The railway from Nice to Mentone, forming part of the line from Paris
and Marseilles, terminates at the frontier, where it is to be united to
the line from Genoa. The Italian portion, however, is in a very backward
condition, and to all appearance years may elapse before it is
completed; on which account many travellers for Genoa do not trouble
themselves with the railway so far as it is made, but hire carriages and
horses at Nice for the whole journey. Vehicles with two, four, or
sometimes five horses are seen daily passing southwards through Mentone.
The railway does credit to its constructers. Piercing Cap Martin by a
tunnel, it crosses the several valleys by bridges, holding close by the
hills behind the town. The station, situated on the right bank of the
Carei, and reached by the Route de Turin, is about a quarter of a mile
northwards from the main street. Omnibuses in connection with several
hotels, likewise an omnibus for the general service of the town, and the
diligence for Genoa, attend the arrival of the trains. Visitors
designing to remain for the season can have no difficulty in getting
apartments in any of the hotels having omnibuses, until they look about
them and make a choice of a dwelling.
To help them in their selection, a few general observations may be
offered. Mentone, as has been shewn, is a town in two divisions, locally
known as the East and West Bays. The first thing, accordingly, for a
stranger to do is to make up his mind in which he prefers to reside. The
two bays are very different in character from each other. The East—that
which is farthest away on arriving from Nice—is reputedly the warmest,
and best adapted for invalids with pulmonary or bronchial affections.
Sheltered on the west by the projecting hill on which the old town is
built, and on the east by Cap Murtola, and closely overhung on the north
by the mountains, it is, I believe, the most sunny warm nook in the
whole Riviera. So completely is it enclosed that there is only space in
front for the roadway from the Quai Bonaparte. The hilly ground in the
rear, clothed in olive, orange, and lemon trees, is intersected by the
small and not very accessible valley of Garavan, which imparts its name
to the quarter. Far up, on the bare acclivities, are seen gray,
sun-dried cottages, though who live in them, or how they are reached, no
one can understand. Near at hand, on the lofty cliffs to the east, is
the Corniche road, pursuing its way by the Pont St Louis.
Latterly, to meet the demand for accommodation in this choice quarter, a
number of houses of various kinds have been erected towards the ravine
of St Louis, and it seems likely that every available site will ere long
be occupied with dwellings of a class suitable for visitors. Singularly
favoured in various respects, the East Bay is not without some
drawbacks. If the weather be warm, the locality may be found too close,
and the mosquitoes somewhat troublesome. To go into and return from
town, pedestrians have to pass through a cold windy gorge at the end of
the main street, and the walk by the Quai is not pleasant. The greatest
defect is the want of a good public promenade near the sea-margin. No
doubt visitors can hire a carriage, or they can take the omnibus which
plies to and from the western extremity of the town, and so reach
promenades to their liking; but all that causes trouble, and one prefers
to saunter out at odd times for air and recreation when a pleasant
promenade is readily at hand. This deficiency is said to be in course of
remedy by the formation of a level stretch along the beach, but when it
will be completed is uncertain. With all its drawbacks and limitations,
there is much to fascinate in the East Bay, so quiet, so sunny is it;
and the mind carries away recollections of the pretty shrubberies in
front of one or two of the hotels, where, in mid-winter, you see parties
seated under the elegantly drooping foliage of the pepper-tree, as if
enjoying a cool shade in the heats of summer. To live at this spot is
truly to winter with the swallows, for there, when the season is
propitious, they resort, as if aware that in going farther they would
find few such haunts, till they reach the neighbourhood of the Pyramids.
The West Bay, if less sheltered, is more spacious and airy. Living in
it, you are more in the world—near the shops, cab-stand,
railway-station, reading-room and library, new English church,
post-office, Promenade du Midi, and all the walks and rides in the
lateral valleys. I should say that this quarter is most suitable for
mere health-loungers—those who seek for recreation in open air and
exercise. With a south-eastern or south-western exposure, it is sunny
enough for all ordinary requirements, and is chosen by many invalids for
its amenities, as is observable from the number of persons who are drawn
along the Promenade in Bath-chairs, courting health from the
sea-breezes, tempered by the brilliant sunshine. In the West Bay,
beginning at Carnolles, and extending to the centre of the town, there
are numerous hotels, some pleasantly situated, so as to overlook the
Promenade, and others at the base of the rising grounds. Here, also, are
a variety of villas for hire, and a number of houses specially called
_pensions_, the distinction between which and hotels is not very clear,
so far as concerns the residence of strangers for the season. In all the
hotels, possibly with one or two exceptions, there is a practice of
receiving guests _en pension_—that is to say, they give board and
lodging at so much per day. Whether designated hotels or pensions, these
establishments are for the most part on a scale of considerable
magnitude.
