The Mediterranean: Its Storied Cities and Venerable RuinsAllen, Grant
History
The Mediterranean: Its Storied Cities and Venerable Ruins
Allen, Grant
Europe, Southern -- Description and travel; Mediterranean Region -- Description and travel
This wonderful modern town, with its stately sea-front, its noble quays,
its dainty white villas, its magnificent hotels, and its Casino, owes its
existence entirely to the vogue which the coast has acquired in our own
times as a health-resort for consumptives. As long ago as Smollett's time,
the author of "Roderick Random" remarks complacently that an
acquaintance, "understanding I intended to winter in the South of France,
strongly recommended the climate of Nice in Provence, which indeed I had
often heard extolled," as well he might have done. But in those days
visitors had to live in the narrow and dirty streets of the Italian town,
whose picturesqueness itself can hardly atone for their unwholesome air
and their unsavory odors. It was not till the hard winters of 1822-23-24
that a few kind-hearted English residents, anxious to find work for the
starving poor, began the construction of a sea-road beyond the Paillon,
which still bears the name of the Promenade des Anglais. Nice may well
commemorate their deed to this day, for to them she owes as a
watering-place her very existence.
[Illustration]
The western suburb, thus pushed beyond the bed of the boundary torrent,
has gradually grown in wealth and prosperity till it now represents the
actual living Nice of the tourist and the winter resident. But how to
describe that gay and beautiful city; that vast agglomeration of villas,
_pensions_, hotels, and clubs; that endless array of sun-worshipers
gathered together to this temple of the sun from all the four quarters of
the habitable globe? The sea-front consists of the Promenade des Anglais
itself, which stretches in an unbroken line of white and glittering
houses, most of them tasteless, but all splendid and all opulent, from the
old bank of the Paillon to its sister torrent, the Magnan, some two miles
away. On one side the villas front the shore with their fantastic façades;
on the other side a walk, overshadowed with date-palms and
purple-flowering judas-trees, lines the steep shingle beach of the
tideless sea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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