NICE
A shifted site—Ancient Nike—Cemenelium—History of Nice—Saracens
at Cap Ferrat—Bertrand de Balb—The barony of Beuil—The
Castle—Internecine strife—Truce—The marble cross—Catherine
Ségurane—Destruction of the Castle—Annexation of Nice to
France—Cathedral—Church of the Port—Masséna—Garibaldi—General
Marceau—Rancher—Story of Collet—Cagnes—Painting by
Carlone—Eze—David’s painting—Puget Teniers—Touët-de-Beuil.
NICE is a town that has uneasily shifted its seat some three or four
times. Whether it were directly settled from Phocœa or mediately from
Marseilles, we do not know. But a Greek city it was, as its name
implies, Nike, _Victory_, speaking of a fight there, engaged either
against the Phœnicians, who resisted their settling into quarters
already appropriated, or else against the native Ligurians.
Anciently, the river Paillon flowed into the tiny bay of Lympia, but
it brought down so much rubble as to threaten to choke it, and huge
embankments of stone were built to divert the course of the river to
the farther side of the calcareous rock of the Château. These have been
discovered in the process of excavations in the Riquier quarter. When
the Greeks settled here, they found the conditions perfect for their
requirements. The Port of Lympia then extended inland to where is now
the rue du Paillon. It was flanked on the east by the steep heights of
Mont Boron, on the west by the crag of the Château, which latter served
as acropolis and was crowned by a temple dedicated probably to Artemis.
The site is thought to be where now stands the chapel of the Ste.
Suaire, which is square and on old foundations. The Phocœan town lay in
the lap of the port of Lympia.
But when the province became Roman, then the town occupied by the great
families of consular origin, the officials of government, and all the
hangers-on, was at Cemenelium, now Cimiez, on the high ground above
modern Nice, and dominating the ancient port. Here had been an older
Ligurian fortified town, of which some remains exist in the huge blocks
laid on one another without cement that formed the defending wall, and
on top of which the Romans built their ramparts. The citadel was at
the extreme south point of the plateau. In Cemenelium the principal
monuments were the palace of the governor of the province, a temple
of Diana, another of Apollo, an amphitheatre and baths. All have been
destroyed and have disappeared save the wreckage of the amphitheatre,
traversed by a road. Roman sepulchral monuments, urns, mosaics,
fragments of marble columns, statuettes, have been unearthed in
considerable numbers. The Phocœan colonies established on the littoral
of the Maritime Alps fell into complete decay when the Romans occupied
the country, and towards the end of the third century Nice dwindled to
almost nothing.
In 578 the Lombards, under the ferocious Alboin, swept over the country
and destroyed Cimiez and Nice. The Franks drove back the Lombards into
Italy. Cimiez remained a heap of ruins, but Nice was repeopled and
rebuilt, not, however, near the port, but on the height of Le Château.
The population of this part of the old province revolted against the
Franks; and Nice entered into a league with Genoa and other important
towns on the Italian Riviera. In 741, however, the province again
returned under the domination of the Franks, and it was governed by
counts appointed by the sovereign, who resided at Nice in the castle.
Here, hard by on the rock, was the cathedral, and down the north-west
slope, that was least precipitous, were lodged the private houses. In
775 the abbey of S. Pontius was founded by Siagrius, Bishop of Nice,
and Charlemagne, who is supposed to have been his uncle, gave the funds
for the building and endowment. This abbey was erected on the rock on
which, according to tradition, S. Pontius had suffered martyrdom by
decapitation.
Profiting by the break-up of the Carolingian dynasty, in 880, Boso,
whose sister was married to Charles the Bald, seized on that part
of Burgundy which is on this side the Jura, and along with Provence
constituted a kingdom, with himself at its head.
In 889 the devastations committed by the Saracens extended along the
coast, and one town after another was sacked and burnt by them. These
ravages continued till 973, when William, Count of Provence, and
Gibelin Grimaldi freed the land from this plague. The Saracens had a
fortress at Saint Hospice, a curious spur which strikes out from the
peninsula of Cap Ferrat, whence they had harassed the neighbourhood of
Nice, but had been unable to storm the fortified town on the rock.
