innumerable difficulties which every day for three months we had
encountered,—difficulties which we should never have overcome but by
dint of sheer energy, and thanks to that incredible patience with
which prisoners only are endowed,—we reached the wall of the rampart.
A few more days of labor and suffering and we shall be free. Free!
The reader will understand what courage and hope that word must have
given us to induce us to undertake and enable us to accomplish a work
which, under any other circumstances, would have appeared to us as
simple madness. Alas! it was at the very moment when we seemed to be
approaching the end of our fatigues that the obstacles became most
difficult to surmount. Some of our number seemed ready to abandon
the task which for more than three months we had been prosecuting.
All our labor was going to be thrown away. Again it was the energy
of the sailor which saved us, and gradually revived the hopes of his
weaker brethren. The wall of the rampart which we had still to pierce,
and which is, of course, intended to resist cannon-shot, seemed to
us proof against anything. It is constructed of enormous blocks of
granite, jammed tightly together by smaller stones driven in like
wedges, and the whole is united into one solid mass by means of Roman
cement, which has become as hard as the stone itself. We endeavored
with the nails—the only tools we had, and which we had put in wooden
handles—to loosen the joints of the stones. With another piece of wood
we had made a mallet, and to get the wood necessary for these purposes
we had broken up the musket-stand and the barrack-shelves.
[Sidenote: IMPROVISING TOOLS.]
[Sidenote: A DISCOURAGING SITUATION.]
But the only result of our efforts was to blunt our implements. What
could we do to supply our lack of tools? Our first thought was to take
away a bar from one of our bedsteads, which were of iron; and this
we did. This bar which we took was two feet in length and about as
large round as a man’s thumb. After using one of the ends of this bar
against the stone, we tried what use we could make of it as a lever.
But the stones were too hard and too heavy, and our iron bar bent
like a switch. What could we do now? We were not disposed to abandon
at the last moment a project which had cost us so much toil; and yet
we had many times emerged from our tunnel with the skin rubbed off
our hands, and our faces as red as fire, having hardly succeeded,
after long days of fatiguing labor, in working out a stone about as
big as one’s fist. At length the bright thought occurred to one of
us of making the very things which had been intended to secure our
confinement contribute towards our escape. We determined to remove
one of the iron bars which guarded the window. These bars were five
feet and a half in length, and an inch and a half thick. But, in
order that the warders might not perceive that one of them had been
taken away, we first of all made an imitation bar of a piece of wood,
cut from one of the broad shelves, and which we colored with ink and
blacking. When this was finished and dry, we succeeded in unfastening
with nails one of the bars of the window. We watched for a moment when
the sentinel on the rampart opposite our window had his back towards
us, and little by little loosened the stones in which the bar was set.
When this was done, taking advantage of one very lucky moment, we
gave the bar a wrench, got it out, and instantly replaced it by the
imitation bar of wood. We then took the precaution of stopping up with
bread crumbs—which we kneaded so as to look like mortar—the hole made
in loosening the bar, and afterwards threw a handful of dust over the
whole, that the different shades of color might not betray our device.
This bar of iron became in our hands a formidable weapon. Without it
we must inevitably have lost all the fruit of our labors. When we
were in possession of this formidable tool, as we had now to attack
stone, it was impossible for us to continue to work lying flat on our
faces, as we had done when it was a simple question of burrowing in
the earth. It was absolutely necessary that we should have complete
control over all our movements. We were obliged, therefore, before
resuming our attack on the wall, to enlarge this part of our tunnel,
and to excavate in front of the wall a little chamber high enough for
two men to work there on their knees, and large enough for us to use
the iron bar to advantage. Of this bar we made, as occasion required,
a crowbar or a ram. Then, and not till then, did we make any real
impression on the wall. The scraps of information which we had been
able to gather from the unguarded talk of the warders had given us a
false idea with respect to the thickness of this rampart. We thought
it was only about six or six and a half feet thick, whereas in reality
it was more than sixteen feet. When, therefore, after indescribable
labor, we had worked away the stone bit by bit, and made our hole six
feet and a half in depth, we were disconcerted to see no sign that we
were approaching the end of our labors. Far from being discouraged
by this, however, we redoubled our efforts, and our astonishment
increased as the hole became deeper. Still we worked on. The hole
became ten feet deep; then twelve feet; then fourteen feet; and it was
not until we had dug sixteen and a half feet into the wall, that the
man who happened just then to be at work giving a heavy blow to the
stone, pierced it, and after being dazzled for a moment by the sudden
entry of the light, saw the sea stretching out in front of him. He
immediately stopped up the aperture, and came to impart the welcome
news to his comrades. We took counsel together, and decided that our
escape should be attempted that very night.
