village of Bargemon,
which was the birthplace of Moreri. It has a mined
castle, and a church with a fnie flamboyant doorway.
Old, feudal Bargemon stood here — on a hill : but it is
dow^n in the meadows that the modern dwelling-house
of the family nestles. Everything there is simple, yet
neither grace, nor patriotism, nor laughter of children
are lacking in that pleasant homo. The public life of
the Marquis and Marquise de Yilleneuve-Bargemon,
while at the prefecture of Nice, gave an example of
virtues which are rare in that pleasure-loving city, and
which have no doubt been fostered in them by the
examples and by ' la (jraiide tradition ' of their race.
If one begins to speak of the Villeneuve of history
one is puzzled where to begin, and, above all, where to
stop. Of Romee, the seneschal, much has already been
said. Shall I rather speak to-day of Louis de Villeneuve-
Trans, surnamed ' Biche d'hoimeur^ who was the friend
of Bayard, and who hrst obtained from Charles VIII.
the right to (piarter the lilies of France along with the
lances of the Yillanova of Aragon ; or shall I pass from
Raymond de Villeneuve, Bishop of Grasse, and Abbot of
the Lerins (1251), to Sanclie de Villeneuve, Queen of
Beauty ; or, leaving jousts and songs, betake myself to
28o THE MARITIME A IPS.
tlie cloister of Ste. Eosele3'ne de Yilleneuve, the Cartlm-
sian Abbess of La Celle-Eoiibaiid ? There is a pretty
legend which tells how the loaves in Eoseleyne's apron
turned to roses when her avaricnous father was about to
blame her for her charity ; but the legend of her death
is prettier still. Her brother, Helion de Yilleneuve, Grand
Master i./f Rhodes, was the bravest man who ever led
the Johannite knights. History says that he was three
times victorious over the Moors, Init the legend goes on
to affirm that, defeated at last, he was taken prisoner by
the King of Morocco. A great ransom was naturally
asked for such a captive, and till its payment Helion
languished and laboured — a captive and a slave. One
night, after praying for a speedy return to freedom and
to Christendom, he fell asleep. He dreamt that by his
sister Eoseleyne his fetters were struck off, and his prison
opened. AVhen he came to himself he found that
the dream was so far a reality. He was unfettered,
he was free, but he stood in the moonlight alone !
Making his way to Provence he learned that Eoseleyne
was dead. She had i-endered her pious soul to God
on tlie ver}^ evemng of his release. Tlie only part of
this tale which is historical is the death of the Abbess on
January 17, 1329. She was alone with one of her nieces,
when slie suddenly said: '•Adieu! pour la detmihe foist,
adieu!' 11 le time of lier death corresponded, says the
legend, with the liour of Helion's deliverance, for the
free spirit of Provence's fairest saint went forth tliat
night to liberate the brother she so dearly loved.
Eoseleyne was ever a ])assionate Crusader at heai-t.
At tliis time Islamism, not content with possessing those
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 281
ukl and glorious strongholds of Christianity — Palestine,
Egypt, Syria, Asia Minor, and Carthage — had a firm grasp
of Spain, and constantly menaced Trovence. Moreover,
Aquitaine was leavened witli Arabic and Jewish ideas ;
the Albigeois heresy there defied the authority of the
Church during more than a hundred years, and the Italian
system of repressing thouglit was hardly sufficiently suc-
cessful, even after the crusade, in maintaining orthodoxy
in the South. The great religious Orders arose to assist it.
Dominicans and Franciscans were foundino; their houses,
while Crusaders kept their armour bright. Eoseleyne the
Carthusian had thirty-one years of active life. In con-
stant correspondence with all the most distinguished
men of her day, she founded over twenty convents, and
she contributed not a little to the development of that
monasticism which was intended to make head acrainst
free thought and heresy. The conquests of orthodoxy
occupied all her powers, and she died accordingly in the
odour of sanctity. Miracles are said to have been worked
at her grave, and to annracle it was ascril)ed that in the
reign of Louis Xl\'. lier corpse v;as found so unaltered
that the king ordered one of the e^'eballs to be pierced, to
see if it was made in glass? TJiis buried saint 'still sheds
perfume,' and even in this age of progress the memory
of Helion de Yilleneuve's little, red-haired sister is still
beloved. The railway from Les Arcs to Draguignan
runs witliin a few yards of her conventual home of La
Celle-lioubaud ; but in 1882, a casket containina- her
relics was ordered to be carried to a chapel on the hill
above Bargemon. The Bishop of Frejus, who promised
to be present, fnlly expected an unfavourable demon-
2 82 THE MARITIME ALPS.
stratioii on the part of the popuhice, for the Var is by
no means a hienpensant department, and radical mayors
have in several towns forbidden the yearly procession
of Corpns-Christi Day. J3ut lloseleyne maintains her
popularity ; crowds followed the procession of her relics,
and nothing but goodwill was expressed for the saintly
lady whose piety and courage have certainly been here-
ditary in her house. The tomb of her brother Hehon
is at Malta. His name is associated with the division of
the Knights of St. John into seven divisions, or tongues.
Out of compliment to their then Grand Master, Helion
de Yilleneuve, the precedence was accorded to the
' laiigue de Provence,' a compliment certainly merited then
and later by the Villeneuve, who, when Yertot closed
his list, had sent more knights into the Order than any
other house in Provence.
Let me next draw attention to a ccrtam Christophe
de Yilleneuve who lived in tlie end of the sixteenth
century, and who, had he been born in the legendary
ages of Christendom, would certainly have been praised
as the slayer of a dragon, or some such ' laidly wi/i-in.'
When he received the order to make an example
of tlie Huguenots in Provence, he simply refused to
obey, and his correspondence with the king through
that period of religio-political strife would do credit to
any statesman. I would fain linger over the pedigrees
of the Yilleneuve, and tell how Sophie de Yilleneuve-
Yence was one of the few good influences of Mirabeau's
life, 1)ut I must liiirry on to tlie man who fought at
Trafalgar.
\''ice-Admiral Jean-Baptiste de Yilleneuve-Flayosc
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 283
"was bom at Valensoles, in 1VG3. He served \\\\\\ dis-
tiiH'lioii in wliat Frencli seanieii term both 'the seas of
Ponaiit and Levant,' and belonged to tlie golden age of
the French navy, wlien she had so many great captams,
and when so many of those were Proven(;'als. He fought
as second rear-admiral at the Nile (1798), but Avas able to
cut his cables, and to take his ship, the Guillaume Tell,
safely to Malta. After his return to Europe that vessel fell
into tlie hands of the Englisli, striking to Captain Dixon,
and De Villeneuve's fhig was flying on tlie Bucentaure,
wlien, in tlie autumn of 1804, he sailed from Toulon. Of
tlie vast -and indefinite plans formed by Napoleon to
damage the power of England, he said afterwards that
he had meant to entrust the greatest share to De Yille-
neuve. Tliat officer was to have effected the invasion
of England, and yet it is certain that, unhke his pre-
decessor La Touche-Treville, he never was a favourite
with the Emperor. The Due d'Otrante says truly
in his memoirs, that Napoleon was sensitive ' about his
naval honour, tJwuijh he never liad amj^ and that this
made him difficult to please, but De Villeneuve had
really gi\en him serious cause for displeasure. His in-
decisive actit)n with the English virtually led to the
failure of the famous Boulogne expedition, for De Ville-
neuve did not score a victory in the battle of Ferrol,
and after it he retired to Cadiz instead of pushing on
to Brest at a moment when the expedition only waited
for his a])pearance. Napoleon exclaimed peevishl}^
' Quel AiniraH' and yet De Villeneuve was both a brave
and an able man. Critics like Clerk and Eken have
said of his tactics at Trafalsrar, that they were showy
284 THE MARITIME ALPS.
I'ather tlian sagacious, but liis orders were precise, and
both l)y precept and example he did liis duty nobly.
His saying ' Celui qui ne serait pas dans le feu ne serait
pas a son poste ' is not very diflerent from the celel)rated
message telegraphed to his ships by the one-armed
sailor, who, as a child, had once asked, ' But what is
fear ? ' The truth is that, at Trafalgar, De Yilleneuve liad
too formidable an antagonist. In the stern-cabin of the
' Victory ' sat the patient and ever anxious guardian of
England's honour watching off Cape St. Mary for the
first sight of tlie combined French and Spanish fleets,
and determined that they should not give him the slip :
' not if it is in tlie power of Nelson and Bronte to pre-
vent it.'
Nelson loved a plan. He would cover sheets of
paper witli wliat he called 'Hocks of wild geese,' and he
prepared tlie sketch for this action with consummate
care. As written out by him, the memorable document
no^v fills only sixty-eight lines of print in a quarto page.
Yet nothinjjf is omitted, and as little as mi<iht be is left
to tliose chances of wind and surprise, of all of which
Nelson knew so avcII liow to take advantage.
The morning was iiue, tlie wind light and from the
west, with nothing to warn an eye less experienced than
his of the tempest likely to arise before night. De Ville-
neuve's fleet was, says an eycAvitness, distinctly seen to
leeward, ' standing to the southward under easy sail.' But
later ' the enemy's fleet changed their position, and having
wore together formed their line on the starboard tack.'
The wind shifted a few points to southward of west, and
tlieii' rear ships were throAvn far to Avindward of their
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 2 85
centre and van. Tliis was unlucky forDe Villeneuve, as
the wind l)eing light, many of them were nnal)]e to gain
their proper stations Ijefore the battle began. The
first shot was fired about noon. Nelson, in full dress,
with the four stars on his breast, and his coffin ready in
his cabin, was in the highest spirits, and remarked that
it was ' the 21st of October, the happiest day in the year
in his family.' His attacks Avere generally of a novel
and unprecedented sort, and to-day he bore down in
two columns, hoping for a victory befoi-e the French
van could succour the rear. Admiral Collini]fwood said
afterwards of De Villeneuve's line, that it had been
' close and correct, and that both he and Gravina dis-
played great passive courage,' though there had been
' no nautical management, and only the Intrepide showed
active bravery.' The first three English broadsides
proved a great shock. Nelson then began what he
called ' close work,' and in that the French admiral was
no match for him. How the battle raged, how Nelson
fell, and in falling bade CoUingwood anchor the fleet, is
an oft-told tale, though it is one that never tires, and
Lady Londonderry was right when she wrote about his
death, that ' his health would never have been equal to
another great effort ; therefore in such a death there is
no sting, and in such a grave there is an everlasting
victory.'
Admiral de Villeneuve's heart was broken by his
defeat. Before his Bucentaure struck to the Con-
queror he got into a boat, but being recognised, he
was picked up and taken on board the Mars, where
he remained till the 24th. Transferred thence to the
2 86 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Xcptiine, lie was treated by Captain Fremantle witli
tlie greatest kindness and respect. But there are no
wounds like tliose in the hearts of l)rave men. He
would not risk a meeting with Napoleon, a master never
partial to him, and who had once sent him as a piece of
advice the startling recommendation to ' give battle, and
lose half of the fleet if necessary.' Alas ! more than half
the fleet was lost on this day, for only thirteen vessels
escaped, and those only for a time. They were all taken,
some at Cadiz and some by Calder,so that of the Admiral's
fleet not one single ship returned to France. De Ville-
neuve, soon after landing, committed suicide at Rennes.
A ghastly tale circulated among the enemies of the
Emperor, that Napoleon had desired De Yilleneuve to
take his own life before entering Paris. There is no
proof of this. The cold cruelty of the Emperor was
fpiite capable of such a message, and on hearing of the
tragic close of the Admiral's career he only remarked
with a sneer, that ' De Villeneuve had apparently studied
anatomy in order to find his heart.' Yet in St. Helena
he said to O'Meara, when discussing these events, that
' the Admiral need not have done it. He was a brave
man, though he never had any talent.' The portrait of
De Villeneuve gives this idea, that of a brave and amiable
man, and a most pathetic interest attaches to some
sketches of his frigates, which I have seen on the walls
of the children's school-room at ]3argomon. They were
done by the Admiral's own hand, witli loving touches
given now to elaboi'ate a ])iece of rigging, or now to
render the horizon of the sea on Avhich the good sliip
floats.
OF SOME NOBLE FAMILIES. 287
I began tliis list of wortliies by speaking of a book
written by one of the Villeneuve to ilhistrate life in tlie
thirteenth century. A book by yet anotlier Villeneuve,
the Vicomte Alban, is more in tone witli our own age.
It handles the social problems of life in tlie nineteentli
century. If Madame Aglae-Rosaleyne de Forbin inhe-
rited the temperament of Sainte Eosaleyne, Alban de
Villeneuve inherited at once the sagacity of Romee and
the humanity of Christo})]ie de Villeneuve. He was
neither prothonotary nor seneschal, only prefect of a
French town (Lille), where he discovered a sixth of the
population to be paupers, and that at a moment of
perilous and precarious experiments. It was necessary
in the best interests of liberty to reconcile the new
regime of France with that ancient and glorious mon-
archy which still boasted of such memories as place it
beyond competition, and which might be sufficiently great
to be able to meet liberal movements without fear. ' Old
governments,' said Benjamin Constant, ' are more favour-
able to liberty tlian new ones.' Alban de Villeneuve was
convinced of this, and he belonged to a family of wliich
Charles X. said that he wished he had one of them in
every prefecture in France ; but most assuredly his was
no easy task : to consolidate the liberties gained, to treat
prejudices leniently, and to abstain from aggravating
hostilities whicli existed, and could not but exist, all
around him. His book, evidently that of a Christian
socialist, was the result of personal observations. The
Revolution, intended to level distinctions, had only
brought into greater prominence the inequality between
capital and labour, and the Vicomte Alban felt that there
2SS THE MARITIME ALPS.
was (lan<>-cr in I lie new and often fraudulent nostrums
offered to tlie woi-kpeo])le. lie travelled a great deal,
he familiarised liimself witli the arguments of Malthus,
Sismondi, Mathieu de Dombasle, Droz, De Gerando, and
Charles Dupin. He saw that all these arguments ' gave
to Frenchmen neither work nor bread.' Wearied and
disappointed, he would have been still more disappointed
could he have known that, fift}^ years later, the same
difficulties would not only exist, but that they still con-
tiiuie to be regarded with the same Intterness which he
deprecated.
Quoting Lamartine one day, he cries, ' Elevons
souvent les regards des hommes, notre pensee et notre
voix, vers cette puissance regulatrice d'oii decoulent,
selon Platon, comme selon notre Evangile, les lois et la
liberte. Confions-nous a cette Providence dont Toeil
n'oublie aucun siecle et aucun jour. Faisons le bien,
disons le vrai, cherchons le juste, et attendonsl '
:S9
CHAPTEK XVIII.
THE GRIMALDI OF MONACO.
' In the morning we were hastened away, having no time permitted us by
our avaricious master to go up and see this strong and considerable place,
which now belongs to a Prince of the family of Grimaldi of Genoa, who has
put both it and himself under the protection of the French. The situation is
on a promontory of solid stone and rock. The town walls are very fayre. We
were told that within was an ample court, with a palace furnished with the
most rich and princely movables, and a collection of statues, pictures, and
massive plate to an immense amount.' — Evelyn's Memoirs, vol. i. (1644).
* Que de ruines, et quel cimetiere que I'histoire ! . . . Singulier melange de
passion dramatique, de philosophic douloureuse, d'observation exactc, de
trivialite maladroite et d'une puissance pittoresque.' — H. Taine.
The principality of Monaco, which used to include
Mentone and La Roquebrune, now consists of four
districts. First of all tliere is Monaco proper, on its
' ])romontory of solid stone,' with its palace and courts,
still so full of mediaeval beauty and of artistic riches.
Next conies the port, or bathing station, a land-locked
little bay where the tartanes and the English yachts ride
in smooth water of the most wonderful hues. After
this comes the Condamine, with its new world of white
villas ; and, finally, there is Monte Carlo.
The last-named spot is of course the point of attrac-
tion for strangers. The casino is the thing that all
Europe, Asia, and America talk of, that all moralists
decry, and that all pleasure-seekers declare to be a
paradise. It is the casino that gives wealth and fashion
U
290 THE MARITIME ALPS.
to tliis section of tlie coast. It is the casino that canses
a dozen trains to stop daily at Monte Carlo ; that keeps
u}) the palace, the army, the roads, the opera-house,
and tlic Ilutel dc Paris. It is the green table that
keeps the gardens green and tlie violins in tune ; that
has brought 3,000 residents and so many hundred prosti-
tutes to the town ; that gives work to 1,000 servants, and
causes the annual issue of about 335,000 tickets. When
we consider these facts, the fabulous beauty of the site,
tlie mildness of the climate, tlie good dinners, the better
music, tlie pigeon-shooting, and the many exciting
chances, can we wonder that ' Monte Carlo ' is in every
mouth ? The subject is so hackneyed, and in some
respects so repulsive, that I prefer to leave it to other
pencils and to other pens. Its sovereign has to avoid
the place. Weary of scandals, of newspaper articles, of
sensational letters, of indignation meetings, suicides,
])ainted Avomen, and worry, he now sees the ca])ital of
his ])rincipality as little as may be. Monaco has its
governor, and his papers have an arcJiiriste, and for his
own part he usually resides in the north of France,
Avherc he possesses (by long inheritance) a much larger,
if a much less remarkable estate. The evil of the gam-
bling tables seems to be for the present almost beyond
his control, for tlie land is let on long lease, and the
lessees are no longer only the sons-in-law and heirs of
the late M. Blanc, but a number of sagacious persons,
Avlio will soon form a real Societe anonyme. Their voices
represent all that modern greed, and modei-n luxury,
and modern vice can suggest. Wlial in-ilates them most
is any remonstrance. The anli-]\IoHaco nieetinii- lisld
THE GRIMALDI OF MONACO. 291
in Nice was interrupted by howls, and (jiute recently
a respectable Parisian paper, which told tlie truth, was
forbidden to enter the territory, t]iough during the
cholera panic of last autunni, visitors to Monte Carlo
niiglit pass free of restrictions. At intervals the Frencli
Government makes a sliow of wishing to snppress tlie
gambling tables ; but considering the position of tlie
Prince, as independent ruler of his little dominion, the
right of Prance to interfere with tlie lease of a part of
his estate for a Casino, may be legally questioned. Nor
are the shareholders likely to be less tenacious of their
rights. Who are the owners of shares made payable
to Oea re )\ csui never be known. They may be men in
buckram, put forward to plead beggary if the lease is
cancelled ; at best they are the acute inventors of the
new issue of 60,000 shares (of 500 francs), announced
on the Paris Bourse in August 1884. Their objects
are to prevent pressure being put on their landlord, the
hope of getting an indemnity, and the wish to make it
be believed that there is a vast host of respectable (?)
shareholders interested in maintaininsf the o-amblinof
tables. The monstrous evil threatens to be lono'-lived,
and I do not propose to Aveary my readers further with
the subject, but rather to carry their attention back for
many generations.
Once upon a time, when neither gamblers, nor
croupiers, nor souteneurs de Jilles, nor hotel-keepers, nor
railway trains, nor baths, nor yachts, nor Jesuit colleges
were to be found here, there were Grimaldi in Monaco.
They were bold men, in s])ite of King Pene's saying that
they were to be known for their /z'y/c^6-sr, and they mated
IT 2
293 THE MARITIME ALPS.
w'wXx the Spiiiola, the Lascaris, and the Triviilzi ; sent
Doj^^es and admirals to Genoa, and abbots to the Lerins ;
parleyed witli Andrea Doria as with an equal ; made
treaties Avilh kings, and traced l)ack their lineage for
twelve centuries. Their good fortune dates from the
exploits of a certain Gebelin de Grimoald, son of Pepin
I'Ancien, and uncle to that greater Pepin, who made the
office of Mayor-of-the-palace hereditary. It is said that
Gebelin did himself fill that position, but he is better
known as the paladin, Avho along with Isarn, Bishop of
Grenoble, succeeded, early in the eleventh century, in
expelling the Saracens from Provence, Dauphiny, and the
Lower Alps. The district of wooded hills, still called,
from their hundred years of occupation, Les Maures, lies
between Toulon and Frejus. The Garde-Fraxinet was
the Moorish capital or stronghold ; the bay of Grimaud
was tlieir harbour, and as they held a strong position
on tlie other side of Nice, their presence in Maritime
Provence was a perpetual menace. Looked at from the
])oint of view of modern science, it is doubtful whether
their expulsion from Provence really was the benefit
which it then appeared to the national and Catholic
party, as personified by Gebelin and Isarn. To them
the Semitic element was simply hateful, tliough, in truth,
Europe could in those dark and early days but ill aflbrd
to lose her Arabs. Tliey had, it must be confessed, a
higher culture than the Christian paladins who with-
stood tliem, and they brought Jewish traders in their
wake, so much so that to this day the ' rue des Juifs'
in Grimaud reminds us of tlie counting-houses of the
Hebrews who i-tcw rich thci-e under the winu' of ihe
A SIltEKT IN CHGOl.l.N.