Grimaldi destroyed the Saracen citadel, and left of it nothing standing
save the tower that remains to this day. The captured Saracens were
quartered in a portion of Nice still called _lou canton dei Sarraïns_,
and were employed by him in strengthening or rebuilding the walls of
the town.
To the Saracens are attributed the subterranean magazines, or silos,
that are found at S. Hospice, S. Jean, Trinité-Victor, and elsewhere,
to contain the plunder they acquired in their marauding expeditions.
These are vaulted over, and are still in some instances used as
cisterns or store places; but the evidence that they were the work of
the Moors is inconclusive.
Among those who assisted the Count of Provence against the Saracens
was one Bertrand de Balbs, and in reward for his services he was given
in fief the barony of Beuil, a vast territory stretching from the
Estéron to the Alps, and comprising twenty-two towns and townlets.
His descendants kept the barony till 1315, when William de Balbs made
himself so odious to his vassals by his tyranny that they murdered him.
A brother of the Grimaldi of Monaco had married the only daughter of
William de Balbs, and as there was no son the fief passed to him, and
he became the founder of the family of Grimaldi of Beuil. The barony
remained in the Grimaldi family till 1621, when it was united to the
county of Nice.
They ran, however, a chance of losing it in 1508.
Towards the close of 1507, George Grimaldi, Baron of Beuil, his son
John, Augustine Grimaldi, Bishop of Grasse, and Nicolas Grimaldi,
seigneur of Antibes, formed a plot to deliver over the county of Nice
to Louis XII. The Duke of Savoy was warned, and he summoned George and
his son to appear before him. They replied with insolence and defied
him, relying on French support. But at that moment Louis XII. and the
Duke of Savoy had arranged their little quarrel, and when John Grimaldi
asked for aid from the Governor of Provence, he was refused. Meantime
the garrison of Nice marched against Beuil. The castle, built on a
height and surrounded by strong walls, could have stood a long siege,
when a tragic event put an end to the struggle. The Baron de Beuil was
murdered by his valet, who cut his throat whilst shaving him.
The Duke of Savoy outlawed John, the son, and gave the barony to Honoré
Grimaldi, brother of George, who had steadily refused to be drawn into
the conspiracy.
But to return to Nice.
In 1229 a party in the town revolted against the Count of Provence, and
expelled those who were loyal to him. Thereupon Romeo de Villeneuve
marched on Nice, took the town, and set to work to strengthen the
fortifications of the castle, which in future would control it. At that
time the castle consisted of a donjon, with an enclosure that had four
turrets at the angles. Outside this Romeo built a strong wall that
enclosed within the area the cathedral and the houses of the nobility;
he cut deep fosses through the rock, and furnished the gates with
drawbridges. Later, after the invention of powder, the fortress was
further transformed in 1338.
After the death of Joanna I. of Naples, Nice took the side of Charles
of Durazzo, and in 1388 was besieged by Louis II. of Anjou. The Niçois,
unable without help to hold out against him, offered the town to
Amadeus, Duke of Savoy, and he entered and took possession.
The desolating wars of Charles V. and Francis I. made a desert of
Provence. Nice, as a town of the Duke of Savoy, met with only the
temporary annoyance of the Spanish and German and Italian troops
passing through it to cross the Var. In 1538 Pope Paul III. proposed a
meeting between the two sovereigns at Nice, and he met them there on
June 18th, 1535; a truce was concluded, to last for ten years. A cross
of marble marks the spot where the conference took place. It was thrown
down in 1793, in the Revolutionary period, but was again set up some
twenty years later.
Paul III., in proposing the meeting of the two rival monarchs, had
not only an eye to the welfare of the people of Italy, harassed
by incessant and desolating war, but also to the interest of his
own family. He had been elected Pope in 1534, and at once created
Alexander, child of one of his illegitimate sons, Cardinal at the age
of fourteen, Archbishop of Anagni when the boy was only fifteen, and
Archbishop of Mont Real and Patriarch of Jerusalem when aged sixteen.
