"Well you see, the weather is good enough."
Soon, we had passed the black and white tower built upon the Rabiou
shoal, and although sheltered by Cape Camarat which runs far out into
the open sea, and of which the flashing light appeared from minute to
minute, the _Bel-Ami_ was already lifted forwards by long powerful
slow waves; those hills of water which move on, one behind the other,
without noise, without shock, without foam, menacing without fury,
alarming in their very tranquillity.
One saw nothing, one only felt the ascent and descent of the yacht over
the dark and silently moving waters.
Bernard said:
"There has been a gale out at sea to-night, sir; we shall be lucky if
we get in without accident."
The day broke brightly over the wild crowding waves, and we all three
looked anxiously seawards to see if the squall were returning.
All this time the boat was running a great pace before the wind and
with the tide. Already Agay appeared on our beam, and we held counsel
whether we should make for Cannes, to escape the rough weather, or for
Nice, running to seaward of the isles.
Bernard would have preferred Cannes: but as the breeze did not freshen,
I decided in favour of Nice.
For three hours all went well; though the poor little yacht rolled
like a cork in the awful swell.
No one who is unacquainted with the open sea, that sea of mountains,
moving with weighty and rapid strides, separated by valleys which
change place from second to second, filled up and formed again
incessantly, can guess, can imagine the mysterious, redoubtable,
terrifying and superb force of the waves.
Our little dingy followed far behind us, at the extremity of forty
yards of hawser, through this liquid and dancing chaos. We lost sight
of it every moment, then suddenly it would reappear perched on the
summit of a wave, floating along like a great white bird.
Here is Cannes in the depth of its bay, Saint-Honorat with its tower
standing up among the waves, and before us the Cape d'Antibes.
The breeze freshened little by little, and the crests of the waves
became flocks of sheep, those snowy sheep which move so fast, and of
which the countless troop careers along without dog or shepherd under
the endless sky.
Bernard said to me:
"It will be all we shall do to make Antibes."
And indeed seas began to break over us, with inexpressible and violent
noise. The sharp squalls shook us, throwing us into yawning gulfs,
whence as we emerged, we righted ourselves with terrible shocks.
The gaff was lowered, but at every oscillation of the yacht, the boom
touched the waves and seemed ready to tear away the mast, which if it
should fly away with the sail, would leave us to float alone and lost
upon the wild waves.
Bernard cried out:
"The dingy, sir."
I turned to look. A huge wave filled it, rolled it over, enveloped it
in foam as if it would devour it, and, breaking the hawser by which it
was made fast to us, took possession of it, half sinking, drowned; a
conquered prey which it will presently throw upon the rocks down there,
below the headland.
The minutes seem hours. Nothing can be done, we must go on, round
the point in front of us, and when we have done that, we shall be
sheltered, and in safety.
At last we reach it! The sea is now calm and smooth, protected as it is
by the long tongue of rocks and earth which forms the Cape of Antibes.
There is the harbour from which we started only a few days ago,
although it seems to me we have been voyaging for months, and we enter
just as noon is striking.
The men are radiant on finding themselves back again, though Bernard
repeats at every other moment:
"Ah, sir! our poor little boat; it went to my heart, to see it go down
like that!"
As for me, I took the four o'clock train, to go and dine with my friend
in the principality of Monaco.
I wish I had time to write at length about this surprising state;
smaller than many a village in France, but wherein one may find an
absolute sovereign, bishops, an army of Jesuits and _seminarists_
more numerous than that of the ruler; an artillery, the guns of which
are nearly all rifled, an etiquette more ceremonious than that of his
lamented Majesty Louis XIV., principles of authority more despotic than
those of William of Prussia, joined to a magnificent toleration for
the vices of humanity, on which indeed, live both sovereign, bishops,
Jesuits, _seminarists,_ ministers, army, magistrates, every one in
short.
Hail to this great pacific monarch, who without fear of invasion or
revolution, reigns peacefully over his happy little flock of subjects,
in the midst of court ceremonies which preserve intact the traditions
of the four reverences, the twenty-six handkissings, and all the forms
used once upon a time around Great Rulers.
This monarch, moreover, is neither sanguinary nor vindictive, and when
he banishes, for he does banish sometimes, the measure is put in force
with the utmost delicacy.
Is a proof needful?
An obstinate player, on a day of ill luck, insulted the sovereign. A
decree was issued for his expulsion.
During a whole month, he prowled around the forbidden Paradise,
fearing the sword blade of the archangel, in the guise of the sabre of
the policeman. One day, however, he hardened his heart, crossed the
frontier, reached the very centre of the kingdom in thirty seconds, and
penetrated into the precincts of the Casino. But suddenly an official
stopped him:
"Are you not banished, sir?"
"Yes, sir, but I leave by the next train."
"Oh! in that case it is all right. You can go in."
And every week he came back: and each time, the same functionary asked
him the same question, to which he invariably gave the same answer.
Could justice be more gentle?
Within the last few years, however, a very serious and novel case
occurred within the kingdom.
This was an assassination.
A man, a native of Monaco, not one of the wandering strangers of whom
one meets legions on these shores--a husband, in a moment of anger,
killed his wife; killed her without rhyme or reason, without any excuse
that could be accepted.
Indignation was unanimous throughout the principality.