THE GRIMALDJ OF MONACO. 293
Moors. Wlieii tlic Saracens were finally driven out, tJiey
left hcliiiul tliein llieir s_ystem of irrigation, their Biisln-a
roses, tlieir ])uni])s, llieir norias, and tlieir jjorou.s watei'-
jars. liice, sugar, cotton, flax, silk, saffron, and cork were
all brought into use by sheiks who have left us the words
' chemise ' and ' sarsanet.' The palm and the peach grew
in their gardens, and they bequeathed to Christendom
tlieir ' syrups, juleps, and elixirs.' If in Ijotaiiy, surgery,
and medicine they, and their Jewish friends, were in ad-
vance of all Christian leeches, poets also learned from
them to rhyme, astronomers got ' the use of the globes,'
and barons, even such as Gebelin de Grimoald, learnt
hunting and falconr5^ The Moors paved their streets,
while Western civilisation waded foot deep in nnid ; and
to this day the tow^ns and villages of Les Maures bear
the stamp of an architecture intended to defy the heat
of the sun. Look at this street in Cogolin. It is really
a passage, for the houses cross the so-called street, and
the first floor on the one side is continued into that of
the opposite side, Avliere the masses of dark walls have
but few windows. Something hke this looked the towns
which Gebelin de Grimoald got for an heritage when
his stout right arm had driven away the dusky invaders.
After his death (GOG), the family, as it increased in
wealth and importance, split up into branches, with a
tendencj' to enlarge its borders on the eastern side — viz.
in the direction of the strong place of Monaco which
they were to accpiire in 968. Antibes accrued to them in
1237 ; but that the Grimaldi did not at once abandon
the western district is evident from the great prosperit}^
of the branch settled near La Ciotat. To this day the
2C)^ THE MA JUT/ ME ALPS.
])lirasc 'the purse of M. de lla|nise ' is used to express
a fortune as exce])tio]ial as that of Grimaldi, M:^i'q^ns de
Eaguse. Cagnes belonged to tlie Grinialdi, j\Iarquis de
Courbou, and it remained Avilli tlieni till the close of
tlie eighteenth centur3\ In what state they lived there
jnay be judged from tlie castle at the top of the hill,
^vitli its escalier (Thonneiir, and its ceiling painted by
Carlone, the Genoese. One of these Courbon-Grimaldi,
while governor for the king, and for the Prince of
Monaco, received a letter signed by Lomenie de
Brienne, and countersigned by Louis, bidding him
beware of Spanish intrigues, and of a certain Spanish
agent disguised as a monk, whose presence Avas dan-
gerous for the coasts of Provence.
To the Grimaldi, Ccmnts of Beuil,fell a much wilder
heritage than any of these seaboard places. If Cagne
feared Moorish pirates, and Monaco dreaded Spanish
ships, the uplands of the county of Nice had Avolves,
and avalanches and late frosts. Local histories tell how
cruel and bold were these hard-living Counts of Beuil,
and they were especially foimidable to Nice in the early
reign of Jeanne, in that era of civil Avars and mortnl
feuds, when battle and murder and sudden death had
so hai'dened men's minds and manners that morality
had fallen to quite as Ioav an ebb as it now has at Monte
Carlo, from very different causes.
All llic bi'anches I have eimmerated Avere of much
less account than the reiofninij House of Monaco. The
cMi'liest records of its '■fdict.^ et cjeMef<'' are a little fabu-
lous, but royal cliarters of 12o7, PiOT, 1411, and ]4P>8,
be;ir witness to its iuijjortaiicc and we certainly touch
THE GRIMALDI OF MONACO. 295
firm oTOuiid in 1218, witli llie Griinaldi who commanded,
ill tlie harbour of Damietta, the fleet of tlie Crusaders
which was to carry the town in 1219. From jiim
descended the hues of Grimaldi, Marquis of Mandinio,
in Naples, and that of the Grimaldi of Seville. His suc-
cessor was the first to assume the leading position in the
Guelf party which we shall find proper to the ])rinces of
Monaco. It was this Admiral Cliarles wlio bouglit I lie
lordships of Mentone, Eoquebruiie, and Castillon, wliile
his son, the friend of Queen Jeanne, governed in Provence
as her lieutenant. The friend of princes, his enemies
seem to have been those of his own household, for he was
kept out of his castle of Monaco for seven long years by
his fierce kinsman the Grimaldi of Beuil. The tale of
their exploits reads like a page in Sir Walter Scott's
' Tales of a Grandfather,' from the early history of
Scotland. In fact, wherever hard blows were going,
a Grimaldi was generally to be found, at Crecy, at
Lepanto in 1571, and at the battle of the Texel, 1666 ;
but tlie boldest of tliem all was Augustine, that abbot
of the Lerins who sided with Charles V. in Avars so
fatal to Maritime Provence.
Evelyn in his Diary speaks of the Grimaldi as of a
Genoese house, and the list of the Doges of that rej)ublic
Avould incline one to agree with him. Neither is it till
1622, that we find French brides asked in marriage by
the jirinces of Monaco, for they had wed Avitli Genoese
and with Milanese ladies. The language of the principality
points to Italian rather than to French relations. It
was, and it remains to this day, a curious dialect ; being,
like some of the other juitou of this Ligurian shore, a
296 THE MARTTTME ALPS.
roiTuptioii of llie ' viilt]rar tongue' of Genoa. Even
where the words seem in tlieir spelUng to assimilate
themselves wit ]i Freneli rnles, the peenhar pronnneiation
of tlie vowels preserves to tlie language an essentially
Italian cliaracter. Take tlie following specimens:
Nostro paire clie sei in celo, clie 5 vostro nome sia santificao, clie
p vostro regno arrive, che ra vostra volonta scia fa, sei ra tera,
couma a ro celo. Dene anchei ro nostro pan di ciacea giorno. . . .
Santa Maria ! Maire de Diu, preghe per noi, poveri peccatoi
aora, e a ro ponto de ra nostra morte. Cosei scia.
It will be seen that the Monegasqne speech still
preserves the forms re*, ra, and ri for the articles le^ la,
and les, a corruption renounced by modern writers and
speakers of the Genoese dialect, though — as late as the
beginning of this century — they might still be caught
on the lips of the old-fashioned, local Genoese nobility.
But I must return to the Grimaldi. After seven
lumdred years of possession, the male line threatened
to become extinct. Like many races of despots, the
lords of Monaco lacked an heir male. Antoine X., by
his maniage with a princess of Lorraine, had only two
daughters, and his brother the a])bot was in orders. It
therefore behoved Antoine to choose among the suitors
of Louise-Hippolyte a family eligible for grafting on it
lier name and quarterings. This was a matter requiring
niucli pcfsoiial thought, and which also warranted
royal intcrfei-ence. The hand of Mademoiselle de
Monaco could not be assigned to the lirst comer.
Lvcii if King Louis might forget for a moment the
ceul lilies of sovereignty enjoyed by the Grimaldi at
Monaco, he could not forget tliat Eichelieu liad only
THE GRIMALDI OF MONACO. 297
recent!}^ ronferred on tliose princes the titles of Duke
de Valentinois and Marquis des Baux, witli grants of
land in Provenre and in Auvergne. Moreover, Honore
II. had put the sovereignty and independence of his
estates under the protectorate of France. That act
had been effected by the Treaty of Peronne, September
14, 1644. Its first article stipulated 'a garrison shall
enter into the said fortress of Monaco, composed of five
hundred effective soldiers, all Frenchmen born, and not
of any other nation, to keep the fortress, to remain
there, and to serve in four companies. . . . The said
prince shall be captain and governor for the king,
and after him his heirs and successors in the said
principality.' These conditions had been proposed by
Honore II. because, as the treaty states in its preamble,
' the Spaniards had, so to speak, appropriated the place
of arms and fortress of Monaco, irJiicli lie holds as
sovereign,, usurping so much power that it is no longer
at the disposal of its j^i'ince.' The benefit seemed to be
all on his side, since he obtained along with the pro-
tection of Louis XIII. a garrison of five hundred men,
the prince being also left ' liberty and sovereignty witliin
his own dominions,' but, on the other hand, the place
of arms over which he ruled barred the only road of
communication between Italy and Provence. Its im-
portance was all the more felt by Louis because the
Spanish fieet had only a few years earlier assembled in
front of it, before giving battle to a French squadron off
Mentone. The permanent occupation of Monaco being
taken into consideration, no slight interest naturally
attached to the l^etrothal of its heiress. Dancfcau writes :
2 98 THE MARITIME ALPS.
' AVediiesday, March 20, 1715.
' The iiuirriagc of Mademoiselle de Monaco with
M. de Thoriony is arranged.^ M. de Monaco cedes the
duchy of Valentinois to his daughter ; the Abbe, to
will nil the ducliy Avould revert, renounces m favour of
liis niece ; and tlie king not only consents but adds a
pairie to the dnchy, since — though the lands are a
duchy — they would only carry the pairie for heirs male.'
Portraits of this bride and bridegroom are not
wanting. They sat to Carl Vanloo, and he painted
them surrounded by their six children. Fortunate in
lier wedded life, and the founder of a new line of
princes, Lonise-Hippolyte can never be reproached by
her descendants for having derogated from the preten-
sions of her birth. Since the junction of the line
of Grinialdi to that of Matignon the following titles
have been added to the family roll : ' Sire de Matig-
non, Comte de Thorigny, J^aron de Saint-Lo, Baron
de la Lathumiere, Due d'Estourville, Due de Mazarin,
Due de la Meilleraye, Due de Mayenne, Prince de
Chateau-Porcien, Comte de Ferrette, de Belfort, de
Thann, and de Eosemont, Baron d'Altkirch, Seigneur
dTsenlieim, Mai'qnis de Chilly, Comte de Lonjumeau,
Banm de Massy, Marquis de Guiscard,' &c. &c.
'i'he archives of the family are rich and most inte-
resting, and if II.S.TI. the Prince of Monaco could be
l)i'evailed on to print some of his treasures, the world
of historians and archnsologists might revel in a vast
mim])er of original letters illusti'ative of the records and
' Jiic(juos-Leonor de Goyon-Matignon, Comte de Tlioi-igny.
Madame de Sevign^ possessed, and eventually sold, a house in tlie
Jiitp (1p Tltor'ifjny at Ronnr-s.
THE GRIMALDI OF MONACO. 299
JVieiulsliips of tlic liouse, first as ])rinre.s of the family of
Griinaldi, tlien as Matignon, and, finally, as representing
tlie house of Mazarin/ I liave seen forty-six volumes
of tlie corres])ondence of Joinville, of Henri III., of Catlie-
rine de Medicis, and of Henry IV. M. Saige, tlie archivist
of the palace, brings to the classification of tlie family
papers both great care and great historical knowledge.
One may spend most deliglitful liours 'w\ liis companj^,
and quite forget tlie neighbourhood of the Casino ; in
fact, be carried l)ack in imagination to a totally different
age of the world. I remember laughing when we recalled
there the attempt made by the Duchesse de Mazarin and
her sister Marie, wife of the Constable Colonna, to land
at Monaco. The husbands of those beautiful Mancini
exercised at all times but little marital control over
them. However, that little Avas felt to ])e too much,
and they determined to escape from it. They took shi|)
at Civita Yecchia. Their skipper asked an exorbitant
fee, but necessity has no law ; Marie Mancini w^as
horribly frightened, and still more horribly sick, so she
ended by offering him one liundrcd pistoles over and
above the sum agreed on, if he Avould, Avithout more
delay, land them in France. It blew a tempest, and
they hoped to land at Monaco, but there was no pratiiiue
{(^Y vessels coming from Civita Vecchia, so these hero-
ines, travelling, as Madame de Grignan, the Governess of
Provence, said of them, \\\\\\ ' many jewels and no clean
linen,' had to spend their money on buying a ])ermission
to land. They had to continue to wear men's attire lest
their identity should be suspected, but they hnall}^ did
' Honoro IV. man-ied Louise F. V. d'Aumoiit, only cliild of the
Due de Duras, and gTeat-graudehild of Charlotte de Mazarin.
300 THE AfARITIME ALPS.
get safely into France (from La Ciotat) in S23ite of all
the galleys of Tnseany Avliicli the Constable Colonnahad
sent out to track his fugitive wife.
Even more conspicuous among ' les (frandes aincnir-
eiises' of that siecle Louis XIV., was Charlotte cle
Gramont, Princesse cle Monaco. She was the daughter
of Eichelieu's friend, the Marechal de Gramont, and a
haughty, witty, unscrupulous beauty who would have
been out of place on any soberer stage than that of the
court of Versailles. Her intrii^^ue w^ith the Kinc^, her
passion for her cruel, cunning, and ambitious cousin
Lauzun, her consequent rivalry with the Grande Made-
moiselle, and the jealousy of the Prince of Monaco of a
wife who never even aspired to fidelity, Avould fill a
volume, as they have furnished Saint Simon with some
of his least edifying pages. The Prince lived at Monaco
while Charlotte amused herself in Paris. He cannot
have had much sense of humour Avlien he invented a
new way of revenging himself on his rivals. His princi-
pality is small, but he made it look very small when he
caused gibbets to be erected at intervals all along its
frontiers. From theui he huno; the efilL^es of all the
courtiei's on whom he believed that his Princess had
smiled. ' Not only,' wrote Madame de Sevigne, ' is tliis
measure retrospective, but people divert themselves by
telling him of things that go on now. The result is
that the gibbets are obliged to be put closer together,
and moi'e than half the n-entlemen of tlie court are now
lianging along the frontiers of Monaco. I assure you
I have liad many a laugh at this, and others with me.
The King jiimself laughs at it. It is a frenzy of
hniKlivil.^ that ]\assos all belief.'
THE GRIMALDF OF MONACO. 301
Another legend connected ^villi the Pahice of
Monaco is of a graver character than this : I mean the
death tliere of the Duke of York, who was also Duke of
Albany. Horace Walpole's letters reflect tlie popular
emotion when it was known in England that the poor,
good-humoured prince had ended his life at Monaco.
He died of a chill caught after a ball, by travelling when
he ought to have rested, and changed liis linen. Though
tlie cause of so much sufierino- and distress was cliildish
enough, the Duke, when he saw his end api)roachin2;,
met his fate with the greatest courage and serenity
(September 17, 1767). He had the gift of sincerely
attaching to his person all who served him ; his servants
could hardly listen with composure to his last orders, and
the equerry, Mr. Wrottesley, who brought home the
tidings, broke down completely. His host at Monaco
did everything that a kind heart and a liberal hand coidd
suggest, but the blow was not to be averted ; and to this
day a stately room, with heavy draperies and some
good pictures, is known in the palace as ' the Duke of
York's room.'
The direct line of the princes of Monaco han^Ts at
present on the life of tlie one male heir, of the infant
son of the Hereditary Prince by his marriage (since
dissolved) with Lady Mary Hamilton. Should this line
fail, the succession will again, as in the days of Louise-
Hippolyte, Mademoiselle de Monaco, pass to an heiress :
to H.S.H. tlie Princess Florestine, widow of the Due
d'Urach-Wiirtemberg.
302 THE MARITIME ALPS.
CHAPTEE XIX.
TWO FRENCH ADMIRALS.
♦ ITuiouis Troes.'
The baronies of St. Tropez and of Brian^on, from wliicli
the Bailli Suffren and the Comte Joseph de Grasse-Brian-
^•on took their titles, are both within a day's jonj-ney
of Cannes. Tlie lirst, so well known by its lightliouse,
forms one of the headlands of the Bay of Grimaud ; the
second, in tlie mountains beyond Grasse, is a place of
resort for its citizens during the great heat of sunnner.
Both liefs were in the fifteenth century, by an odd
coincidence, appanages of the family of Grasse, but, m
the eighteenth century, they belonged to the two best
seamen of the best period of the French navy, to
admirals who were found formidable antagonists by
Hughes and Howe, Hood and Eodney.
The war of American Independence must be ad-
mitted to have ])een little less serious for the mother
counti-y tlian for her Transatlantic colonists, busied as
they were in forming themselves into a confederacy of
thirteen free states. It was perhaps the most dangerous
war in which England ever engaged, for it forced great
sacrifices upon lier, and exposed lier to the greatest
perils by sea as well as by land. The European j)owers,
accordiriff to their different instincts and interests, drew
TH'O FRENCH AD.]ffRALS.
303
ofl" into now affiiiities, but tlie attiliide of France was,
from tlie first, one of cordial syin|)atliy with the rebels,
as afterwards with the young republic of tlie West.
New tactics were everywhere discussed. England had
to change her old and received systems of commerce
and of policy, and few perhaps suspected how the
mutual relations of mankind were all so ftir involved as
to be preparing everywhere for that far greater revo-
lution that was soon to follow. Nowhere wei*e the con-
sequences of American democracy to be so fateful as
in France ; yet, in the first blush of the novelty, the
Cabinet of Versailles was blind to the danorer of influ-
ences imported from the West, and likely to cause
its own overthrow. The French realised nothing in
the dawn of American liberty but that pleasure which
their ancient rivalry made them experience in any mis-
fortune befalling the English. They were moreover
eager to efiace the stain which the Treaty of Paris
(1763) had left on their own reputation as a great
maritime poAver.
It has been argued that the Cabinet of Versailles
ought, on the first hint of hostilities, to have forestalled
the attack of the English, and this omission has been
blamed. If it really was an error, it is certain that the
omission was atoned for in those campaigns which lasted
in both hemispheres from 1773-1783, when war was
waged on us in the West as well as in the East Indies.
Suffren's attack was all the more formidable be-
cause our position in India was already imperilled.
Pondicherry had been M^ested, it is true, from the
French, but their troops had assisted Hyder Ali, and
304 THE MARITIME ALPS.
that tyrant had brouglit about a confederacy of native
l)rince6 well calcidated to annihilate British interests
in India, The siege of Arcot, like Sir Eyre Coote's
march on Yellore, shows how British energy and British
strategy were both tasked by the enemy. Sir Edw^ard
Huii;hes was off the Coromandel coast with a line fleet,
but he was already opposed by the frigates of M.
d'Orves, and it now only needed the appearance of a
second French squadron to render the situation very
threatening in the sonthern part of the peninsula.
That was what happened.
In March 1781, two French fleets cleared out of
Brest. The one, commanded by the Comte Joseph de
Grasse, was bound for the West Indian station, and
would supplement the seven line-of-battle sliips, which
M. de Ternay had twelve months before taken across
the Atlantic to raise tlie young courage of the United
States of America. Tlie other, connnanded by Admiral
Suffren, sailed to reinforce our enemies in India. It
was also understood that a Spanish fleet should attack
us at Gibraltar.
As Suffren's sails dip beneath the verge, let me pause
for a moment to say a word about the sailor and the
ships.
Pierre-Andre de Suffren, Baron of St. Tropez, and
Bailli of the Order of Malta, was a Provencal. If there
be anything ' in a name,' this great sailor was destined
to prove an exception to the rule which would see in the
derivation of the Avord ' Suffren ' a man predestined to
reverses. The family belonged ess(!ntially to t]ie noblesse
de robe. It had Juid representatives in many })arliaments
Tiro FRENCH ADMIRALS. 305
of Aix, and it could boast of a certain Conseiller de
Suflren greatly trusted by Henri IV., who appointed an-
other Suffren confessor to his queen, Marie de Medicis.
In spite of tlie legal traditions of this family, it was, in
1749, represented by two brothers, who had abjured both
the bar and bench ; by Jerome, afterwards Bishop of
Sisteron, and by Pierre, who, choosing the navy for his
profession, sailed with La Galissoniere. At twenty years
of age he entered the Order of St. John-of-Jerusalem,
and enrolled himself as a member of that Auherge de
Provence which had during centuries comprised members
of every noble Proven9al house. Suffren entered where
a D'Agoult, a Caraman, a Forbin, and a Yilleneuve had
passed before him, and vrhere a Mirabeau was to follow
him. He knew all the recorded great names among the
Conunanders and haillis of Malta, and he was probably
familiar with that Church of St. John which was ap-
propriated in Aix to the devotions of the Knights of
the Auherge de Provence. It remained for him to make
his own name worthy of such companions, and we shall
see how he contrived to shine as a star of the first
magnitude.
