On board the Emma, adventures with Garibaldis Thousand in Sicily

To those who accuse our age of being materialistic and hostile to poetry, we would say that at least we have a government which is helping us. We shall take the human story from its Genesis, watch the exodus from the ark, descend the mountains of Armenia with our three ancestral brothers who have peopled the earth. We shall search in the dust of the nations to which they gave birth, and in the ruins of the cities which they built.

Nothing that was great will escape our notice. Louis, the fleets of Charles V, and the grena- diers of Bonaparte. A volume of Dumas' manuscript, in my possession, bears the title "Autour de la Mediterranee. We shall seek the mythic relationship which exists, in the faiths of all epochs, between monuments and the mystic rites that are performed therein, and we shall see emerge the ruins of three beliefs, Saint Sophia of Constantinople with the Greek cross, and Saint Peter's of Rome with the Latin Cross. Rome with the fasces of the Consuls, the diadem of the Caesars, and the papal tiara.

Syracuse with her sleeping volcano, her harbour half silted up, and the paving of her streets, still bearing ruts left by the chariots which traversed them two thousand years ago. Athens with her double aspect — ancient and modern: Constantinople with her Crescent and Cross; in one hand the sceptres of her emperors, in the other the horse-tail standards of the pachas: Jerusalem with the blood-stained Calvary, the be- reaved Mother, and the empty tomb.

Thebes, the living, so de- serted: Thebes, the dead, so thickly populated. Alexandria with her triple souvenir of Alexander, Pompey, and Bonaparte. Car- thage with the cradle of Hannibal and the Tomb of St. Louis; and finally Granada with her Generalife and her Alhambra — that marvellous palace built by the Peris on the land of the faery.

Jadin agreed to ac- company Alexandre on the voyage — a necessarily modi- fied one — and to supply him with a certain number of sketches and drawings with which to Illustrate his book. Fortunately he had visited Sicily and Calabria. The result was that Alexandre returned to Paris conquered, for the time being.

But, as he himself says, he was a tenacious man. Such, in outline, was the great idea that sprang into Alexandre's brain In , and was still there in , when, being universally known as the author of the "Im- pressions de Voyage," "Monte-Cristo" and "Les Trois Mousquetaires" — both of which had appeared in —45 — 2.

You will be told by Alexandre how the Greek-built Monte-Cristo, after an interval of misadventures, became the Liverpool-built Emma. Jadin was as much his friend as ever, but, unlike him, had grown older. Dumas, agreeing with his Abbe Faria in "The Count of Monte-Cristo" that "the young are not traitors," called around him, or rather 1 Gregory XVI and Dumas understood each other perfectly well and had much liking for each other.

Whilst his many adventures incident to his preparations were hap- pening, our hero had met Garibaldi, who in former days, in South America, had read certain of our author's ro- mances. It is not to be doubted that the chivalrous deeds of some of their characters had taken root in the soldier's mind. In January, i, they, as I have said, had met — it was at Turin — and had fallen into each other's arms, Garibaldi finding, as Michelet had said, that Dumas was elemental — "one of the forces of Nature.

But — I must use the word so disliked by Dumas and his Due de Richelieu, who considered it "ever the harbinger of some folly" — but, I say, on the way to the East is the port of Genoa. The Emma put in there Dumas found notes from Garibaldi for his assistance in writing the second volume of the "Memoires," and in spired by his telegram to "rally where you hear my guns,' he decided to follow him and the "Thousand" to Sicily whither they had just sailed on the historic Enterprise So much for the genesis of this work; and now for its literary history.

He had, in fact, arranged with Mires of Le Constitu- tionnel for the publication there of his voyage, which later was, of course, to form further volumes of his bril- liant series "Impressions de Voyage," some volumes of which in those days almost rivalled the popularity of the romances. Now Mires, a gentleman of Hebraic origin, was, above all things, anxious about his circulation. When he heard that his author at the outset of his voy- age had joined Garibaldi, "that filibuster, that pirate," he intimated to Dumas' representative in Paris that as Alexandre had changed his plan, he would follow suit and change his.

The fact was, that Le Constitutionnel was not only the delight, the refreshment, the solace of all the bourgeois readers of France, but also their guide, coun- sellor and financial supporter. To have daily thrust before their eyes the actes et paroles of Dumas, when in concert with a filibuster who might at any moment bring down the funds and "upset everything," was a thing un- thinkable.

But the author of "Antony" had another friend in the world of journals, the great Emile de Girardin of La Presse, who, by no means a persona grata with Napoleon III, actually approved of Garibaldi and his Cause of Italian Unity, and who, indeed, had given Alexandre a revolver wherewith to shoot any one he fancied. So Alexandre sent Girardin a number of ex- cellent "letters from the seat of war. No one could properly complain of getting news, of course — "what else were journals for?

And, indeed, no sooner had Garibaldi's enterprise succeeded than many people "came round. The success of the war letters signed "A. Dumas" was great, and very soon they reappeared, with additions, in the QEuvres Completes, in the volume entitled "Les Gari- baldiens: Revolution de Sicile et de Naples" It is a strangely made book.

It begins with a chapter, evidently concocted, in which Dumas relates his arrival in the Emma at Genoa. The book, moreover, is eloquent in its "blanks" and rows of dots betokening omissions and bewildering leaps in point of time. Its contents were, in fact, hastily put together from the manuscript to harmonise with the title "Les Garibaldiens.

