Leaving Marseilles--Toulon--Hyères--Fréjus--Coast scenery--The Hotel
Windsor--An unexpected meeting, and a pleasant walk--Isles de Lerins
--The Mediterranean--Defective drainage--Mosquitos and Nocturnal Pianos
--Christmas Day--Cannes--The Pepper tree--The English cemetery--Antibes
--Miscalled Health Resorts--Grasse--Orange blossoms--Leaving Cannes.
The _mistral_ blew us away from Marseilles, which we left on the
afternoon of the 25th by the two o'clock train for Cannes. The route lay
through rocky defiles, with numerous tunnels, for we were cutting
through the promontories on the sea coast, of which we occasionally
caught magnificent glimpses.
Of Toulon, the great naval arsenal of France, we saw but little as we
passed quickly through its suburbs. Here it was that Napoleon, then a
young lieutenant-colonel of artillery, first made his mark in the
capture of the place by storm from the English in 1793. Englishmen,
however, do not forget that it was accomplished only after a long and
stubborn defence of its garrison, consisting of only a tenth of the
storming party.
The little islands off Hyères look like gems in the clear dark sea. They
were known in ancient times as the Stoechades, signifying "the
arranged" islands, a name indicative of their position in a line from
east to west. The town of Hyères seems tempting enough as a place of
quiet residence, but the air is very unhealthy from the marshes in the
vicinity.
So far our journey has been pretty close to the sea, but now we quitted
the coast for a time, winding through the Montagnes des Maures, with an
endless succession of tunnels, yet still obtaining frequent peeps at the
coast scenery.
At Fréjus we were greatly pleased at the beautiful ruins of the ancient
Roman amphitheatre, quite close to the station: the railway being on a
viaduct here enabled us to get a good view, looking downwards. This
amphitheatre, though not nearly so large as the coliseum at Rome, is far
more perfect. This was the port where, in 1799, Napoleon landed on his
return from Egypt; and from whence, fifteen years later, he embarked
when banished to Elba. Fréjus was the ancient _Forum Julii_ established
by Augustus Cæsar as a naval station.
At Les Arcs we again approached the coast. The country as we drew nearer
Cannes is very interesting and romantic--great rocky glens and chasms,
with here and there glimpses of the beautiful Mediterranean. It was
about here that we first caught sight of the snow-crested Alps, forming
a grand and sublime background to the lovely scenery.
Many of the little towns _en route_ are finely and picturesquely
situated on the hill-side, overlooking great ravines. Their churches
perched on the highest pinnacle, the wonder being how their
congregations get to them! But probably many of them are only convents.
What very different lives people lead on this fair earth! What a
contrast between the inhabitants of a great city, with its wearing cares
and its exciting pleasures, and the dweller in these isolated, peaceful,
silent mountain homes! To some the latter life would be intolerable
while strength and human passion last; but these poor yet happy people,
being nearer to Nature, are often nearer also to Nature's God.
We now pass through groves of olive trees, whose sombre and silver
tinted foliage, and wonderfully gnarled and twisted trunks, give quite a
foreign tone to the landscape. Also the orange trees, with their green
and golden fruit and enchantingly fragrant white blossoms; and the
lordly palm, with its graceful outline clearly defined against the blue
sky.
It has frequently been a question with me which tree is the most useful
to man, especially in the east--the olive, bamboo, palm, or cocoa-nut.
The first carries my mind back to pleasant memories of the Holy Land and
Mount Olivet, where a single tree is said to bear fruit for more than a
thousand years. We know the fine and wholesome oil it yields. Its fruit
is used as food, and its beautifully grained wood is highly valued for
cabinet purposes. Then the bamboo, which, growing by the water-side, is
so refreshing to hear whispering in the breeze, is used for very many
purposes, being at once so light and strong; for carrying great burdens,
for aqueducts, house-building, musical instruments, and for numerous
other purposes and articles useful and ornamental; while the graceful
palm, or cocoa-nut, provides food, drink, clothing, and building
material. Each doubtless in its region and sphere is equally prized. But
the more we examine and understand the bountiful gifts of God for our
use and happiness, harmonizing so well with our needs, the greater
wonder we feel that there is such an ungrateful animal as an _Atheist_.