The Supreme Court met to judge this exceptional case (a murder had
never taken place before), and the wretch was with one voice, condemned
to death.
The indignant sovereign ratified the sentence.
There only remained to execute the criminal. Then arose a difficulty.
The country possessed neither guillotine nor executioner.
What was to be done? By the advice of the minister of Foreign affairs,
the Prince opened negotiations with France to obtain the loan of a
headsman and his apparatus.
Long deliberations took place in the ministry at Paris. At last they
replied by sending an estimate of the cost of moving the woodwork and
the practitioner. The whole amounted to sixteen thousand francs (six
hundred and forty pounds).
The Monarch of Monaco reflected that the operation would cost him dear;
the assassin was certainly not worth that price. Sixteen thousand
francs for the head of a wretch like that! Never!
The same request was addressed to the Italian government. A King and a
brother would no doubt show himself less exacting than a Republic.
The Italian government sent in a bill which amounted to twelve
thousand francs, (four hundred and eighty pounds).
Twelve thousand francs! It would be necessary to impose a new tax, a
tax of two francs (twenty pence) a head! This would be enough to cause
serious, and hitherto unknown trouble in the State.
Then they bethought them of having the villain beheaded by a simple
soldier. But the general, on being consulted, replied hesitatingly,
that perhaps his men had scarcely sufficient practice to acquit
themselves satisfactorily of a task, which undoubtedly demanded great
experience in the handling of the sword.
Then the Prince again assembled the Supreme Court, and submitted to it
this embarrassing case.
They deliberated long, without finding any practical way out of the
difficulty. At last the first president proposed to commute the
sentence of death, to that of lifelong imprisonment, and the measure
was adopted.
But they did not possess a prison. It was necessary to fit one up, and
a gaoler was appointed who took charge of the prisoner.
For six months all went well. The captive slept all day on a straw
mattress in the nook arranged for him, and his guardian lazily reclined
upon a chair before the door, while he watched the passers-by.
The Prince, however, is economical--extravagance is not his greatest
fault--and he has accurate accounts laid before him of the smallest
expenses of his State (the list of them is not a long one). They handed
him, therefore, the bill of the expenses incurred in the creation
of this new function, the cost of the prison, the prisoner, and the
watchman. The salary of this last was a heavy burden on the budget of
the Sovereign.
At first he merely made a wry face over it; but when he reflected that
this might go on for ever (the prisoner was young), he requested his
Minister of Justice to take measures to suppress the expense.
The minister consulted the President of the Tribunal, and the two
agreed to suppress the expense of a gaoler. The prisoner, thus invited
to guard himself, could not fail to escape, which would solve the
question to the satisfaction of all parties.
The gaoler was therefore restored to his family, and it became the duty
of a scullion from the palace kitchen, to carry to the prisoner his
morning and evening meals. But the captive made no attempt to recover
his liberty.
Finally, one day, as they had neglected to furnish him with food, they
beheld him tranquilly appear at the palace to claim it; and from that
day forward, it became his habit to come at meal-times to the palace,
to eat with the servants, whose friend he became, and thus save the
cook the trouble of the walk to and fro.
After breakfast, he would take a turn as far as Monte Carlo. He
sometimes went into the Casino, to venture a five-franc piece on the
green cloth. When he had won, he gave himself a good dinner at one of
the most fashionable hotels; then he returned to his prison, carefully
locking his door on the inside.
He never slept away a single night.
The situation became a little puzzling, not for the convict, but for
the judges.
The court assembled afresh, and it was decided that they should invite
the criminal to leave the State of Monaco.
When this decision was announced to him, he simply replied:
"You are pleased to be facetious. Well! and what would become of me in
that case? I have no longer any means of subsistence. I have no longer
a family. What would you have me do? I was condemned to death. You
did not choose to execute me. I made no complaint. I was afterwards
condemned to imprisonment for life, and placed in the hands of a
gaoler. You took away my guardian. Again I made no complaint.
"Now, to-day, you want to turn me out of the country. Not if I know
it. I am a prisoner, your prisoner, judged and condemned by you. I am
faithfully fulfilling my sentence. I remain here."
The Supreme Court was floored. The Prince was in a terrible rage, and
ordered fresh measures to be taken.
Deliberations were resumed.
Then, at last, they decided to offer to the culprit a pension of six
hundred francs (twenty-four pounds), if he would leave the State and
live elsewhere.
He accepted.
He has rented a little plot five minutes' walk from the kingdom of his
former sovereign, and lives happily upon his property, cultivating a
few vegetables, and despising all potentates.
However, the Court of Monaco has profited, though a little late, by
this experience, and has made a treaty with the French Government, by
which they send their convicts over to France, who keeps them out of
sight, in consideration of a modest compensation.
In the judicial archives of the principality, one is shown the decree
which settles the pension, by which the rascal was induced to leave the
State of Monaco.
Opposite to the palace, rises the rival establishment, the Roulette.
There is, however, no hatred, no hostility between them; for the one
supports the other, which in return protects the first. Admirable
example! unique instance of two neighbouring and powerful families
living in peace in one tiny state: an example well calculated to efface
the remembrance of the Capulets and the Montagues. Here, the house of
the sovereign; there, the house of play; the old and the new society
fraternizing to the sound of gold.
The saloons of the Casino are as readily opened to strangers, as those
of the Prince are difficult of access.