Monte Carlo: Its Casino and gardens: Leave taking at Mentone of Mr. and
Miss Brown: Arrival at Cannes: Meeting Mr. and Mrs. Green: Cannes, its
scenery, etc.: Visit to Grasse: Journey to Paris: London: Home, Sweet
Home.
It seems as if Nature had lavished her richest treasures on Monte Carlo.
Its terraces covered with palms; its orange groves and oliveyards; its
massive hotels of marble; its azure sky and ever blue Mediterranean
sparkling at its foot. Then there is the Casino, “the gambling hell,” as
it has been called. A building upon which no money or care has been
spared to make it an attraction, and it has undoubtedly been a success,
for thousands throng its rooms daily. We had no difficulty in getting
inside. I presented my card to an official in braided coat, who, when he
saw it, and had given a look at us, I presume, thought it would be safe
to give us admission, and took us to a ticket box where the usual
entrance ticket was granted, and we were admitted inside. Oh! what a
scene! Tables covered with green baize and marked with figures; the
gamblers or players crowded round every table, staking mostly five franc
pieces; sometimes one five franc piece and sometimes five. Two men
representing the bank with hooks or rakes, drew in the cash, as the
Roulette declared for the bank; the winners raking their gains in as the
tale of the Roulette was in their favour. The faces of the players were
a study and tempted one to moralize and try to predict the effect of this
sort of thing on the character of the gamblers. It is an awful thing to
be caught in the clutches of a gambling saloon—this one in particular.
There are many tables, all full; and crowds round waiting for an
opportunity. We went through the vast building, it is richly carpeted
and the upholstering is of the best; settees, mirrors, chandeliers, etc.,
all give to it an appearance of wealth. Monte Carlo is in the territory
of Monaco, which is the smallest independent state in Europe at least.
It only covers about eight square miles. It formerly included Mentone
and Roccabruna, but these have been ceded to France for four million
francs. The Palace of the Prince is on the promontory or rock just below
the Casino. Surrounding it are some lovely gardens, and the appearance
of some protection in the shape of cannon, etc.; these, however, would be
useless if they were ever needed. It is said that his chief revenue is
from the Casino, which pays him about two hundred thousand pounds per
annum. The population under the Prince is now about ten thousand. I
took a snap-shot or two, and we strolled about until weary, then we found
our way to the tram and in about an hour were in our hotel enjoying
table-de-hote. Our time for leaving Mentone had arrived, and again we
packed, at least, my little wife did. We said good-bye, with reluctance,
to a place that had given us so much pleasure; also to our new found
friends—specially Miss Brown—my dear wife had grown quite fond of her. I
think it was because she showed such kindness to us when we arrived, also
she spoke English; and that, in itself, attracts an Englishman when away
from home. The leave taking between them was quite affectionate and,
doubtless, correspondence will follow. We left Mentone in the lovely
sunshine, and from under the lovely palm trees, and were soon passing
Monaco, Monte Carlo and Nice. We reached Cannes all safe and sound. A
lovely motor carriage was at our disposal for the “Hotel de la Plage.”
We were met by our old friend—George Green, Esq., and his good wife and
daughter, Mrs. Martin, who also had a friend with her from Glasgow, Mrs.
Giles. They gave us a hearty welcome to our hotel, second to none on the
continent, I think, and lovely for situation, close by the sea; and
surrounded with the most lovely semi-tropical plants, as the photo or
snap-shot shows. We enjoyed the two or three days immensely with our
friends in this lovely spot; for Cannes is lovely. The Bay of Cannes
surpasses, it is said, the Bay of Naples for beauty. “Then there is the
Cape of Antibes, with its gardens of dreamland and fairies!” The Estrel,
with its profound solitude, and with its masses of red porphyry, like
buildings erected by the Titians; with its arid soil covered with crooked
pines, raising their branches towards the pure azure sky. Cannes is said
to be a vast garden, where the flowers are scattered in profusion by
Nature with a lavish and never wearying hand. There is also the orange,
the lemon, the oleander, the pepper plant, and the palm tree; all growing
side by side with the olive, the oak, and the stone pine. Of Cannes, it
is said: “She is the daughter of the Sirens, and sprang into existence
one morning under the glowing kisses of the sun.” It has had a chequered
history, but it is now merged into the liberty of a gay and prosperous
town of thirty-five thousand inhabitants.
[Picture: Mr. and Mrs. Green, Mrs. Martin, Mrs. Wardle and Mrs. Giles at
Cannes]
Over twenty thousand visitors come to Cannes for the winter to escape the
northern fogs and frosts. Mr. Green and I strolled the Promenade and
talked over olden times. The ladies enjoyed their tete-a-tete and their
shopping expeditions; so the days slipped quickly away and we must lose
our friends, who go to Marseilles, then by sea to Glasgow. So again we
say good-bye, expecting, however, to meet again soon in London. They
leave early for Marseilles in order to catch their steamer. We visited
Grasse the day after they left us. This is about twenty miles from
Cannes by rail, and it lies up in the mountains; it is about one thousand
feet above the sea level, yet it is surrounded by the Alps, at least east
and north. The town has a population about fifteen thousand, and is
built on the slope of a hill. It is steep climbing up from the station.