At these establishments no introduction is necessary. All are received
on an equality, no matter what be the nationality or rank in life. Some
houses are resorted to more by German or French visitors than others,
while some are preferred by English and Americans. The charge per day
for each person is usually from ten to twelve francs. For this sum you
have a small bedroom, fit for only one person, breakfast, luncheon, and
dinner, with generally the use of a public drawing-room. Candles,
firewood, and service are paid for separately. The object seems to be to
let as many bedrooms, and as few salons or private sitting-rooms, as
possible; at all events, the charge is made so high for a salon, that
comparatively few indulge in that luxury. The French way of living is
adopted. The meals are served to the guests in the _salle à manger_; but
in the case of breakfast, guests may ordinarily choose their own hour.
In fact, the breakfast, _petit déjeûner_, is a trifle, something to
carry you on till noon, and consists only of tea or coffee with bread
and butter. Luncheon at twelve is the _déjeûner_ proper, and is styled
the _déjeûner à la fourchette_. It is in reality a dinner with different
hot meats and omelettes, but without soup or dessert. Half a bottle of
_vin ordinaire_ is allowed to each person. Dinner, the great meal of the
day, takes place at six o’clock. This is the well-known _table-d’hôte_,
set out in good style. There is the same allowance of vin ordinaire as
at noon, but other wines are supplied to order.
Under the pension system no tea is given in the evening. After dinner,
some go to their bedrooms, others to the drawing-room, for the sake of
music or conversation, or to look over a few old newspapers, for want of
anything better to do. The drawing-room is usually styled a _salon de
lecture_, because it is presumedly a reading-room. A tattered
_Galignani_, a week old, lying on the table, will constitute the room a
salon de lecture. This mode of living in public may be amusing to those
who do not object to racket and noisy talk in several languages. My own
experiences have not been very successful, particularly as regards the
drawing-rooms or sham salons de lecture, where usually some young lady,
with long hair hanging down her back, has, by her frantic performances
on the piano, banished everything like quietude and comfort. What with
one charge or another, the cost of living _en pension_ at Mentone is
rarely under a hundred francs, or four pounds, for each person per week.
In very many cases it will amount to five pounds. Preferring to occupy a
private salon, I submitted to a higher charge. Last season, I procured a
salon and two bedrooms on the first floor at a hotel overlooking the
Promenade at a charge of 105 francs, and for meals served privately 119
francs, for two persons per week. A charge of 10½ francs was made for
service. Wine, fuel, and lights were paid for in addition. The sum-total
was usually about 267 francs, or £10, 14s. per week. These charges were
lower than I had paid the previous year at another hotel, but I do not
scruple to say they were exorbitant, for the _logement_ and _nourriture_
were not worth the money. Like all, however, who capriciously depart
from the plan of eating and drinking in a crowd according to the routine
of the establishment, I ought not perhaps to complain. The table-d’hôte
system is unquestionably the cheapest, and also the best as regards
variety of dishes, wherefore comparatively few attempt the method of
taking meals in their own apartment.
In appearance, the hotels and pensions of Mentone are well built and
substantial, with usually a coating of cement or paint of a light
colour. All the stairs are stone—in one or two instances marble. The
floors are laid with tiles, covered with carpets; the furniture good.
The rooms are arranged in rows along each side of the passages, and
communicate with each other. In one point of view, this is a convenient
arrangement, for it allows any one to occupy two or more apartments _en
suite_; but against it there is the objection that you are separated
possibly from noisy neighbours only by a thin and imperfectly
constructed door (of two leaves); and it is impossible by any precaution
to avert this contingency, for there is a frequent shifting of visitors.
A little annoyed by the vivacity of some neighbours who spoke in German
at about the pitch of their voice, we tried to deaden the sound by
hanging up a railway wrapper over the doorway. For such imperfect
arrangements the hotels of Mentone are not singular. The same thing
prevails at Nice, where, on one occasion, we had to vacate our rooms in
consequence of a lady and gentleman taking lessons in singing in the
next apartment—the pair going through the gamut for hours, one in a
shrill treble, the other in a deep bass voice, and both of course
regardless of the noise they created, or the inconvenience to which they
were putting their neighbours. There is another structural imperfection
which may be experienced in some of the Mentone hotels. It consists in
the fire-places being placed in the outer wall so near the connecting
doors, as not to admit of a party sitting around them in the English
fashion. Besides being awkwardly placed, the fire-places are not
furnished with grates for burning coal. On the occurrence of a stretch
of cold weather, the want of coal-grates is felt to be a serious defect,
for the heat derived from burning wood is very insufficient. The fuel
ordinarily supplied consists of billets of old olive and fig trees, two
and a half francs being charged for a basket which will last a day. I
have known persons who used two baskets in a day, or upwards of four
shillings’ worth of wood. As a kind of favour, during the coldest part
of the season, we were, for a fair consideration, indulged with some
pieces of coal to mix with the wood on the hearth, and in this way
contrived to strengthen the blaze a little.