His first brush with the English was at Port Mahon.
In 1778 he sailed with D'Estaing, and distinguished
himself off Ehode Island. His courage and sagacity were
remarked, and it would have been better for D'Estaing
if he had confided more in the advice then given him
by the Marquis de Bouille, and by this young Suffren,
who then commanded the Fantasque. Off Grenada the
bold Provencal also showed his mettle, and so gratified
his admiral that he was recommended to the king
X
3o6 THE MARITIME ALPS.
for a pension of l,oOO livres^ which was accordingly
settled upon him. SufTren was a seaman of exceptional
cliaracter, as brave as Nelson, and as rough as Benbow,
and so popular with his sailors that to this day his
quaint Provencal liumour is remembered, and his say-
ings are repeated. A broadside became in liis vocabu-
lary ' a basket of Antibes figs,' and, in arranging an
attack, he used to tell his boarding party ' to rub these
English Avell with Aix oil.' These jokes were very
popular, and it was assuredl}" with ever}^ wish to
treat the English to both dainties that he cleared
out of Brest in the spring of 1781. His men were as
eager as he was himself, and it mattered not whether
the enemy were Commodore Johnstone, with his convoy,
in tlie chops of tlie Channel, or Sir Edward Hughes, far
in tlie Indian Ocean. His own flag was flying on board
the Heros, that 74-gun sliip Avhich he loved, wliicli
came to be considered as a synonym for himself, and on
which, so full of years and of adventures, he ultimately
returned to Toulon.
He fell in with Connnodore Johnstone off Porto
Praya, and, after a sudden attack and desperate fight,
he was obliged, by an equally sudden retreat, to confess
that he had undervalued his enemy and overrated the
advantages of a surprise. Suffren's chief business was
to watcli the Cape of Good Hope, and, bearing this his
paramount duty in mind, he sailed for False Bay, where
his timely arrival preserved the Cape and its depen-
dencies for Holland.
Sir Edward Hughes he did not meet till February
1782, and then in Madras Eoads, when Suffren lost five
TWO FREXCH ADMIRALS. 307
prizes, a great deal of aminunition, and three liiiudrcd
men of the regiment of Lausanne, taken on board the
transport Lauriston. Eight of his best ships gave battle,
and it was fortunate for the English that this overmaster-
ing force drew off after a change of wind. The next ad-
venture of Suffren's came to him through no blows struck
by himself. M. d'Orves died, and SufTren suddenly found
himself in sole command of the French fleet. His course
now lay to Babacolo, on the coast of Coromandel,
and thence to Cuddalore, where he seemed able to
grasp the realisation of Hyder All's dream. Might it
not be possible for him to crush the English squadron,
and to besiege Madras from the sea while the tyrant
beleaguered it by land ? One struggle succeeded to the
other, for Sir Edward Hughes took the offensive, and
pursued Suffren, till the latter, finding the wind in his
favour, tlirew his whole force on the centre and rear of
the English line. Bold as this measure seemed, it was
not decisive. It was, however, so severe, that after it
the two commanders were glad to he for several days
within sight of each other, repairing vessels that made
a landsman speculate how crafts so damaged could
possibly remain afloat. Hyder Ali owned to a great
disappointment, for had Suffren only been able to sweep
the Enghsh off the seas, he had hoped to reduce the
whole of the Carnatic.
The Enghsh fleet had been in the meantime so
thinned by sickness, that it is hardly possible to overrate
the courage with which Sir Edward Hughes gave battle
after battle to his great antagonist. They fought again
in Pondicherry Eoads, and from that engagement the
x2
3oS THE MARITIME ALPS.
French admiral hoped for great things. Hughes, pain-
fully aware that his seventeen ships Avere undermanned,
was orateful to find that SufTren did not come into
closer action, and so render their fifth battle more san-
guinar}-. In truth, Suffren was not very well supported,
and no man was ever less able to bear disappointment
calmly. Was it for this that the Hews had w^orked
her way across the infinite ocean, and exposed herself
and her convoy to British shot and shell ? He wrote
home, ' My heart is broken by the most general deser-
tion, so that I have lost my cliance of destroying the
British squadron. I liad fourteen line-of-battle ships
and the Consolante, but I assure you that only the
Ileros, the Illustre, and the Ajaa; fought close and in
line. All, I say all, might have come close, but none did
so. Yet several of these very men having fought bravely
in other battles, I can only attribute this " horror " (sic)
to a wish to close the camj)aign, or to ill-will, or to
ignorance : for I cannot supj)ose anything Avorse ! The
result has been terrible. . . . Never, Monseigneur, could
you imagine the tricks that have been tried here to get
rid of me. I may have made mistakes — in war ivho
does not make mistakes ? — but I do not deserve those
which have been imj)uted to me.'
Neither in truth did tlie subordinates of the bold
Bailh de SufTren deserve all the blame that in his angry
pain he lieaped upon them. Some of the ships, being
becalmed, could not, with tlie best will in the world,
have taken up the posts which he would fain have seen
them occu])y. Among the ofiicers who fought that day
were men like La Palliere, tlie very flower of the French
TJVO FRENCH ADMIRALS. 309
navy, seamen incapable of any baseness. Bnt SnfTren was
inconsolable, and lie remained so till, in June, lie was able,
between Novo and Gondelonr, to score such a victory
that Hughes had to withdraw. Tlie situation of the
British was so much altered for the worse by this last
battle that Suffren felt as if he had now really fulfilled
his task, and accomplished that result which had been
for so many months both his morning prayer and his
evensono'. He was named lieutenant-o'eneral for the
king; his name passed from mouth to mouth, and when
he appeared at Port Louis the French colonists received
him with alternate cries of ' Vive le roy ! ' and ' Vive Suffren ! '
The brave old man was gratified, but he was also cau-
tious enough to exclaim, ' Gave les revevs ! ' So much
popularity made liim tremble for a reverse, yet it was
with a pleasurable sense of labour rewarded that he
dropped the anchor of the Heros once more in the
roadstead of Toulon.
This Indian campaign had been, so to speak, the
Bailli's personal w^ork. The great distance between him-
self and Versailles had given such ample scope for his
initiative genius, that he repeatedly acted in the teeth
of the instructions sent out to him. Taking for his guide
the circumstances which, as they arose, sufficed to suggest
a policy to him, he had carried on the war with passion.
As was but too certain to be the case, his subordinates,
weary of so much zeal and enterprise, were sometimes
laggard in carrying out his most brilliant conceptions.
He himself never knew either fear or fatigue. Huge of
stature, strong of sinew, full of passion and of a peremp-
toriness that was not without a tinge of brutality, he
3IO THE MARITIME A IPS.
was also rasli of speech, as became a Proven9al, and lie
carried in liis heart, along Avith the warmest patriot-
ism, that love of glory which ought surely to be distin-
guished from the mere love of fame. Then jealousy
springs so naturally in the human breast that Suffren,
if unapproachable by rivals, yet came to have enemies.
Xor can it be denied that when he was irritable he often
confounded want of good will with that want of abihty
which is so common, but which is also quite unself-
conscious, and of which he unavoidably met with
examples in officers of mediocre talents.
His reception in Paris was of a nature to gratify
him. He had truly deserved well of both king and
country ; and French vanity, wounded as it was by the
defeat of the Comte de Grasse, was both able and willing
to rejoice over the liero of Trincomalee. Suffren, already
a Commander, and a Bailli of tlie Order of St. Jolni-of-
Jevusalem, was named the fourth vice-admiral of France,
and he never had cause to comi)lain of one of those
reverses of public favour which his sagacity had an-
ticipated. Only his old sailors did complain tliat their
bold captain was lost to tliem, for ]ie remained in Paris
till liis deatli, in 1788, when lie Avas buried, as liecame a
Bailli of Malta, in tlie Temple. To his man-of-war's-
men, to his jiichoun (children), as he had been wont to
call them, Pierre de Suffren had for long been a gallant
figure, filling at once the eye, the imagination, and the
heart. There was in his character a something both
pleasant and terrible wliicli was fascinating for Provencal
sailors. Tlie result of this has been tliat to this day the
ballads of the Pi'ovenrjal seaports sing his praises. Tliey
TWO FRENCH ADMIRALS. 31 x
bewail that bold ''Baile Suffren,' -who was so terrible to
the King of England, and wlio, after such a fine chaj')-
ladis (carnage), most unfortunately
Parti per Paris,
E se vie marin jamai Fan piu revist —
His old seamen have never seen him more.
With Suffren there sailed many Provencals of noble
birth. The navy was rich in them, and the Bailli had
under him at difierent times a Forbin, a Villeneuve,
a D'Adhemar, a Glandeves, a Castellane, a De Gazan,
and a Coriolis-d'Espinouse. But of all French captains
the one who, next to Suffren, centred in himself the
hopes of the Cabinet, and the good wishes of the fleet,
was the Comte de Grasse.
Joseph de Grasse-Brianyon was six years younger
than the Bailli. He belonged (through its fourth brancli)
to that great family of Grasse which Ehodoard, prince
of Antibes, had founded about 950, but which had been
extinct in the main line since 1725. His filiation to the
original house of Grasse was in this wise :
Jean de Grasse, 1499, married Catharine de Villeneuve,
Antoine de Grasse, 1546, married Nicaise de Rassan,
Jerome de Grasse, 1597, married Jeanne de Calvi,
Charles de Grasse, married Marie de Gucci,
Francois de Grasse- Briangon, married Marguerite de Brun,
Francois Rene de Grasse-Brian9on, married Marie de Chailan,
Admiral Joseph Paul de Grasse-Briangon, married in 1750
to Catharine de Castellane-de St. Juers.
Many centuries of noble breeding, of intercourse
with Italy, and of experience in the ranks of the Knights
of Malta had served to form in Joseph de Grasse a
proud and graceful man of tlie world. When he left
312 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Brest in March 1781, tliough really only the cUf
cVescadre, lie held tlie provisional commission of lieu-
tenant-general for the king. His flag was carried by
the Ville de Paris, that splendid 104-giin ship-of-the-
line which the city of Paris, at a cost of 4,400,000 livres,
built and gave to Louis XV., and which was for long
considered to be the finest specimen of naval architec-
ture in tlie Avorld.
It is impossible to overrate the assistance which the
Americans received at this juncture both from the
troops of Eochambeau, and from the ships of the
Comte de Grasse. A monument in York Town com-
memorates to this day, and in language which is not
exaggerated, the repulse of Lord Cornwallis, and the
exploits of the Freiicli fleet off the Chesapeake. Space
would not allow me here to follow De Grasse through
all the labours of that campaign to his attack on St.
Kitts, and to his return to Martinique. We must pass at
once to those preparations for the reduction of Jamaica
Avliich led to the appearance of Sir George Eodney, and
to tlie <ireat eno:a<yement off the north end of Dominica.
At seven o'clock on April 12, 1782, the hostile
fleets met on opposite tacks, and the first Frencli shot
was fired into the MarlhoroiKjh (Captain Penny).
The tale is one of extreme gallantry on botli sides,
])ut De Grasse made some mistakes which allowed
liodney to give liim battle at very close quarters and thus
to ruin tlie Frencli ships by the fire of his carronades.
Tliose short pieces, manufactured and invented by a
])rivate firm near Carron on the Forth, threw shot of
24 lbs. or G8 lbs. weight. In fact, the whole English
TJVO FRENCH ADMIRALS. 313
broadside was to be feared, since its fire liad lately be-
come more sure and more rapid, thanks to some im-
provements in side-tackle, cartridges, and locks, to all
of which Eodney and Sir Charles Douglas had devoted
their attention.^ The first shots, as I have said, were
fired by the French, and from their seventh ship. Then
the signal for close action was thrown out by Eodney,
and the English ships ranged closely and sloAvly along
the enemy's line, under their lee. The English flagship,
the Formidable., fixed on the tenth ship, and kept
edging in on their line, with a full sail. Drake's
division did wonders, and the fire from the Duke
and the Canada., along with the work of his own well-
directed and really insupportable broadside, all enabled
Eodney, after passing the Ville de Paris., to cut the
French line between the second and third ships astern
of De Grasse's flag. This bold manoeuvre made victory
secure for the inventor of it. Not content now with
raking the four next French ships astern, the Formid-
able wore suddenly round on her heel, our whole van
tacked, and our fleet was brought to windward of the
enemy, on the same tack.
About a quarter past two the whole French fleet
seemed to be disabled. But the Frenchmen would not
yield. The Cesar fought till her captain was killed,
till her foremast was gone, and till there was not a
yard of canvas on her that had not a shot-hole. The
Diademe went down next, then the Hector struck,
1 French ships, 34 ; Englisli, .30 ; weiglit of French l)roaclside,
28,191 lbs. ; weight of English, 22,103 lbs., not to speak of the
carronades,
314 THE MARITIME ALPS.
and next the Ardent, but at a quarter to six the
Barfieur (Sir S. Hood) stood on to the Ville de Paris.
The Conite de Grasse, not less brave than liis captains,
]iad been ah-eady nearly wrecked by the fire of tlie
Canada., and lie liad endured for four hours the anguish
of seeing the rout and ruin of his matchless fleet. He
seemed only to have waited to have the honour of
5'ielding to the flag of a rear-admiral, and after ten
minutes more of the carronades he struck.
When Lord Cranstown was sent on board with a
complimentary message he found the Admiral of the
fleet, a tall, pale man, standing between the two other
men who were left alive on the quarter-deck. Heaps of
dead and dying lay around them, and the English officer,
as he stepped up to receive De Grasse's sword, noticed
lliat he walked over his own shoe-buckles in blood, for
only the setting of the sun closed a battle which for more
than eleven hours had raged with unremitting fury.
It was calculated that the Frencli lost not less than
a quarter of their total numbers ; but, desperate as the
action had been for tliem, the English only lost seventy-
tlii'ee men, and Lord li()l)ert Manners, avIio died of liis
wounds, was perliaps the greatest loss Eodney had
to deplore. And no^v the far-famed Ville de Paris,
witli her Admiral, lier standard of France, and her
treasure-chest of 500,000 livres, was in the hands of a
seaman who had known how to convert the advantages
under Avliicli lie undoubtedly went into action into this
decisive victory. His splendid prize, the finest that
was ever taken from an enemy, could not carry a
stitch of canvas on her shattered spars. She liad
Tiro FRENCH ADMIRALS. 315
eighty-four shots in Iier liuU, Init slic M\as towed into
Jamaica, wliere tlie sailors of Hood and Eodney joyed
over lier ; thougli, after tliey had visited lier, they
reported the celebrated prize as dirt)^, ill-disciplined,
and lumbered. Her Admiral came on l)oard tlie
English flagship on tlie morning after the battle. An
eyewitness, who breakfasted with him, described the
Comte de Grasse as ' affable and fairly communi-
cative.' His victor-host, Sir George Eodney, who had
spent some years of liis life in France, and had once
been offered service by the French king, spoke French
fluently, and the Comte de Grasse made him the con-
fidant of his grievances. He even told liow he
fired into one or two of liis own ships during ihe en-
gagement, because their captains provoked him by
their apparent pusillanimity and mismanagement. By
them, he added, he had been prevented, ' comriie vou.s
voyez,' from completing liis career in the West Indies by
the reduction of Jamaica.
If De Grasse had contented himself with blaming
his subordinates at the breakfast-table of tlie Formid-
able, it Avould liave been better for him. But facts
came to be sifted before a royal commission (appointed
to sit at Orient on the officers under his command), and
there many of the accusations formally lodged by tlie
Admiral were ordered to be erased. Nine-tenths of his
complaints proved to be "\vithout foundation, while they
were especially calumnious of the brave De Vaudreuil.
Tlie Admiral never returned to his Provencal liome, yet
the two years of his absence from France might have
been cpiietly spent in England, wliere his gallantry and
3t6 the maritime ALPS.
]iis liigli-breeding rendered him a most acceptable guest,
had De Grasse not unfortunately preferred to spend
them m futile recriminations, and in demands for a fresh
appeal before wqw judges. Tlie Government, liaving
once closed the subject, declined to reopen it, and the
naval authorities hoped that the vanquished Admiral
Avould end in accepting the facts, and therefore cease
from pamphlets which could neitlier soothe his own
sorrows, nor yet restore the beautiful Ville de Paris to
lier place in the navies of France. The king at last,
weary of tlie unpalatable topic, sent to tell De Grasse
tliat, thougli willing to suppose the Admiral had done
his best at Dominica, he was not disposed to extend his
r(^yal indulgence to those complaints which had been
lodged against the officers of his navy, and tliat he
should therefore forbid the Comte de Grasse to appear
at liis court. This sentence, and the laurels of Suffren,
must liave been great trials to a man of De Grasse's
temper. He died in Paris in 1788, not much regretted
by his comrades, and nowhere better remembered than
in the country where he was once a prisoner, and wliere
his conduct on the quarter-deck of his fine flagship is
still one of the classical incidents of naval liistory.
Rodney's sailors were for years wont to discuss liow it
liad been possible for an officer so far above the ordinary
height to fit himself into the cabin of a ship, even into
tlie stern-cabin of the splendid Ville de Paris.
317
CHAPTER XX.
CANNES AS IT WAS.
' We lay at Canes, which is a small port in the Mediterranean. . . . The
soil about the country is rocky, full of pines, and rare simples. . . . Here we
agreed with a seaman to carry us to Genoa.' — Evelyn's 3Iemoirs, vol. i. a.d.
1644.
• The heavenly blue sea, stretching so far and wide, is in accordance with
one's feelings, and the beauties of Nature have always something comforting
and soothing.' — Letter of Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, Cannes, Dec. 14, 1861).
It is clifRciilt for me to describe the place in which I
habitually live, where the winters succeed each other,
but do not resemble each other, either in their weather
or in their social pleasures. Here everything changes
from day to day ; and if the dying come here to live,
the living, alas ! come to die. Here four Piedmontese
workmen will in four weeks make a rock disappear,
while twenty-four such labourers will in four months
build a barrack four storeys high. Here the valleys get
filled up, and the eucalyj^tus tree grows ten feet in the
year ; here the poor suddenly grow rich by speculation,
and the rich grow poor, thanks not only to speculation,
but to the excessive cost of living.
Everyone will find in Cannes what he looks for,
or ])uts into it. The visitor may live in a boat, or
through a succession of morning visits. He may either
go to picnics, or lie in a balcony ; he may explore
the mountains, or hire a studio ; drive a team of
3i8 THE MARITIME ALPS.
miniature ponies, or ride on a donkey. He may
dance cotillons, or sing psalms, or look for trap-
door spiders ; lie may live on the shore, or among the
resinous firs on the hill ; he may learn languages, and
play on divers instruments ; he may flirt and quarrel ;
or he may, which is far more difficult, seek peace and
ensue it. In short, Cannes has so many aspects, that I
will not describe the winter city which everyone visits,
but rather leave it to the guide-books to tell you its
latitude and its longitude, and to the medical works to
reassure you as to its mean winter temperature.
Let us rather try to reconstruct old Cannes,
The best way to see its real outlines is to take a
boat, and go a couple of kilometres out to sea. Then
the little bay, and the group of masonry and towers on
the Mont Chevalier, are sharply defined, and we can see
that old Cannes, which never quite filled the space be-
tween the Eiou ' and the Foux, was crowned by a castle
that was as nearly as possible square.
Tlie fief of Cannes belonged, as I have already
had occasion to mention, to the Abbots of the Lerins,
whose castle occupied the site of a Eoman encamp-
ment. In classical records the place was called Egitna,
and when the inhabitants were frightened away by
the barbarians, they removed to a hill which is still
called Mons-E(jitna (Mougins), and where till quite re-
cently the beauty of the men and women was supposed
to have descended to them from the primitive type.