Another grandson, Ranncio, he created Archbishop of Naples when aged
fourteen, and Archbishop of Ravenna at the age of nineteen. Now, when
meeting the two sovereigns, he negotiated with Francis to have his
granddaughter united to a prince of the house of Valois; but Francis
procrastinated, and the marriage did not take place. He was more
successful in marrying his grandson Octavio to Margaret of Austria,
natural daughter of Charles V.
But that Paul did use his utmost endeavours to obtain a truce of ten
years is shown by the testimony of the Venetian ambassador who was
present at Nice on the occasion of the meeting. He could find no
words sufficiently strong in which to eulogise the zeal and patience
displayed by the Pope on this occasion.
Paul, however, never lost sight of the advantage of his family. At the
time of the Conference he succeeded in getting Novara from the Emperor,
for his illegitimate son, Pier Luigi, for whom he had already alienated
Parma, and raised it into a Duchy, at the expense of the States of the
Church.
The implacable jealousy entertained against one another by the two
monarchs led to the war breaking out again; Francis I. entered into
alliance with the Turks under Barbarossa, and a combined army laid
siege to Nice in August, 1543. The Turkish cannons completely destroyed
the Convent of Ste. Croix, in which Pope Paul had lodged in 1538,
and broke down large portions of the city ramparts. It was then that
occurred an incident that has never been forgotten in Nice. Catherine
Ségurane, commonly called Malfacia (the misshapen), a washerwoman, was
carrying provisions on the wall to some of the defenders, when she
saw that the Turks had put up a scaling ladder, and that a captain
was leading the party, and had reached the parapet. She rushed at
him, beat him on the head with her washing-bat, and thrust down the
ladder, which fell with all those on it. Then, hastening to the nearest
group of Niçois soldiery, she told them what she had done, and they,
electrified by her example, threw open a postern, made a sortie, and
drove the Turks back to the shore. According to one version of the
story, Catherine gripped the standard in the hand of the Turk, wrenched
it from him, and with the butt end thrust him back.
The story first appears in a “Discours sur l’ancien monastère des
religieuses de Nice,” 1608. Honoré Pastorelli, the author, merely says
that a standard of the Turks was taken from the ensign by a citizeness
named Donna Maufaccia, who fought at the Tour des Caïres, where were
the Turkish batteries. A second authority, in 1654, Antonio Fighier,
says that the event took place on the Feast of Our Lady in August; that
the woman seized the staff of the standard and flung it into the moat.
Some weeks later the Turks penetrated into the town and carried off
2,500 prisoners to their galleys; but these were retaken by the
Sicilian fleet.
The war between Charles V. and Francis I. was terminated by the Treaty
of Crépy in 1544. By it the House of Savoy recovered all the places in
the Duchy taken by the French. Duke Charles III. ordered the complete
restoration and remodelling of the defences of the town and castle. In
the wars of Louis XIV., Nice was attacked again and again, and in 1706
was taken by the Duke of Berwick. By order of Louis, the castle was
then completely destroyed by gunpowder. Thus disappeared this noble
fortress after twenty centuries of existence; and now of it almost
nothing remains. By the peace of Utrecht in 1713, Nice was restored to
Savoy. In 1748 Charles Emanuel of Savoy had the port of Lympia cleared
out and made serviceable. It had been choked up for some centuries.
It was not till 1860 that the county of Nice was definitely annexed
to France. Hitherto the Var had been the boundary between Italy and
France, now the delimitation is the Torrent of S. Louis. The natural
demarcation is unquestionably the _col_ of La Turbie and the Tête
du Chien, and Monaco, about which more presently. I have given but
a meagre sketch of the history of Nice; but the reader would have
no patience with all the petty troubles—great to those who endured
them—which afflicted Nice and its vicinity through many centuries.