A few words may be offered respecting the situation of the principal
hotels, beginning at the western entrance to the town. The Hôtel du
Pavilion, on right, at Carnolles; well managed, with a small salon de
lecture; back overlooks the sea; rather distant from the town, and the
roads dirty in bad weather, but situation otherwise pleasant. Hôtel
Splendide, on left after crossing the Borigo; an elegant new house
facing the south; has an outlook to the sea, but this may be interrupted
if buildings be placed on an open piece of ground which is at present
offered for sale. Hôtel de Londres, a smaller house on same side of the
road a little farther on, good, but partially overshadowed by buildings
on south side of the road. Hôtel de Turin on right, with windows to the
south overlooking the Promenade; consists of two houses, one being
styled the Annèxe, but there is a connection between the two by a
covered passage; no salon de lecture, although one of the French
guide-books says there is; only a salle à manger, salons, and bedrooms;
clean; good service; convenient by means of a back entrance from
Promenade; but the noise of the sea troublesome. Hôtel du Parc, a short
way up the Route de Turin; new; overlooks the Carei, but seems much
darkened by rows of tall plane trees. Hôtels du Louvre and Beau Séjour,
at base of hills, facing the south, with orange gardens in front,
reached by the road on left bank of the Carei, also by cross-road from
main street, and situated near the town; good, and away from noise of
the sea; well adapted for invalids; resorted to by Germans and French;
the railway, after crossing the Carei, is carried near the back of these
houses. Hôtel de la Méditerranée, on left or north side of main street,
good, and used by strangers passing through the town; opposite is a
short lane conducting to the Promenade; as the situation is central, it
would be found convenient to reside in this hotel until permanent
quarters were secured. Hôtel d’Orient, new, situated back from north
side of main street near the Cercle; a southern exposure, but shut out
from view of sea. Grand Hôtel de Victoria, a very large splendid house,
frequented by aristocracy, on right or south side of the street; back
windows overlook the sea; and a back entrance communicates with the
Promenade; this house has a lift for benefit of residents on the higher
floors. Hôtel de Paris, same side of the street; best known for its
café, billiard-rooms, and restaurant. Hôtel du Midi fronts the
Promenade, which alone separates it from the beach; noise of sea
troublesome. Hôtel d’Angleterre, formerly called Hôtel de Turin, fronts
Place Napoléon, where travelling carriages arrive and are for hire; back
windows with a broad balcony overlook the sea. In this hotel, which is
at the heart of the town, a lady friend resided during the winter of
1862–63, and greatly enjoyed a seat on the balcony, the fine season
completely remedying a throat complaint. Since that period, the environs
of the house on the side next the sea appear to have deteriorated, being
not only dirty, but noisy, from crowds of boys who frequent the place
for outdoor sports.
The foregoing are the principal hotels in the West Bay, and besides them
I may instance the pensions Hemmelmann, Camous, Miramar, and Bournabat,
overlooking the Promenade, and Imberti, prettily situated in a garden on
left bank of the Borigo. In the East Bay, the hotels standing in a row
near each other, and generally spacious and elegant, are as follow:
Hôtel de la Grande Brétagne; Grand Hôtel de la Paix; Hôtel des Anglais,
frequented by English and Americans (here reside during the season, Dr
J. H. Bennet, and Dr J. Martin, a skilled English dentist); Hôtel des
Iles Britannique; Grand Hôtel. All these, and there may be one or two
others, also some pensions, are on the level ground, entering from the
roadway, and having a southern exposure to the sea. There is a detached
hotel, Hôtel d’Italie, with a good outlook, situated on the hill above,
reached by a flight of steps and sloping drive; the landlady is English;
the only objection to this house is the difficulty of getting up and
down.
[Illustration: Hotels in the East Bay.]