You now know, reader, far, far more than all the writers on Dumas have related. The Emma, to them, has been a mystery. In the words of her owner anent. Some writers who have read, in contemporary books by Garibaldians, of Alexandre's ample provision of cham- pagne, Bengal lights, and Catherine-wheels — to say noth- ing of his "midshipman" — have not unnaturally assumed that he took them as munitions de guerre. I must admit that he was capable of so doing; and indeed, a charming lady, young men, champagne and Bengal lights proved to be delightful additions to his campaign.

If you are not an Alexandrian, remember that Sicily is a poetic land, and that had Dumas not been there, the revolution — although without its most original assistant — would nevertheless have been made to the accompaniment of music, song and laughter, with much dancing. But beneath all this jovial expansion on our author's part, there was a very ardent desire to be of service to Garibaldi's Cause, that of Italian Unity — a desire which, it may be said, he amply gratified in the sequel.

Dumas, as he himself says, had "the cult of liberty. It is true that, as he also tells you, he had une affaire de famille as an additional reason for detesting the Bourbons of Naples; for had not King Ferdinand had his father. General Alexandre Dumas, poisoned when lying as his prisoner in a loathsome dungeon? But, apart from this circumstance, Dumas, with Mr.

Gladstone, echoed, as you shall see, the invective against the Bourbonian tyranny: Capi- tal punishment revolted him; cruelty in any shape revolted him; jealousy revolted him; love of money for money's sake revolted him; trampling on the fallen revolted him. He could not help doing good. All his life through he was succouring, nursing, helping, and, to do these things, working sixteen hours a day in the garret of his house. And yet in the popular estimation he was considered luxurious.

It was clearly because he was one of what he calls "the dynasty of Dumas" that he "went in" for some artistic display. To him, his father the General, he himself, and his son the dramatist, were a family of giants; and giants are not nourished and housed and clad as are men.

Garibaldi and Dumas were, in their different ways, geniuses — or let me call them big children who were na'i've, natural, and delightful. Poets, or as you may prefer to call them, dreamers, they each accomplished the "impossible. Each was mis- understood, calumniated; each has left an imperishable name. Garibaldi by his deeds, Dumas by his writings. This introduction might be almost indefinitely pro- longed, for our author, from the very imperfections of his original character — the result, in part, of his mixed race — furnishes an almost inexhaustible theme; but, hap- pily for the reader, I am convinced of this — that this book can well be left to speak for itself.

It is true that Alexandre will attract another class of readers — namely, those who, while wishing him well as a beloved friend of Garibaldi, will send for this book because of its strong Garibaldian interest. I consider that they will be wise in so doing; for, in translating Dumas' manuscript — from which I have often looked up expecting to see him, and he has seemed to be talking and laughing beside me — I have en- joyed the company of the Dictator also: Dumas not only understood him perfectly, but in his narrative makes him come alive.

I have described the manuscript elsewhere in The Times Literary Supplement of 21st February, , and have since been so fortunate as to discover that Dumas added to it and published, or intended to publish, the whole in a Journal which has disap- peared, no writer on Dumas being cognisant of its contents. Hap- pily, Dumas' additions have been recovered by me. I can claim, therefore, to have translated a book which the author desired the public to have. I have added some explanatory footnotes through- out the text.

My introduction and the said notes would neces- sarily have had to be much more extensive but for the labours of Mr. Trevelyan, to whose most excellent and, thanks to the new and cheap editions, very accessible books, "Garibaldi and the Thousand," and "Garibaldi and the Making of Italy," I refer such of my readers as do not possess them. The appendix con- tains some curiously illuminating documents which I have dug up in the course of my editorial duties. I wish here to record my grateful thanks to my wife for her translation of Mery's poem, which so perfectly and happily presents the Dumas of i; to William Heinemann Ltd.

Richard Williamson, for his cheerfully given and unwearied assistance with my work. Andrew Lang has kindly read some of my translation in its manuscript stage, and, in so doing, has corrected some errors. Here should hail the summer day whereon a light was horn Whence the sun grew brighter, seeing the world less dark and sad. Man of men by right divine of boyhood everlasting, France incarnate, France immortal in her deathless boy. Brighter birthday never shone than thine on earth, fore- casting More of strenuous mirth in manhood, more of manful joy- Child of warriors, friend of warriors.

Garibaldi's friend, Even thy name is as the splendour of a sunbright sword: While the boy's heart beats in man, thy fame shall find not end: Time and dark oblivion bow before thee as their lord. Youth acclaims thee gladdest of the gods that gild his days: Age gives thanks for thee, and death lacks heart to quench thy praise.

I come to hymn a man of fame; But, sirs, I fear to tell you of his name, Caesar or Alexandre?

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We keep, 'midst friends, Such information till the banquet ends, I will not name him. If any man there be Who will insist, let him withdraw with me, I'll whisper the disclosure of to-day As a State secret ere he goes away. Well might our hero say with Horace old, "My work is ended and my story told. While others idled, on to each day's close I worked. My pen I drove with ceaseless cheer Through all the changing seasons of the year, Since that far moment when my bashful youth Laid on a famous tomb its verse uncouth.