Now it enjoys peace, and thrives, not only as a city, doing a large
business, but also as a vestibule to Monte Carlo. The cathedral, that
once stood near the castle on the rock, was demolished in 1656, and
the present building—a rococo construction in the barbaric taste of
that period—was erected below the rocky height. On December 16th,
the Bishop Désiré de Palletier was contemplating the dome that was in
process of construction, when some of the material fell on his head
and killed him. In 1705, on March 16th, a bomb fell in the cathedral
and exploded, killing many people. If it had blown the whole church to
atoms it would have caused no loss to art.
Curiously enough an accident happened of a somewhat similar character
to the church of the Port. The design for this monstrosity was sent by
a Turin architect. The cupola was to be of wood, covered with lead.
But the clerk of the works, in carrying out the design, substituted
stone for wood. The result was that, one Sunday morning, just after the
consecration of the church, the cupola fell in. Happily it was during
the first mass. The priest at the altar, hearing a cracking above him,
bolted into the vestry. An old woman, who was the sole assistant,
fled into the porch, and no lives were lost when the whole structure
collapsed.
Nice has produced some men of note—as Masséna, “L’enfant chéri de la
victoire”—whose real name was Menasseh; he was the son of a petty
Jewish taverner, and was born in 1756. What a simmering cauldron that
was in Europe, which brought to the surface Bernadotte, the saddler’s
son! Murat issued from a little public house. Augereau, the child of
a domestic servant; Masséna, the Hebrew waif and stray. Masséna was
gifted by nature with a powerful frame of body, and with indomitable
resolution. He was considered the most skilful tactician among
Napoleon’s generals, and on the field of battle he was remarkable for
coolness. He had, moreover, the invaluable quality in a commander of
not being dispirited through defeat. His faults were primarily rapacity
and avarice. In Italy, when commanding the French army of occupation,
he “behaved in such a way,” as Miot de Melito informs us, “that the
French troops, left without pay in the midst of the immense riches
which he appropriated to himself, revolted, and refused to recognise
his authority. His pilferings, his shameless avidity, tarnished the
laurels with which he had covered himself.” He brought down on himself
repeatedly the censure of Napoleon. But the greed was born in the bone.
He could not keep his fingers off what was of money value, and might be
turned into coin.
When Bonaparte assumed the command in Italy, he employed Masséna
actively on all occasions of importance, and so justly appreciated the
brilliancy and military talents he possessed, that he surnamed him “the
favoured child of victory.” In 1798 he was appointed to the command
of the army, which under General Berthier was to occupy Rome and the
Papal States. His appointment was as distasteful to the soldiers as to
the inhabitants of the subjected country, for they both became victims
of his insatiable avarice, and the multiplied complaints made of his
peculations at last forced him to resign the command and to return to
Paris. Whilst Masséna was in Rome stuffing his pockets, a paper was
affixed to the statue of Pasquin, with this dialogue inscribed on it:—
“What is the time of day, Pasquin?”
_Pasquin_: “The time of thieves.”
Although Masséna had exposed his person in so many battles without
receiving a wound, he had the misfortune to lose an eye whilst in a
sporting party, some shot having accidentally struck it.
That which redounded most to the fame of Masséna was his gallant
defence of Genoa, in 1800, after the garrison had been reduced to eat
their boots. The defence had made the Austrian army lose valuable
time, and afforded Bonaparte the requisite time to collect sufficient
forces to cross the Alps and crush the Austrians at Marengo. After
that decisive day, the first Consul who desired to return to France,
remitted the command of the troops to Masséna; but only for a while. A
certain feeling of hostility reigned between the Republican General and
the future Emperor. Masséna was envious of the fame of Napoleon, and
resented the distance that separated him from an old comrade in arms.
After the _coup d’état_ of the 18th Brumaire, he was admitted to the
legislative corps, and voted against granting the consulate for life
to Napoleon, and persistently sided with the opposition;—not out of
principle, for of that Masséna did not possess a particle, but because
he was jealous of Napoleon’s greatness and increasing power.