[Sidenote: ROUTINE OF THE PRISON.]
And here I must interrupt the course of my narrative for a moment in
order to give the reader a few necessary explanations. “How was it,”
he will say, “that the officials did not perceive the destruction
of the wood-work which you had been obliged to break up to make
the handles of your tools, and the bar of wood with which you had
replaced the iron bar of the window?” To this question I have a very
simple answer to give. The officials of the prison had very little
to do with us. The warders never came into our rooms except morning
and evening, when they came to call the muster-roll. These visits
were made at fixed hours, and I need hardly say that we were always
sure to be present when they were made. We took good care, too, to
work only in the daytime, for in the silence of night the dull blows
struck underground would have been audible above. The warders went
from room to room, calling over the muster-roll, and having seen
that all the prisoners were in their places, immediately retired
without troubling themselves about what might be going on. Besides, no
_détenu_ wishing to retain the good opinion of his comrades ever spoke
to the warders; and these latter, finding themselves thus isolated,
sought no intercourse with the prisoners. Again, _détention_ being
an essentially political punishment, we were not subjected to hard
labor, and within the court, as well as in our rooms, were absolutely
free. Another question which the reader will have asked is this: “How
did you manage to keep your secret unknown during these four months?”
Again his curiosity shall be satisfied. There was no secret, and there
could not have been any. It was impossible for us to descend into our
cellar and tunnel, or to remount to the surface, without being seen
by those of our fellow-prisoners who happened to be in our dormitory.
The dormitories being open all day long, the prisoners passed freely
from one room to another, and by degrees they had all come to know
of our resolution. The majority dissuaded us, and endeavored to point
out all the difficulties which stood in our way. Our project seemed to
them an absolutely impossible one. They thought that, our work having
lasted so long, the officials had got scent of it, and were letting us
go on, because they intended to have soldiers stationed ready to shoot
us when we attempted to make our escape. We allowed our comrades to
talk thus, and only asked one thing of them—that they would not betray
our project. This they all promised, and, as the reader will see, they
kept their word. I must, however, add that we had deceived them as to
the time of our departure. When they inquired as to the condition of
our work, we carefully guarded ourselves from revealing the stage at
which we had arrived. Several times I gave them to understand that
our work would not be finished before the end of January; and on the
very day when everything was finished, we had given no sign of our
approaching departure until we were about to set out. We had nothing
more to do but to enlarge the hole we had made in the day, and to get
out through that aperture.
[Sidenote: DECEIVING THE GUARDS.]
The rampart which we had pierced is on the left of the citadel, and
therefore faces seaward. When the tide is low the sea retires and
leaves the rocks dry for a distance of sixty or seventy feet around.
On the night of our escape the evening muster-roll was called as
usual, and we were shut up in our dormitories. Almost immediately two
of our number went down to complete the enlargement of the hole, and
this labor occupied them two hours. On their return we informed our
companions that the moment for our escape had arrived. Their emotion
was certainly greater than ours. Before setting out we took the
precaution of placing in our beds our bolsters, made to look as much
as possible like a man’s body, and with our night-caps stuck at the
top. We also spread our prison clothes on our beds, as we were in the
habit of doing every evening. Our object in adopting these precautions
was to deceive the warder when he came in the morning to call over
the muster-roll. The stratagem succeeded, and the officials did not
know of our flight until six o’clock the next evening. This was very
fortunate for us, as otherwise we should not have been able to get
away any great distance from the citadel, and we should infallibly
have been retaken. It was the 14th of November, at nine o’clock in the
evening; the tide was out, and the rocks at the foot of the rampart
were left bare. We had been able to find out the times of the tides
in the almanac at the canteen. Our precautions had been all carefully
taken, and, thanks to the depth of the shaft we had sunk at the
entrance of the tunnel, and to the slope given to the tunnel itself,
the hole which we had made in the wall of the rampart was only ten
feet above the rocks.