In medieval records tlie place was called Castrum-
^ The word ' Riotc ' means a stream or rivulet ; on the other side
of Frejus it becomes ' Eeal.' Is this the same as our ' rill' 1
CANNES AS IT WAS. 319
Francum^ and as sucli the Berengers, counts of Pro-
vence and of Barcelona, spoke of it when Edward the
Confessor was king of England. A certain abbot, Adel-
bert II., was moved in 1070, to begin the great, square
tower which still commemorates his prudence : for all
beaches were insecure in those days, and from the very-
Arabs whom they dreaded, the Provencals (like the
Genoese) had learned to build such an Al Menara, to
serve as fire-beacon, watch-tower, and stronghold in
time of siege. Its foundations were laid in 1070, but the
Abbot did not live to complete it, and his successors,
either less rich or less spirited, neglected a work which
both the Pope and the Berengers encouraged. It was
not finished for more than two centuries, when the
Abbot Jean Tournefort completed it in 1393. Evidently
from its masonry, the work of Italian, proljably of Pisan
builders, it was originally (hke many of the towers at
Albenga and other places of the Ligurian coast) crene-
lated, and till 1829, when the lightning split it, it retained
its ornaments. The tower of the castle, which now forms
the belfry of the parish church, is of later workmanship,
and there was at one time another tower, called La Be-
ronde, which was lower, and nearer to the beach. The
destruction of the villages of Arluc (Mont St. Cassien)
and Mandelieu favoured the early growth of Cannes ; but
the monks, in return for the protection afforded by their
towers, drew heavy dues from the Cannois. Every time
a bit of land changed hands the Abbot exacted a Jlsc.
The peasants might gather acorns for their pigs, but
flour must be ground at the convent mills, and wine,
oil, figs, tunny, and hemp were all taxed. The popula-
320 THE MARITIME ALPS.
lion consisted of peasants, fisherwomen, pilgrims, and
pii'ates ; the procession on St. Honorat's Day was apt
to end in a figlit, and the citizens had leave to wear
swords, ' comme il est d' usage dans les lieux maritimes
suspects.'
Till the close of the IMiddle Ages the history of
Cannes is that of its Abbots, and though the town, ever
since 1447, possessed a municipality, that was quite
overshadowed by the Superior who wore the Benedictine
liabit. Of its sufferings during the wars of Francis I.
I have had occasion to speak in another place. Charles V.
came here twice, and the inn in the Suquet where he lay
was only removed a few years ago to make room for the
present Hospice de la Ville.
The most fatal year that ever passed over Cannes
was 1580. It is three hundred j^ears since a woman was
landed there from a levantine. She died of the plague,
but not before she had propagated an infection which
spread from town to town, and which cost Marseilles
more than twenty thousand lives. The burial grounds
of the Great Plague are still spoken of in Cannes, and
wlien the huge boulevards of the Societe Fonciere were
cut, there were old men who shook their heads and hojDcd
that no harm miglit come of stirring ground wliich had
not been turned since 1580.
The League was the union formed by the Cathohc
party to defend tlieir own interests, and those of
Cathohcism, against tlie pretensions of the Huguenots,
the incapacity of Henry III., and the claims of his heir,
Henry of Navarre. The parte ment of Provence declared
for the Leasi'ue, and, to clench the matter, named as its
CANNES AS IT JFAS. 321
future king, Charles de liourbon, tlieii Aljbot-comnien-
datoiy of the Lerins.
In the war that followed, Cannes was successively oc-
cupied by the troops of the royalists and by tlie Leaguers,
and also by those of that Duke of Savoy, to whom the
Leaguers, on the death of Henry III., had actually
offered the kingdom. We know how at last the sword
of Lesdiguieres turned the balance in favour of the
royalist party ; but many brave Provencals Ijit the
ground, and many a soul left tlie body, and many a
wife became a widow, ere Henri Y\. was duly acknow-
ledged ; and Cannes, in particular, was so sacked hy the
Duke of Savoy, that there was Uttle left in it worth
preserving.
'J. quehjue chose tout malheur est bon,' says the
proverb ; and the Cannois, to test the truth of the
saying, thought this time of war and tumult an
auspicious moment for trying to free themselves from
the monks. They were only partially successful, but
the town and its trade revived, the big parish church
was built, and men hoped for a time of prosperity. It
never came. At tlie close of the Thirty Years' War
the Spaniards invested Ste. Marguerite, and had to
be repulsed ; all the ' noblesse et inilice de Provence '
being assembled round Cannes : their leader, M. de
Harcourt, having his headquarters in the district of
Montfleury. This is what Evelyn refers to : ' We
touched at the islands of Ste. Marguerite and St.
Honore, so lately taken from the Spaniards with great
bravery by the Prince of Harcourt.'
During the war of the Spanisli Succession, the army
Y
32 2 THE MARITIME A IPS.
of Prince Eugene marched on Cannes. Auribeau was
invested, a camp formed at 13iot, and Grasse was
sacked. Xext came tlie war with Maria-Theresa,
when, in 1 746, Hungarian troops appeared at Antibes,
and struck terror into every heart. As General Brown
made liis lieadquarters lirst at Yence and then at Biot,
legends of ]iis Croats long lingered in all the villages on
tlie Loup. The inhabitants of Cannes fled to the islands,
but were driven back to the mainland by some English
ships. The town, according to a curious MS. ac-
count of it which exists, then lield 3,000 inhabitants,
and it had a liospital, worked by Capucin monks, on a
site where the street called ' of the Capucins ' now stands.
Monseigneur Mesgrignj^, tlie tlien Bishop of Vence,
belonging himself to that Order, gave the friars leave
to establisli themselves, and M. de Yendome, Abbot-
commendatory of tlie Lerins, sanctioned their presence.
The document wdiich treats of this, and of otlier local
and contemporary matters, adds, ' Cannes deviendra
dans la suite une ville considerable,' and the words were
prophetic, though a century had to elapse before the
prophecy was justified l)y events.
The cliurclics at that time existing were the ])aris]i
cluii-cli on the Mont Chevalier, the twelfth-century chapel
of Ste. Anne, wliicli is next to the great tower, tlie chapel
of St. Pierre, from which the quay takes its name, and
Notre Danie-dc-Boii-Yoyage, standing among the sandy
dunes, rather to the eastward of a town wdiich was then
bounded by the Grasse road. On the fiirther side of
that road was the clia})el of St. Es])rit, and the Hos])ital.
Above the town was the cha[)el of St. Nicholas, and ofl
ST. CLAIDE UV CANNKT.
CANNES .IS IT WAS. 323
llie Cannot road lliat of St. -Claude, afterwards tui'iu.'d
into an oil mill. Cannet M'as a liandet, or rather a
group of handets, 1nult by the Italian colonists whom
the monks ])ut in to till their lands. A rough road
led across the hills from it to Yallauris, which was the
summer residence of the monks, and wliere they had
fine vineyards.
The families Ijelonging to Cannes had the names
which the Berengers knew, and with which we are
ourselves noAv familiar. There were Eostan, Arluc, and
Calvi, and Bertrand, and Ardisson, and Isnard, and
Jordany, and with all this a bold spirit among the sea-
faring folk.
Such was Cannes when Massena knew it, and there
the son of the Jewish shopkeeper, the future Due de
Eivoli, Prince d'Essling, wooed his first love, Made-
moiselle Lamar, the chemist's daughter. Such was
Cannes when Pius YII. passed through it as a prisoner,
and Avhen Buonaparte, as a general of brigade, cut the
best oaks on Mont St. Cassien to make gun-carriages.
The Cannois must have seen Avith disgust that destruc-
tion of theii- ' holy shade ; ' in fact, the connnerce of the
])lace Avas ruined by the wars of the Empii'e, so that
Xa})oleon was unpopular both before and after his
appearance in Cannes in 1815.
Notwithstanding that unpopularity, Murat, when
driven out of Naples by the Austrians, was not afraid
to land and to live here for some weeks. Marshal
Brune came here to confer with liim, and there are
men still alive who can remember those two ill-fated
soldiers pacing the quay together, and talking of many
v2
324 THE MARITIME ALPS.
things, unconscious of the tragic fate which awaited the
one in Italy and the other at Avignon. I have also
heard how Murat gave a moonhght ball to the fishers of
Cannes, on the beach before the Hotel Penchinat, where
he lodged. He noticed that a young girl was crying,
and on asking her what was the cause of her tears, she
said that her en<»ao-ement rinfj had fallen off her hand
in dancing, and was now lost in the sand. Murat drew
a diamond ring off his own finger, and placed it on
hers. It was his last kingly act, for Murat sailed from
Cannes next day, and landing at Pizzo on the Calabrian
coast, was apprehended and shot.
Modern Cannes is justly grateful to Lord Brougham.
He was the first to buy land here, and to suggest to
delicate women, and to men grown old in public life,
that life might be prolonged, and death made less dreary
on this beautiful shore. That was in 1836 ; but, in
trutli, Cannes owes nearly as much to the persons who
followed his example so promptly, to Sir Herbert
Taylor (1837), to Mi\ Leader (1838), and, above all, to
Mr. Woolfield. His practical good sense and hberality
have made a new world grow out of a bed of fiowers.
But these constructions all lay to tlie westward of the
old town, and M. Tripet-Skrypetzine was the first (1850)
to recognise the charms of the quarter that now slopes,
laden with mimosas, from the hills to the eastern bay.
The fortune of Cannes had risen above the horizon,
but it could not be complete till a railway and a supply
of excellent water came to secure its prosperity and its
health. Canne.s is now a })lace of more than 14,000
inliubitants ; it lias its hotels, its pleasure-boats, its
CANNES AS IT WAS. 325
studios, its potteries, its club, its gardens, and, above all,
its beautiful villas. The villa Dognin is a chefHrfmivre^
but the excessive price of laud in Cannes is the reason
why none of the houses, except the Chateaux de Thorenc
and de St.-Michel, have very extensive grounds. There
is nothing here like the parks of Baron Derveis or of
the late Mr. Edward Cazalet at Brancolar, or like the
terraces of Baron Haussmann on the Yillefranche road.
The three most extensive gardens in Cannes are those
of the Chateau St.-George, of the Villa Victoria (with
its splendid Bougainvillia), and of Villa Montfleuri, where
on a day in March I counted sixty-three different kinds
of plants in full flower. These, like the gardens of the
Duchesse de Luynes, are always kept in the most ex-
quisite order. Not a leaf here is out of place, while
round the Chateau Leader there stretches a wild, rough
piece of ground, part garden, part jessamine farm, re-
dolent of perfumes, and also of a truly Provencal neglect.
As to tlie Villa Vallombrosa, I have never made up my
mind which of its aspects pleases most — its gorgeous
flower-beds on a May morning, or its appearance by
lamphght, The palms then throw their fantastic and
multitudinous shadows on the sward, a fountain lifts its
tcill, white column into the moonlight, and as the roses
fling themselves from tree to tree you expect to see,
dancing among their ropes of flowers, the elves of some
' Midsummer Night's Dream.' I speak only of the
exteriors of these villas. Of what is to be found in-
side them it would be a breach of good manners if I
were to speak, or to discuss here some of the kindest
of my friends. Suffice it to say that Cannes has the
326 THE MARITIME ALPS.
best, the most varied and the most cosmopoUtan society
in Europe. If the place has been spoiled it is only
owing to the number of its admirers, who, so to speak,
kill it with kindness, since they cause the overgrowth
of what was once a primitive little place. Yet even
this defect has its good side. Cannes is so big that j^ou
can now live in it where you please, and as you please.
If there are fewer lanes, and woods, and country walks,
the dairies and the shops have improved, drainage has
made some progress, and a body of medical men of the
highest character and ability has been attracted by this
vast concourse of patients, who are of all classes, as they
are of all kindreds and tonsfues.
327
CHAPTEE XXI.
NAPOLEON AT CANNES, March 1815.
' He either fears his fate too much
Or his deserts are small,
Who fears to put it to the touch
To win or venture all.' — The Marquis of Montrose.
' Si Napoleon n'eut ecoute que I'interet de I'humanite, la voix de la France, et
son devoir envers elle, il eiU sans doutc recule devant I'affreusepensee delapre-
cipiter dans les horreurs d'une nouvelle guerre. Mais cette fois encore I'interet
personnel et I'ambition endurcirent son coeur, mirent un voile sur ses j-eux et
sur sa conscience.' — E. DE Bonnechose.
The Golfe Jouan is one of tlie best roadsteads on the
French coast. I have seen as many as eleven ironclads
lying within musket-range of the shore. It is said tliat
the Eoman galleys trusted themselves to its deep and
land-locked waters, and tliat tlie ruins called Les Crottons
indicate the existence of some maritime station now
sanded up and forgotten.
Between Antibes and Leghorn, in the spring of 1815,
an English ship of war was supposed to watcli tlie
station, and to control the movements of the exile in
Elba. But it is always the unexpected tliat happens.
Napoleon, in Porto Fcrrajo, was wont to complain that
the annual subsidy of two millions assigned to liim l)y
the treaty of last April, was not fairly paid. However
that may have been, he Avas not without friends and
assuredly not without funds. Money and letters readied
him in parcels of gloves, a trade wliicli Dumoulin of
328 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Grenoble liad recently started with a view to the
Emperor's interests, and to the convenience of Emery,
the Emperor's doctor, a Danphinois of some influence in
his native province. The money thus supplied furnished
three brigs, some volunteers, and a small military chest,
and thus equipped the Emperor sailed from Porto
Ferrajo at a moment when he had reason to know that
the English cruiser was lying at Leghorn, and that the
commanding officer was amusing himself in Florence.
The sun of the 1st of March, 1815, had passed the
meridian when the Inconstant and her convoy dropped
their anchors in the roadstead of Golfe Jouan. A Ioav
range of pine-clad hills encircles the bay, and a hedge of
roses and aloes runs down almost to meet the little
wooden jetty. Tliere, witli a few charcoal burners and
fisher-folk, and a couple of coastguardsmen to stare at
him. Napoleon landed : to test the popularity of his
person and of his dynasty in France. Without an hour's
delay Emery started off by the Yallauris road, despatched
alone and on foot to make his way to Grenoble. In nearly
as short a time a picket of men was marched to Antibes,
and commanded to order the allegiance of General
Corsin ; which he refused. Meanwhile Cambronne, with
twenty-five men of the Old Guard, were on their way to
Cannes. He liad orders to ask for a printing press, and
to requisition both food and horses. The Emperor him-
self remained under the olive trees, and spreading his
maps on tlic ground, he abandoned liimself to some
hours of silent meditation, till the red light of sunset had
begun to glow on tliat white mountain range whicli here
seems to mount guard over tlie coast of France.
NAPOLEON AT CANNES. 329
I have said that it is alwaj's tlie unexpected tliat
happens, yet, in very trutli, this escape from Elba was
not a surprise to every Frencliman. An enigmatical
saying had been passing freely from moutli to moutli in
Paris, ' that the violet would return with the spring.'
The Imperialist party had its correspondents in Cliam-
bery and in Grenoble, Miollis, who commanded at Aix
in Provence, was warmly attached to his old leader, and
many good judges like Savary prophesied, ' we shall see
Buonaparte again.' Talleyrand was at Vienna, but Jau-
court, the acting minister of foreign affairs, wrote to
him from Paris, ' Everything is in a false and unfortunate
position, and there is much to fear from the man! Tlie
hour liad come, and tlie man !
In 1815, Cannes consisted of the fcAv dark streets
til at clustered under the Mont Clievalier. It had its
little port, and behind tliat, hi tlie bay looking to the
Esterels, the one small inn there called of ' Saint Pierre,'
from a chapel on the quay.
The Mairie was in the middle of the Cours, now called
the Eue Centrale, and next door to the Mairie was the
public, or Communal School. Tlie space in front of these
houses was planted witli elm trees, the last of which
only disappeared five years ago. On a bench, close to
the window of that school, a boy sat, slate in hand. It
was Master Sardou, now the most genial and charming
of Provencals, and the father of Victorien Sardou, but
tiien a boy ten years of age. He was supposed to be
following the arguments of a teacher who, at the farther
end of the schoolroom, and with his back to his scholars,
was working a sum in simple division on a black board.
330 THE MARITIME ALPS.
The ' malady of not marking,' from which all schoolboys
suffer, does not of course affect sights and sounds out-
side the temple of learning ; so Master Sardou became
aware first of a strange noise, and then of a stranger
sigjit. Five-and-twenty grenadiers, with queries and
tall fur caps, Avere drawn up before the Mairie, and an
oi'derly was tying to one of the elm trees the horse from
which an officer had just dismounted. What might this
portend ? Master Sardou and a companion slipped out
of the room to judge for themselves ; their example
was immediately followed by every l)oy in the class ;
and when the pedagogue finished his sum and turned
round, he was alone ! No doubt lie followed his truants,
and soon also heard the amazing news — Najioleon was
coming, and Cambronne had come, and had just asked
for the Mayor of Cannes !
M. Eeybaud happened to be out of town for tlie
day. He had gone forth to see his vineyard, and tlie
spring sap at work in his almond trees ; and only after
the bells of the big, sombre paroisse had rung to couvre-
feu, did he make his way back into Cannes. As he
walked down tlie liill, he was startled l)y meeting a
gendarme with a tricolor cockade. The mayor was
convinced of the stability of the government of the
Bourbons, and discretion is a real proof of valour, so he
settled in his own mind that this offender was tipsy,
and, wliistling to his dog, he looked hard the otlier Avay.
P)Ut l)efore long he met another tricolor cockade, and tlicn
another, and linall)', he saw, rising from the sandy dums',
behind the chapel of Notre Dame-de-Bon- Voyage, the
smoke of a great fire. Cambroime requested liim to de-
NAPOLEON AT CANNES. 331
clave his allegiance to tlie Em]:)eror Napoleon. M. Ecy-
baud replied that he had, and tliat lie could acknowledge,
])ut one master, His Majesty Louis XVIII. ; that, Cannes
affording no printing press, it could not be a question of
])i'inting any ])r()clamations, loyal or treasonable ; tliat
tlie whole commune could not produce tlie five liundred
rations demanded, and that tliere were no horses in
tlie district. At that moment a pair of horses did actu-
ally arrive in Cannes. The Prince of Monaco, reinstated
by the consent of Europe in his estates, was travelling
post to Monaco. Him Cambronne's soldiers arrested,
and they would probably have seized on his horses had
not Napoleon given orders to allow the Prince to pro-
ceed. But, l^efore continuing his journey, he was to
have an interview with the Emperor, whom he found on
the shore, and in rather an irritable mood. ' Od allez-
vous ? ' asked Napoleon. ' Chez tnoi,' was tlie equally
curt reply. ' Dame ! et moi awssi,' retorted tlie first
speaker, and turned his back on the traveller.
13y this time the night had fallen.
M. Sardou has told me that the Cannois slept but
little that night ; Cambronne and Drouot had ridden
away, up the Grasse road, with a couple of hundred
men, and the whole interest centred round the l)ivouac
on the shore. M. Sardou and M. Barbe both confess
how they stole down to the beach to see the show.
Of the Old Guard, Napoleon had 400 men, besides
400 grenadiers, 200 Corsican chasseurs, and 100 Polish
lancers unmounted. There w^ere also four field-guns,
and two mortars from the Inconstant. A military chest
had l)een placed to leeward of the camp fire, and
332 TJJE MARITIME ALPS.
on this tlie Emjx^ror was seated, moody, taciturn, and
preoccupied. His chin rested on his breast ; he wore
liis overcoat ; and as tlie flames rose and fell, he would
every now and auain uive an impatient kick witli his
foot to tlie blazini!' l)rands that rolled towards him.
Tlie niu'ht, though hue and starry, was chilly. It
Avas also very nearly a fatal one to the Emperor. Out
of the Grande Kue, under cover of the darkness, there
stole down a native of Cannes who carried an old fowling-
piece. He was a l)utcher, a man of the name of
Berti-and, one who, duiing the ill-starred monarchical
rising of 1812, hi the South, had had to suffer for his
opinions. He detested the smooth-haired Corsican, and
at midnight went out to have a shot at the man who,
having once already turned the world upside down, had
now returned from exile to dispute the throne with the
Bourbons. Ik'rtrand rested his gun on a fence, not
many yards from the head of which the j)ale and clear-
cut features stood out in the light of the blazing bivouac
fire. One moment more and the Emperor's midnight
watch would have been his last ; one shot, and there
might have been no Waterloo, and no St. Helena ! But
tlie l)utchcr was arrested by a neighboui-, not out of
any S3'mpathy with the Buonapartes, but from an im-
pression that were Napoleon to be murdered at mid-
night, Cannes would be burnt down before midda3\
At 2 A.M. the Emperor was in the saddle. M. Eey-
baud, the mayor, met him at the angle of the Grasse road
(where De Bray's shop now stands), ' Oa est la route de
Grasse ? ' asked Napoleon. ' Sire, vous y etes,' answered
the mayor. '■Quelle heure avez-vous?'' he next asked,
NAPOLEON AT CANNES. 333
and by the starliglit M. Reyljaiid read the figures on
the dial-plate of his Avatcli, and replied ' Veux lieures'
The Emperor drew out his watch, looked at it, re-
peated the words '•deux lieures,' dropped the watch
back into its pocket, gave his horse's bridle a sharp
])ull, and disappeared from the maj^or's sight without
another syllable of leave-taking. The ground which
rises immediately behind the Grande Eue was then
covered Avitli the pine wood of which only two frag-
ments exist, in the bosquet of the Villa Key, and in
the clump of trees opposite the gate of the Villa Jessie.