However, Napoleon could not afford to overlook him when conferring
honours, and Masséna was content to accept these, along with the money
granted him to maintain his honours. He was created Duke of Rivoli and
Prince of Esslingen. But he was not grateful, and of all the marshals
of France he showed himself most eager to rally to the Restoration
and to recognise Louis XVIII. He had sufficient keenness to see that
Napoleon’s star was in decline, and all that he really was solicitous
for was to keep hold of his hoarded treasures. He died at Ruel, his
country seat near Paris, in 1817.
This upstart family still flourishes on the accumulated plunder, and
still retains the titles of Duke of Rivoli and Prince of Esslingen, but
is no longer of the Jewish persuasion.
The great square at Nice is called after Masséna, but another square
bears a far more reputable name—that of Garibaldi, who was also a
native of Nice, born there on July 4th, 1807.
General Marceau’s ashes rested for some years at Nice. He fell near
Coblenz in 1796, and his body was burnt and transported, as he had
desired, to Nice, to lie beside the body of his sister Emma, when
it should be her time to depart this life. She died at the age of
eighty-one in 1834, and was laid beside the ashes of her brother.
Marceau had never been shown the smallest token of love by his mother,
and he had been brought up by his sister, to whom he was devotedly
attached. His last words were: “Je ne regrette qu’elle. Je lui dois ce
que je puis valoir.”
It is a pity that his wishes were so far disregarded that in 1889 his
remains were disinterred and transferred to the Panthéon, at Paris.
Nice has produced a poet, the Jasmin of this part of Provence; his
name is Rancher, and he was born in 1785, on July 20th, two months
before due; he was so small that a bon-bon box was extemporised as his
cradle. Indeed, it was supposed that he was dead, and he was to have
been carried to burial in his bon-bon box, when his father, who was a
surgeon, stooping over him, heard a faint sigh, and preparations for
the funeral were stopped. He became secretary to the Count de Cessola,
president of the Senate of Nice, and then under-secretary of the
Tribunal of Commerce, an office he retained till his death in 1843.
He wrote songs and composed music to them, also a little vaudeville,
and a poem “La Nemaïda,” which was serio-comic, and turned on a local
incident, a dispute between the beadles and sacristans of the church of
Ste. Françoise de Paule. His little vaudeville led to his imprisonment.
It had been composed for performance before King Charles Felix and his
queen, Marie Christine, when they were at Nice at Christmas, 1829. He
ventured without authorisation to introduce on the stage his nephew,
aged nine, dressed as a peasant, and to set him to play a little piece
on the violin. This had not been submitted to the proper authority and
allowed; accordingly the Count de Faverger, Governor of Nice, ordered
the incarceration of the audacious poet. But this bit of red-tapism was
too much, and Rancher was released in a couple of hours. He revenged
himself on the governor by a satirical and burlesque song, that ran
like wildfire through the town. A street in Nice bears Rancher’s name.
Nice was the scene of the sacrilegious rascalities of a rogue, Collet,
whose story, as he operated at Fréjus and at Draguignan as well as at
Nice, may be told.
Collet was born at Belley, in the department of Aine, of worthy and
pious parents. He entered the army after having gone through a course
of studies, and became sub-lieutenant in 1796, and was at the siege of
Brescia. But, disgusted with military service, he deserted and went
to Rome. Whilst there he heard of the wreck of a merchant vessel off
Civita Vecchia under a young captain named Tolosant, of Lyons, with
the loss of all hands. At once he saw his chance. He forged papers,
got a ring cut with the Tolosant arms, and passed himself off as the
captain, who had escaped. By this means he deceived a worthy priest,
who was steward to Cardinal Fesch; and as the Cardinal was acquainted
with the family of Tolosant, he introduced the _soi-disant_ captain
to him. The Cardinal at once insisted on Collet taking up his abode
with him, and he even presented him to the Pope, who gave the rascal
his apostolic benediction. As a friend of Cardinal Fesch, Napoleon’s
kinsman, and an inmate of his house, Collet made the round of the
bankers of Rome, discussed with them schemes for making money, and
drew loans from them to the amount of 60,000 francs. Then Collet was
invested with a charge to perform some ecclesiastical commissions
in Lombardy. He left—disappeared—just as suspicions began to be
entertained that he was not what he pretended to be, and turned up at
Mondovi. There he gave himself out to be a gentleman of means, and
he speedily ingratiated himself into the society of the young bloods
there. As Mondovi was a dull town, he proposed to brisk it up by the
institution of a theatre and by amateur performances. This proposition
was cordially accepted, a committee was appointed, and Collet was named
costumier; he was to purchase a complete theatrical wardrobe. All who
were to act were required to pay for their own costumes, and the money
was put into Collet’s hands to furnish these.