At some of the little railway stations we passed, the Gloire de Dijon
and other lovely roses were clustering the walls, and growing almost
wild in the hedges, loading the air with their sweet perfume. The days
were gradually lengthening, and we felt as if fast approaching a warmer
latitude, where--
"The green hills
Are clothed with early blossoms, through the grass
The quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the bills
Of summer birds sing welcome as ye pass;
Flowers, fresh in hue, and many in their class,
Implore the pausing step, and with their dyes
Dance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass;
The sweetness of the violet's deep blue eyes,
Kiss'd by the breath of heaven, seems colour'd by its skies."
We reached Cannes in the last glow of the setting sun, the crimson,
purple, green and orange contrasting, harmonizing, blending, and slowly
settling into the neutral tints of evening. By six o'clock we were at
the Hotel Windsor, and fortunately secured a bedroom on the fourth
floor, from the windows of which we had a splendid view of the sea.
The "Windsor" is beautifully situated on the hillside, some ten minutes'
walk from the shore. It is surrounded by very pretty and tasteful
gardens, well stocked with flowers of all kinds, roses being most
conspicuous, while the perfume of the orange trees ascends from the
valley below. I should think this hotel was much more healthy than those
situate lower down and close to the sea, catching the upper drainage.
The interior is well appointed in every way, with a comfortable, homely
air about it. The landlord, a man of some refinement, is not above
personally looking after the welfare of his visitors. But he is
evidently a little too indulgent, for he allows pianofortes in the
bedrooms, and the young ladies in the room next to ours strummed away
till a very late hour at night, when we wished to sleep, tired with the
day's travel, and anxious to rise early the next morning. We thought two
good pianos in the drawing-room below quite sufficient for the musical
exercise of young ladies, and for the comfort of all at an hotel. We
supposed, however, that its being Christmas-time was probably the cause
of the nocturnal music, of which we were the somewhat reluctant and
suffering listeners.
After engaging our room, we sauntered out on a voyage of discovery and
as an appetizer for dinner, and were so fortunate as to meet an old
friend, who was staying at the same hotel. Under his kind pilotage we
had a very pleasant walk on the sea-shore, listening to the waves
dashing and tumbling against the sea-wall.
At Cannes there is neither harbour nor roadstead, but only a small bay
or cove, appropriately called Gulfe de la Napoul; and it is indeed
worthy of its name, being a miniature Bay of Naples,--but without its
Vesuvius. It is, however, so shallow that the coasting vessels that use
it are obliged to anchor at some distance from the shore, exposed to the
full action of the swell. Yet in spite of this disadvantage, Cannes is
for its size a busy and populous little town.
Immediately opposite are the Isles de Lerins, St. Honorat and St.
Marguerite. On the latter is Fort Montuy, where the "man with the iron
mask" was confined from 1686 to 1698, and which has more recently been
the prison of Marshal Bazaine. St. Honorat has its name from a monastery
founded in the fifth century by St. Honoratius, Bishop of Arles. These
islands abound in rabbits and partridges.
Until modern scientists discovered it to be otherwise, the Mediterranean
was supposed to have no tide, and was called by poets "the tideless
sea." It has but a very slight ebb and flow, and this in most places is
scarcely perceptible. The greatest rise and fall of tide in any part of
this great inland sea does not exceed about six feet. Here it appears
always high water; the long stretches of sand, shingle, and rock that
provide such delightful strolls to those visiting the shores of our own
dear island home at low tide, are nowhere to be found in this part of
the world, and thus on coming to the Mediterranean we lose one of the
usual charms of a visit to the sea coast.
We found it necessary to walk briskly, as the fall in temperature is
very great in one short hour after sunset. Indeed, those who come here
essentially for health generally contrive to get housed about four p.m.
Our olfactory nerves had already told us that in this lovely little
seaside paradise there are such prosaic things as defective drains. This
is more detectable in the evening on the beach, than elsewhere, in the
daytime; but is being rectified as the town grows.
It was Christmas Day, and on returning to the Hotel Windsor we found the
large dining-room tastefully decorated with evergreens and flowers, and,
by the kind and thoughtful attention of the landlord, we felt the
absence from dear home at this joyous time less than we might otherwise
have done. We had our _tête-à-tête_ dinner, and toasted our friends in
Old England, who probably included us in their "absent friends and dear
ones abroad."