The Emperor had placed the military chest in the centre
of his little force, of which the Corsican Chasseurs
brought up the rear, and in this order they marched
up to Grasse, General Bertrand (the same who went with
liini to St. Helena) riding by his side. Napoleon's mother
used often to say of liim tliat ' he had feeling enough to
wish that he had a heart,' yet to-night, when he rode as
silently as if he w^ere indeed what M. de Boufilers called
him, ' the nightmare of the ivorld,' he must, surely, as the
moon showed all the undulating landscape in its sombre
monochrome, have asked himself which was tlie dream —
his former glory, his months of abasement in Ellja, or
this hazardous march under the fast hurrying stars? .
Grasse was reached at the dawn. Drouot and Cam-
bronne had already set the printer to work, and thrown
off a good many copies of the Emperor's proclamation
which, as yet, had only existed in MS. I have seen one
of these copies, noteworthy from its arbitrary and magni-
loquent tone, and also from the fact that the printer of
Grasse was too wai-y to })rint his own name on the slieet.
334 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Preiiehnieii were too caul ions to commit themselves as
yet to any sympathy with the enterprise.
Most cautious and sore perplexed was General
Gazan, tlie commander at Grasse. He had served
witli Xapoleon in Egypt : Avas he now to have tlie
courage of his opinions, or of his responsibility to
Louis XVin. ? He took counsel, as men ought
always to do, witli his wife, and she advised him to
feign absence. Accordingly, wlien Drouot rang at
tlieir door, only Madame Gazan appeared. She Avas a
Swiss, and she assured the Imperial messenger curtly
that ' le SheneraV was not in toAvn ! The troops under
Gazan's orders did not move, but Xapoleon, warned by
the butcher's attempt on his life in Cannes, marched
out of Grasse, and went some distance into the country
before he lialted for breakfast. Three cypresses, on the
brow of a liill overhanjijinff the cascade and the old
lazar liouse, mark the spot where he spent an hour.
Our friend M. Frederic Perolle, of Grasse, tells me that
his father saw the Emperor there, seated on a sort of
throne of knapsacks which his guard had arranged for
liim, and that the depression and irritability of tlie night
seemed all to have vanislied. Daylight liad brought
a ix'lui'n of conlidence in his destiny, and in the fortune
wliich liad befriended him so often since the days wdien
Madame Letitia lived near him at Antibes, and since he
used to be the friend of Eicord, and tlie frequent guest
of tlie younger Kobespierre, at St. Cesaire. The wdiole
district was in truth well known to Napoleon, so well
known that, looking at the snow-covered mountain range
behind St. Cesaire, he determined to abandon his nuns.
NAPOLEON AT CANNES. 335
Xo doul)t, when those six pieces had first been landed
at Golfe Joiian he had joyed over their possession, and
their appearance on the Cours of Cannes liad ah-eady
caused a terrifying report to be carried along the coast,
that the Emperor, with artillery, and at the head of
an army, was marching upon Toulon. They had been
effective in fiction, but in reality it would be impossible
to drag them over the snowy roads and round the craggy
defiles of limestone that guard tlie sources of the Siagne.
Abandoned therefore they were ; the Polish lancers,
already encumbered with their saddles, being es})ecially
tliankful for their disappearance.
Great difficulties and great natural obstacles were
in store for this little army, and while Xapoleon dined
and slept that night under the roof of Madame de
Yilleneuve-Mouans, at Seranon, France had awoke to
the surprise. We know that when the tidings were first
taken to Toulon, they must have been very heavy tidings
to Massena, but in Nice a feeling of curiosity existed tliat
was not to be gratified till after nightfall. A friend has
told me how he remembers having been taken as a cliild,
by his parents, to a picnic at the Cap St. Jean, and that
liis betters were much preoccupied tliat day by tlie ap-
pearance of three brigs, with troops on board, making for
the Cap Garoube. That the vessels in question were the
Inconstant and her convoy they only learnt when, long-
after dark, the Prince of Monaco drove up to the hotel
in the Place St. Dominique, which was then the centre
of the fashionable quarter in Nice, and narrated how
he had just had an interview with the Emperor.
Little by little the fact of his landing became an
^^^:> THE MARITIME AIPS.
open secret, but tliere were few, if any, expressions of
sympathy. Napoleon was unpopular throughout the
south, and he would liave to go as far as Digne, where
a brother of General Miollis^ filled the episcopal chair,
before lie met with any warm supporters of his cause.
Only some old soldiers crept stealthily to his ranks,
out of Mougins and other villages, glad to hail again
the eagles of their old, victorious leader. Yet Napoleon
was uneasy, and when on the second day of his march
lie reached the town of Castellane, on the Verdon, he
sent to the Mairie to have two blank passports drawn
and given to liim. In case of a reverse these were
meant to faciHtate his own escape, and that of Cani-
bronne, through the Alpine passes into Italy.
' MoiLseigueur Miollis was the saintly and single-hearted prelate
from whom Victor Hugo sketched the figure of Monseigneur Bien-
venu for liis Miserables. He was cure of Brigiiolles, and very poor
when Napoleon, at his brother's request, named him to the vacant
see of Digne. The letter signifying his elevation was handed to
him when working in. his garden in a ragged soutane. He said that
he expected no letters because he never wrote any, and as for this
one, of which the postage cost ' trente sous,' he utterly declined to
receive it ; 'Where,' he asked, 'should I find other thirty sous for
my poor 1- ' and it was long before he could be con\inced of the
chtuigc in his \\orldly circumstances. Though Victor Hugo has
made a slightly caricatured portrait of this excellent man, it must
not be forgotten that the bishop really rescued from want and crime
a miserable convict who had tried to rob him. The real ' Jean Valjean '
when reclaimed was sent to serve under Genei^al Miollis in Egypt.
He was in Digne and on half -pay when Napoleon passed through in
i\Iarch 1815. He then re-enlisted, and fell at Waterloo. The
Bishop's chaplain, who only died a few years ago in Grasse, was
aware of the details of this story, and took pleasure in telling it.
Monseigneur Miollis, who literally gave all his goods to feed the
poor, and who traversed his alpine diocese on a donkey, is by no
means forgotten in the grave where he lies in front of the high
altar of his cathedral at Diy;ne.
NAPOLEON AT CANNES. 337
On the morning of tlie 5tli of March such Pui-i.sians
as perused tlie ISain Jaune read a letter wliich com-
plained of ' liaving as yet written all in vain with a
goose-qiiill, iiiais peut-etre serai-je pl'is heureux avec une
plume de cane : fen essayeraiJ Here was another enig-
matical saying, and evidently penned by some one already
in the secret. But to the government tlie matter was
still dark, and only at 1 p.m. did Chappe receive tlie
message from the General in Lyons, to whose duty it
had fallen to forward Massena's first telegraphic an-
nouncement of the landing. M. de Vitrolles has told us
how the king's gouty lingers were unable to tear open
the fatal message, and what preparations were imme-
diately commenced to check the march of the invader.
Louis certainly showed great sangfroid \ perhaps he
hardly realised at lirst the immensity of his peril, and,
indeed, it was generally thought that Xapoleon would
go into Italy, and there put himself at the head of the
Neapolitan army. But Napoleon had for long been
sounding the feelings of the French troops, and what
he really intended to do w^as to put his fortune at the
mercy of the regiments collected in Dauphiny. Gre-
noble lay before him, and on the temper of the large
garrison collected there must depend his success or his
ruin. Grenoble would nuike of him Ca3sar, or nothing.^
^ This is not the place in wliich to folloAV the Emperor's march
beyond the limits of the Maritime Alps. An account of his arrival
at Grenoble, compiled, as these pages have been, from the lips of
witnesses, may be found in the Edinhnrgh Hevicw, vol. cciv., under
the heading of the article ' Dauphiny.'
33S THE MARITIME ALPS.
CHAPTER XXII.
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK.
' II y a toujours profit ii sortir des routes battues.' — J. Ampere.
I. NOTRE DAME DE LAGHET.
' E vidi, e piansi il fate amaro.'
To reach Lagliet you must turn to the left before
entering the village of Turbia. The whole ground is
one vast vineyard, an amphitheatre of terraces sup-
porting vines. I counted eighty-two terraces below
the road, wliilc al)ove its level thirty-one crept up the
face of the steep limestone hills Avliich encircle the
village of Turl)ia. The turris via from whicli it takes
its time-honoured name, the great trophy of Augustus,
connnands a neck, or passage, among these rocky defiles.
Down below you can hear the surf breaking on the
beach, and on the sighing wind come little veils of mist
which envelope you for a few moments, blurr all the
landscape, and tlien scud away to leave you again in
sunsliine, and near the foot of tlie tower whicli an
emperor built, and wliicli Marshal Berwick blew up.
He must have been a very poor archaeologist, for his
explosion not only split and dismantled the tower, but it
also shivered tlie inscription wliicli recorded liow Ca3sar
Augustus conquered tlie tribes. Of the fragments only
twelve pieces have been recovered by an age that does
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 339
set some store on its moiiuiiiciits ; ten pieces were sent
to the museum of St. Germains, one is at Nice, and the
twelfth, wliicli used to exist at Turbia, has disap-
peared. The trophy stood beside the Imperial highway.
Almost immediately after taking leave of that liigh-
way, you drop into the ravine of Perdiguiere, to
follow, for the distance of two kilometres, the line
of the old Via Julia. The convent of Laghet stands
on a rocky promontory between two glens, and is
approached by a bridge of one arch. Tlie whole
place has a thoroughly Italian look. The cloisters
are bare and gloomy, and echo to your footfall ;
and to-day, the great gilded church is empty ; only
the neat garden that slopes to the torrent shows
that there are still some inmates in this once famous
convent of the barefoot Carmelites, at the slirine of
Our Lady of Laghet. The walls are gay with garlands
of ex-votoes, wdth silver hearts and wooden crutches,
to say nothing of such a terrifying collection of pic-
tures of ' carriage accidents,' that only a just con-
fidence in the cheery, little Breton ponies tliat had
brought us over from Mce, prevented me from feeling
nervous for tlie rest of the day. On Christmas and on
Trinity Sunday, and on the feasts of the Virgin, crowds
flock to this place ; yet I think there must be a little
exaggeration in the numbers stated to swell the pro-
cessions. That fifty-two processions may have occurred
in two months is possible, but that two tliousand
persons were present on fifty-two occasions seems
incredible, when one thinks liow desolate are some of
the districts between Nice and the Italian frontiers.
z 2
340 THE MARITIME ALPS.
The wonder-working statue dates from 1662, when
a certain Giacinto Casanova, of Nice, tliought it would
be right to rcpLace a worm-eaten, httle, wooden statue
of the Vii'gin. whidi is now Ijuilt into the wall behind
its robed and crowned successor. The princes of the
House of Savoy have always had a singular devotion to
Our Lady of Lagliet ; tlie silver lamps are their gift,
and, as such, they still Inirn before an altar connected
Avith the saddest hour in Charles- Albert's life, with his
last Comnuniion in Italy.
The demands of the Liberal party had forced him
to take up first the questions of constitutional reform,
and then of Avar with Austria, both of which had
remained in abeyance during the last years of King
Charles-Felix. The new king was a sort of Murad the
Unluck3\ Every tiling to which he ])ut his hand failed ;
(he very skies made war on him; and tempests and
cholei-a ravaged a country he did his utmost to govern
according to progressive ideas.
The ' Statuto ' which he granted at Turin in July
1848 excited an almost delirious joy among his own
subjects, and a contagious entliusiasm. Mentone and
Roqiicbrune, revolting fi'om a Prince of Monaco wlio
scoffed at a ' Statuto,' joined tliemselves to Piedmont,
and the noise of their rejoicings, as they spread into
Lombardo-Venetia, increased the discontent against tlie
Austrian rule. Horace Vernet has done a great ])icture
of Charles-Albert, riding his charger, while drenching
rain-clouds are seen to sweep across tlie country and tlie
battle-field he surveys. It is a typical ])i('lure, for one
'•aiiipaign broke the strength of Clinrles-Albert's forces,
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK, 341
and the loss of the battle of Xovara broke his heroic
spirit. When night had fallen on that disastrous scene,
the king, who, to use his own Avords, ' had not found
death in the combat,' made a last sacrifice for the good
of his country. He abdicated in favour of his son, and
then started at once, nominally for Turin. The Austrians,
encamped at Novara to intercept communications
with Yercelli, had placed an outpost and two guns on
the -road. About midnight the captain of the post,
hearincf wheels in the distance, <2:ave orders to load with
grape. The gunners were standing motionless at their
pieces when a light appeared. The advancing wheels
were not those of Piedmontese artillery, but of a travel-
ling carriage, in which a gentleman was found travelling
rapidly in the direction of Turin. ' I am the Comte de
Barge,' said the traveller, who soon, under the escort of
some hussars, found himself in the presence of General
Count Thurn. In the anteroom a sergeant of Bersag-
lieri was confronted with him, but tlie sergeant replied
that he did not know the name in the army of any
Comte de Barge. ' Observe him well,' said Count
Thurn. The man approached two steps, fixed his eyes
on the traveller, and grew pale. 'Ah, sicuro^ I remem-
ber him now : that Comte de J^ai'ge fought close to the
King.' The sergeant was dismissed, and the traveller
invited to take a cup of coflee with the General at
headquarters. Charles-Albert accepted the coffee, and
remained for a short time engaged in conversation. In
it he displayed so much ability and grace that after
his departure Count Thurn expressed surprise that a
guest so gifted should occupy only the insignificant rank
342 THE MARITIME ALTS.
of a colonel in the Piedmontese army. ' That^ Sir,
is the King,' replied the Bersagliere. 'Gentlemen,' cried
Count Tliurn, 'Heaven protects Austria! Had the
battery lired on tlie carriage, it woidd have been said
that, equally implacable and perfidious, we had assassi-
nated Charles- Albert by a dastardly stratagem. ' ^ Mean-
time, four horses were whirling the broken-hearted
King to Laghet. The Carmelites, who had not heard
of the lost battle, had no reason to suspect anything
unusual in the visit of a gentleman to their church.
But this one knelt long before the altar, and sighed
deeply. He next asked for a lodging in the monastery,
and obtained it. The rest is best told in the pathetic
words of this inscription :
Qur
LA MATTINA DEL 26 MARZO 1849
CARLO ALBERTO,
LASCIANDO I CAMPI FATALI DI NOVARA,
SOSTAVA IGXOTO ESULANTE,
Qui
PIAMENTE CONFESSO, E ALLA MENSA DI GESLI
RINCONFORTAVA LO SPHtlTO SOFFRENTE,
RIXOVO IL SAGRIFIZIO DI AFFETTI E DOLORE,
Qui
PERDONO LE INGIURIE,
PIANSE LE COMMUNI SCIAGURE
E ARBANDONANDO COLLA PRESENZA l'iTALIA,
NE RACCOMMANOAVA I DESTINI
AL PATROCINIO DELLA
VERGINE MADRE.
He then stole quietly down the ravine to Nice,
where a sad meeting took ])la(,'e l)etween himself and its
' See the Cani])ai,ifu of Pi(!dinont, translated by tlie late Lord
Ellesmere from an article contril)ut('d to t\\e RevuPiles Drux-Mondes,
l)y ail oHiccr attaclied to the licadMiuartcrs of Charles- Alljcrt. 18 19.
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 343
governor. Dejected and weary, the self-made exile ex-
plained to his faitlifiil servant that this must l)e a last
farewell. Still under tlie name of Comte de Barge he
crossed the Yar, and stood on French soil. M. Tripet-
Skrypetzine, wlio was then in Cannes, tells me he
can remember the popular emotion all along the coast
■when it became known that Charles-Albert had al>
dicated, had slept at Antilles, and had sent for its
commandant. General de Parron, to tell him of his
projected retreat to a spot near Oporto. A still
strono-er thrill of emotion awoke at midsummer when
tidings came from Portugal that the king was dead ;
just four months after that Communion of affetti e
dolori at Laghet.
II. THE CASTLE OF BEAUREGARD.
' Where sliall we keep the holiday,
And duly greet the entering May ?
Too strait and low our cottage doors,
And all unmeet our carpet floors :
Nor spacious court, nor monarch's hall,
Suffice to hold the festival.
' Up and away ! where liaughty woods
Front the liberated floods :
W^e will climb the broad-backed hills,
Hear the uproar of their joy :
We will mark the leaps and gleams
Of the new-delivered streams,
And the murmuring rivers of sap
Mount in the pipes of the trees :
While cheerful cries of crag and plain
Iiei^ly to the thunder of river and main.
What god is this imperial heat,.
Earth's prime secret, sculpture's seat ?
344 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Docs it bear hidden in its lieart
Water-line patterns of all art,
All figures, organs, hues, and graces 1
Is it Dffidalus ? is it Love ?
Or walks in mask Alraightj^ Jove ?
For thou, O Spring ! canst renovate
All that High God did first create.'— R. W. EMERSON.
Tliis expedition took us not only off the beaten track
but over the hmits of tlie department of the Maritime
Ali)s, since about twelve kilometres beyond Grasse,
and near the ruined castles of Tignet, we crossed the
boundary line of the Siague. Yet as the district
once belonged, and does still in part belong to some
of the great families of Maritime Provence, I will
describe here how, for two long summer days, we
explored a country which as yet has no railways, and
no inns. In two years' time tlie projected line from
Draguignan through this central valley will lay it open
to visitors, but except in Montaroux I doubt if at this
moment even the most hardened tourist could find a
night's lodging. The hnjis at the Mule Noire is most
forbidding. Montaroux, f(n- a Provencal village, is
uinia(iii';dly clean and tidy, but Cahan is uninviting,
Payence, in spite of its good pastry, is not to be recom-
mended, and Seillans is quite the most dirty and ram-
shackle village I ever belield. We liad therefore great
luck in finding at our disposal tlie Castle of Beauregard,
wliicli the Comte de Barreme kindly lioped miglit act as
a half-way house for us ])etween Grasse and Draguignan.
We left Grasse at 8 a.m., and drove under tlie wooded
crags which carry the ruins and the hamlets of Cabris
and St. Cesaire. The situation of the latter is so com-
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 345
niaiuliiiLi-, that it was visible to us all that day, and
even on the follo-svino- day, till we had dropped into the
basin of the Argens.
After passing tlie Siagne, we had to cross the hill
whieli receives, and merits, the name of the Col noir.
Dense thickets of ilex give it this sombre hue, and even
on a May morning its woods are gloomy, but I wdsh to
mention that here we found the rare Orcliix Inrcina, of
wJiich the long, tangled beard, the grey-green hues, and
the ancient, goat-like smell, are alike extraordinary. As
far as Montaroux we had followed wdiat our coacliman
called t]ie ' strada maestra^ but at that place we took a
district-road to the right, and under a very hot sun, drove
throucfh Montaroux, and o'ot our first view of the fme
ruin of Calian on the opposite liill. ]k)th tliese towns
were formerly appanages of tlie family of Grasse, and
both were ruined in the autumn of 1792. 'There w^as
then,' says M. Taine in his exhaustive account of the
conquest of France by the Jacobin party, ' no village
but possessed forty mauvais svjets always ready to fill
tlieir own pockets. That was precisely the number
tliat fell on the Chateau of Montaroux.' Those castles
were all really the property of the State, but the greed}^
neighbours, finding public interference in the affairs of
the emigres too laggard, declared that castles placed on
heights \vere obnoxious to tlie inhabitants, and, taking
the law into tlieir own hands, they seized everj^thing
they could find. Everything disappeared : stores,
fui'niture, books, even the utensils of the cellars and
kitchens.
The church of Calian lias a low truncated spire,
346 THE MARITIME ALPS.
and, like tlie castle, is built of 2i very dark red sandstone.
The tones of these buildings, especially in this land of
pearly limestones, and the way in which they group
themselves against the Ijackground of blue hills, make
a really charming picture. At this point you find your-
self nearly opposite Frej us ; to the left lies the Tanneron
ranire, of which the frowning forest was in the good
old times haunted by a dragon ; that dark central mass
is La Itoquebrune, while far away to the right, beyond
the chains of Les Maures, and satisfying tlie sense of
breadtli in the picture by its vast air-spaces and its
faintly tinted outline, rises the great, grey crest of
Mont Gibal, that dominates Toulon.