His imagination was only surpassed by that of Dumas. He followed every manner of the stage, Restored to life the Greek, the Roman age; Enlivened with his fire and poesy Heroes of fable and of fantasy; Woke History slumbering 'neath the weight of years, And gave it life of laughter and of tears; A man of every age and every race. He drew the modern world with ancient grace ; For our delight created Avith a glance A new world of the stage and of romance. As o'er his furnace there he bends at ease, Romance's Vulcan, Invention's Hercules, Singer and tale-teller unmatched of men, Graving his parchment with a deathless pen, Say, 'He has earned full respite.

Our athlete Now lays him down to rest, his work complete. The vanished Titan, tireless, fresh and young, Has scaled the rock whereon Prometheus hung, Shoots vultures like the pigeons at a fair. To avenge the ancestral poet martyred there. The Caucasus has called! When night descends Night that alone his ceaseless journeying ends , He takes his pen, his desk a rugged stone.

Nought caring for a morrow all unknown, And verses writes, translates a poem, sings, Till his glad hearers' acclamation rings. With practised hand two promised tales he ends, And, for a rest, writes letters to his friends. Shores where the Euxine waves essay the breach, Lucullus raised the cherry and the peach. And Mithridates learned the toilsome way Which brought to Rome the dread Avenger's sway.

And ranging, checked by no fatigue or pain. Through town and desert, mountain, valley, plain, From the wild Bedouin's black nomad tent. Forward the traveller unwearied went, Burnt with the sun, refreshed with cooling slumber, Still adding to his volumes without number. Young with the spell of that horizon wide. Nor yet believe his labours at an end. Arrived at Paris, he fresh ventures sees And spreads once more his sail before the breeze. He had beheld of old that mountain drear Where fable lightens history austere. But steam too swiftly bears with peerless might The dizzy pilgrim in its hasty flight.

He would behold again Sigea's strand Where waves sigh "Ilium! To Ida's foot the Grecian army bore.

On Board the Emma: Adventures with Garibaldi's "Thousand" in Sicily

He would behold once more our Mother Greece, The land of Art's full sunshine and increase, The land of Homer's and of Virgil's story, That still affords a glimpse of all their glory. And as a scion of Alexander's name, He wished to tread the Mole of Afric fame, In Egypt, which still guards in her oasis Lore of the Mages, secrets too of Isis; Where, in the graves of mummies, wisdom sleeps. And for a future age its treasure keeps: Where the great Sphinx accords to all who come A needed lesson — for she still is dumb.

Coming, he brings to all who hear a strain Keyed to the harmony of every brain, Tales without stint for everyone who reads, Plays, grave and gay, of all an actor needs, Still piling high just now three courses set The pyramid that lacks its apex yet. That Orient sunshine may his travels bless, Yon sun that aye to bards brings happiness.

And should he come once more, our cups are crowned ; For him the health, for him the cheer goes round ; Glad we will render thanks for all he gives. And own him Master, even while he lives. From that day we have walked together along the road, often rugged and seldom strewn with rewards, one never over- shadowing the other, the clouds in the sky never finding reflection in our hearts, and the storms which burst over our heads never able to separate us.

Well, the day for starting on the promised voyage has been delayed by circumstances beyond my control — a year has divided my journey across the uncivilised world from my peregrinations across the civilised one; during this year I have continued the never-ending toil of my life — that which most astonishes my lazy confrere Mery — the work of a literary man. I have published twenty 1 The original text will be found in the appendix. This translation is by Mrs, R. Here I am ready to embark on my yacht, which is not precisely like Virgil's, but which will bear off, be certain, my dear Mery, a friend not less faithful than was Horace.

And now, how has my first yacht, built at Syra by a Greek, become a yacht built at Liverpool by an English- man? To those who insist on knowing all, I am going to narrate the little history. It will fill two or three chap- ters, but they will make curious and instructive reading. One day I read in a book of About's that small vessels are built at Syra at half the price charged for them in France, and, moreover, are more suitable than French boats for the navigation of the waters of the Archipelago.

This advertisement, if I may so term it, lodged in a corner of my brain. One of those small vessels became necessary to me. So all this long itinerary had in reality but a single object — to reach Milo, where the swineherd of Ulysses was born. I got there after nine months of travelling, a matter of leagues. Rally, the Bavarian Consul, whom I can never sufliciently thank for the trouble taken in 1 Volumes according to Dumas' Computation. About 70 pages of his folio size sheets went to a volume. Some four to six of these consti- tuted one volume of the CEuvres Completes in the standard "Levy" collection.

We agreed on the price at 17, francs. It was just half of what had been asked of me in France. This was a happy beginning, which justified my friend About. I left behind at Syra the son of the best pilot of the Archipelago — that is, of old Dimitri Podimatas, who was decorated with the Legion of Honour for having saved a French vessel at Navarino, I think it was.

I had run against him, when he was out of work, on board the Sully, on which I had made the journey from Trebizond to Constantinople.

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Captain Daguerre, an expert in such a matter, had recommended him, and I took him into my service. His Christian names were Bapteme Apostoli, the lat- ter that of one of the most likeable characters in my romance "John Davys. The Monte-Cristo was to be built in fifty days. I had the promise of Paghaida, who had never broken his word, or so he assured me ; but Paghaida had forgotten Lent. Lent came, the Greek workmen, more devout than laborious, knocked off work for fifteen days, and my fifty days became sixty-five.

Then broke out the war against Austria. Modern Greeks, like those of old, are great newsmongers. Paghaida, when news is concerned, is as eager for it as a modern Greek, and an ancient one also. Instead of proceeding to his workshop, he resorted to the parlia- ment house of his little town. There, were discussed the affairs of Europe neither more nor less than in the time of Demosthenes.