As regards detached villas ready furnished for hire, there is a good
choice in the early part of the season, at rents ranging from fifteen
hundred to five thousand francs. Those occupying them will either have
to bring servants with them or hire them on the spot. Some superior
residences of this kind are situated at Carnolles. One of them in this
quarter, quite palatial in character, is the mansion which belonged to
the Prince of Monaco previous to his expulsion from the commune. There
are several villas of a respectable class on or near the Promenade; a
number equal, if not superior, in appearance are situated in the valley
of the Carei; and some of tasteful architecture have just been erected
at the farther extremity of the Eastern Bay. In general, the villas are
handsome buildings situated in gardens, with gateways for admitting
carriages to drive up to the door. The whole are provided with Venetian
blinds hung outside the windows, by which means the houses may be
effectually shut up at the close of the season. I observed that the
windows of some of the villas have frames covered with fine gauze to
exclude flies and mosquitoes; when a window is opened for air, the gauze
frame takes the place of the glass; a most luxurious piece of furniture
this. Some of the villas are provided with stables and coach-house. The
common practice, however, is to hire carriages and horses from persons
who make a business of lending them. A good carriage, either to open
landau-fashion or to shut up, with driver and pair of horses, the whole
turn-out in good style, may be hired at about 625 francs per month, for
which sum everything is included. In a few instances, a villa
comprehends two distinct dwellings, one in the lower and another in the
upper floor, and having separate entrances. For the most part prettily
furnished in the French style, the villas are not always well provided
with water, nor is their system of drainage very perfect. The whole, I
believe, like most of the hotels and pensions, depend on pump-wells, and
with few exceptions the drainage is into cess-pools. Here we touch on
two weak points in the character of Mentone. I cannot say that I
experienced any inconvenience from either; but things are certainly not
what we should expect in a community which depends, to a great extent,
on its colony of strangers.
Another class of dwellings for hire are floors ready furnished, reached
by common stairs from the public thoroughfares. Houses so laid out in
floors for separate families, are styled _Maisons_—as, for example,
Maison Gastaldy, Maison Ribaud; being so called from the names of their
respective proprietors. Some floors are divided into two dwellings; each
dwelling is designated an _Appartement_, though consisting of several
rooms with kitchen. Many of these floor dwellings are on a respectable
scale; the rent for the season being from 800 to 2000 francs. Service is
not given, and will require to be procured separately, as in the case of
detached residences. An English family of my acquaintance hires a
dwelling of this kind by the year, going and returning annually. Every
year, at the proper season, the family arrives, bringing an English
female domestic, to whom a native servant is added to complete the
establishment. At the end of the season, the dwelling being locked up,
is left to the care of the proprietor till it is again wanted. No plan
of housekeeping can match this for independence and comfort. It is well
suited for families who, for some special reason, require habitually to
winter abroad.
There is still one other class of houses offered for hire, furnished.
These are _Châlets_, or cottages of moderate dimensions, situated amidst
orange and olive groves on the sides of the hills, but to which access
is obtained only by winding pathways fit for pedestrians, or for donkeys
with panniers to bring all necessary provisions. Persons who have a
fancy for ruralising amidst very charming scenery, could find nothing
more suitable than a residence in these secluded spots. Water, I fear,
will prove a difficulty, but that must be looked to.
When several members of a family have to be accommodated, I would
recommend a hired dwelling of some sort, be it a villa, a floor, or a
châlet, not only for the sake of economy, but for that degree of peace
and comfort which is not obtainable even in the best-managed hotel or
pension. In the furniture of houses let for hire, napery and plated
articles for the table are included, and it may lessen anxiety to know
that dinners ready cooked are sent out to order from certain hotels. A
confectioner and _pâtissier_ may be applied to for a like purpose. There
is a keen competition in the profession of the _blanchisseuse_. For
those residing in hired dwellings, the town is well provided with shops
where all things necessary can be procured, which was not the case only
a few years ago; and there is also a market daily for eggs, poultry,
vegetables, and other articles.
The building and furnishing of houses for hire is evidently a great
trade in Mentone. It is a method of employing capital which, being
thought safe, appears to commend itself to French notions. Men of
considerable wealth, who make little show, embark in it. _Propriétaires_
owning villas of an elegant and costly kind, which from their fortune
they would be entitled to reside in, may be heard of as living in an
obscure and economic way in the town. Houses for hire of all kinds are
for the most part let by commission-agents, who have lists for
inspection. Strangers who propose to rent such dwellings, will find it
to their advantage to seek the advice and assistance of Mr T.
