Musée Henry Clews
The only official ‘sight’ in the Esterel park has a pretty wacky history. Bon viveurs Henry and Mary Clews decamped from decadent New York to this intoxicatingly pretty corner of France in 1919. They snapped up a seaside castle for a song, then held wild parties for local aristocrats. Henry fancied himself as a modern Don Quixote and insisted on calling himself “Mancha.” The couple covered their 4-acre (1.6 hectare) gardens with a grotesque menagerie—scorpions, pelicans, monkeys, and lizards. Sculptures from visiting artists now cover these vast grounds. There’s a treasure hunt for kids too.
The only official ‘sight’ in the Esterel park has a pretty wacky history. Bon viveurs Henry and Mary Clews decamped from decadent New York to this intoxicatingly pretty corner of France in 1919. They snapped up a seaside castle for a song, then held wild parties for local aristocrats. Henry fancied himself as a modern Don Quixote and insisted on calling himself “Mancha.” The couple covered their 4-acre (1.6 hectare) gardens with a grotesque menagerie—scorpions, pelicans, monkeys, and lizards. Sculptures from visiting artists now cover these vast grounds. There’s a treasure hunt for kids too.