But the Monte-Cristo was delayed for ten days, which, added to the sixty-five which had already elapsed, made seventy-five. On the seventy-fifth an important question presented itself. The Monte-Cristo, built in a Greek shipyard, could not become the property of a Frenchman. This no one had thought of mentioning to me, yet it was of importance, seeing that it was I who had commissioned the vessel. They now wrote to inform me of the difficulty. I ad- mit that I was upset by it.

Nevertheless, as there was but one means of getting out of the hole, I employed it. It was to write to M. Rally, who had already given so many proofs of his kindness, to take the vessel over in his own name, and, declaring that he had received all the rent in advance, to lease it to me for a term of ninety- nine years. During the time intervening between and I should have done for the yacht, or the yacht would have done for me. Rally accepted, and became owner. But the negotiation had consumed twenty-five days — nine for my letter to get to Syra, seven for M. Rally to decide, nine for his letter of decision to reach me — total twenty-five, which, added to the seventy-five, made one hundred days.

Now this was just double the time agreed on. It resulted that the Monte-Cristo, which ought to have been launched towards the beginning of April, was placed on the water towards the end of June. But this was not all. I had carefully inquired the time it would take the Monte-Cristo to come from Syra to Marseilles, and I had been told that under the worst conditions twenty or twenty-five days would suffice. On the 15th July I received news of my vessel.

I wrote to Marseilles that my yacht ought to arrive by the 30th at the latest, begging my correspondent to advise me by telegraph immediately she was signalled. The month of July, as also the month of August, went by without any telegram coming; at last on ist September I was informed of the arrival of the Monte-Cristo. I left at once for Marseilles, and found my craft at anchor near Fort St, Nicholas, In spite of the promise of Paghaida, who ought to have made the Monte-Cristo the best sailing craft of the Archipelago, she was a suf- ficiently creditable-looking vessel with a large beam, a wall of defence against the tempests of the Cape of Good Hope, and the direct descendant of one of the thousand ships which had brought the Greeks to the siege of Troy and had taken ten years to bring Ulysses from Pergamus to Ithaca, She was reassuring as regards solidity, but disquieting as regards velocity.

Furthermore, she arrived ballasted with stones col- lected on the shore of Milo, and utterly devoid of fittings, Paghaida, who ought to have fitted her, had fancied that this work would be better done in France than at Syra, and had not judged it convenient to deal with this insignificant detail.

It resulted that the first moment that the yacht could be ready for the water would be the ist October — that is, just when one leaves that element for the winter. In the meantime I was advised to have her brought to Paris to be decorated. All my friends, who, in a moment of enthusiasm, had promised to lend me their united aid towards the comfort and embellishment of my yacht, would hold scrupulously to their word when she was near them. I should have been at an expense of francs in and about the transit of my vessel, but, on the other hand, once the expense was incurred I should save 10, francs by the presence of the Monte-Cristo at the Quai d'Orsay.

The hope of effecting this saving seduced me. I in- structed Podimatas to undertake the journey by the Straits of Gibraltar; but he judiciously made reply that, having taken two months from Syra to Marseilles, he would by no means promise to take less than six months from Marseilles to Havre. He stated that in the present condition of the Monte- Cristo, with a shifting ballast, the first tempest that came along would make her founder, or the first gale blow her to America.

The former supposition postponed my journey to the Greek Kalends; the latter, which was even greater, put in question the safety of five men. It was decided, therefore, that we should try to get the Monte-Cristo up the Rhone, from the Rhone passing into the Saone, and from the Saone into the Burgundy canal, and from the canal of Burgundy into the Seine.

A week later I received a letter announcing that, soundings having been taken, the Monte-Cristo was fifty centimetres too deep to pass the shallows of the Rhone. The matter became one which needed, but did not reach, a decision. The Rhone refused us a passage, but the Southern canal offered us one.

We registered two and a half metres deep ; the Southern canal was three throughout. So there was no trouble; we should pass into the ocean by the Gironde — so I was told; we should thread our way out of the Gulf of Gascony; we should double Cape Finisterre; and we should arrive triumphantly at Havre. Only francs were asked for the journey.

This meant a saving of francs and a real advantage to me. It is these advantages that have so often ruined me, and will continue to ruin me. He in his turn consulted two men; the majority considered the project possible. I sent the francs to Podimatas, who accompanied his receipt with the announcement of his departure for Cette. Decidedly she was a difficult vessel to please, was this craft of mine.

I telegraphed in reply — "Return to Marseilles, parbleu. Relatively to the situation that occasioned it, the word parbleu was. It will be conceded, a very mild one — so mild, Indeed, that Podimatas did not even observe It. He returned to Marseilles with the yacht, and I ar- rived there almost at the same moment. I had to make an important decision. In consideration of coming to Paris, which the men had never seen, and of spending the winter there, they were willing to accept half-pay. I proposed to them that they should remain at Mar- seilles until the spring, on the same conditions as regards pay.

They replied that they preferred to be discharged. I had nothing to say against discharging them. I asked Podimatas what compensation 1 should give the men on doing so. He repHed that I should give them nothing, as it was they who asked for their discharge. I asked Podimatas to give them a month's pay. With a month's pay, still according to Podimatas, they ought to be en- chanted.

