Hôtel Hermitage Monte-Carlo

A proper hermitage needs very little. A cell and a garden will do, with a view to contemplate and, ideally, nobody else around. The Hôtel Hermitage in Monte-Carlo has kept the plan and upgraded every part of it. It stands on Square Beaumarchais, a short walk from the Casino, with its Belle Époque façade turned to the sea. Only one item on the original list has gone missing.

The view comes first, as it should for anyone withdrawing from the world. From the terraces and the best rooms, the harbour lies below and the Rock, home of the princely family, rises across the water. Several suites have sea-facing terraces of their own. Behind the building, engines roar as cars circle the Casino. Inside, the sound drops away to an almost monastic hush, as if someone had pressed pause on Monaco.

The cells have improved considerably. The building is being renovated in phases, and the finished rooms keep their Belle Époque bones while losing the dust. Up on the seventh floor, the Diamond suites, in shades of aqua and sand, look over both the harbour and the Rock. The largest has a bathroom in white onyx with its own sauna and hammam shower. Few hermits have ever had it so good, and none had a butler. An indoor passage also leads straight to the Thermes Marins, with their large pool and spa.

The garden is under glass. At the centre of the building lies the old winter garden, beneath a dome of pastel panes and gilded iron from the school of Gustave Eiffel. The effect is a very grand conservatory. This year it became Gustave, the new bar, and the evening ritual starts here. Cocktails are built on forgotten spirits, and a band plays late in the week. Out on the terrace, a checkerboard floor and wrought-iron chairs sit among the plants. For a hermit's garden, it is remarkably well attended.

The rule about company is the one the Hermitage dropped, and dinner is where it shows. Yannick Alléno runs two restaurants here. Pavyllon is relaxed and built around an open kitchen, and its egg with caviar comes with bread for wiping the plate. Desserts there are sweetened with birch sap rather than sugar, a discipline any hermit could respect. L'Abysse serves sushi for a quieter evening. On sunny days, Pavyllon's terrace above the sea is the table to book.

Even a hermitage has its trials. Some rooms are still waiting their turn and feel dated, so the new ones are worth requesting. Building work is kept to the quieter months between autumn and spring, and winter guests should ask whether any is under way. The sea-view rooms are the ones to ask for, since the harbour is half the reason to come.

Hermits give up the world. Guests at the Hermitage give up only the parts they never liked. They keep the view, and they certainly keep the bar.