Less dramatic, but rather more comforting, the apartment in the prison-fort where I am staying on the island is next to the 17th century chapel and, until recently, was the home for the priest. It is not the cell of the “Man in the Iron Mask”.
The island is a “magical” place – I spent the afternoon walking round the south western corner – ten years ago a storm tore down many of the ancient trees, it must have been an amazing sight for ther are still giant eucalyptus and cedar trees and the island is covered with dense flowering bushes, cacti and shrubbery.
It seems as if I could easily cross the strip of water to the hurly-burly of Cannes, but to all intentsand purposes I am isloated from the bling and excesses as if I was one the moon. I am “locked-in” until the first boat late tomorrow morning – ther is no cafe or bar on the island – no shop, there is a water tap.
Interestingly the water is piped in from the mountains over 40 kilometers from Cannes, but until less than 80 years ago the only water on the whole island was the rainwater collected and stored in large stone tanks Some of these cisterns were built by the Romans over two thousand years ago and are now used as showrooms in the museam.
Although many visitors to the south of France are not aware of the island, even when they are only a few hundred yards away on the mainland, the island is large, nealy three miles long and half a mile wide. There is a second, slightly smaller island to the south and a few smaller islets – all seem invisible to most of the glitterati of the Croisette.
Apart from the Roman and pre-historic ruins, most of the fort on the island was built in the reign of Louis the Fourteenth – a garrison fort for over 600 soldiers, officers and “others”, the chapel recorded the deaths – and births – of this community.
Apart from the museam, which exhibits some of the salvage from ancient Greek, Roman and Saracen wrecks, there is a hostel for groups of young people from Cannes (Cannes Jeanesse) and I can hear the laughter of about 50 children letting off steam – a long way from the prisoners once incarcerated here for their beliefs and driven to madness, or worse by their jailers.
The island has been used for many things – in the late 19th century, North Africans, Algerians, fought for France, a group were stationed on the island and some died there – other soldiers from the Crimean war were sent to the island to recover, not all survived. Side by side two small cemetaries hold the remains of Muslim and Christian and are respected and each has a memorial for those who died for France. There is a lesson here perhaps.