So I returned to Paris, with the mental pros- pect of the whole matter of paying off the crew being soon accomplished. Becker, my correspondent at Marseille?. It appeared that the paying-off was attended with great difficulties. The same men, whom, still according to Podimatas, I had the right to retain or send away as I wished, even without compensation, now demanded three months' pay by way of compensation. It was I, in my turn, who asked my correspondent, "What am I to do?

The problem having to be resolved, I consulted my friends, who contented themselves with replying — "We told you that you made a mistake in building a craft at Syra instead of having one constructed at Malta, Constantinople, or Marseilles. Nevertheless I sent francs to Marseilles. But during the debate a month had gone by; and three months to pay in advance now made four months, in all , and not francs that I owed to my crew. I was in error. A week later I received a letter from my correspond- ent to the effect that two of my men had left, their pay in their pockets, without making any difficulty; but that the three others required, in addition to three months' pay, to be repatriated at the cost to me of seventy francs more.

And, faithful to his position as a native of Marseilles, and as a poet, he ended his letter with this quotation by the author of "Tancrede": So I contented myself by replying to my corre- spondent — "My dear Sir, — I am at the end of my money, and, above all, of my patience; let the two men go to — " It was a little abrupt, but what do you expect?

The most placid man has moments of Impatience. My correspondent answered — "Quick, quick, quick, by the telegraph authorise me to pay seventy francs to each of your men, or the Greek Consul will have the Monte-Cristo sold. That appeared to me unfair. I consulted a friend experienced in such matters.

Instead of having a vessel built. Becker, to obtain from my men, who included Podi- matas, a formal receipt in discharge, so as to secure me from any fresh extortion. Becker replied by sending me the receipt In dis- charge from my two men, but telling me that Podimatas could not send me one, for the reason that I was far from being out of debt towards him.

A shiver ran through my body. What could I possibly owe Podimatas? On leaving Syra he had received francs from M. I had the receipt. I had sent him for the journey up the Southern canal that he had not made; for the disembarkation of the four men, of whom he had paid off only two; finally more to repatriate the two fanatics; in all, francs, when, on my own calculation, board included, I did not owe to him and to his men for pay, disembarkation, and repatria- tion, more than francs.

One of the most striking items of this account was francs for stones collected on the shore of Milo for the ballast of the vessel. The remaining francs were for purchases and repairs made before the departure from Greece and since the arrival in France. I wrote to M. Becker — "Can you understand this account? This obligation put me in such a bad humour that I wrote — "This is to inform you that in a week's time I will pro- ceed to Marseilles, and I will have the account of Podi- matas examined.

I paid the francs, but found it as difficult of digestion as lead. I went to bed that night with the francs' worth of stones gathered on the shore of Milo weighing on my chest. Consequently I spent part of the night trying to devise a means of escape from the jurisdiction of Greek Con- suls, which seemed to me more arbitrary than the justice of Turkish cadis. Instead of sailing in Grecian waters flying the Greek flag — a proceeding that seemed to me to be at the same time hke a gesture to Greece and a security to my- self — instead, I say, of hoisting the flag of Greece, I would nationalise the yacht and navigate her under the pennon of France.

But nothing is more true than "one bill finished with, another begins. The Monte-Cristo had cost me 17, francs. Ten per cent, of this sum amounts to francs. Total, 18, francs, plus the or francs which I was forced to pay — in all, 22, or 23, francs — 24,, perhaps, on a close reckoning; but, even so, considerably far short of the 30, quoted to me by Vanes, the ship- builder, at Boulogne, or the 45, by Mazellne, the shipbuilder, at Havre.

It would be in vain for my friends to say, directly I escaped from the Greek Consul, that I had not made a good bargain, and in the end I should be glad that I had followed the advice of About, whom no one will accuse of having any partiality for the Greeks.

I am not on such terms with my Government; they were all right in the time of my dear friend St. Maur, and in that of the gallant Admiral Jacob; but since the celebrated discussion about the Veloce, I am not on terms with any of the Ministers of Marine, whether born or unborn. No; I was going to seek the good offices of my friend the Abbe Coquereau, the same who, with the Prince de Joinville, brought back Napoleon's remains from St.

Here I want to say in the most graceful way I can that the abbe is at once one of the most witty and most erudite of men. How did I become acquainted with the Abbe Coquereau? I am going to tell you. A discussion on the Councils at Nicea followed. My antagonist, a cleric, was a stranger to me, and he knew me no more than I did him. The point in question was keenly debated, and it was agreed that on our leaving the table it should be settled by means of reference to Bouillet's Dictionary. We left the table.

Bouillet's Dictionary was brought and consulted, and it was seen to be so obliging as to be in my favour. To be in the right against an abbe in a theological dis- cussion was a great triumph for a poet. The Abbe tried to turn the tables on me.

Dumas, on the contrary, is a Christian, and a very good one. I'Abbe," said the princess, "permit me to doubt that, even though you say it. Dumas preserved by me as an autograph. I'Abbe, yet my memory is a good one. Yes," said I, with a sigh, "he was a good friend of mine, and he had much affec- tion for me. But it was not possible ; I never speak of the Due but tears come to my eyes. No one noticed my emotion. I'Abbe," cried the princess, laughing, "you must still admit that you were fairly beaten in the theological argument. Therefore, I had most naturally thought of the abbe in the matter of the nationalisation of my vessel.