Facing the town is a lovely valley or plain, where they cultivate
flowers. The town is largely supported by the manufacturing of scent.
There are several factories; one factory sends away over eleven million
francs worth of scents yearly. It is a town of great interest. It has a
fine old Cathedral, also some fairly good shops. The streets being on
the hillside are not easy to walk along. Our stay was only for a few
hours, but long enough to satisfy us; the place was health-giving and
very interesting. On arriving at our hotel in Cannes we were tired; so
after the usual table-de-hote and rest, we went to bed early, as the
following morning we were to pack up and go. After the usual tips, bill
settling, etc., we left Cannes and its many attractions, and as we
rounded the bay we could see the town for miles with its white hotels,
etc., amidst the luxuriant palm trees. We soon lost sight of the town
and were spinning over deep ravines with rugged sides; there with jutting
spurs of rock; here the sea pushing up in inlets and creeks, sparkling in
the rays of the southern sun. Our train hurried us away from scenes of
such perfect loveliness, past Toulon, and about 7.30 we reached
Marseilles. Here we met again Mrs. Martin and her friend Mrs. Giles. We
only stayed here about half-an-hour, but we began to feel the change in
the atmosphere, and our rugs were brought into use, as we were travelling
all night. About midnight we reached Lyons, and on looking out we found
the snow was falling thick and fast. Oh! what a change in a few hundred
miles! The sunny south was now behind us, and again we must face the
biting frost and snow of winter.
We reached Paris about 11 a.m., and soon found our way to “Hotel du
Nord.” We spent a night at the “Magenta Hotel,” where we found friends
in Dr. Mochwyn Hughes and his sister, who were going into Switzerland.
We decided to “do Paris,” as they say, in a motor. So we engaged one and
were quickly through some of the busy streets of this wonderful city. We
visited Notre Dame, of course, and went inside. There was a funeral
cortege, and the mourners sitting by the bier; while the priests, with
their incantations, mummeries and ceremonies, and genuflections, just by.
We felt how little was the comfort to be had here for the grief stricken
relatives. From here we passed the great Eiffel Tower, the Bourse, the
Louvre, the Tuileries, the Champs Elysees, the Bois de Boulogne, and the
New Opera House. The Pont Neuf or the New Bridge over the Seine. Then
to the tomb where lies all that remains of the great Napoleon. Here,
with uncovered heads, we gazed into the grand mausoleum, and were
constrained to moralize on the vanity of human ambition; and of how
short-lived and unsatisfactory all worldly wealth, pomp and pleasure. We
passed the Pantheon and several places of great interest, but time flies
and we must away from Paris. My wife, however, had become quite friendly
and even affectionate with Miss Hughes, so at parting there was the usual
promise of postcards, etc. We spent a little time with Mrs. Martin and
her French friend, then to the railway, and in a few hours ride we found
ourselves once again in Calais. We were not long in finding our way to
the boat, our travels had made us quite experts in getting from boat to
train and from train to boat. My little wife had to go below; Mrs.
Martin, who travelled with us, bravely stood it. However, we faced the
sea bravely because we knew that beyond it lay our home and loved ones
anticipating our home-coming. I spent my time on deck, and really got a
good blow from the briny. We landed at Dover safe and well; and, after a
very little time, we were on the train, bound for the great city of
London. It was dark as we travelled through the country, so we could not
see the places of interest. We were glad to reach the “Manchester
Hotel,” our home from home. The Manager, Mr. Hanscomb, received us with
a warm welcome; and soon we felt we were amongst English people and could
again enjoy an English meal in the English fashion. Only a night in the
city and again we are entrained for Nottingham. We had travelled now
nearly two thousand five hundred miles. Oh! the anticipation! The
slowness of the train, as we thought; though it was a fast train. We,
however, reached Home, sweet Home, safely and well, after many strange
experiences; and Oh! what a Welcome! from my precious daughter, Ivy, and
son Gordon, and dear Auntie; then our dearest baby boy, with his smiles
and his dimples; and oh! what a hug! Welcome home, was apparent even
from the servants, and we thought there is much truth in Leonard Cooke’s
poetry:
“We have basked in the far off Eastern Sun,
’Neath skies of unchanging gold;
Held by the spell of the Orient
With its mystery and charm untold.
But, Oh! to the heart that is English,
There is nought in a distant clime
As fair as a field in England
Decked out in the summer time.
There is joy in the white faced daisy,
No country afar can excel;
There’s a charm that out rivals the orchids
In the tints of the pimpernel.
There’s a scent in the fields of England
Rich spices can ne’er surpass,
A pang to the heart of the exile;
’Tis the scent of the cool green grass.”
* * * * *
[FINIS].