[Sidenote: OUT IN THE OPEN AIR.]
One after another we crept through the tunnel, and then getting
through the hole in the wall, we were able, while still clinging
with our hands to the wall of the rampart, to reach with a drop the
rocks beneath. Then, following all the bends of the wall, and keeping
as near to it as possible, we passed around to the land side of the
fortress. In like manner we passed along over the beach, keeping as
near as possible to the little town, situated about one thousand
yards from the fortress; and thus at length, after creeping silently
between the huts of the coast-guardsmen, we reached the dry land
opposite a little village called Loe Malo. The tide was now coming in.
It had been our intention to divide, as soon as we were clear of the
fortress, into two groups of three men each, only six prisoners having
ventured to escape. We, however, marched on together, and without
resting during the remainder of the night, in order, as quickly as
possible, to put as much distance as we could between us and the
fortress. Our object was to reach some little port of Brittany, and
then endeavor to take ship for England. When we were brought to the
citadel the authorities had caused us to be minutely searched, and had
not left any money in our possession. I had, however, succeeded in
concealing a small sum by carefully sewing it into the lining of my
coat. This money was of the greatest service to us, as it enabled us
on the following morning to take the railway, and thus in a few hours
to put a considerable distance between us and the citadel.
[Sidenote: FREEDOM AT LAST.]
After marching all night, however, through a drenching rain, if we
had presented ourselves at the railway station as we then were, our
appearance would have excited suspicion. We had taken the precaution
of bringing with us from the prison shirts, brushes, blacking,
and, in short, everything necessary to our toilet. In a place of
concealment we carefully brushed up and dressed ourselves to the best
of our ability; and when, at daylight, we presented ourselves at the
railway station, we were clean and tidy, and appeared to have come
from some place very near. I had brought a book away with me from the
prison, and this I carried under my arm to give myself the look of a
traveller. On our way to the railway station we saw three _gendarmes_
running towards us, gun in hand. Without faltering we walked coolly
on, and the _gendarmes_, as we came up, politely stepped aside to
let us pass. We took the train for a small port in Brittany, and in
the evening succeeded in getting on board an English vessel. We were
saved!
XLIX.
THE GAMBLING HELLS OF GERMANY.[5]
THE FOUR GREAT SPAS.—DESCRIPTION OF BADEN, HOMBURG, WIESBADEN,
AND EMS.—ROULETTE AND ROUGE-ET-NOIR.—SPLENDOR OF THE SALOONS.—THE
PERSONS WHO FREQUENT THEM.—PROFITS AND PECULIARITIES OF THE
DIRECTION.—THE PHILOSOPHY OF GAMBLING.—WHY PLAYERS LOSE.—STRANGE
SUPERSTITION OF BETTORS.—THE INVALIDS.—DROLL SCENES AT THE
PUMP-ROOM.—THE MAN WITH A SNAKE IN HIS STOMACH.—THE ROBUST
HYPOCHONDRIAC.
The best known and the most popular of all the fashionable and
gambling watering-places in Europe are Baden-Baden, Homburg,
Wiesbaden, and Ems.
[5] The gambling spas of Germany, but not those of other countries,
have been closed since Chapters XLIX. and L. were written; but the
chapters have been left in their original form, as the present is a
better tense for description than the past.
The first, a town of some seven thousand inhabitants, is delightfully
situated in a valley of the Black Forest, on a small stream known
as the Oehlbach, eighteen miles from Carlsruhe, in the Grand Duchy
of Baden. Homburg von der Hohe, having a population of about five
thousand, is the capital of the Landgraviate of Hesse-Homburg, and may
be considered a suburb of Frankfort on the Maine, as it is only nine
miles from that city. Wiesbaden, fourteen miles west of Frankfort,
contains nearly twenty-five thousand people, and is the capital of the
Duchy of Nassau. This pleasant city is on the Salzbach, an affluent
of the Rhine, and at the foot of the delightful Taunus Mountains, its
situation and climate being almost identical with those of Homburg.
Ems, often called Bad-Ems, is a hamlet on the Lahn, fifteen miles
north of Wiesbaden. It is also in Nassau; is shut in by hills, has
a pleasant terrace along the river, and is surrounded by delightful
scenery.