Though I do not see him oftener than every second or third year, he held out his hand to me as if we had parted only yesterday. I told him the object of my visit. The answer, therefore, did not seem long In coming, but it was the opposite of what was hoped for. Since the Crimean War, to facili- tate the transport of foreign ships, the nationalisation of foreign vessels had been authorised, but only eight days before the inquiry now made for me, a law had been passed putting an end to this facility.

It was necessary, therefore, to give up my idea of nationalising the Monte-Cristo. An idea occurred to me which I mentioned to the Abbe Coquereau. It was to adopt the flag of Jerusalem. As I had the Grand Cross of Jerusalem, the idea was pleas- ing to me. Furthermore, the flag of Jerusalem Is the flag of prilgrlms — It bears the red cross, that of the Tancreds and of Godefroy de Bouillon. Its device Is that of our old chevaliers: And, again, the flag Is neutral, and, as such, respected by all nations, enjoying the direct protection of France, and.

In con- sequence, upheld by French Consuls. I begged the abbe to ascertain to whom I ought to ad- dress myself to obtain the authorisation to navigate under the flag of Jerusalem. He was informed that formerly it was France which gave the authorisations, but, the grants having been frequently abused during recent years, the Government had decided to divest Itself of the right, and to leave its exercise en- tirely to the Holy Fathers of the Holy Land, with whom It had formerly jointly enjoyed it — that consequently I ought to address myself to our Chancellor at Marseilles, M.

Famin, who would be in communication with the Holy Fathers. So I set off for Marseilles, and, having arrived there, I went straight to M. Famin told me that the Reverend Fathers of the Holy Land had had until the past year a representative at Marseilles, but that, owing to a certain want of sym- pathy on the part of the French Government towards their flag, he had some months since removed to Leg- horn.

I had more desire to go to Leghorn than to return to Paris; besides, thanks to the obliging behaviour of the Messageries towards me, the journey would cost me the price of my food only. I stretched my legs and found myself on board the Capitole. By good fortune she was sailing the same day, and the next day but one I awoke in the port of Leghorn. We had not yet received permission to disembark, which our Consul at Leghorn had the power to give. Decidedly my lucky star was shining, for our Consul at Leghorn proved to be an old friend — Bernard des Suarts.

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I had known him at Amsterdam, when the King of Hol- land had invited me to attend the ceremony of his coronation. My first call was on Bernard des Suarts, my first word was to ask him where I should find the representative of the Fathers of the Holy Land. You have plenty of time to catch the noon train.

It was a recommendation to do quickly and in the most convenient way what I desired. At four o'clock the next day I was at Florence. At five o'clock Le Comte Piccolimini had the note of des Suarts with my card. At six o'clock he was at my hotel. This time I was at the end of my pilgrimage.

What I desired, it appeared, was of all things in the world the simplest, and I had nothing to do but pay the sum of francs, when a provisional authorisation would be ac- corded me. Meanwhile I could sail when I chose. The definite authorisation would be sent after me, and await me in some port or other, on some island, or in some continent.

Only seven days were necessary for the legalisation of the signature and the fulfilment of some subsidiary formalities. In seven days the patent would be sent to our Consul at Leghorn, who would forward it to me. Meanwhile the Comte gave me a receipt for my francs, without even asking where my vessel had been built — If she were English, American, French, or Spanish. At eleven o'clock that same night I was again at Leg- horn. Now that I am in Italy I should not be sorry to make the acquaintance of Garibaldi, whom for the last ten years I have admired without knowing him. Can you tell me where he Is?

I wish to finish with this devil of a vessel. Perhaps my presence will be necessary to complete mat- ters. Wait for me a little without waiting for ever. If anything should prevent my return, I will write to you.

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Leghorn is not a lively place, as you ought to be aware, since you live in it; you are the only person I know, and I cannot station myself at the Consulate. Please tell me when I can leave for Genoa.

• On Board the Emma: Adventures with Garibaldi's "Thousand" in Sicily by Alexandre Dumas?
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I have a lot to do and can- not enjoy your company. Des Suarts installed me at the desk of his Chancellor, and gave me the necessary articles. I profited by them to write some fifteen letters — I have always a series of replies on hand which await an op- portunity to be written.

If the opportunity does not present itself, I let the capital and interest accumulate until the moment arrives when I declare myself insolvent. At eight o'clock the Quirlnal weighed anchor, at three o'clock the next morning we were entering the port of Genoa. Garibaldi was at Turin. The same evening I was at Turin. The next day I was present at the famous sitting of the Nation in Arms. The day after, I left for Milan to pay a visit to my friend Teleki — another patriot, that is to say, another exile, who was twice condemned to death and who twice saved himself when the rope was round his neck — the first time at Barcelona, the second time at Arad.

Once at Milan I had the idea to try if I could not get as far as Venice — it would be, at all events, an attempt. I had already made one in , and another in — both had failed: The number three is beloved of the gods, and my third attempt was completely successful. I passed like a letter in the post. It is true that, like "a letter in the post," I was un- sealed on the frontier, but they knew how to read on both sides. Nothing was discovered that was dangerous. I paid my call on the Comte de Chambord, who returned it in the person of M.

The Comte Piccolimini had kept his word. The pat- ent was in the hands of my friend des Suarts ; only, the name of the captain, which I had not given, was repre- sented by a blank. I pointed this out to des Suarts. He is as Greek as the Venus of Milo — was born there, in fact. I had gained a flag, but I had lost a captain. She was the Capitole, the same that had taken me to Leghorn the previous month.