My wife admired the handsome net mosquito curtains around our bed, but I
rather shuddered at the memories they awakened, having had some
experience of tropical climates--the river Zambezi, for instance, where
a single tiny insect of the Zebra species nearly drove me out of my
senses when suffering from fever. Probably, however, the mosquito only
visits Cannes in the summer, though my wife declared she heard a buzz,
and experienced a bite. It was certainly consolatory to think that I was
no longer considered tempting enough, by these insatiable torments.
The next morning we realized something of the beauty of Cannes. It was
so pleasant to dress by the open French windows, and enjoy the freshness
of the morning air, the warmth of the sun, and the delicious perfume of
the roses and orange blossoms rising from the gardens beneath. The birds
flitting about, with joyous song; the lovely blue sea in the distance;
and above, the cloudless sky. We felt in no hurry for breakfast, and in
imagination pictured to ourselves dear foggy London, cold and wet as we
had left it. This was indeed a grateful contrast!
When we did descend, however, our tea and toast were thoroughly enjoyed,
thanks to the appetizing air; and it was a pleasure to see our
fellow-guests sunning themselves in the gardens, and making plans for
the day's excursion and pleasure.
Cannes is essentially the beautiful and peaceful abode of the invalid,
whose desire is health. A few years since, it was a very small place
indeed, but can now boast of its sixty large hotels; and new roads and
boulevards are being opened in all directions. The Count de Chambord,[B]
and other lucky owners of property here, must feel highly gratified at
the rise in the value of land.
Cannes stretches along the sea-shore from north to south, and is
protected from the _mistral_ and other cold winds by the fine Esterel
mountain range. There is one long main street running parallel to the
beach, which contains many good shops and _cafés_. Some of the houses
are built in a line facing the sea, and divided from it by gardens and
promenades; others are clustered on the slope of the hill, which is
surmounted by a picturesque old castle. At the north end, high up at the
back of Cannes, is the charming little village of Le Cainet: a new
boulevard is now opened connecting the two. This is the warmest part,
and the most suitable for patients. There are many exceedingly pretty
and luxuriously appointed villas nestled amidst the trees and gardens,
looking refreshingly cool with their green jalousie verandahs. Handsome
carriages roll along, and one is reminded of some of the most
fashionable of our own watering-places. The stabling for the horses is
beautifully clean and neat; roses, jessamine, and flowers of every kind
climbing over and around the walls and trellis-work, affording a
pleasant shade from the scorching heat of the _December_ sun.
Among other fine trees, such as the blue gum and eucalyptus, the pepper
tree, with its graceful acacia-like leaf and pendant clusters of red
berries, is to be seen overhanging the roads. After sunset its pepper
may distinctly be smelt, almost sufficiently so to make one sneeze.
This prolific and beautiful tree seems to be indigenous to Cannes, Nice,
and Mentone.
We determined, first of all, to visit the English cemetery. Our kind
friend whom we had met the evening before accompanied us as cicerone. We
set off in a northerly direction. It was a warm walk up the hill, but we
were soon at the gates of the cemetery, and, passing through, were both
astonished and gratified at the natural beauty of the position, and the
cultivated loveliness, of this truly peaceful resting-place of those of
our dear country who had come to this little paradise on earth, alas! to
die. But, then, what a beautiful spot to die in! and how very much
loving hearts have done to render their last resting-place even more
lovely than Nature has made it! The very flowers, roses, honeysuckle,
and jessamine, planted by loving hands, seemed to cling fondly and
sympathetically to the spotless marble monuments.
Then we crossed over rivulet and ravine, up to the forest-clad hill
overlooking the cemetery, and who can describe the truly magnificent and
extensive views before us? There lay the lovely valley beneath, the
grand semicircle of Esterel hills and the snow-capped Alps outlining the
azure sky; and behind us the broad, blue sea, rippling its white-crested
wavelets upon the warm, sandy shores, while further away to the left,
the little town of Cannes lay peacefully reposing on the mountain slopes
towards the sea.
This delightful excursion occupied us until nearly one o'clock, and we
had only just time to catch the train leaving for Antibes. Not,
however, without first making a successful forage at the station, to
provide luncheon, our tall friend cramming _half a yard of bread_ into
each of his tunic pockets, which caused him to cut rather a comical
figure, especially as he wore knickerbockers; and he was consequently a
source of great amusement to people we met, who laughed good naturedly
enough, setting us down in their own minds, I doubt not, as mad English
people, in whom any amount of eccentricity was allowable.