[Sidenote: COSMOPOLITANISM OF THE BATHS.]
Though all these spas, or baths, as they are styled, are in Germany,
they are visited during the season, extending from May to October,
by invalids and pleasure-seekers from every civilized country. July
and August are the most fashionable months, and then the springs
are frequented by French, Spaniards, Dutch, English, and Americans,
as well as Germans. The principal patrons, independent of the home
population, are from France, England, and our own country, albeit
almost every nationality under the sun is represented at those
centres of folly and dissipation. I have seen Turks and Armenians at
Baden, Greeks and Persians at Homburg, Egyptians and East Indians at
Wiesbaden, and Mongols and Arabians at Ems.
Baden (it is called Baden-Baden to distinguish it from other places
of the same name) is the most fashionable of the four resorts, and
cannot be surpassed for the beauty of its scenery. The picturesque
heights rising above the valley, the ruins of the old castle
overlooking it, the magnificent views, the pleasant drives, handsome
villas, and charming walks in the neighborhood, with the agreeable
and varied society, render it remarkably inviting. The number of
strangers annually flocking to Baden is from fifty to sixty thousand,
and these, especially in midsummer, crowd the hotels and countless
boarding-houses to overflowing.
Homburg within the past ten years has also become very fashionable,
and counts its summer visitors by the tens of thousands. It lacks
the pictorial quality of Baden, but its atmosphere is reputed to
be extremely salubrious, and its society is delightful, of course.
Being so near Frankfort, many persons, particularly those in delicate
health, reside there all the year round, and many of the Frankforters
have their residences at the springs.
Wiesbaden, even more than Homburg, is the home of the denizens of
the old German capital, and by reason of its larger population, has
greater attractions than the rival watering-place. A large number of
retired bankers and merchants from various parts of the Continent have
villas at Wiesbaden, and every year the number increases.
[Sidenote: QUALITY OF THE VISITORS.]
Ems has had, and still has, the reputation of being patronized
extensively by crowned heads and the nobility; but the prosperous
and pleasure-loving generally are hieing to the banks of the Lahn
more and more every season, and making its society more agreeable and
democratic at the same time. The annual attendance is much less than
at any of the other three springs, but they who go to Ems claim that
the quality of its visitors more than compensates for any want of
quantity.
The four German spas are on the whole very much alike, barring
topical features. They each claim great antiquity in regard to the
fame of their waters, holding, and upon good grounds, that the old
Romans found vast benefit in the healing virtues of the baths. For
generations they were frequented only by invalids, but of late years
gayety and enjoyment have been the object of the majority of their
patrons. The gambling, it must be confessed, has been, and is still,
the chief attraction; not so much because all the visitors wish to
play themselves, but they like to see others play, and to be part of
the great variety of people whom the tables draw to the different
spas. Since the gambling has ceased, as it did last year (1872), the
German watering-places have lost much of their allurement, and the
thousands who used to go there will be represented by hundreds merely.
What is considered wickedness has unquestionably its spice and charm
for the average mind, and a certain departure from the customary and
conventional creates a species of magnetism.
The games at the baths are _roulette_ and _rouge-et-noir_, frequently
called _trente-et-quarante_. The smallest stake allowed at _roulette_
is a florin (about fifty cents) and at _rouge-et-noir_ two florins.
The largest bet that can be made at the former is four thousand
florins, and the largest bet that can be made at the latter game is
five thousand six hundred florins. The capital at the _roulette_
table is thirty thousand francs (six thousand dollars), and at
_rouge-et-noir_ one hundred and fifty thousand francs (thirty thousand
dollars). When this sum is won by any of the bettors, the bank is
declared broken, and the table is closed for the day, but is re-opened
on the day following for all to test still further their good or
ill luck. Newspaper correspondents are constantly writing about the
breaking of the bank at Baden or Homburg, depending, as many such
writers do, upon their imagination for their facts. The truth is, the
bank is very seldom broken,—sometimes not more than once or twice
during the whole season,—and when it is, it almost invariably wins
back from the fortunate player all, and much more than he has gained.
[Sidenote: SPLENDOR OF THE SALOONS.]
The gambling saloons are in large and splendid buildings, beautifully
frescoed and gilded in the interior, and luxuriously furnished.