You ask me why I was going to Rome? Was it because of Chauteaubriand's saying that in that city, with Its prodigious memories, no man is so happy or so unhappy that he cannot there find a bliss or a despair greater than his own? I was travelling to Rome to see it over again. If I love the sea as a mistress, I love Rome as an an- cestress.

How often have I been to Rome? I cannot count the number of times. When I am tired out, ex- hausted, beside myself with fatigue, I find a pretext for going to Rome; and I go there. When pretexts fail me, I go all the same. But what do you do at Rome? Oh, that is easily told. I go to see the Appian Way; I go to see the rolling Tiber; I go to seat myself under one of the arcades of the Colosseum; and I whisper to myself — "Yes, I must write a history of Rome. No one would read it.

The public will never be induced to be- lieve that Herodotus, Suetonius, and Walter Scott are historians. At first, I thought his foreword superfluous, but, with that supe- rior logic that characterises him, M. Lettodey, the mana- ger of the Siecle, ended by proving to me that it had pro- duced the most excellent effect. The readers of his journal found themselves amused, when expecting to be bored. The contrary, it appears, is often the case. In short, I was on the way to Rome on the seventh or eighth occasion.

This is not the moment for talking about Rome. But rest assured that when the occasion comes, it shall not escape me. To-day, I am telling you the story of my yacht, and nothing shall come between me and her. We have an ambassador at Rome. He is the Due de Gramont. The Due de Gramont, who was a Guiche before being a Gramont, is one of my oldest friends. It is to the Comte d'Orsay that my "Memoires" are dedicated. His in- quiry, what had brought me to Rome, was as natural. I told him, not what I had come to Rome to do — which in truth I did not know — but what I had gone to do at Leghorn.

And starting at this point, I laid before him the history of my woes. Oh, my dear fellow, an entrancing little yacht — the very one you wanted, seventy-eight tons, built at Liverpool, made of mahogany and maple, copper bottomed — In short, a marvel. She cost , francs. But as I am not an ambassador, yachts at , francs are not for me. What has yours cost you? You are going to give her a cop- per bottom? She will cost you 20, francs, will she not? Let us reckon at the lowest figures: That makes 20, and 4 are 24, and 2 are 26, and 6 are 32, and 6 are 38, and 2 are 40, and 2 are 42 — 42, francs, say 50, and have done with it.

Accept good advice, sell your Telemacus at what you can get for her, and buy the Emma. What is the Emma? My head is spinning — it is indeed — with these yachts, these schooners, these Telemacuses. When the Baron de M bought his yacht he was a bachelor. Consequently she being upset by the yacht, the Baron has offered her — the vessel, that is, for sale, and at any price to get rid of her. Philip Augustus was perhaps a great king, but is certainly a bad boat. I am going to buy the Emma, and sell the Monte-Cristo.

You have perhaps not had many good bargains in your life, but put this one through, and it will make up for the others. Midas," I was informed. I went thoroughly over her, searching into each cor- ner like a Customs house officer. Everywhere she re- vealed the talent of the English builder, who had suc- ceeded in every detail — comfort above all. She had everything necessary, as a bride has her trousseau — her plate, her linen, her china, her lamps, her nautical in- struments, and her carpets. Apart from tastes and fan- cies of one's own, such as hangings over the mahogany and pictures decorating the maple-wood, she needed nothing.

The only thing she could be reproached with was a look of luxury, such as is seen in the faubourg St. No other reproach was possible. The augury was a good one. I much like business between a man and a woman. There is on the one side a coquetry, and on the other a cour- tesy, which brings them together. Madame Altaras had no coquetry, but otherwise was what I expected — she was entirely delightful. In ten minutes the bargain was concluded — the yacht was mine for the sum of 13, francs, payable down and 10, in the course of the next month. I hastened off, truly delighted to be able to tell my 1 Dumas invariably calls the Emma a goelette, and go'elette is a schooner; but it has been thought best to fall in with the many writers who speak of Dumas' "Yacht.

To my exceeding surprise, he received it coldly. First you could not command the Monte- Crista, now you cannot command the Emma. Now how far have we got on with the Monte-Cristo? I have pushed the work forward. How much have you done? Spend no more, my good man. You will understand that I do not wish to keep two vessels, since one has all but ruined me.

Full text of "On board the Emma, adventures with Garibaldis "Thousand" in Sicily"

Six thousand 1" "At the least. Let us consider — the Monte-Cristo has let me in for 30, francs. I stand to lose 20, francs? No answer to Podimatas was possible. I went off to find M. Petit, a shipbroker, to leave my interests in his keeping — that is to say, so far as they concerned the Monte-Cristo.

Petit undertook to sell her, and, greatly relieved in mind, I started for Paris, entrusting the work of the decoration of the Emma to a young friend of mine — M. It ap- peared that to make her a perfect gem of a yacht would be a matter of about francs. Roux set to work at once. The dining-room was to be hung with the tapestry and the trophies in the shape of weapons brought by me from the Caucasus. The sitting-room was to be painted in the Pompeian style of M.

Regnier, one of Gleyre's most distinguished pupils. Duboscq had claimed the right of doing it gratis. This reminds me that I had just paid the bill of another painting gentle- man, de Lavarenne, a bill rendered at , but reduced to francs. It is really incredible how delightful people become towards me, the farther I get from Paris. Abroad, it is even better.

