There Was Nothing Striking In The Architecture Of The
Aqueduct.
The arches are small and low, without either grace or
ornament, and seem to have been calculated for mere utility.
The mountain of Esterelles, which is eight miles over, was
formerly frequented by a gang of desperate banditti, who are now
happily exterminated: the road is very good, but in some places
very steep and bordered by precipices. The mountain is covered
with pines, and the laurus cerasus, the fruit of which being now
ripe, made a most romantic appearance through the snow that lay
upon the branches. The cherries were so large that I at first
mistook them for dwarf oranges. I think they are counted
poisonous in England, but here the people eat them without
hesitation. In the middle of the mountain is the post-house,
where we dined in a room so cold, that the bare remembrance of it
makes my teeth chatter. After dinner I chanced to look into
another chamber that fronted the south, where the sun shone; and
opening a window perceived, within a yard of my hand, a large
tree loaded with oranges, many of which were ripe. You may judge
what my astonishment was to find Winter in all his rigour
reigning on one side of the house, and Summer in all her glory
on the other. Certain it is, the middle of this mountain seemed
to be the boundary of the cold weather. As we proceeded slowly in
the afternoon we were quite enchanted. This side of the hill is a
natural plantation of the most agreeable ever-greens, pines,
firs, laurel, cypress, sweet myrtle, tamarisc, box, and juniper,
interspersed with sweet marjoram, lavender, thyme, wild thyme,
and sage. On the right-hand the ground shoots up into agreeable
cones, between which you have delightful vistas of the
Mediterranean, which washes the foot of the rock; and between two
divisions of the mountains, there is a bottom watered by a
charming stream, which greatly adds to the rural beauties of the
scene.
This night we passed at Cannes, a little fishing town, agreeably
situated on the beach of the sea, and in the same place lodged
Monsieur Nadeau d'Etrueil, the
unfortunate French governor of Guadeloupe, condemned to be
imprisoned for life in one of the isles Marguerite, which lie
within a mile of this coast.
Next day we journeyed by the way of Antibes, a small maritime
town, tolerably well fortified; and passing the little river
Loup, over a stone-bridge, arrived about noon at the village of
St. Laurent, the extremity of France, where we passed the Var,
after our baggage had undergone examination. From Cannes to this
village the road lies along the sea-side; and sure nothing can be
more delightful. Though in the morning there was a frost upon the
ground, the sun was as warm as it is in May in England. The sea
was quite smooth, and the beach formed of white polished pebbles;
on the left-hand the country was covered with green olives, and
the side of the road planted with large trees of sweet myrtle
growing wild like the hawthorns in England.
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