Béatrice de Rothschild was born in 1864. Her father was the baron, Alphonse de Rothschild, a banker and renowned art collector and her mother was Leonora, a Rothschild too, but on the English side of the family, so that was all above board.

Although born into immense wealth and privilege, Béatrice also sufferred much sadness in her life, particulary due to an unfortunate marriage and her inability to have children (apparently she contracted a “serious illness” from her husband, Maurice – grrr!). Maurice Ephrussi was a gambler and in 1904, his debts totalled over 12 million gold francs. They divorced in June 1904, after 21 years of marriage. 

Following her father’s death in 1905, Béatrice inherited his immense fortune and decided to have a house built in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, a place she loved. She employed Architect Jacques-Marcel Auburtin and many other experts to construct the house and extensive gardens between 1907 and 1912. She was a lady who loved beautiful things and the Ephrussi de Rothschild villa and gardens are certainly testament to this. We spent a wonderful couple of hours here, looking through each room and wandering the gardens. It was all magnificent.

And that was only the inside. The outside was just as stunning.

After grabbing some lunch from our local patisserie (have I mentioned how much I now love quiche lorraine?!) we took a deep breath or two and embarked on le Sentier du Littoral – which translated basically means a coastal walk – from our place in Villefranche-sur-mer and around Cap Ferrat. I wished I could have had eyes in the back of my head as well as the front, because the views were so stunning – everywhere! This is a little bit of what we saw – although I know I simply can’t do it justice.

We certainly all got our steps in today, but it was so worth it.

And after a day of magnificence we came home and I brought the washing in, folding it there on the balcony, overlooking the mediterranean sea, with the swallows beginning to swoop, listening to the voices of two little girls in the house next to ours singing children’s songs in French – and then the church bells began to ring. Sigh.

xxxx