I have related how I was received in Russia. My want was now that of a captain; for consider the position I had occupied: However, at Marseilles I was told not to be anxious, and that captains are always to be got. So I suffered no anxiety. Heaven has bestowed on me a happy-go-lucky disposition on which anxiety takes no hold. Furthermore, everything seemed at first to be going on excellently.

Two days after my arrival I got a letter from my friend M. Becker reporting the sale of the Monte-Cristo for 12, francs. As this sum was Podimatas' maximum there was nothing to do but accept. With the Turks, I replied, "God is great. I replied, "Sell, pay for the copper bottom and the caulking, and hand the balance to Madame Altaras. Decidedly the Monte-Cristo was difficult to sell. I did not reply. Why add the cost of a postage stamp to all the other expenses?

Eight days later I received this telegram from M. If not the insensibility, of a Spartan: In the midst of my sufferings arrived a letter bearing the Marseilles postmark. I confess that at first I lacked courage to open it. At last I broke the seal. The purchaser had signed the contract, but instead of paying cash as the telegram had stated, he did not wish, observing the nautical code, to pay before the end of two months, seeing that there was a mortgage a la grosse given by Podimatas. This was Hebrew to me. What on earth was a mort- gage a la grosse? The affair seemed to me to demand a journey to Mar- seilles.

It would be the tenth or twelfth within a year. Without him and without M. Real, to whom I now offer my hearty thanks, 24, francs would have gone in fares. I had recourse to Enfantin once more, and I left for Marseilles. I hastened to M. Petit, who, let me record It, helped me not only most kindly, but also most disinterestedly, as, indeed, he did throughout all these long and trouble- some negotiations.

Indeed, he has declined to accept any remuneration. Petit explained the position to me. Podlmatas had borrowed on security of the vessel for the vessel's occasions. As captain, he had the right to do so, in the absence of the owner, in the case of damages need- ing prompt repair. I sent for Podlmatas, who frankly admitted that the francs had been necessary not for the occasion of the vessel, but for his own, and that he had pledged the craft to get the money, not daring to ask me for it.

My remedy was to stop the sum out of his pay. I do not know why I have a weakness for Podlmatas In spite of his gloomy look, his eyes which never meet your own, and his hat always pulled down over his eyes. Petit, "I think I told you that the purchasers do not wish to pay before the 14th of May. Petit, I must tell you that I had relied on the balance purchase money, small though the amount is, to help towards my debt to Madame Altaras. It will be extraordinary indeed if in Marseilles there does not exist a friend who will go bail for me in a matter of francs.

But I felt a hand on my shoulder, which pressed me down again. Petit, he added — "I, Edmond Pireaudeau, am a surety for M. He was an entire stranger, and therefore another of the unknown friends of whom I have spoken. I went towards him and offered him my hand. Petit, "Make out M. Dumas' ac- count," said he. Petit made it out. The result of all the figuring was that after paying for the copper-bottoming, the caulking, the mortage a la grosse, there was a balance in my favour of francs. I had lost about 22, francs. But it was my fault.

Why had I commissioned a yacht at Syra in- stead of purchasing one already made at Malta, Con- stantinople, or Marseilles? I pocketed my francs, and, after having thanked my surety, I was about to go when he stopped me. Do you think I am unable? I do not want you to sink. You have made me laugh too much, and my wife cry.

Are you going to decline my lamps? Come and see them. And then there is my brother Jean — he is Jean and I am Edmond — who wishes to make you a present. Your brother Jean wants to make me a pres- ent? Dumas' yacht than it does in my house. And he also has a sabre of which he is always saying, 'If I dared give this sabre to M. I enjoy receiving from those to whom I can return. Misfortune will be yours, my dear monsieur, on account of those Greeks.

As an old au- thor of Marseilles says in Latin, 'I fear the Greeks. It is for this reason that I am so fond of Hugo and Lamar- tine. You are the master. But here we are! Just go inside and see your ship lamps. The celebrated French novelist and playwright made a voyage between and to help General Garibaldi in Italy, sailing from France aboard his Liverpool-built yacht, Emma. In this book he describes his search for a vessel, flag and a captain, his voyage which began at Marseilles and his adventures with Garibaldi, the Italian patriot who had begun his career as a sailor like his father.

On the outbreak of the Italian war of liberation in , Garibaldi rendered valuable service to Victor Emmanuel and the French, and went on to assist the Mazzinists who had been conspiring against Bourbon tyranny in Sicily. In May Garibaldi and "the thousand heroes" landed at Marsala and within three months liberated Sicily. Dumas describes the "Thousand" at sea, the ships used in the landings, and the subsequent fighting across Sicily. Goodreads helps you keep track of books you want to read. Want to Read saving…. Want to Read Currently Reading Read.

Refresh and try again. Open Preview See a Problem? Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. On Board the Emma: From the author of The Count of Monte-Cristo and The Three Musketeers, this is Alexandre Dumas' autobiographical account of his adventures during Garibaldi's campaign for the unification of Italy in The celebrated French novelist and playwright made a voyage between and to help General Garibaldi in Italy, sailing from France aboard his Liverpool-built yacht From the author of The Count of Monte-Cristo and The Three Musketeers, this is Alexandre Dumas' autobiographical account of his adventures during Garibaldi's campaign for the unification of Italy in To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up.

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