Seen close at hand, how beautiful this Proven^-al
country is in May. That hedge is of yellow jessamine,
yet those forest glades wliere herds of ponies graze
might be in Hampshire ; tliose giant boles might Ije
in Sherwood ; but the tufts of grape hyacinths, the
flocks of goats, the smoke from the huts of the charcoal-
burners, and the wild fragrance of the tliickets, wi h
the subtlety, delicacy, and variety of the mountain out-
lines, all remind us we are in Provence. And there
towers Mont Laclien, M'ith snow on its grim liead, and
through that deep gorge the Siagnole cleaves its way to
join the Siagne, and beyond it is the village of Mons.
The Genoese patoh of the Genoese founders still lingers
there, and I hardly know a more lonely, or a more
lovely spot tlian tlie mill of Mons, seen, as we saw it,
by the light of the setting sun which lit up all the oaks
of Beaurei^ard, and drew out all the frai^rance of its
milk-white thorns.
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 347
It was now ])ast six o'clock, and we were not sorry
to have reached our destmation, and, leaving tlie car-
riage, to aliglit under the spreading horse-chestnuts of
the terrace. The Castle of Beauregard, built early in
the seventeenth century, is of the orthodox Provenyal
pattern, that is to say, it is a square mass, with four
flanking towers, with a staircase up which you miglit
march a battalion of infantry, and a great, black, ruin-
ous kitchen in which you might turn a coach and six
liorses. Its owner, the Comte de Barreme, seldom, if
ever, resides here since the death of his first w^ife, but
Avhen he kindly put his castle at our disposal he desired
his factotum, M. Isidor, to do the honours of a place
which certainly deserves less neglect. Its situation is
beautiful : with its meadows, its deep torrent, and its
three thousand acres of oak forest, it might be made a
charming country home. But, alas ! the trees are fast
being cut to make sleepers for tlie new railway ; the
Comte de Barreme now lives near Avio;non, and it is long
since any feet have paced, as ours did that evening, the
Lady's Walk, thnt long, grassy terrace which, for a
kilometre or farther, runs below the forest-clad hill, in
the direction of the mill of Mons.
We dined and slept soundly after a drive of twenty-
eight kilometres, and next day we rose early to inspect
the castle, and the portrait of the Yilleneuve who
brouglit tliis estate, ]jy marriage, into the family of its
present owner. But we had a long day's work before
ourselves and our horses, and we felt that we ought not
to linger, the more so as the steep road by Bouripaille
was pronounced by M. Isidor to be too rough for our
548
THE MARITIME AIPS.
oarriaLi-c. It remained, therefore, for us to retrace part
of the way to Cahan, which I coiihl not regret, as it
gave us a second o])])()rtunity of seeing the forest ; this
time in all tlie freshness of a May morning. We also
CASTLE OF CALIAN.
found the village of Caliau en fcte\ it was llie day of
the animal fail'; garlands hung across the street, there
was a man with a inxijic of i)crforming dogs, uiany
heads looked out of windows, and from far and near
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 349
carts came pouriiij^" into tlie place. I did not see any
dazzling beauties, but some handsome swains, well fitted
to do execution among the tender hearts of Calian. How
could a tender lieart resist a pair of dark eyes, and a
voice singing :
Madeloun, mets ton bonnet,
Mets ton bonnet,
Madeloun :
Allons nous en courii" la plaine,
La plaine, et le vallon.
Tous deux, nous tenant par les mains.
Nous irons courir les chemins,
Tu n'as pas besoin de velours,
Sur les roses de ta jeunesse,
Un ruban bleu dans tes cheveux,
Et te voila presque duchesse :
Mets ton bonnet le plus coquet,
Mets ton bonnet, Madeloun.
We next left Fayence,^ which once yielded to Lesdi-
guieres, and its ugly modern ruins that have nothing
heroic about tliem, to the right, but near Seillans we got
out to visit a beautiful, little, twelfth-century chapel.
The ascent of a long col occupied many hours, but
when we had surmounted it we found ourselves in the
^ The name of ' faience,' or ' fayence,' for glazed earthenware, is
generally derived from the town of Faenza, near Bologna : l)ut
Menage says, ' II se fait aussi de la Fayence dans la jjetite ville de
Fayence.^ The little town between Grasse and Draguignan existed
befoi'e the sixth century, and there is a letter of St. Gregory (.590) in
which the Pope thanks Abbot Etienne of Lerins for some shallow
basins and plates which the Abbot had sent him. Query — Were they
made at Fayence, or were they early specimens of ware from the
potteries of Vallauris 1 The clay of Vallauris has been worked since
the days of the Roman legions and their early occupation of
Maritime Provence.
350 THE MARITIME ALPS.
valley ui" the Argcns, and nearly in sight of Bargcmun,
as we drove under the romantic crag of the Lover's Leap.
Li the village of Bargemon we were able to post a
letter for home, because a diligence whicli plies between
Castellane and Toulon calls here daily for the bag. We
left the liorses to bait for a couple of hours, and Avalked
down, past the church with its fine flamboyant doorway,
to the ruins of the old castle, and then, after paying our
respects to Moreri's monumental pillar and bust, to the
chateau of the Marquis de Yilleneuve-Bargemon. There
we had the bad luck to miss the pleasant host and
hostess, but the servants brought us tea on the terrace,
and the great heat of the day was over by the time that
we started again for Draguignan, where we were to dine
and sleep at the Hotel Bertin. The new railway works
mi<>ht be traced near the brido-e of the Aro;ens, forming
a curious contrast with the silent woods, and Avith the
many mediaeval hill-chapels with wliich tliis country
abounds. On the right bank of the Argens avc found
the splendid spikes of the Orchis militant, of which the
size and vivid hues are as beautiful in their way as was
that exquisite Orchis albida wdiich avc picked in the
Lady's Walk at Beauregard.
The Hotel Bertin at Draguignan is well kept, and
that town repays a visit, less because of the tower
ascribed to liomee de Yilleneuve, than because of its
liistorical position on what was the old, I'oyal road to
Aix. This way came Jeamie de Naples, and the cruel
Armagnacs ; and this way came Charles V., while later
still the Leaguers and the Carcistes made central and
eastern Provence desolate durinL*" the wars of reli<>ion.
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 351
Tlioiio'li life is still fiiirly primitive in Dragiiignan,
there is a public liljrary in the town, and some move-
ment in its wide streets. Tliere is also good food in its
markets, and quiet for tliose who seek it ; and for us
tluit day there was a train at 11 a.m., which took us to
join the main line, near the chapel of Ste. Eoseleyne-de-
Villeneuve, and at the junction of Les Arcs.
III. A CELTO-LIGURIAX CAMP.
' ^lais le sj-steme rle fortification de ces places de siirete elait queLjuefois
formidable, et fait le plus grand honneur aux ingenieurs celtes ou gaulois qui
en avaient con(;u le plan et dirige I'execution. . . . L'oppidnm constituait
ainsi une veritable citadelle, et la limite de la resistance n'etait marquee que
par celle des approvisiohnements. . . . Dans la precipitation de ces emigra-
tions temporaires, la plus grande partie des vases etaient brises : ainsi s'e/C-
pli(jue tout naturellement la quantite vraiment prodigieuse de debris de
poteries de toute nature dont les murs de I'enceinte etaient cribles, ct dont le
sol des oppida etait litteralement couvert.' — Lentheric.
The primitive tribes wlio fortified these hills with
their many camps had to fear enemies who came by
w^ay of the seaboard. Who the camp builders were
might be read in tlie famous inscription Avhich Ctesar
Augustus placed on his Trophy at Turbia to immor-
talise his conquest over them all. The repetition of
the same list on the triumphal arch at Susa further
helps us to conjecture the distriljution of these tribes,
and to identify them correctly with certain districts.
Grasse was anciently tlie capital of the Deceates. Was
it then against these grey lines of stones that the soldiers
of F. Flaccus threw themselves when, on his return
from Marseilles (b.c. 120), he determined to subdue the
352 THE MARITIME ALPS.
Deceates, and to add tlicir patriiuoiiy to the list of his
conquered districts ?
About tliese CeUo-Liguriau camps -wliich dot the
hillsides from the Loup to St. YaUier, I had read M.
Serailler's monograpli, and many instructive pages, but
I had also read the ' Antiquary ' of Sir Walter Scott,
and to tell the trutli I was a little sceptical about the
wliole affair, and not a little afraid of finding a guide
wlio was a Dousterswivel, and ' Aiken Drum's lang
laidle,' instead of the primitive pottery of the camp
builders. It was, therefore, with delight that I accepted
M, Frederic PeroUe's offer to be my guide to a genuine
camp of the Celto-Ligures. We had spent the day at
Gourdon, and after exploring its church and castle,
and wandering over tiie zigzags which lead up from
the valley of the Loup to the little j)iateau of Gour-
don, we started on foot for the camp.
One needed goat's feet for such a walk. Tlie sj)ot
lies a little behind Gourdon, and to reach it you must
foHow a very rougli track, Avliicli takes you as far as a
small tentli-century chapel, a little, early liglithouse of
Christianit}^, standing stranded and sohtary among the
folds of the hills. To the riglit of it is the camp.
There could be no doubt about it ; it was a real camp,
a genuine Celtic oppidum, with a double enceinte of
walls built l)y no connnon builders, considering that
these walls, ten feet in tliickness, are formed of Cyclo-
pean and unmortised stones. Broken pottery lay about
in f[uantities. It was of tAvo kinds: tlie more primitive
sort, which is coarse and ill l)akcd, liad served for
liearthstoncs and ovens, but of the other vessels had
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 353
])een made. I got several fragments whicli were curved,
and liad neatly moulded rims, and I noticed tliat tlie
fine, red clay of which they were made was mixed with
mica. Tliis material is not to be got in the neiglibour-
hood, and it must, therefore, have been dug in tlie
Esterels for the special purpose of making domestic
utensils.
From the spot where we stood I could see another
camp, crowning an eminence nearer the Chateauneuf
road. It must have l^een easy for the two camps to
keep up a system of signals both by night and by day,
while they both served to protect a broad corrie, or
valley, covered with the lines of primitive sheepfolds.
Here then the natives defended tliemselves, and preserved
under tlie cover of tlieir forts the herds on which they
depended for provisions. The country, wliich is bar-
ren in the extreme, has altered little in nineteen cen-
turies. It is a grey world of stones, looking so solitary
and so uncanny that it was difficult to believe we were
Avithin an hour of the factories of Grasse, and that
below us lay the rich bays of Cannes and Antibes.
Not even on the west coast of Sutherland have I ever
seen a more desolate tract, and the ruined camp well
deserves the name given to it by tlie peasants, ' Lei^
imirassosj or the walls !
A A
354
THE MARITIME ALPS.
VILLA NEVADA.
IV. VILLA NEVADA.
' Mes compagnons etaient les morts, quclqnes oiseanx ot le soleil qui se
couchait.' — Mi'moireK d'outrcfoiiihr, voL ii. p. 277.
' Lot us sit upon the ground
And lell sad stories of the deaths of kings.' — RiCHAiin IT., act iii.
TiiLS history of a *■ ville (Vemu-' is unavoidal)ly some-
tliing of a necrology, and if adversity has long had the
credit of making sti'ange bedfellows, what sliall l)e said
of tlie cemetery of a town like Nice, Cannes, or Men-
tone? These are not tlie ' graves of a Jionseliold " of
brethren, kinsfolk, and acquaintance, who, as tliey grew
in beanty side l)y side, filled ' one home with glee,' but
tlie fortnitons concurrence of many strangers, of the
weai'y and the suffering, of wayfjirers suddenly ai-rested
here hy llu; liand of dealli, and owning no lie in
conniion bnl llieir accidental visit to this or that
portion of the Mt'dilerranean sliore.
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 355
' Ordered to tlie soutli of Franrc ' is pfcnerally tlie
first scene of the last act of tlie drama; and if some-
times, tlianks to tliese fair skies, we see Dcatli liaulked
of liis conquest, yet too often Ave are obliged to note his
gradual advance.
Tlie late excellent Archbishop of C'aiiterlniry, Dr.
Tait, came often to Cannes, l)ul tlie last time that we
Avere privileged to sj^end an liour with liim at the Terres-
Blanches of Pe^'omas, it was evident tliat catu the sun-
shine of the RiA^era could not long preserA'e him to the
Church of England. Sir FeuAvick Williams passed many
Avinters at tlie Hotel de ProA^ence, and left charming
souvenirs in Cannes of liis courtesy and his kindness.
Lord Eussell lived at the Chateau Ste.-Anne the Avinter
after the Franco-Prussian Avar ; Mr. Gladstone visited at
the Chateau Scott in 1883, and l^oth statesmen regained
strength in an extraordinary manner. P)ut the results
are not always so liappy. I remember seeing Ernst, the
violinist, in the last year of his life at Nice. His lean
fingers still at moments caressed his instrument, but on
his shoulder one felt that a still leaner hand Avas resting,
and that the plaintive strains of his OAvn Elegie Avould
soon sound al)ove his cold remains. Tamburini, on
the contrary, though helpless in his Avheel-chair, met
disease and decay Avith a laugh ; l)ut perhaps the
saddest invalid I ever knew Avas Count Harry Arnim.
Lodged in a very dull villa behind the Chateau Leader
in Cannes, half-blind, and Avholly deA'oured hy eiiimi, he
really Avas that'roz qui nU'tait ^)r/.s' aiuuftahle,' Avhom
family and friends failed to console. To his A'aulting
aml)ition and 1iis ulcerated 1em])er tlie skies and tloAvers
A A 2
THE MARimiE ALPS.
of Cannes presented no soolliing charms ; lie called the
])lace tlie ' centre de la nullite Jiumame,' and he exchanged
it next year for Nice,
with, I fear, pretty much
the same result, as far as
liis ha])piness Avas con-
cerned.
A Frenchman once said
of the three rival water-
ing-places, that men went
to Nice to amuse them-
selves, to Cannes to be
married, and to Mentone
to die. M. de Lomenie
certainly ended liis life of
study at Mentone, and
so did the English his-
torian, Mr. Green; but,
in spite of the saying, I
think that the majority
of memories hangs about
Cannes. The Villa Mont-
fleuri was inhabited by
Prince and Princess Chris-
tian of Sell les wig - Hoi-
st ein tlie Avinter after the
Franco-Prussian war, and
it Avas there that the
English I'linccss endured tlirough many anxious weeks,
when the I'rince of Wales lay sick well-nigh unto death
at >>andringliam. Ihit the Villa had some j^ears pre-
AT Tin; VIl.LA MONTFLKUUI.
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 357
viously l)eeii occupied by Alexis de Tocqiieville. He
and his wife ended their lives in tliat house, within a
few feet of each other's beds, and witliin a few days of
each other's release. Prosper Merimee died in Cannes,
in spite of all the care and kindness of his two English
friends. Louis Blanc and J. B. Dumas there ceased to
trouble, or to learn ; Victor Cousin died in a chalet near
the level crossing ; Bunsen dwelt at the Villa St. Pierre,
while Auerbach died at the Pension Mauvarre. His
public funeral, which took place in Germany, was fol-
lowed by crowds of Germans, all too ready next year to
participate in that disgraceful anti-Semite movement
which made them forget that their favourite novelist
had been a Jew. Alexander Munro, the sculptor, had
some of his happiest inspirations at Cannes, and his
empty studio at La Tourelle is still eloquent of the young-
artist wdiose genius budded beside a Highland firth,
and faded on this southern sea-margin. Eachel's stay
at the Villa Sardou (at Cannet) has been charmingly
described by Matthew Arnold :
Unto a lonely villa in a dell
Above the fragrant warm Provencal shore,
The dying Rachel in a chair they bore,
Up the steep pine-plumed paths of the Esterelle,
And laid her in a stately room, where fell
The shadow of a marble Muse of yore —
The rose-crown'd queen of legendary lore,
Polymnia — full in her death — ''T was well !
The fret and misery of our northern towns.
In this her life's last day, our poor, our pain,
Our jangle of false wits, our climate's frowns,
^5S THE .]f.lR/TIME AIJ\S.
J)o for tills nuliiint ( iivck-souril artist cease :
Sole olijivt of 111)' (lyiii.i; eyes rciiuiiii
'Plic li('aut\- and the ;;loi-ious ait of (Ircece.
I liavc aske'd iiiv>clt". which of I he cciucl cries uf
Xice. CaiiiiL's, and Meiitoiie is tlic iiiusl beaulifiil I'' The
last eoiumaiuls the sea and ihe " iiioiiiiiig laud,' as if ils
silent conoTeiiation were l)ul waitinu' for the sii>iial al
Avliich God sliall make ' an awful rose of dawu,' and
the dead shall arise. That of Nice liad a sheltered and
strangely sequcstci'cd calm ; but 1 think tlie prize of
beauty must be given to God's Acre in Cannes, where
the graves lie between the unchanging hills and tlie
ever-changing sea. I love its |)iue-plunied ravines, and,
above all. its horizon, which is quite unique; and often,
when, like Chaleaubi'iand. I have seen before my eyes
' the graves and the setting sun," I ha\"e I'aised tliem
witli thankfulness from the soulless body, just committed
to its rest, to the half ciicle of those hills which seem
in their strengtli to recall the })romise of old: 'Like as
the hills stand round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is
about them lliat fear llim.'
In the pubhc cemetery of Cannes there is both more
Older and more taste than is often found in France. The
Alice (K's adieux is ahnost dignilied, and tlie whole
|)lnce at the I'clc des morls looks like a gaixlen, where
wilhoiit a doubt the most I ouchinu' feature is the nuiund
which covei's the vast common grave of the victims of
the gi'cal iiiundalioii of October 1882.
in t he I'roicstant ground, Loi-d Ih-ongham's granite
ci'oss looiii^. huge and grey, across the llower-beds.
Li fad. there are liei-e some \erv beaut il'ul monuments;
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 359
for example, the one erected by a motJier wJio now
lies between her two sons, and that placed by a girl
over her betrothed, whom she had to lay under the
sod on the day and at the hour which was to have
been that of their wedding. Perhaps the finest is
that tall, white plinth which serves to mark the
resting ])lace of the late Sir John MacNeill. Its white
and serious dignity recalls that manly beauty, so little
touched by age, which used to be one of the most
welcome and most familiar sights in Cannes.
But the graveyards do not hold all the dead who
die, and whose requiems have been said beside this fair-
smiling shore. The Villa Oscar-Bermond at Nice, and
its little memorial chapel, are still eloquent of the death
of the Tzarevitch Nicholas-Alexandrovitch, which took
place in Nice in April 186-3.
The morning of his fatal seizure was as pearly and
auspicious as any day in this land of sea and sun could
well be. The air was balmy and light, the great Judas
tree shook showers of blossoms on the l)ank, and the
tall date-})alm barely felt its crown of leaves stirred
by the breeze when the heir of All the Ptussias fell
stricken to the earth. Then began the despair ! The
messages to the Prefecture ; to the Church, where
prayer was to be made ; to the roadstead, whence
the frigates must go out to fetch the royal kins-
folk ; to the station, whence telegrams, speeding across
Europe, summoned a father, and a sweet young bride.
The Tzarevitch lingered long enough to receive her
kiss, and then, with the bi'eath of the orange-flowers
stealing through the closed persiennei^, he died, laying
,6o THE MARITIME ALPS.
(1..W11 uu tlial day his heritage, the eighth part of the
globe.
TIic story of his death, of his widowed bride, of his
lying in state among the flowers, and of the transport
of liis body to Yillefranche, had an extraordinary fas-
cination for the late Duke of Albany. His Royal
Highness, while thanking- nie for the iileasure once
derived from my httle novel of ' Vera,' told me that
he had, while at Villa Nevada, borrowed a copy of the
book that he might read once again the account of the
Tzarevitch's death. His face, in speaking of that event,
and of the many grave and tender incidents connected
with it, showed the keenest sympathy. Ten days later
I carried a basket of the Narcissus-of-the-Poets up the
little garden-stair of the Villa Nevada, and placed it
near tlie feet of our Queen's youngest son. He himself
now lay cold and dead : with his hands crossed in that
last su[)reme repose which is most w^elcome surely to
tlie suH'ering and the sensitive. But for the sad and
tear-stained faces of his altcndanls you miglit have
said to yourself that this sudden sorrow was a di-eani.