All at once the costumier vanished, carrying off with him all the
dresses, those of clergy, bishops, generals, civic authorities, with
ribbons and crosses of various orders.
He next turned up at Sion, in the Vallais, now in the cassock of a
priest, and furnished with fictitious letters of Orders. There he
presented himself to the bishop, and so ingratiated himself into
his favour that the bishop nominated him to one of his best cures,
which happened to fall vacant. He was instituted, and for five months
said mass, preached, married, baptized, catechised the children, and
consoled the dying.
Now the church was in a dilapidated condition, and the late rector
had begun a collection for its rebuilding. Collet called together the
committee of the building project, and learned that the sum already
collected was 30,000 francs. He at once volunteered to contribute
50,000 francs to the fund, if he were made treasurer, and suffered to
build on to the new church a chapel in which his own mortal remains
might repose after his death; for never, never, oh never, would he
leave his dear parishioners! A ready consent was given, and the sum
collected was put into his hands. An architect was engaged, designs for
the new church were procured, the old building was pulled down, the
material sold, and the sum produced by the sale was lodged in the hands
of Collet. Then he suggested that the mayor and the architect should
accompany him to Sion to buy the ornaments and paintings requisite
for the new church. Accordingly they departed in a carriage. Chalice,
tabernacle, three marble altars, candelabra, were bought, but not
paid for. At the recommendation of Collet, the mayor returned to the
village, carrying with him the purchases; and the architect departed to
engage masons and carpenters.
No sooner was Collet left than he took post-horses and departed for
Strasburg. There he vanished. His next appearance was in Italy,
shifting his quarters and changing his costume repeatedly. At Savona,
on the Riviera, he persuaded a banker to let him have 10,000 francs.
Next he appeared at Nice, in a shovel hat, a purple cassock, and
wearing a gold pectoral cross, as Dominic Pasqualini, Bishop of
Manfredonia. He called on the Bishop of Nice, showed him the bull
of his institution, forged by himself, and so completely deceived
him, that the bishop offered him the most cordial welcome, showed
him hospitality, took him into the seminary and asked him to examine
the seminarists. Collet saw the risk he ran, and evaded it shrewdly.
“Monseignore,” said he, “I can see by the look of their faces that they
are a set of asses. I do not wish to hurt their feelings by exposing
their ignorance—I being a stranger.”
“Well, then,” said the Bishop of Nice, “if you will not examine them,
you shall ordain them; there are thirty-three to receive deacon’s and
sub-deacon’s orders next Sunday.”
Collet could not refuse. Accordingly, vested in full pontificals, in
the Cathedral of Nice, he committed this sacrilegious act.
After this, not seeing his way to making much money at Nice,
he departed, changed his costume, and appeared at Fréjus as
plenipotentiary of the Emperor, an inspector-general, charged with
seeing to the equipment of the army of Catalonia. He presented his
credentials, which seemed to be in order; he took a high hand, and
required the head of the Gensdarmerie to furnish him with a mounted
escort to Draguignan, and he sent on an orderly before him to announce
his purpose in visiting the town, requiring proper lodgings and
provisions to be furnished for him. Then he appeared at Draguignan,
with breast covered with Orders, and there he formed his staff. A
retired captain became his aide-de-camp; the son of the Sub-Prefect of
Toulon he graciously received as his secretary; he named two officers
of artillery, one as paymaster, the other as his steward; and finally,
with a staff of twenty persons, he went to Marseilles, where he so
imposed upon the authorities that he was allowed to draw 130,000
francs from the government treasury. Thence he went to Montpellier,
and there his star began to pale. One day, after having reviewed the
troops, he dined with the Préfet, to whom he had promised the cordon
of Grand Officer of the Legion of Honour, when, during the meal, the
hôtel of the préfeture was surrounded by gensdarmes, a party of police
entered the dining-room, and the Organiser of the Army of Catalonia
was arrested and led to gaol. All his staff shared his fate, but were
released after an imprisonment of twenty days.
