The Ravine of Saint Dévote, Monte Carlo
With all its artificiality, with all its splendour of nature and the works of man, and with all the historic associations of its past, one can but take a mingled glad and sad adieu of Monaco and Mont Charles. “Monaco est bien le rêve le plus fantastique, devenue la plus resplendissante des réalités!”
CHAPTER XIV.
MENTON AND THE FRONTIER
MENTON is more tranquil than Nice or Cannes, and, in many ways, more adorable; but it is a sort of hospital and is not conducive to gaiety to the extent that it would be were there an utter absence of Bath chairs, pharmacies, and shops devoted to the sale of nostrums and invalid foods. There is none of the feverish existence of the other cities of the Riviera here, and, in a way, this is a detraction, for it is not the unspoiled countryside, either, but bears all the marks of the advent of an indulgent civilization. One might think that one’s very existence in such a delightful spot might be a panacea for most of flesh’s ills, but apparently this is not so, at least the doctors will not allow their “patients” to think so.
Menton’s port is quite extensive and is well sheltered from the pounding waves which here roll up from the Ligurian sea, at times in truly tempestuous fashion. To the rear the Maritime Alps slope abruptly down to the sea, with scarce a warning before their plunge into the Mediterranean. All this confines Menton within a very small area, and there is little or no suburban background. In a way this is an advantage; it most certainly tends toward a mildness of the winter climate; but on the other hand there is lacking a sense of freedom and grandeur when one takes his walk abroad.
Just before reaching Menton is the garden-spot of Cap Martin, once a densely wooded “petite forêt,” but now threaded with broad avenues cut through the ranks of the great trees and producing a wonderland of scenic vistas, which, if they lack the virginity of the wild-wood as it once was, are truly delightful and fairylike in their disposition. Great hotels and villas have come, for the Emperor of Austria and the ex-Empress Eugénie were early smitten by the charms of the marvellously situated promontory, making of it a Mediterranean retreat at once exclusive and unique.
The panorama eastward and westward from this green cape is of a varied brilliancy unexcelled elsewhere along the Riviera. On one side is Monaco’s rock, Monte Carlo, and the enchanting banks of “Petite Afrique,” and on the other the white walls and red roofs of Menton.
Between Cap Martin and Menton the road skirts the very water’s edge, crossing the Val de Gorbio and entering the town via Carnoles, where the Princes of Monaco formerly had a palace. Modern Menton is like all the rest of the modern Riviera; its streets bordered with luxurious dwellings and hotels, up-to-date shop-fronts, and all the appointments of the age. At the entrance to the city is a monument commemorative of the voluntary union of Menton and Roquebrune with France.
Menton is a strange mixture of the old and the new. There are no indications of a Roman occupation here, though some geographers have traced its origin back through the night of time to the ancient Lumone. More likely it was founded by piratical hordes from the African coast, who, it is known, established a settlement here in the eighth century. Furthermore, the “Maritime Itinerary” of the conquering Romans makes no mention of any landing or harbour between Vintimille and Monaco, thus ignoring Menton entirely, even if they ever knew of it.