Willoughby, a well-known English grocer and wine-merchant settled in the
town, who carries on a business as a house and estate agent, and looks
personally after the condition of every dwelling with which he is
concerned. To facilitate this species of business, he prints a list of
houses and apartments for hire, with a plan of the town shewing where
each is situated. He gives a copy of this useful pamphlet, which is
printed in English, along with all requisite information, gratis. All
English-speaking visitors know Willoughby, who may be considered to be a
kind of commercial adviser-general, and ready on all occasions to help
his countrymen.
The season is said to begin on the 25th October, and terminate on the
25th April, when the heat becomes inconvenient. I observed, however,
that strangers have not fully arrived until the middle of December, and
many depart at the beginning of March. Those who come first have of
course the best choice of accommodation. According to a list published
on the 1st of January 1870, there were 215 English, 41 Americans, 116
Germans, 13 Belgians, 12 Danes and Swedes, 98 French, 21 Dutch, 46
Russians and Poles, and 20 of other nations—total, 582. But as a very
large number of the entries in the list were of husband and wife, or of
families and suite, we cannot estimate the whole at fewer than twelve
hundred adults, and it would be a moderate calculation to set down their
aggregate expenditure during the season at less than £200,000.
There were few with whom I conversed who did not complain of the charges
of the hotel-keepers: one lady was quite excited on the subject,
speaking of the exactions for fuel, lights, and service as something
shameful. High charges are certainly more the rule than the exception,
and may in the fluctuations of fashion help to drive visitors elsewhere.
Nice, however, and other resorts in this quarter, are as dear as
Mentone. The hotel-keepers are not without a plausible excuse. They pay
high rents; they have to maintain an expensive establishment; their
harvest of visitors lasts only six months; two or three bad seasons in
succession might finish them. There is truth in this apology, but I
would counsel them not to rely too greatly upon it. They may with
advantage take into consideration the possibility of lowering the
sum-total of their weekly bills. Rivals have entered the field. The
people of San Remo, as if awakening from a trance, are making a push for
a share of the visitor traffic; and if they render their town attractive
by establishing a good promenade along the sea-margin, and by carrying
out sundry other improvements to meet the fancy of visitors, they may
seriously affect the hotel-keepers as well as the _propriétaires_ of
every French winter-resort. It may be years, as I have said, before the
railway is opened beyond Mentone (for Italy is in a sad state of
impecuniosity, or, more correctly, is suffering from a bad
administrative system, along with a want of credit), but there can be no
doubt that the railway will be completed as far as San Remo some time or
other; and when this event occurs, Cannes, Nice, and Mentone may look
for a degree of competition in their staple dependence which at present
they do not experience. They had better begin revising their tariff.
It will be understood from the foregoing explanations, that furnished
lodgings, in the English sense of the term, do not exist at Mentone.
There are no houses in which you can hire one or two apartments by the
week, and be waited on by the servants of the keeper. That plan of
living is not according to French usage. The tickets hung out of
_Appartement Meublé_, signify a furnished suite of rooms without
service, and where the dwellers are left to their own resources. Those
who wish to be free of the trouble of independent housekeeping, go into
a pension, which suits the gregariousness of the French character. Many
English will feel this deficiency to be an inconvenience. It often
passed through my mind, that lodging-houses on the English system would
answer, and more particularly if that peculiar species of lodging-house
which prevails at Brighton were introduced. There, the lodging-houses
called ‘Mansions’—as, for example, the Belvidere Mansion—are ready to
let apartments and supply food and service at so much a day, each lodger
being served in his own apartment, if he pleases; or they will allow
lodgers to purchase what they require for themselves. Nowhere, in all my
ramblings, have I found any lodging-house system so thoroughly
convenient and agreeable as this, and it would be a great recommendation
to Mentone if it had something of the kind which we could point to.
I may offer another remark. _Propriétaires_ at Mentone confine their
building speculations too exclusively to detached and costly villas, and
to tall houses in the main street. Visitors who wish to hire dwellings
do not all incline to pay a high rent for a villa, or to live over shops
and have windows looking into a dusty street, noisy with traffic. Many
would prefer, if it could be got, a house in a connected row, in a
sheltered and retired situation, with a southern exposure—such as may be
obtained in one of the crescents at Bath, or the famed _Lung’ Arno_ at
Pisa. Instead of setting down villas in all sorts of odd spots, some
facing this way and some that, and often one overshadowing and
interrupting the view of another, how much better would it be for
_propriétaires_ to unite, if at all possible, in erecting a score of
houses not too high, on the plan of a crescent, in some choice
situation, and which houses, while commodious as dwellings, would be
hailed as a tranquil and sunny refuge for invalids.