One day the Préfet was giving a dinner party, and, to amuse his guests,
offered to produce the prisoner who had so befooled him and the rest
of the good people of Montpellier. Accordingly he sent to the gaol for
Collet, who expected every moment to be brought forth and shot. Three
gensdarmes conducted Collet from prison to the préfeture, and till the
guests were ready to see him he was thrust into an ante-room, and two
gensdarmes were posted at the door.
Collet’s quick eye detected, lying in a corner, the white cap and apron
of a cook, and a dish of caramel on the table. In the twinkling of an
eye he had dressed himself as a cook, taken up the dish, kicked at the
door, till the gensdarmes opened and allowed him to pass forth between
them; they supposing him to be the cook.
Collet slipped out of the house and concealed himself next door. A hue
and cry ensued, and the alarm bell rang; the gensdarmes galloped along
the roads about Montpellier, and Collet looked on complacently from the
window, till, after fifteen days, the search for him was relaxed, and
then he left the town.
After having rambled about for a while without leaving traces of his
presence, he reappeared in the department of Tarn, where he presented
himself before the superior of the Schools of Christian Brothers, and
informed him that he was a gentleman of private means and of a devout
turn of soul, and that it was his desire to found a novitiate for the
Brothers, and that he had a sum of 40,000 francs at his disposal for
that purpose. Then he visited a M. Lajus, a Toulouse merchant, and
entered into negotiation with him for the sale of a house he had, and
he informed him that he was ex-sub-prefect of the department of Aine.
M. Lajus accompanied him to the house, and allowed Collet to order and
see to the carrying out of alterations, the pulling down of walls,
etc., under his eye—before a sou had been paid of the stipulated
price. Then Collet returned to the mother house of the Christian
Brothers and urged the director to visit the new novitiate. The worthy
man was so delighted that he gave a holiday to all the inmates of
the establishment, that they might go together to inspect the fresh
acquisition.
“But,” said the reverend superior, “who is to look after the house
whilst we are away?”
“Have no concern about that,” said Collet. “I will keep guard.”
So all these green goslings trotted off on a visit of inspection, to
decide which room was to be fitted up as a chapel, which was to be
library, which were to be devoted to studies, and which to serve as
dormitories.
Meanwhile Collet had free range over the college. He broke open the
treasury of the society and filled his pockets with the money found
there. He visited the chapel, and carried off all the sacred vessels;
he cleared out all the desks and lockers, and left behind, as the
superior afterwards said, “nothing but my spectacles, to enable me
another time to look sharper after rogues.”
Collet departed, with all his spoil, and took the road to Anjou; he
next turned up at Bessac in a hotel, where, through vague hints thrown
out, he allowed it to be supposed that he was the Emperor Napoleon,
escaped from Ste. Helena, and in hiding—awaiting his opportunity to
reascend the imperial throne. The loyal Bonapartists called on him and
were graciously received, and they offered him money which he also
graciously accepted and promised to repay with usury and with honours
when he came to his own again. At last the mayor became alarmed, called
on him, and respectfully intimated that he himself was in danger of
being called to account for harbouring in the place the illustrious
fugitive; that personally he was devoted to his imperial master,
and that for this very reason he was solicitous for his welfare. He
feared that the secret of his presence at Bessac was divulged, and it
was quite possible that an attempt would be made to assassinate the
fugitive. He accordingly strongly urged Collet to remove to a place
where he was not in such danger.
