The National tribune., 1883-03-22
THE FRENCH RIVIERA
A Famous Winter Watering Place
New and Old Nice.
special correspondence National Tribune.

the gray days of Paris to the glowing sunshine
of the Riviera-the shore par excellence. This
pretty and somewhat presumptuous name is
borne by the shore of the Mediterranean from
Marseilles to the italian boundary and thence
to Genoa extends the Italian Riviera Thither
| flock, every winter, great crowds of inyalids
from England and the north of France, with
pleasure seekers from all parts of the continent.
In single little boarding house or pension"
at Nice, for instance, may be found eountesses
from Austria and Poland and Denmark, with
| representatives of Gallicia and Roumania, be-
sides French, German, and American pension
naires. In meeting this mixed assemblage one
is led TO reflect upon the circumstances which
bring all these persons to one small strip of
land at one particular season. The chief cir
cumstanee is not fer TO seek 1t is the fact that
the continent OF Europe is very far north.
Moreover. the Riviera is very charming. The
tideieSs Mediterranean and the stern, black
maritime Alps shut in between them strip of
/ land in which oranges grow willingly and
roses bloom almost without encouragement.
Moreover. the average number of rainy days in
| winter here is only fifteen. In consequence of
| these circumstances the Riviera is one long
| chain of little towns composed of hotels and
pensions, greatly resembling, in spite of decided
| differences, the coast of New England at mid
summer. 1t must be confessed that the differ
| ences are chiefly in favor of the American
resorts {; for winter bathing is the privilege of
| a few exceptionally vigorous residents of the
! Riviera; rowing and fishing are undertaken
only by peasant fishermen; yachting is con-
1 fined to small proportion of wealthy English
| men and Americans Outside sports are thus
reduced to driving, riding, tennis, cricket, &C.,
/ while the opportunities for dancing are very
| limited. In the interval between the burning
! OF the opera-house at Nice and the completion
1 of the casino there is little music to be heard
/ outside Of the concert-roOm at Monte Carlo
Z L.. e
| England seaside resorts is the long summer
/ day. In winter, on the Riviera, the day ends
| at four p. M, when the sun sets and a sudden
/ chill descends upon the atmosphere. Speedily
| all signs Of life vanish from the streets, and
| until nine next morning the life of the popu-
| lace is life within doors. The hours of sun
! shine are very charming, however aud all the
| world takes advantage of them; so that the
| streets which are silent at night, save for the
/ steady beating OF the sea, swarm all day long
| with carriages or lazy strollers. Nice is the
/ largest of the Riviera resorts, and travellers
often make it their headquarters, taking trips
/ to Cannes and Mentone, the favorite haunt5 of
| English jewellers on the Riviera; and to Monte
| Carlo for gambling or for study of the victims
of the Prince Of Monaco. As headquarters
Nice does very well, though it is not, in itself,
| an entertaining spot. Built on little bay
prettily called the Bale des Anges, or Bay of
the Angels, it enjoys occasionally very fine sun
| sets, when the mountains at the north and west
and the hill of the chateau at the east receive
| purple light as soft and warm as it is fleeting.
| DAILY DIVERSIONS.
| But the sunset can fill, at best, only small
/ portion OF the day, and during the remaining
| hours diversion must be sought in the capital
! drives through the enyirons; the roads here,
as everywhere in France being broad, smooth,
| and hard One superb road along the sea from
Nice to Mentone, known as The Cornice,"
! gives a long series OF views which realize ones
/ childish dreams of the Mediterranean. Other
| roads inland have curious interest, for this
region is near the Italian boundary, and the
peasants have mixed dialect which gets into
print on the signs of peasant villages, and sounds
/ odly in ears quickeued to constant alertness in
| the effort to follow spoken French. The peasant
/ customs, too, are modified and the habit of 5ask
/ ing for hours together in halfwaking dreams,
after the Italian fashion begins to prevail
From all points, looking inland, oiive-clad hills
/ meet the eye, ugly biackish green, and pale
/ lifeiess gray Few things in Europe are
more Disappointing than the olive groves.
The trees are small, and look like defective
] apple trees; the leaves, however, are more like
/ those of the willow, and the mixture of the
I features of these two kinds of trees results IN
| something very ugly. Next to the olive groves,
perhaps, the most conspicuous feature of the
! view inland is the abundance of unmeaning
stone walls also very ugly. Indeed, the stern,
i dark mountains, the nearer " Olive-mutiled"
/ hills, and the diseolored walls combine TO make
the northward outlook forbidding enough, and
/ to cause the traveller TO turn gladly back to the
| sea which shines in the sunlight bluer and
| more silyery for the contrast The city of
I Nice itself is not pretty. The stone of the
region is glaringiy white, and square villas in
! straight rows are dazzling in the sunshine, and
meager and cherries without it. The only
/ spot in which these are not intolerably ugly is
/ !, rhnf1t nf tba do dos
/ Anglais. where the houses all face the sea, and
where their ehalk-white glare is softened by
abundant green of palm trees and tropical
plants. When this white stone is not used
| stuceo, as nearly like it as possible, IS manu-
| featured; and there is an odd fashion of paint
! ing cornices and draperies on the stucco. Such
| is Nice as it presents itself to the new eSmer-
| a preposterous mixture of Paris, Atlantic City,
and the Wasatch Range! But, hidden away at
| the east end of this gay and sunshiny and
prosperous haunt of winter idlers, is another
Nice rarely mentioned by the residents of the
east end and then only with curiosity or dis
| like.
PICTURE OF POVERTY.
| The unmentioned city is Old Nice, place
which cannot be described in any words
that will bring true picture of it home to
| minds acquainted with poverty and degradation
! only as we know them in America. Crowded
| between a little mountain stream, the Pai1ou
and hilltop, once fortress, Old Nice Is justly
called "a perfect labyrinth of narrow, dirty,
! steep streets" Not one of its streets is wide
enough for donkey cart and some of them
are paved with brick, and divided into steps
from the base of the hill to the top. The
| houses are SO high and forbidding that they are
more like the steep sides of a rocky railroad
cut than like human dwellings; yet every
house is the abiding place of incredible swarms
of dirty peasants. Following one of the Kicked
| footpaths that serve in lieu of streets in Old
Nice, and glancing in through an open door, a
stranger saw, one day, in dark cavern of q
room that served for family home, an old
man melting solder for mending tinware. Near
him an old woman was pairing vegetables for
dinner. Higher up two little girls of four and
six years were playing mother" the elder
carefully knotting at the back the shawl that
little peasant babies wear, then turning her
| baby around for a motherly kiss and squeeze.
| Higher still, the real mother was doubtless
one of group of washerwomen ehattering
in harsh voices around great stone trough,
the thick sides of which give wide, smooth
space for soaping and slapping linen made
beautifully clean in the hard, green water,
poured generously from stone pipe in the
hillside Higher yet, a priest stood listening
intently to the stammering excuses of six
| year-old urchin, who crawled dejeetedly
through large dirty doorway, labeled "Aunic-
ipa School-In the care of the Christian Broth
ers." AT the top of the hill the sunshine poured
down on the ruins of the old fortress and the bar