The region known as the Riviera comprises, as I have said, the whole
land-circle of the Mediterranean Sea. But, as generally written and
understood, it stands for the shoreline between Marseilles and Genoa.
The two cities are connected by the Corniche Road, built by the First
Napoleon, who learned the need of it when he made his Italian campaign,
and the modern railway, the distance 260 miles, two-thirds of the way
through France, the residue through Italy, and all of it surpassing
fine.
The climate is very like that of Southern Florida. But as in Florida
they have the “Nor’westers” and the “Nor’easters,” on the Riviera they
have the “mistral.” In Europe there is no perfect winter weather north
of Spain, as in the United States none north of Cuba.
I have often thought that Havana might be made a dangerous rival of
Monte Carlo under the one-man power, exercising its despotism with
benignant intelligence and spending its income honestly upon the
development of both the city and the island. The motley populace would
probably be none the worse for it. The Government could upon a liberal
tariff collect not less than thirty-five millions of annual revenue.
Twenty-five of these millions would suffice for its own support. Ten
millions a year laid out upon harbors, roadways and internal
improvements in general would within ten years make the Queen of the
Antilles the garden spot and playground of Christendom. They would
build a Casino to outshine even the architectural miracles of Charles
Garnier. Then would Havana put Cairo out of business and give the
Prince of Monaco a run for his money.
With the opening of every Monte Carlo season the newspapers used to
tell of the colossal winnings of purely imaginary players. Sometimes
the favored child of chance was a Russian, sometimes an Englishman,
sometimes an American. He was usually a myth, of course. As Mrs. Prig
observed to Mrs. Camp, “there never was no sich person.”