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.