Not only was the little house, where the blameless idyll
of the last five weeks had passed, unchanged, but
the very scarlet clove-carnations that he loved glowed
under his windows. Dusk and the darkness were
gathering. Outside there were tlie pine-woods ; long
bars of cloud, ominous and dull, lay against the sunset,
wliile fcom the slate-grey sea a tliin veil of mist crept
landwards over the far-stretching town. Inside there
was tlie silence that may be felt, the white face under
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 361
tlie hardly whiter flowers, the repose, and tlie purples
of the dead —
Take the last kiss — the last for ever :
Yet render thanks amid the gloom.
He, severed from his home and kindred,
Is passing onward to the tomb :
For earthly labours, earthly pleasures.
And carnal joys lie cares no more.
Where are his kinsfolk and acquaintance %
They stand upon another shore.
Let us say, around him pressed,
Grant him, Lord, eternal Rest.'
A few days later, all glistening in the sunlight, the
funeral cortege wound down the hill from Villa Nevada
to the station. The hearse, with its silver shields, had
been originally built to convey Nicholas- Alexandrovitcli
to Villefranche harbour. It had then been folio Aved by
the Tzar and his sons on horseback. To-day an English
prince was lying in it, the muffled drums Ijeat, the
cannon of Ste. Marguerite Ijoomed across the waters,
and the rose hedges seemed to open to let him pass.
I saw the coffin lifted out. The heir of the English
crown, and the amiable prince to whom the crown of
France descends by inheritance, handed it over to the
Mayor of Cannes. He drew aside the black curtains of
the travelling hearse ; there was a movement, and a
heavy thud, and then rose-wreaths innumerable were
piled above each other, and above the early dead.
All inanimate nature looked glad and glorious, but
the eyes of men and women were dim with tears when
' Htichera of the Lad Kins (Dr, Neale's translation).
30-' THE MARITI}fE ALPS.
llie l;i>l Liiiu liix'd. and wlicii. ^vitll a screaiii. llic train
moved (»nl ol'tlu' slalion ])earin<i' its l)urdcii of sorrow;
the (hK'C'n"s eldest ^-on was takiiiLi' Ins youiiLi' l)r(»llier to
liis last home, to liis place among the tombs of the kings.
When rrince Leopold was seven years old he lived
ill Cannes, at the Chateau Leader. There he heard
of the death of the Prince Consort. The grief of the
child was tlien intense, Init he was not very communi-
cative, lie only said, 'Lei me go home! Take me
home, please, to my mother.' On April 2, 1884, that
Avisli was finally granted, and this shore of the southern
sea will behold him no more for ever —
Clia till, cha till, elia till Mac-Criemhaiun,
xVn co'cadh iiio'u sitli cha till e tuilleadh ! '
V. XOTRE DAMI<: DE GAKOL'Bi;.
' Tlience we coa.slud within two leagues of Aiitilie.'^, whicli is tlie utmost
town in France.' -J^^velyns Mcmmrs, vol. i. (1644).
'I'llAT is the name of a tiny cha])cl on the farthest
extremity of the Ca]) d'Antibes. Ihiill among a wilder-
ness of rocks and of myrtle thickets, this shrine of Our
Ladv. if no! la i' set * amid ihe melancholy main/ is at
all events ])ushed out among the reefs of the roughest
])iece of sea to be met with for miles. It lies so close to
the level of the waters that the light of its trembling
' For aye. for aye, for aye ]\Iaccriiniu()ii,
In war or in peace will never return !
Frniii l]\i- LameiUj'or Maccriiinnoii, a CJaclic licio wlio in tlicsc words
is said In liavc pi-cdictod his own fate.
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK. 363
laiuj) can only rarely have been noticed a trne ' Stella
I liar IS ' by the boatmen of Antibes, and till lately this
must have been a lonely spot. The Chapel has now
many neighbours — first, the great Hotel de Cap, then
M. Wylies ])alatial villa at Eilean-Koc, and the amazing-
vegetation of Closebrooks, to say nothing of an always
increasing crop of houses built on s])ecidati()n.
There is no part of Provence fairer than this pro-
montory of Antibes. The great headland is as bold as
any part of the coast of Assynt ; the pineta (at the spot
chosen for his villa by the late Duke of Albany Avhen
youth and hope were strongest) might be at Pisa ; the
rare Irises in M. Theuret's garden are a Hower-show in
themselves ; the splendid holme oaks of tlie Villa Ennery
are unique in their beauty ; and the bit of shore under
the terraces of A'illa Agard is worthy of Baiie. All
tliese things are delightful, and have but one drawback,
namely, their exposure to all the winds of heaven. The
scenery is extraordinary at night, when the moon reigns
queen of a hushed or heaving sea, and when from the
woods conies the song of the nightingale, or the plaintive
note of the little cue owl, which is as the very voice of
solitude.
The port of Antibes is always full of pictures. There
is the old town with its two tall rh/ies, its miniature fort,
its chapel, and its cypresses, with the bastions of Guise,
of Ptosny, and of the Dauphin pushed out into the
stony fields. It is from the Place d'Armes that the
best view of the Alps is to be got, when the sky is
unclouded, and cut only by the glaciers of the Gelas
range, of the Pic de Mercantour, and of the Pic de
;,64 THE MARITIME ALPS.
riuls. The coast stretches away towards liordighcra,
all flushed with light ; the delicate tints of the nearer
iiioiiutaiiis are set ofi by the white background of the
snowy ])eaks, and by tlic dark blue of the sea. Every
*>lacier from Lescherene to the Col de Tende seems to
assert its cold beauty, the villages beyond llic Var look
like castles, and here, in the foreground, you ])ace under
the boles of the olives, among the rose hedges, the
])icluresr|ue wells, and all the happy, luxuriant growlli
of a Provenyal spring.
The town of Antibes, the earliest Greek settlement
in Maritime Provence, is a dull, sleepy, little place,
where everything is on a miniature scale : the fort, the
garrison, the mole, the esplanade, the old citadel, and
the older circus, where an inscription tells us that a
little lioman boy once ' danced, and pleased, and died.'
Tlie town used to suffer from an insufficient supply of
water, but in 1785, an ancient acqueduct traced out
and restored by the care of Colonel d'Agidllon brought
into Antibes the rush of fresh water which now rejoices
every householder and wayfarer alike. The work, which
cost 72,000 livres, has prepared the future of Antibes
as a health resort. As regards the city itself, it must
be confessed that the streets are so narrow that to drive
a pair of horses through them is a trial to the nerves ;
and, in truth, the bishopric and the governorship must
have been on a small scale also. The crozier and
Cliapter were in the eighth century removed from
Anfilu's to Grasse, because of the insecure position of
this • the utmost city in France;' but military governors
Antibes did long possess, and often of the bravest.
OFF TriE BEATEN TRACK. 365
Aragi's liistory enumerates them — Lascaris, Vallette,
Forbin, Bouthilier, and tlie rest ; and he makes one
realise how harassing to tlie Antiljois in early days
were the Moorish settlements of the Great-Fraxinet near
St. Tropez, and of the Little -Fraxinet near St. Jean.
As a fortress Antibes has had just two periods of
importance. The first was during the wars of the
League, after which Henri IV. commenced those for-
tifications which are still called ' of Eosny ' and ' of the
Dauphin,' and that Fort Carre which Yauban was to
develop in a later reign. Its second epoch was during
the early years of the Eevolution. Constant military
movements and the campaign on the frontiers of Pied-
mont then filled it with troops. It was within reach of
Toulon, and also of Genoa. Buonaparte, who was a
prisoner in the Fort just after the events of the 9th
Thermidor, knew the place well, and once settled
Madame Letitia near it in a small house. There were
till recently persons still alive who remembered seeing
her go and come between her house and a little stream
Avhere the linen Avas washed, at the period when
Napoleon's friendships with Eicord and with Augustin
Eobespierre were more interesting tlian really useful to
her ambitious son.
The sunlight of centuries has baked to a most
brilliant hue the limestones of which Vauban built the
square fort. In fact, artists are always charmed with
Antibes. Meissonier's sketches of it are deliij^htfuL and,
three years ago, M. Zuber's clever brush was employed
on the long lines of sea and shore, on the mysteries of
interlacing olive bouglis, and on the poetic details of a
366 THE MARITIME ALPS.
truly rrovoiiral laiulscapc. Tlicre is a choice of roads.
1() say notliiuu' of crocks and caves in wliicli lo spend
an idle dav. and anionij" which lo lose one's friends at a
])icnic. I remember once searchiiiLi' \ainly foi- llour^
amonu' these hays and headlands between Antibes and
Xotre Dame de Garoul)e, foi- llic steam-launch of the
Firefly. Several parties of ])eople cominu- from dill'erent
quarters eontiuucd to miss each other ; and il was past
•1 ^..^[. before all the 'lost sheep ' of that ])icnic ^vere
safely ij^athercd on the yacht's deck.
367
CITArXER XXIII.
MENTONF.
' Los pordroaux sont nonrris de thym, de marjolaine, ct de tout ce qui fait
le parfum de nos sachets : j'en dis autant de nos cailles grasses, et des tourte-
relles, toutes parfaites aussi. Pour les melons, les figues et les muscats, c'est
une chose etrange. Men cher cousin, quelle vie ! . . .
' Helas 1 nous avons cent fois plus froid ici quYi Paris. Nous sommes
exposes a tous les vents. C'est le vent du Midi, c'est la bise : c'est le diable !
Nous ne respirons que de la neigc. Nos montagnes sont charmantes dans leur
exces d'horreur. Je souhaite tous les jours un peintre pour bien representer
letendue de toutes cos epouvantablos beautes.' — Mde. de Skvigne.
The winters in Provence .siicoeed each otlier, l:»ut as-
suredly do not reseni])le eaeli otlier. Tlie oldest in-
ha]:)itant invariably offers tliis excuse for Imd weather,
that never, within his memory, was anything so un-
toward or so unpleasant seen before. But, alas ! every
liistory, like every clironicle, enumerates years of
dearth and hardship ; tells of great storms and great
floods, of failure of crops, and the recurrence of all the
ills to which fields are heirs. From their pages I am
ol^liged to conclude that tlie Proven(;'al climate is, and
was, and is likely to remain, one of contrasts and of
extremes. The winter of 18G5-6, for example, never
knew a cold day till Marcli 1. I had gone to cliurch
on Christmas Day in a white cloak, between hedges of
roses ; lout when on March 1 the hills were white with
snow, one's ideas about the seasons became confused.
The winter of 1871-2 was one of floods, of a ureat
368 THE MARITIME ALPS.
display of Aurora Borealis, and of a water-spout. The
winter of 1874—5 liad oidy one <iTeat storm — on tlie
nioniing of Easter Day. Tliat of 1880-1 had over
tliirty days of unclouded sunshme ; while in the spring
of 1882, there Avcre fifty-four days without a drop of
rain. On the other hand, in the following October
Cannes was flooded, walls fell down, people lost their
lives as well as llieir pro])erty, and that was the occa-
sion on which eight corpses were carried up the hill to be
buried, at the public expense, in a common grave. The
winter which followed that catastrophe was cold and
inclement. Not only did snow fall on our heads on the
afternoon of January 27, when Lady Wolverton assem-
bled her friends for the first time after Mr. Gladstone's
arrival at Chateau Scott, but a worse surprise was in
store for us all. When the shutters were opened on a
March morning, behold a world of snow ! I happened
to be staying in the country, and I shall never forget
the sight of the pine woods, and of the hill sides inclos-
ing the fairy valley of Pegomas, which might readily
on tlial moi-ning have been supposed to form a land-
sca])e in Sutherland ! Lord Houghton, who was ex-
pected to meet us at luncheon, found difficulty with a
])air of horses in making his way out to Terres-Blanches,
and lie has been convinced ever since that the climate
of llie Riviera is rigorous in the extreme. It is too true
tlial wlu'ii we I't'liinicd to Cannes, we found the mimosa
trees broken, and the palms ])on1 witli the weight of snow,
to say nothing of the wreaths of lialf-melted ice (which
lay for four days Ijehind every wall), and of the destruc-
tion of a year's harvest on the olive and orange trees.
MENTONE. 369
Bad wcatlicr is very wretdied on tlie Eiviera. The
houses are not intended for it. llain kaks in at half a
dozen places at once, and the better your fires the more
you suffer from the draughts, which, from door and
window and skirting board, from cupboard and cranny,
come forth to seek out the weak points of your frame.
Invalids should begin by hanging up curtains every-
where, and put tlieir faith rather in the portieres which
exclude cold air tlian in the fires which create heat.
That heat will, in the first place, draw out a dozen
draughts, and it will, in the second place, draw up the
sewer gases from the roughly fitted drains of your villa.
No invalid slundd sleep on the ground floor, or under
the roof; in fact, all outside walls are dangerous for
him, a saying he will not be disposed to contradict if
he has once watched the building of a wall, and seen
for himself how flimsy and far from airtight these
modern houses are. Wooden floors being rare, he must
resign himself to a carpet, and to having that carpet well
lined with hay, else he will suffer from the cold of the
brick floors, which really seems as if it would draw life
away through the soles of the feet. I recommend loose,
knitted socks drawn over the shoes, and a fur rug, and a
footstool filled with hot water rather than the charcoal
chaufferette which is used by the bourgeoisie. And let
me say a word about violent exercise under a hot sun,
and the chills following on it, and plead for the use of
the tisanes which the English despise, but which are
invaluable in restoring sus])ended warmth and checked
perspiration. A pinch of lime-flowers, of dried violets,
or of guimauve will furnish (in a pint of boiUng water)
B B
370 THE JfAR/TIME ALPS.
a warm and soolliin^- drink. Cainoiiiile tea will be
f<»inid tonic, and the infusion of a fresh lemon dia-
phoretic ; while orange-flower water is a reliable seda-
tive. Two ounces of it in a A\'ine-glass full of warm
water (or l)eaten up willi a raw egg into a lait de poule)
is a drink to be used in the sleepless exhaustion of great
mental disti-ess. The graver cases of cerebral excite-
ment, and llic exciting effect of the climate of the Riviera
on tlie nervous system, are too well known to those
who, year after year, have to see many tragic examples
of the injudicious use of this climate ; but I doubt if
they are sufficiently realised in England by people Avho
imagine that the influences of sea and sunshine can only
be l)enelicial to them. Nice is genei'ally allowed to have
a more exciting air tluui her neighbours, wliile that
of Mentone is praised as being mild and unirritating.
It "would seem, therefore, to be counter-indicated in the
cases of languor resulting from long and enfeebling
illness, while, like its neighbours, it is invaluable in the
early stages of ])ulnionary disease. Volumes have been
written about all these health resorts to point out their
merits, and tables of temjKM-ature are submitted to
patients who must wonder, after ])erusing them, how it
is they still contrive to catch such very bad colds.
But the truth is that llie actual situation of the house
and room isof inoi'c iniporlaiice than any nieteorological
lalilc, and ihe (piestion I'esolves itself into one of shelter,
and al)ove all of ])recauti()n. There ai'e s])()ts about
]\lentoneint() which the north and the east winds cannot
])cnctrate, and where the reverberation of the sun's
rays off the limestone rocks will raise the mercury to a
LA IinQUEBRUXE.
MEN TONE. 371
degree unknown either on the Promenade des Anglais
or on the Eoiite de Frejus.
Mentone seems to me to be richest in these sunny
nooks ; in dry, icachj-\i\\Q ravines, where the lemon trees
grow, and where a very high and a very fairly equable
temperature can be secured. It also possesses variety.
Those wdio find the East Bay airless can betake them-
selves to the western side, and catch the wind currents
that ascend and descend from the valleys ; they may
also dwell on the shore, and hear the waves drawing the
tinkling pebbles down the beach, or make life one long
picnic under the pines of the Cap Martin. The situation
of La Eoquebrune ^ is tempting to those wdio like a higher
level, and it is so beautiful that one regrets (in the
train) tlie old jiosting road, and tlic darkdjlue iris fling-
ing its crumbling walls. Tlie/Av/v« of Mentone, rich and
varied as it is, consists mainly of tlie flowers that love'
the compact and Neocomian limestones. You get the
pale I>avatera near the sea, and the Eussian snowdrop,
and purple stocks, but in the woods you can get delicate
coronillas, and the Judas tree, and at an elevation of
3,000 feet, thickets of hepaticas, and clumps of prim-
roses. I remember that of the latter we picked a basket-
ful on the slopes of Mont Braus, and wore them proudly
on the I'^th of April at a most pleasant luncheon party
at Mr. J. B. Andrews' villa at La Pigautie. He has
some splendid orange trees, and that day tlie hedge of
quinces w^as beautiful with pink, shell-like blossoms,
while the great white arums in the porch were only
' I have to thank Signer Corelli for this pretty sketch. The
original picture is in the possession of Her JMajesty.
,-, THE MARITIME A IPS.
cXi-eLHleil in their beauty by the beds of Lxia, which
llowers in Mentone with a luxuriance I have never seen
excelled.
But of the lemon trees tliat till tliat garden, and
every garden, and every dell and ravine near Mentone,
wliat shall I say? Wlio can praise enough what Elisee
Eeclus justly terms ' le divin fruit ? ' With wdiat a
careless grace are the long, pendulous sprays flung
liitlier and tldther ; how star-like are the white flowers,
witli their faint purple pencillings ; how delicate, how
frao-rant, varying, is the scent of tlie fruit ! And which
kind shall I praise the most? The verdani, cliosen for
the trade with America ; or the petit cedrat, with its
Avaxy face ; or the lemon called ' of Nice,' which, to my
thinking, combines every possible merit ? It is tlie best
to squeeze over your oysters, the best for making lemon-
ade, and perhaps the best to cut in slices for the tea
taljle, tliough for this last purpose the aspermim (tlie
lemon without pips) runs it hard. All sorts of forms
may be noticed among lemons. There is a pear-shaped
kind which grows on a pretty, dark-leaved tree ; there is
the lemon, forked and liorned like a radish, called mer~
veilleux, and tlie lemon with a ring, and eke with two
rings, the hiuiamelatuni. Some notion of the variety that
exists may be gained from the fact that a hundred and
thirty-seven varieties of the family aVrz^s are enumerated
in liisso's catalogue. I was charmed, however, to hear
from Trofessor Dyer that there is no ti'iith in the old,
vulgar error Avliich niainlained thai \\\Q,''l)lood orainje' is
a cross between an orange and a pomegranate. No
such cross ferlilisation ever takes ])lacc, and the blood
AI EN TONE. 373
orange is simply a freak of nature, a scherzo as tlie
Italian peasants would say. But to return to the
lemons. The whole wealtli of Mentone lies in this
crop, and the crop depends on the mercury not falling
below 27° Fahrenheit. On a night that threatens frost,
the Mentonese 2)roprietor will sit up with his lemon
trees, light large iires, and endeavour in ever}^ way to
protect tliem ! And not for nothing are these golden
drops produced. Lemon trees have to be tended and
manured, woollen rags being the manure which they
most affect ; and the fruit has to be first carefully
picked, and then carried down to the town, to the large
wholesale warehouses. One such I visited. It belonged
to M. Borano, and was near the railway station. I saw
20,000 lemons on the floor, and was told that there
were 14,000 in cases in vans at the door. The price
obtained varies from fifteen francs per thousand, to sixty
francs the thousand : a margin that gives room for
hopes and fears, and for a little gentle speculation among
the brokers. But Mentone has no other trade. Since its
annexation to France it has no longer the mild, political
excitement of giving or withdrawing allegiance to the
princes of Monaco. Being inclosed by rocks and seas
it can never increase to any such prodigious extent as
Cannes now threatens to do ; and for many years to
come I fanc}^ that invalids may lead a fairly rural life
among the easy-going Mentonese. They are still rather
a primitive people, and the old town has, like the big
church, a distinctly Italian type. Yet the dialect is not
an Italian one. Mr. J. B. Andre^^^s, who has mastered
its idioms, has even prepared a grammar of it, and he
/4
THE MARITIME ALPS.
Ii;i> in:iu:iuL'cl to pivserve some of the national songs antl
local leucnds of iho place. Here is a song, of which he
Jias furnished me with Ijotli tlie words and tlie nnisic,
wliile Madame Nicholas Viale vouches for its being a
genuine peasant's song.
OU ROM AX I FIOKI.
(^lio)uh' ijieti ton liaise.)
