Both at Pau and Biarritz there was a great deal of very fair sport to be obtained, as between them they could produce two packs of fox-hounds, a certain amount of wild shooting, excellent fishing, for in some of the valleys in the neighbourhood of Pau there are first-class trout streams, and some good salmon are to be taken occasionally. Moreover, both towns rejoice in a Club, that of Pau being one of the most comfortable establishments of the sort I have ever come across, and there is plenty of golf. But, mild as is the climate, it is, nevertheless, a grey Northern winter. On the Riviera, it is the genuine South, with its brilliant sunshine and colour, and masses of flowers, and, moreover, that general air of gaiety that seems to spring naturally from sunshine and colour. Then, again, the Riviera is wonderfully beautiful. A stroll round the promontory of Monaco on a fine morning at Christmas time, is one of the most satisfactory promenades in the world, and there were few pleasanter places than Monte Carlo until it became spoiled, as Venice and Florence, and, indeed, as all the pleasantest and most beautiful places in the world were, in recent years, by the invasion of that most atrocious sample, of a very odious race,—I mean the low-class German tourist. Swarms of these detestable people used to be let loose in Monte Carlo, arriving in cheap trains from Germany, and spoiling everything by their horrible manners, and general shoddiness. The normal population of Monte Carlo may have consisted of scamps, male and female, but, at any rate, until the wholesale arrival of the Germans they were well-mannered and well-dressed scamps, and were not eyesores to the surrounding scenery.
There have always been numerous legendary suicides connected with Monte Carlo. In old days, these scandals used to be freely invented by some of the local newspapers, until a decent subsidy was obtained from the Casino Company, when they invariably and unaccountably (?) ceased. I do not suppose that in reality there have been more suicides at Monte Carlo than in any other place where there is a constantly shifting and cosmopolitan population, but, oddly enough, I witnessed one once, and without any particular feeling of regret. There had been a particularly vile specimen of the German tourist, playing a very small game at a table I had been patronising in the afternoon, who made himself odious to every one in his vicinity by his noise and bad manners. That evening, I happened to be dining early and alone in the Restaurant of the Hôtel de Paris before going to the Opera. I had just begun my dinner, and was seated close to the windows that look out on the Rond Point, just outside the steps of the Casino. It was about the hour that most people would be dressing for dinner, so the little “Place” was quite deserted. Suddenly I saw a figure come hurrying down the steps, and when it reached the Rond Point I recognised the man who had made himself so objectionable in the rooms during the afternoon. Just as he arrived opposite the window he produced a revolver and shot himself. And then what interested me, was the intervention of the Police. The “Place,” which before had seemed quite deserted, swarmed with them; they appeared to come out of the ground. In a trice the suicide,—for the man, I am sure, was dead,—was seated in a victoria, with an agent de police by his side, and driven rapidly away. The last I saw was Monsieur l’Agent putting the man’s hat on with a sort of fatherly air, as if saying, “It is all right; you are not the least hurt, only a little frightened.” The local newspaper subsidies must have been in full blast just then, for I never heard nor read any mention of the incident.
, WITH EQUERRIES IN ATTENDANCE, ON THE PROMENADE AT MARIENBAD
[CHAPTER XIII]
SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF AN EQUERRY
To return to Marienbad: on the 31st of August, his cure having been completed, the King paid a visit to the Emperor Franz Josef at Vienna, and was lodged with his suite at the Hofburg. I have written so much about official visits in the last two chapters, that I do not think it the least necessary to enlarge on the Vienna visit. There was a Court representation at the Opera one evening and a dinner at the Palace of Schönbrunn, followed by a Court performance at the Burg Theatre. The Emperor himself was an interesting personage, in a sense, and though I believe not in the least remarkable for brains or intelligence, he will be remembered in history as having succeeded in keeping together the heterogeneous bevy ofNationalities, that was known as the Austro-Hungarian Empire, during a very long reign. He was often described as a sort of Royal Martyr, owing to the succession of tragedies that occurred in his family; but those who knew him best, always said that these tragedies that shocked the world, left him perfectly unmoved, so completely selfish and self-centred was he. Great capital was made out of his industry, and the fact that he rose at five in the morning, but in reality there was nothing particularly remarkable about this early rising (except for the appalling inconvenience it was to his suite and servants), for he dined at five in the afternoon and went to bed at eight. Eight hours cannot be looked upon as a very short night’s rest. Latterly, I believe, he lived almost entirely at Schönbrunn, and in his old age used to breakfast daily with an aged actress who had been a friend of his in old days, and was established in a villa close to the palace. There was, naturally, at their age, no concealment about what had become a very harmless liaison, and the whole Viennese public were perfectly aware of it.