Fair Italy, the Riviera and Monte Carlo. W. Cope Devereux
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With the exception of the splendid hotels, Nice can boast of few buildings of any importance, save the Cathedral of Notre Dame, which is a fine-looking edifice, and has several objects of interest in the interior. A ludicrous and amusing incident was witnessed here one day by a friend.
Several country people had entered, and were engaged in offering up their orisons at the various altars. One woman, who had been in the market, making her purchases, entered the Cathedral, basket in hand, and, kneeling down on the steps in front of the high altar with her basket beside her, proceeded to tell her beads, and was soon deeply immersed in her prayers. A homeless cat was quietly prowling about, and, approaching the woman, began to smell at the contents of her basket. Evidently church mice are much the same all the world over and do not afford too bountiful provender for the hungry cats, for puss had all the appearance of being desirous of dining, and, after poking her nose into the basket several times, seized upon a sausage, and proceeded to pull it out. The poor woman cast a discomfited glance at the robber, but before the devout Catholic could finish her beads, sacrilegious pussy had carried off and finished her sausage.
The hotel charges here are much the same as at Cannes, and not unreasonable. Five francs for bedroom, three for luncheon, and five for table d'hôte.
Most visitors fall into foreign habits, and have their coffee and rolls in their bedrooms, dejeuner or heavy luncheon at noon, and table d'hôte at six; but we came down to our breakfast between eight and nine o'clock, à l'Anglais, and dined à la carte at any hour that suited our convenience. The day's expenses were generally from ten to twelve francs for each person. Carriage hire is also very reasonable, for you can go from one end of the town to the other for less than a franc.
CHAPTER V.ToC
The beauty-spot and plague-spot of the Riviera—Arrival at Mentone—Hotel des Isles Britanniques—English church—Her Majesty's Villa—Gardens of Dr. Bennett—Custom-house—Remarks on Mentone—A charming walk—A word about Brigands—An adventure—In the cemetery—A labour of love—A frog concert—Excursion to Monte Carlo—Lovely coast scenery—Castle of Monaco—The sombre Olive—The exodus of the Caterpillars.
In travelling from Nice to Mentone you have to pass through some of the most lovely and enchanting scenery in the world.
The tiny principality of Monaco is indeed a little Paradise; but, alas! Paradise after the fall, for does it not include that awful gaming pandemonium, Monte Carlo? It is sad to think that the choicest spot on this fair earth should be selected by sinful men for their evil purposes. Here, amid all that is beautiful and captivating in nature, is a pit dug for the unwary, the innocent, and the weak; and, alas! too many succumb to the fatal allurements prepared for their ruin and destruction.
As we passed Monte Carlo, we saw some of the shady fraternity I mentioned as having observed at the Nice station, on one of the heights above the town, overlooking a grassy enclosure. They were characteristically engaged in slaughtering tame pigeons, by way of a manly recreation and noble sport!
We arrived at Mentone in the evening, about seven o'clock. It is a quiet, pretty little town something like Cannes. As usual, there were a legion of hotel omnibuses, with their liveried porters, the name of the hotel they belonged to on their cap, and each accurately measuring the length of your purse. Fortunate the traveller who has already determined on the hotel he intends to patronize! We had selected the Hotel des Isles Britanniques. Here we had a small but handsomely furnished apartment on the third floor, commanding a charming view of the sea from its French windows, and we were soon sitting down to our quiet little dinner.
Everything at this hotel was comfortable and satisfactory. Cleanliness and courtesy were predominant, and I should think altogether it was one of the best conducted hotels on the Riviera. Only one little drawback lay in the fact that the reading-room opened into the ladies' drawing-room, and the almost incessant pianoforte-playing made it impossible to read with any real enjoyment. Indeed, who could sit down selfishly to reading, even one's favourite newspaper, with the momentary expectation of a loving wife or daughter strolling in from her music, for a little chat?
A more serious defect, however, in these Riviera hotels, perfect as they are otherwise in all their appointments, lies in the fact that there is very inadequate provision for extinguishing fire—a terrible consideration at all times, but disarmed of much of its terror when properly provided against. One evening, when descending the main staircase of our hotel, there was an evident smell of fire, and soon a painful sensation in my eyes told me of smoke also. On reaching the hall, I found the smoke issuing from the warming shaft in the floor. I returned, quietly warned my wife and others of the danger, and soon the master of the hotel and all the servants were on the spot. In their excitement to subdue it, before the numerous visitors should be alarmed, they opened the aperture still more, so as to give free vent to the smoke. I at once told them their mistake, and, seizing the nearest door-mat, put it over the aperture; my example was followed, and other exits closed, the servants meanwhile carrying buckets of water below, where the fire had originated. Fortunately, the fire was soon extinguished, little harm being done; but the event showed me that there was no systematic preparation or appliances in case of fire, which I thought a very serious omission in the comfort and safety of the visitors.[C]
The day after our arrival was Sunday, and we attended the English church, and were greatly pleased with the reverent, home-reminding way in which the service was conducted. We then took a pleasant walk by the sea, listening to a good band of music in the gardens; then into the one long main street of the town, calling at the post-office for letters, and leaving our address, that all others might be sent on to our hotel. We had a peep, too, into the numerous little shops, especially those for the sale of flowers, as at Cannes, and the cheerful little market-place. Finally, turning the promontory at the end of the street, and emerging on the road by the sea, we found a delightful promenade; and further on, in the eastern portion of Mentone, another English church, "Christ Church," and several finely situated hotels and pretty villas standing in groves of orange trees, facing the sea, and under the shelter of the almost precipitous mountain ranges in the background.
The natives here are evidently of very dirty habits, and the residents must be sadly wanting in nasal sensibility, for, on attempting to advance through one of the narrow side streets dividing the pretty villas, we were obliged to beat a hasty retreat; and this was not the only pretty lane so vilely misused, much to the reproach of the municipal authorities.
On the hill-side, almost buried amid the trees, is the little villa where her Majesty the Queen so quietly resided last autumn; while at the large hotel just below, Mr. Spurgeon rested from his Tabernacle labours, and, it is to be hoped, got rid of his painful rheumatism.
Straight up this road, on the slope of the hill, is an ancient aqueduct, and a milestone denoting where the French and Italian territories meet. My wife was much interested in this precise point of division, and I laughingly assisted her to place a foot on each territory, thereby establishing her as the queenly Colossus of two great countries; but she was greatly relieved by a very