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.
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.