Evelyn's Diary. 11 Oct 1644. We lay at Cannes, which is a small port on the Mediterranean; here we agreed with a seaman to carry us to Genoa, and, having procured a bill of health (without which there is no admission at any town in Italy), we embarked on the 12th. We touched at the islands of St. Margaret and St. Honore, lately retaken from the Spaniards with great bravery by Prince Harcourt. Here, having paid some small duty, we bought some trifles offered us by the soldiers, but without going on shore. Hence, we coasted within two leagues of Antibes, which is the utmost town in France. Thence by Nice, a city in Savoy, built all of brick, which gives it a very pleasant appearance toward the sea, having a very high castle which commands it. We sailed by Morgus, now called Monaco, having passed Villa Franca, heretofore Portus Herculis, when, arriving after the gates were shut, we were forced to abide all night in the barge, which was put into the haven, the wind coming contrary. In the morning, we were hastened away, having no time permitted us by our avaricious master to go up and see this strong and considerable place, which now belongs to a prince of the family of Grimaldi, of Genoa, who has put both it and himself under the protection of the French. The situation is on a promontory of solid stone and rock. The town walls very fair. We were told that within it was an ample court, and a palace, furnished with the most rich and princely movables, and a collection of statues, pictures, and massy plate to an immense amount.

Adeline Horsey Recollections. My last recollection of Cassiobury was in 1849, when I stayed there after the announcement of my engagement to the Count Montemolin (age 25). The great Lord Brougham (age 65) was included in the house-party, and one day when he was walking in the gardens, talking about my approaching marriage, he suddenly dropped on one knee, and taking my hand, kissed it, saying as he did so, "Let me be the first to kiss your hand as future Queen of Spain".

This somewhat theatrical behaviour was exactly what Lord Brougham (age 65) delighted in. He was a very ugly man, and like most ugly people he was very vain. He was a wonderful speaker, and few cared to provoke his powers of sarcasm; Hazlitt describes him as "a man of inordinate ambition and little heart"; but he certainly possessed some heart, for he adored his daughter Eleanor, who died at Cannes when she was only nineteen. The poor girl was an invalid all her short life, and her father resided at Cannes solely on her account. He built the Villa Eleanor for her, and until Lord Brougham's death her bedroom was always known as "Eleanor's room", and kept exactly as it had been when she occupied it.

The Villa is now an hotel, and Cannes is very different to what it was when Lord Brougham settled there. He told me that the town had only one hotel and one street when he first saw it.

Eleanor Brougham's body was brought to England, and she was buried in the small graveyard which belongs to Lincoln's Inn Chapel. I do not think any other woman has ever been interred there. The Marquis of Wellesley wrote her epitaph, and I believe it is a very beautiful and touching one.