They are called the Conversationshaus, the Cursaal or Curhaus,
containing, in addition to the gambling tables, spacious apartments
for reading, dining, dancing, and lounging. The tables are thronged
during the height of the season by elegantly dressed men and women
of divers nationalities. They are presided over by the banker,—so he
is styled,—who receives and pays out the money, and keeps general
watch over the game, and by several croupiers, who with a little
rake, draw in or push out the stakes as they are won or lost by the
bank. During July and August, the gaming saloons, in which there are
generally six or eight roulette or rouge-et-noir tables, present a
brilliant spectacle. Anybody may enter, if he be respectably dressed
and well-mannered, though he must leave his cane or umbrella with the
lackeys in the vestibule, remove his hat, and refrain from speaking
above a whisper. Why the Goddess of Chance should be entitled to the
homage of silence may seem singular; but when it is remembered that
all gamesters, while engaged at play, are exceedingly nervous, and
therefore morbidly sensitive, it is plain enough why the strictest
order and quiet should be carefully preserved.
[Illustration: CONVERSATIONHAUS AT BADEN.]
[Illustration: CONCERT IN THE GARDENS AT BADEN.]
[Sidenote: ALL KINDS OF WOMEN.]
The spectacle, I have said, is brilliant; and indeed it is. The
saloons are adorned like palaces; immense mirrors, in deep gilt
frames, are upon the walls; rich silk and lace curtains depend from
the windows; gorgeous chandeliers diffuse their radiance; velvet sofas
invite to rest, and the clink of gold tempts to hazard. About the
tables are gathered young and lovely women, richly dressed, from the
cities of the old world and the new, and men in fashionable attire,
representing various ranks, professions, and callings. There are
dowager duchesses from England, pretty countesses from France, fleshy
baronesses from Germany, delicate maidens from America, lorettes from
Paris, adventuresses from Naples, danseuses from Petersburg, and
actresses from Vienna. Spanish grandees stand shoulder to shoulder
with French communists, who fought like tigers for the possession of
the French capital; Calabrian bandits, who have retired, independent,
from the trade of throat-cutting, are in close contact with honest
Holland burghers; Russian princes hand their stakes to professional
blacklegs recently arrived from London; Swiss statesmen exchange nods
with bankrupt gamesters; and Belgian chevaliers of industry smile,
as they win, upon Teutonic philanthropists risking a few napoleons,
simply for lack of something better to do.
The air of the players is entirely genteel, and their manners
completely negative and subdued. Whether they are lucky or unlucky,
would seem to make no difference to them; they give no outward sign;
their faces are usually immovable, unless high breeding, as it is
commonly understood, prompts them to look cheerful when they lose, and
melancholy when they win.
The slightest disturbance is very rare in the saloons. I have been in
them, day after day, without noticing the least departure from order,
or the smallest violation of conventional courtesy. Occasionally, some
undisciplined man manifests his nervousness and excitement outwardly,
when, if the stony stare or facial disapproval of those about him does
not chill him back to conventional bearing, the lackeys, always in
attendance, induce him to carry his demonstrations into the open air.
The impression obtained from the saloons by a new comer is, that all
the habitués are amiable, insouciant, comfortable, and prosperous.
He would never suspect that, behind all this fair comedy, lurks the
sombre spirit of tragedy; that the serenest faces mask an aching
mind, and that the softest smiles hide, but do not help, a breaking
heart. Nowhere under the sun is social masquerading more skilful
and complete than in the German temples of chance. Everything is so
smooth, so decorous, so delicate, so nicely adjusted, that one who
seeks for inner contrasts must seem like a cynic and an iconoclast.
To him who can believe in appearances, Wiesbaden and Ems are the most
satisfactory places of sojourn. They express the essence of formal
conventionality, and the rounded relation between unexceptionable
raiment and unexceptionable manners. They point to the promised land
of adaptation, and predict the millennium of mode.
There have ever been, and there ever will be, any number of persons
foolish enough to think they can break the bank, if they will only
watch the game closely, and profit by the favor of fortune. It is
this delusion which sends, year after year, so many victims to the
Conversationshaus and Cursaal, and keeps up the faith of the victims,
even after they have been ruined again and again.
[Sidenote: THE DIRECTION.]