Besides being injurious to agriculture, the systematic slaughter of insectivorous birds must tend to increase the number of mosquitoes. I cannot say we were annoyed with these insects, for the season was winter, and from any stray one that happened to be in the apartments at night we were protected by fine gauze curtains hanging in copious drapery around the beds. They become, however, a serious trouble in spring and summer, more particularly in the neighbourhood of trees. If it were for nothing more than lessening the numbers of mosquitoes, the settled inhabitants should interpose by some general movement to preserve the small birds from indiscriminate destruction. If they do interpose, they may as well, while in a lecturing mood, offer some hints to the municipal authorities regarding their neglect in sundry other little matters; some of them so obvious to the senses, that they do not need to be particularised. When a town professes to lay itself out as an attractive health-resort, it should not have been left to strangers to make these remonstrances. The self-interest of the people, as well as good taste, ought before this to have applied a corrective.
Before quitting the country, I visited Monaco, partly with a view to see what I had heard sufficient talk about, the Casino of Monte Carlo. The principality, shrunk to moderate dimensions, is now visited almost exclusively on account of the Casino. Few trouble themselves about the old walled town on the rocky peninsula, though it is interesting from historical circumstances. Occupying a pleasant situation on an elevated plateau east from the town, Monte Carlo consists of the Casino, a hotel, and a few villas, shops, and restaurants. The whole are intermingled with gardens, promenades, and terraces. On the principal terrace grow some fine date palms. The place has an air of splendour. Everything has been done to render it attractive. Much money must have been spent by M. Leblanc, the lessee of the Casino, which bears a considerable resemblance to the similar establishment at Homburg. The edifice comprehends several large and very highly-decorated apartments for the gaming-tables, balls, and concerts. There is likewise a reading-room, provided with a profusion of English, French, German, American, and other newspapers, open freely to visitors from morning to night. A band of musicians plays in the open grounds twice a day. Les jeux are of the usual character—rouge et noir with cards, and roulette. As the railway station is at the foot of the slope immediately behind, the Casino can be reached many times a day in a quarter of an hour from Mentone, and in less than an hour from Nice. The resort is considerable, more particularly from Nice; every train carrying a flock of persons of both sexes with an appetite for gaming. Natives of the district are, I believe, forbidden to enter the establishment, but this is a rule which could not be easily enforced. I heard of cooks and waiters from the hotels in Mentone occasionally winning or losing a five-franc piece.
It would be easy to enlarge on the gambling which, day by day, Sunday included, goes on in this authorised temple of Pluto; but with every disposition to say something condemnatory on the subject, one is awkwardly reminded of the old injunction about first taking the mote out of your own eye before trying your hand on the eyes of others. On this matter of Monte Carlo, I feel as if my mouth were shut by a knowledge of prevalent gaming practices at home—I mean the wide-spread system of betting on horse-races, which is nothing else than inveterate and disreputable gambling under the cover of sport and fashionable usage.
Wandering about the sunny knolls near the Casino, I had pointed out to me a pretty spot on the sea-shore, as the original site of the shrine of Ste Dévote, the patron saint of the small sovereignty. I had been lately reading the legend of this highly appreciated female martyr, which I may condense into a few lines, for the amusement of those who care for this class of stories.
Dévote was a young maiden of Corsica, who, for her faithful adherence to Christianity, was cruelly put to death during the frightful persecutions of Diocletian and Maximilian. Warned by a vision, two priests, who had hid themselves in a cave, carried away her body, and putting it on board a boat, set sail for the coast of Africa. A storm, however, arose, and there appeared to be a danger of being wrecked. In this emergency, when all was given up for lost, the priests were again favoured by a vision; the spirit of the girl announced that the storm would soon cease, and that a dove would issue from her mouth, which they should follow with the boat till they arrived at a certain spot on the Italian coast near Monaco. They accordingly saw a dove come forth from the mouth of the corpse, and they gladly followed it to the spot indicated. There the body was interred on the 27th January, which day remains the festival of Ste Dévote. The relics of the saint have been transferred from her original shrine to the church in Monaco, and are carried in great ceremony at the annual festival. It has long been a custom, on this occasion, for the inhabitants of Monaco to prefer a request to the prince, which, if they all agree upon, and is reasonable and practicable, is graciously granted.
The implicit belief in the legend of Ste Dévote may be taken as a fair specimen of the credulity still prevalent in the Riviera. At Monaco and several other places, the passion of our Lord is dramatised in a public procession every year on Good-Friday, when an immense concourse of people attend.
Efforts, as I understand, have been made by some of the higher order of clergy to put an end to these practices, which have degenerated into little better than sacrilegious burlesque, but such well-meant attempts have hitherto failed. The occasion is hailed as a sort of ‘Holy Fair,’ of which the lower uninstructed classes are immensely fond. To accommodate the fluctuating crowds, Roccabruna holds its Good-Friday entertainment on the 5th August. The maintenance of the revelries is said to be partly due to the keepers of Débits de Vin, who find it to their account to encourage them; and there are persons who cling to them for histrionic reasons. One man is good at playing Pontius Pilate, another (the villain of the piece) is clever at representing Judas Iscariot, a woman is proud of being able to simulate the tenderly weeping Mary Magdalene, and so on with other personages. There is sometimes a difficulty in finding a person with sufficient self-command to endure the contumelies heaped on the meek and suffering Saviour by the Roman soldiers. A few years ago, at Roccabruna, one who undertook to represent the sacred character was, as he thought, so maltreated as to lose his temper, and using his fists in defence, broke out in imprecations which greatly shocked the onlookers. From what I heard, these pretended solemnities are losing hold on popular feeling. At Mentone they are of a subdued character. Education and intercourse with strangers are year by year lessening the general respect for them. Let alone, I doubt not that, like the mummings of the olden time in England, they will gradually disappear.
The concluding part of the season, as has been said, was spent by us in Nice, where, as well as in Paris subsequently, I found something to interest in the method of forming foot-pavements and roadways of a species of artificial stone, which was introduced a few years ago with perfect success into France. The material employed is a bituminous limestone rock ground to powder; the powder is heated, but not melted, in a caldron, after which it is laid evenly, as a sort of hot mortar, on a bed of concrete; lastly, it is pressed smooth with rollers, and is allowed a short time to cool and harden previous to being used. In the case of foot-pavements, after pressure, it is stamped with indentations to resemble sandstone. When finished, it is smooth, beautiful in appearance, hard, and more durable than any stone ordinarily employed. In Paris, it has latterly come extensively into use for the roadways, and is only now becoming known in London. The rock which furnishes this remarkable material is a hard limestone dug from mines in the Val-de-Travers, canton of Neufchâtel, Switzerland. The proportion of bitumen in the rock is eleven to twelve per cent., just sufficient to fuse the material when ground, and to take a firm consolidated form by pressure; on which account, it is a very different thing from the pitchy asphalt mixed with sand with which we are accustomed. Any one who is acquainted with the newer streets in Paris will recollect their smoothness, and the ease with which carriages are run upon them. The wonder is, how the invention should have been so long in making its way to England.