Collet accordingly departed; went to Rochebeaucourt, where he took up
his lodging with the commissary of the police.
In the meantime accurate descriptions of Collet had been sent
throughout France to the police, and this commissary had received
them. Yet never for a moment did it occur to him that the gentleman
of aristocratic appearance and with a purse well lined, who paid so
promptly and liberally for his _pension_, could be the man so much
sought for.
From Rochebeaucourt Collet went to Le Mans, where he figured as
a well-to-do bourgeois, devoted to charitable actions; a man of
irreproachable life. But there, finally, he was arrested, tried, and
sentenced to twenty years’ hard labour, and to be branded as a felon.
In prison he remained for twenty years, and died on the eve of the day
when his chains were to be struck off, in November, 1840.
This extraordinary story does not so much prove how gullible men are,
as how good and trustworthy most men are, so that when we do come
across a rogue who takes advantage of us, it is like an earthquake that
shakes us out of our moral equilibrium.
Some very interesting excursions may be made from Nice to places
accessible by electric tram or by train.
[Illustration: VILLEFRANCHE]
Cagnes was a castle of the Grimaldi. The little town occupies a
hog’sback, the summit of the hill is crowned by the château, and the
one street leading to it runs up the spine of hill, with houses on each
side clinging to the steep sides. The castle is not very picturesque,
but it has in the midst a quaint court, surrounded by galleries and
stairs. The great _salle_ had its ceiling painted by Carlone in the
seventeenth century. It represents the fall of Phaeton, and is one
of those subjects in the debased style of the period that are _tours
de force_ in perspective. It represents an arcade of Corinthian
pillars with windows between them painted on the flat surface, seen
in perspective from a single point only. The castle was occupied by
the Allies in 1815; a Piedmontese garrison was placed in it, and the
soldiers amused themselves with firing at the head of Phaeton.
The painter spent three years over this absurd work, and when leaving
it complete he wept and said, “Bella mea cascata di Phaëton, io non piu
te vedere, mai, mai, mai!” It is really not worth looking at, save as
an example of the degradation of art. The castle no longer appertains
to the Grimaldi; it has been sold.
Eze is reached by tram, passing the beautiful bay of Villefranche,
to the foot of the precipice on which it stands, and from whence it
is reached by a scramble up a zig-zag path in about an hour. It is
a curious example of a town, built on the summit of a rock, walled
about, once with its castle planted in its midst, where it might, it
was hoped, be safe from Moorish and Algerine pirates. Once an important
place, with its consuls, it has sunk to ruin, and is now occupied
by only ninety people. The church was built in 1772. The castle is
levelled to the foundations, but the town walls remain.
In 1770 the Corniche Road did not exist. David the Painter was on
his way to Italy to study at Rome. He arrived at Eze at night, and
the curé very kindly took in the poor and footsore young artist. He
was interested in David, and gave him a letter of introduction to a
kinsman, the Prior Fighera, in Rome. This opened to David many doors
in the capital of Western Christendom, and David received orders for
pictures. In gratitude he sent a painting of S. John the Baptist to
his friend, the curé of Eze, for his new church. About the year 1880
this picture vanished. The Administration des Beaux Arts instituted an
inquiry, and ascertained that the Consuls of Eze had sold the painting
to an Englishman for 500 francs, whereas it was worth 100,000 francs.
That picture is now in the National Gallery.
In the little cemetery of Eze is laid a Swiss woman, assassinated
in 1902 by Vidal, a woman-murderer. From Nice a line takes to Puget
Théniers, on the Var. The line is full of interest, passing places
rich in striking objects, and allowing of branch excursions up the
Vesubie, the Timée, the Cians, with scenery of the grandest character.
It, moreover, enables the visitor to explore strange villages, such as
Touët-de-Beuil, plastered against the limestone rocks. The _Clus_ of
the Cians at Touët, where the river cleaves through the Jura limestone
stained various colours, is as fine as anything of the kind. There
is hardly a village or town accessible from this line that does not
repay a visit, and which will not fill a sketch-book or furnish a
photographer with subjects.