,^^
A cu nVn donerema sto romani fio - ri, a scia Ca-ta-ri - na,
i . 1-. 1 —]-^ 1 i-
— ^ ^ —
--4-
-F — ^ — P- --^ — P ^ F-
^ try ^
^^Pe:
-^-
-I — I — I —
m^
die n'a ro coe gen - ti, Son ma-ri ra man - da, Ella se re-comand i,
I 1--, 1 j-r -^ 1
^:S:
-r
=P
-F
=1:
3EE^
-p — ^ — I
--^
=-"^-
si-^i^
El-lanonvoefar, ousoncoena-nio - ra. Ella s'en van rames -sa
f,' • -••- -»- -m-
* ^^
■s==p
-J -g: -i:
--1-
MENTONE.
:^^=r=pi^
'-^^
iM-j^ZK
:5t?2:
comnie unaPrincipessa cattra ca -pi-rou, Eellafiare - gi - re vou.
-I-
i?^^^^=E^i=EE^;
^
:-q:
.J 1 ^^^^_
'M wr
1 ^ 1 — ^ ^
*t
These songs, not unnaturally, praise the flowers and
fruits of a happy region which has no other wealth ;
but, like the costumes of the peasantry, old times and
tlieir old themes are fast o-oinj^ out of fashion. Look at
that wrinkled mai(/rana (grandmother) as she totters
home from the baker's ; the capeline shakes on her wliite
head, and she wears the bodice and petticoat which her
children and grandchildren despise. The little ones
who leap around her and her loaf shout ' Lou ^^ahhj I
loupaing!' (pain). They are pretty, for the Mentonese
are a comely race, with more of beauty tlian tlie mon-
grel populations of Nice and Cannes. Close behind her
comes the honey-pedlar : a most picturesque figure ! Her
petticoat is pale green, her apron is checked blue and
white, but she has a black handkerchief, and a great, red
jar of honey is poised upon her jetty curls. She carries
her glittering scales, and, like the lemon-carriers and
the washerwomen, she walks quickly, and is very erect.
At the foot of the steps there meet her two bareleo-o-ed
fisher lads who sell sardines, the whole street echoino-
with their long-drawn cry of '^ Bella sardi — wa\ ' They
are followed by a Venetian knifegrinder, wlio is called
Zanni, and wears a fur cap, and by the man who mends
376 THE MARITIME ALPS.
sniicepans. I don't tliiiik lu; ]i;is man}' ciistomers, yet
liis (ly of' Casseru — olel ' is as lugubrious as if ])roken
hearts Avere liis tlieme, till he gets jostled aside by
tlie vendor of a cake in which the fretin is baked,
and wliicli is about as big as a cart-wlieel. People
buy slices of it ; and then a girl sells roses and
pinks to some English ladies in their ulsters, and we
will follow them, for tliey are going in the direction of
the long, sea wall of the Quai Napoleon, and of M. Hen-
frey's villa. Lord Hatherton having presented to us the
owner of that pretty clifdet, we were very kindly shown
over it, and one morning Mr. Henfrey also took us out
to the olive-ground where the Queen used to sit and
write letters in the dappled shade. All her subjects
must be grateful to Mentone's ba}^, which gave her
tliat pleasant holiday. One liked to look at the roses
and creepers, at the lemons, and at the arums in the
grass, and to feel how much she must have enjoyed
them, while by her very appreciation of them all she
managed to give great pleasure in Mentone. The
only person Her Majesty displeased there was a little,
barefoot girl. Little Louisine had come down from
the hills to see the Queen of England, and slie waited
till she attained her object. Slie beheld tlie Island
Queen, but, oh ! — vanity of human wishes ! — tliat au-
gust and gracious Lady wore — a l)la{'k Ijoimet ! Ought
she not to have had on a crown at least two storeys
high, like tlie one Avhich belongs to Notre Dame de
Lagliet ? ])iil not a bit of crown did slie wear! Only
slie had bhie, vv/y blue ej'es, and there was a little,
just a little comfoil in that for Louisine !
MENTONE. 377
The beautiful valleys that, like the sticks of a fan,
converge upon Mentone, deliver it from the reproach of
being strung upon the dusty highway which you must
perforce follow, to the right hand or to the left. Those
high roads are, of course, the main features of the place,
either across that wonderful torrent of St. Louis into
Italy, or, in the contrary direction, when tourists find
plenty of jingling pony-carriages to take them to Monte
Carlo, or up to Turbia. Still I hope that when the
municipality of Mentone grows very rich, it will cause
a number of roads to be made ; for example, to beautiful
Gorbio, up to the old palace of the Lascaris, for it is
provoking when the coachman gravely tells you ' 11 ny
a plus de route,' and your acquaintance with any dis-
trict comes to an abrupt close. Eoads for lame and
asthmatic patients need not interfere with the feats of
more sturdy pedestrians, who can not only explore the
hermitage of Gourg-del-Ora, but ascend the countless
goat and mule paths with wdiich the country abounds.
There will always be happy valleys for them to traverse
on foot, and wild mountain defiles for the French
troops. We met a company of infantry starting the
other day for St. Agnese, a spot at least 3,000 feet above
the sea level, where they and their mules were to train
for a mountain campaign.
A very good road runs due nortli from Mentone to
Sospello, and thence to Tende, and the Italian frontier.
We followed it one day, and greatly enjoyed the expe-
dition. The drive to and from Sospello (by Castillion)
requires four and a half hours for the ascent from
Mentone, and three for the return journey. You leave
37S THE MAR /TIME ALPS.
Mentone Ijy tlie Ijorriu'o valle_v, and ])uss on llie left.
among tlie lemon groves, tlie fatal mill wliere Honore
III. ol" .ALonaco ground sncli bad meal for his subjects,
and comj)elled tliem to cat it. Monte has to be passed
tlirougli, and then you leave Castelleraz on the right,
l)efore reacliing the really Alpine scenery of tlie Gourg-
del-Ora. After a lialt there, you 1)egin to ascend by
zi<Tzao-s throuiili tlie pine woods to the water-shed at
Castillion, a strange, Moorish-looking eyrie of a town,
which, inclosed inside a wall, is perched on a crag
between the two heads of Mont Braus.
From this spot, which used to be one of consider-
able military importance, you can gain a bird's-ej^e
view of the mountains. In front of you is the valley in
wliicli Sospello stands, with roads leading to Nice and
to Italy. Behind you is the long valley you have just
climbed from Mentone and the sea, while to right and
to left the mountains stand in double and triple ranges.
From Castilhon we pushed on to Sospello, a town
wliich lias vestiges of its old importance, and whicli,
till recently, had a fairly pleasant and fairly cultivated
little society of its own. Tlie streets are dark, narrow,
and very unsavoury, and here, as in Grasse, you can
see how they were capable of being overawed or de-
fended by the tower-like houses of the more powerful
inhabitants. A carved stone over a doorway still
secures for one house the name of the ' House of the
Consuls.' Dn another the Lamb and Banner of the
Templ.'U's is displayed ; there are the ruins of their stately
Connnanderie, and of an ancient hostel with great,
arcaded stables, such as you see in the background
MENTONE. 379
of an Italian pictiire of tlie Nativity. The modern iini
which is on the south side of tlie bridge, is quite toler-
able, and a diligence plies frouL it (in six hours) to Nice,
by Ventabren and Escarene. Anyone wishing to ex-
plore the districts of La Brigue and Tende might sleep
here ; but the midsummer heats must be intense in
this place, which receives all the sunshine, and is
sheltered from every wind. Quite the most interesting
thing in Sospello is the tower of the church. It is all
of a dark, dressed stone, and dates from a very remote
period. It must, in fact, have sounded its bells for more
than eight centuries, and have risen black above the
terrible fires once lit under its shadow, when so many
Albigeois were burnt alive in the pul^lic square.
CORSICA, SEEX FEOJI MENTOXE.
INDEX.
AGA
Agay, 0, 25, 27
Aix, dS, 114, 226, 244
Albany, His Royal Highness the
Duke of, 299, 357
— His lioyal Highness the Duke of
York, and of, 301
Albigeois, 20G, 257, 281, 379
Amboise, consiriraci/ of, 109
Andrews, Mr. J. B., 30, 371, 373
Aiitibes, 20,21, 22, 23, 101, 108,
114, 181, 187, 190, 191, 193,
326, 364, 366
Antipolis, 7
Argens, the, 247, 349
Argentiere, the, 19
Arluc {ara lucis), 32
Auribeau, sur Siagne, 6, 275
Avedic, 132
Aversa, 241
Avignon, 243, 244, 247
— plague of, 245
Balbi, 197
Bandol, 275
Bar, Gra.s.se, 89
— le, 86, 89
Bargemon, castle of, 279, 281, 349
— church of, 349
Barras, 89 "
Baux, les, 70, 268, 297
Beaulieu, 18, 193
Beauregard, castle of, 279, 342,
346, 347
— forest of, 345, 347
Beuil, 196, 197, 295
Biot, 20, 84, 108, 224
Blaras, 277
Blood oranges, 369
CLA
Borrigo, valley of the, 375
Bouillede, la, 19
Boulouris, 27
Brague, the, 19,21, 23
Braneolar, 324
Brigue, la, 17, 41, 48
Briguegasques, 41
Brougliaru, Lord, 4, 323
Caleis, 80, 95, 96, 342
Oabris, Marquise de Grasse, 91-90
Cagnes, 10, 190, 204, 294
Cagnette, the, 19, 204
Calian, 190, 344,347
(Jambronne, General, 327, 330, 332
Cannes, 2, 4, 5, 6, 25, 28, 29, 30,
34, 41, 44, 53, 84, 122, 129, 143,
146, 165, 167, 175, 176, 187, 191,
207, 274, 317, 325, 326, 331
Cannet, 40, 84, 122, 165
Cap Garoube, 32, 174, 362-366
Cap Roux, 28, 145
('arnival, of Nice, 192
Carnoules,'2, 210
Castellane, 89
— family of, 270, 272
Castelleraz, 375
Castillion, 375
Chateau de Barlas, 193
— Leader, 324, 359
— de St. Michel, 324
— .Scott, 353, 365
— de Thorenc, 324
Chateauneuf, 350
C^'lieiron, tJie, 18
Cimiez, 130, 179, 183, 184
Citrus, varieties of, 369
Clausonne, 32, 181, 242, 255
THE MARITIME ALPS.
CLU
Clus, de St. Auhan, 87
Clement V., 258
Clement VI., 243, 24o
Clement VII., 240
Col de la Crous, the, l!).',
Col di Freinamorte, IDl)
Colle, la, 204
Corelli, Signer, 368
Coursepoule.^, 102, 229
Cypieres, 272
DKVfrOX, of the Tanneron, 347
Draguipnan, 76, 247, 342, 347, 348
Drouot, General, 322, 333
Diuazzo, Charles of, 198, 247
Egitn.\, 317
— :\Ions, 317
Encliastraye, 198, 199
Escarene, 370
Esteroii, the, 40, 190
Esterels, the, 8, 9, 15, 25, 20, 27,
187, 239
Estrella, f"i>-y, 9, 10
Eza, 18, 47, 00, 193
F.\KANDOULO, the, 33
Favence, 278, 343, 348
Floods. 245 305
Fort ('arre, the, 302
Foux, the, 19
Fragouard, 88, 188
Fraxinet, the Garde, 292, 3()2
Frejus, 1, 5, 7, 143, 182
— aiid-Touloii, bishops of, 173
Friuli, channel of, 140
Gakdane, 28
Gattieres, 207
Gaude, la, 07, 200, 207, 208
Gazan, General, 333
Gilette, 199
Godcau, Monseu/ncur Anioine, 1 10,
117,118
GoU'f-Jouan, 25, 204, 320
GorLio, 272, 374
Gouidon, 80-89, 275
(lOurg-dcl-Ora, 374
Gras,«e, 2, 02, 82, 83, 80, 88, 89,
90, 93, 95, 97, 99
— Counts of, 310, 315
— Vii/uerie of, 19
Grenoble, 327, 328, 3.30
Grimaud, hay if , 4, 25, 292
MAS
Griiuoald, Gchelin, de 292
Grinioald, death of Gcbelin de, 293
Guebis, vallei/ of the, 197
Giiillaumes, 197
IIrxfret, chalet of ^^r., 370
Henri IV., 113, 115, 320, 305
lli)noratus, 144-157
Hospitallers, the A'j*i}//<<.s, 50, 108,
250, 204
Innocent X., 273
Iron ]Mask, the Man in the, 122
Isnard, ]\huiiinin, 88, 05, 97, 98,
99, 100
Ixias, 372
James I., of Ararjon, 277
Jasmin, 39, 345
Jeanne, Queen, 8, 9, 27, 180, 197,
230, 250
Jonquils, 83
Jordany, Mvnseirjneiiv, 174, 177
Kakk, Alphonse, 7, 80
Laghet, 337, 341
Lascaris, 89, 110, 112, 180,
271,273,274
Laval, plfxin of, 5
Lemon8, trade iii,o70
Leprosy, 47
Lerins, the, 25, 143, 150, 151,
158-177, 182, 180, 188,
209,311
— ref/les de, 149
Lesdiguieres, 114
Lombards, (f Gourdon, 89
Tiouis, of Tarento, 241, 244
Loup, the river, 19, 80, 223,
227, 252
Lubiano, the, 19, 204
229,
1 55,
250,
224,
Marnax, the, 19
Malvans, the, 19, 204, 209
Wuntis, the praying, 0, 7
Marcaret, 145, "l4.S
Marchiel, M.de, 137-141
Marcbiely, de, 130
Maritime Alps, the, 15, 17, 20, 08
Marseilles, 24, 179, ISO, 239
Massena, 121, 188, 190, 191, 200,
201,323
Massier, M, Clcinetit, 43
INDEX.
3S:
MAT
MatignoTi, /"«?/u7y of\ 208
Maure, /«, 82
Maures, /es, 292, 295, 347
Meissonier, 3G5
Mentone, 4, 5, 204, 364, 3G7, 368,
360, 374, 375
Mentonese, dialect of the, 36, 37,
373, 374
Merimee, Prosper, 4, 214, 356
Mesgrigny, Monsei(/neur, 67, 234
— M., 237
Metayage, 75, 78
Miollis, General, 334, 335
— Monseiyneur, 335
Mirabeau, 54, 59, 91, 93, 95, 97,
120, 188, 190
— castle of, 96
— hotel, 88, 90
Mistral, 15
Monaco, 289-300
Mons, 37, 87, 344
Mont Agel, 179
— Bra us, 375, 308
— Chevalier, 317
— (^elas, 18, 199
— St. Cassien, 322
■ — Vinaigre, '26
Monte, 375
Monte-Carlo, 2, 7, 193, 289, 290,
291, 294
Montolivo, Ahbe, 36, 193
Moors, the, 14, 32, 33, 5<'., 161, 163,
184, 187, 226, 292, 293
Moresque dance, 33
Mouans, 275
Mougins, 87
Mouracbone, 19, 67
Murat, Joachim, 191, 322
NAroLEO>^ 4, 5, 173 ,188, 189, 190,
191, 283, 286, 326, 327, 333,
336
— quai, 376
Napoule, 5, 278, 274
— '■ Montgrands of, 278
Narcissus-of-ths-poets, 224, 360
Nice, 1, 178, 181, 183, 185, 186,
187, 188, 190, 191, 193, 197, 201,
203, 231, 232, 242, 255, 272, 273,
274, 334
— county of, 195, 202
— port of, "183
- — treaty of, 233
Notre Dame d'Avignonnet, 33
SAI
Notre Dame de Bon Voyage, 321
— de Qaroube, 360, 363
— de Laghet, 337, 376
Olive, culture of, GO, 61
— failure of, 43
Orange flower, 84
water, 370
Paillon, 19
Peasant proprietor, 70, 72, 75
Peerages, of Provence, 269, 270
Pegomas, 24, 67, 86
Peone, 197
PeroUe, M., 86, 255, 333, 350
Peronne, treaty of, 297
Pigaute, la, 368
Piol, the, 272
Pisani, bishop, 120
Plague, the, 245, 320
Porphyry, 27
Poito-Ferrajo, 326, 327
Promenade des Anglais, 192, 36S
Provence, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 24,
•27, 32, 33, 35, 41, 44, 65, 89,
10/, 110, 115, 119, 210, 211,
229, 241, 247, 250, 253, 27b,
281
Provence, Auhery/e de, 273
— Maritime, 13, 111, 243, 251,
254, 271, 274
Puget-Theniers, 42, 196, 197, 255,
203
QuELiif, Monseigneur, 262
Reclits, handbook of Elisee, 4, 369
llenaissauce, in Provence, 109, 250
Kene, Kivy, 35, 270
Ileyran, coed niiiies of, 27
Riou, 19, 34
llochetaillee, la, 87
Koquebrune, 17, 289, 368
lloubion, 276
Ptoya, 18, 19, 81
St. Agnese, 374
St. Andre, 192
St. Anne, chapel of, 321
St. Auban, clus de, 27
St. Bassus, 82
St. Cassien, Mont, 322
St. Catherine, of Siena, 246
St. Cesaire, 87, 333
384
THE MARITIME ALPS
St. Claude dii Camiot, .321, 322
St. Dahua.", lOH
St. Etienne, 10.3
St. Fcirool, ?.s7e of, 14(1
St. Ilonorat, 143
St. Jeannet dii \'ar, 200, 207
St. Lambert, 101, 104. 115
St. Laurent dii A'ar, 20o
St. Louis, hridije of, 375
— of France, 220," 25f<, 2o0
St. Loup, 154
Saint-Mars, 123, 141
St. ^fartin de Lantosquo, 100, 201,
202
St.-Martin-les-Vence, 251, 254
St. ratridv, 155
St.-Paul-du-Yar, 25, 203, 221, 209
St. Pons, 132
St. Porcaire, 102, 103
St. Eaphael, 7, 70^
St. Koselevne de Villeneuve, 280
St. Tropez, 3, 301
St. Tropbinne, 103
St. Vallier, 87, 230
St. Y(5ran, 101, 103,104
St. Vincent of tbe Lerius, 151
Sardou, M., 328, 330
— villa, 357
Sault, Comtedo,\\Z,2U
Saut du Loup, 18
Soranon, 334
Sevijrne, Mde. do, 220, 200, 300,
304
Sia^ne, 10, 10, 20
Snowstorms, .'504, 305
Societe Fonciore Lvonnaise, 1, 80,
320
Sospello, 5, 100, 374, 375
SuHren, Admiral, 301, 303, 310
Surian, Bishop, 119
Templars, 5G, 186, 207,
204
Tende, 17, 272
— Beatrice de, 272
Tbeoule, 28, 20
Tborenc, 87
Tinee, .34, 108, 100
Tisanes, i(se of, 306
Toulon, 3
Trad.'liwe, the, 146
'iVavas, 27
Troiiliiidours, 38, 210
240, 251,
</
h
Q
ZUB
Turbia, 34, 337, 338
Tzarcvitcli, 350
Urhax VI., 240, 247
Urban VIII., 272, 273
Utelle, 100, 255
Valescure, 8
Vallauris, 27, 104, 172, 242, 255
Var, the, 17, 24, 18], 100, 207, .342
Vauban, 87, 122, 188, 202, 213,
218, 234
Venantius, 143, 145
Vence, 34. 47,84, 02, 101, 100, 121,
203, 231, 2.-)2, 254, 257, 203,
2:^8, 282
Ventabren, 370
Veutimiglia, 17, 24, 185
Vesubie, 102, 107, 100
Via Aurelia, 5, 20, 34
— Domitia, 181
— Julia, 34, .3,38
Villa Derweis, 325
— Dop:nin, 324
— Ilaussmann, 325
— Ijuvnes, 32-5
— Malvilan, 87
— iMasseufjv, 270
— IMontfleuri. 320, 324, 353, 354
- — Nevada, 351
— St. Pierre, 354
■ — Sardou, .355
— la Tourelle, 3.55
— Vallomljrosa, 324
— Victoria, 324
Village, tbe deserted, 103
Viliars, 100
Villefrancbe, 25,20, 187, 103
Villeneuve, famihj of, 1 12, 1 13, 120,
270-287 ■
— Aruauld de, 2b7, 258
Villeueuve-Loubet, 222, 235
Vitrolles, M. de, 330
WATERSrOtTT, 305
Water supply, of Antihcs, 305
of Cannes, 323
of Nice, 101
Woj?lfiel<l, Mr. W. li., 323
fcflT^, death of the Duhe of .",00
ZuiiER, sketches hi/ M., 30
Spniiiswoode <t Co., Printers, Neic-slreet Square, London.
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