The journey to Antibes, accomplished in a short half-hour, was very
interesting, different views and aspects of the snow-clad Maritime Alps
giving us from time to time ever-varying features of sublime beauty, and
moving our heartfelt admiration.
Antibes, the ancient Antipolis, a colony of the Massilians, was once a
Roman arsenal; there still remain two towers to mark this period. The
present fortifications were erected about the time of the first Francis,
and of Henry of Navarre, and afterwards greatly improved by Vauban under
Louis le Grand. Their erection had the salutary effect of draining the
marshy ground, and rendering the air healthy; but the sanitary
arrangements both here and elsewhere are still very defective. Before
Nice was annexed by France, this was her frontier line, which accounts
for its being still so strongly fortified. The remains of a theatre and
other ancient buildings attest to its former importance.
On reaching our destination, we strolled along the road leading to the
ramparts, and from these heights enjoyed a most glorious sea view. The
snowy Alps rising majestically on the opposite shore, and a fine old
Genoese fort, with wedge-shaped bastions, boldly standing at the end of
a peninsula, stretching out into the sea and agreeably breaking the
distance.
Antibes is almost surrounded by the sea, and, from the beauty of its
position and the natural purity of its air, is fast becoming a favoured
health resort, in spite of the dirtiness of the town and the inadequacy
of hotel accommodation. Nowadays doctors call all kinds of places
"health resorts," but they should first of all make sure that the
sanitary condition of the place justifies their recommendation. The
sublime and lovely views in this neighbourhood cannot fail to make a
lasting impression on any lover of fine scenery.
Catching our train back, we arrived at our hotel in time to make up for
our meagre lunch and rectify the danger of neglecting the _inner man_,
as travellers are sometimes prone to do when so deeply interested in the
objects around them. Later, in the cool of the evening, we had a
deliciously pleasant walk through the town towards the beautiful gardens
of Hesperides, and along the beach.
On the road from Cannes towards Fréjus is the villa of the late Lord
Brougham, whose eccentricities were as remarkable as his almost universal
talents. At the time of the formation of the second French Republic in
1848, when the cry of "Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity!" was in every
one's mouth, Lord Brougham somewhat astonished the world by enrolling
himself as a citizen of the Republic, resting his qualification upon the
fact of his being a land-owner--_propriétaire_--at Cannes.
Our excursion on the morrow was to have been to Grasse, but
unfortunately we had to go on to Nice early in the day. At Grasse
flowers are largely cultivated, especially roses, jessamine, heliotrope,
and orange and lemon blossoms, from which are manufactured most of our
delicious scents and essences--this being one of the principal places
where the culture of the lemon is most successful. Eugene Rimmel, and
also Dr. Piesse, of Piesse and Lubin, have large flower farms near
Cannes and Nice, from which their perfumes are produced. This to some
extent accounts for the neglect of the fruit itself, which frequently
lies scattered unheeded on the ground. Whilst returning from the
expedition to the cemetery, we had passed whole terraces of orange and
lemon trees covered with white blossom, their exquisite fragrance
filling the evening air. It was a pure pleasure to me to stretch out my
hand and pluck a beautiful spray from an orange tree, and, placing it on
my wife's shoulder, remind her of the "day of days"--especially as she
had scarcely seen the blossoms _au naturel_, but only their skilful
imitation daintily modelled in wax for the adornment of some fair bride.
That day's excursion will ever be remembered, both for our visit to the
charming little English cemetery and the trip to Antibes. We were
indeed sorry to leave beautiful Cannes, containing so much of the
loveliness and grandeur of Nature.
We found the Hotel Windsor very quiet, comfortable, and moderate in
charge, and hope some day to renew our agreeable impressions of it.
I think, to comprehend in full the beauty of Cannes and other parts of
the coast, they should be seen from the sea from the deck of a yacht or
packet some three or four miles off.
On the 27th we left by train for Nice, arriving there towards evening.
[B] Since writing the above, one more hope of unfortunate France, the
head of the Legitimist party, faithful to the last of his "divine
right," has passed away.