It was Lord Brougham—“le fervent étudiant de la Provence,” the French call him—who said: “Herodotus called Egypt a gift of the Nile to posterity, but the Durance can make of la Crau une petite Egypte aux portes de Marseilles.” From this one gathers that the region has only to be plentifully watered to become a luxuriant and productive river-bottom.
CHAPTER V.
MARTIGUES: THE PROVENÇAL VENICE
WE arrived at Martigues in the early morning hours affected by automobilists, having spent the night a dozen miles or so away in the château of a friend. Our host made an early start on a shooting expedition, already planned before we put in an appearance, so we took the road at the witching hour of five A. M., and descended upon the Hôtel Chabas at Martigues before the servants were up. Some one had overslept.
However, we gave the great door of the stable a gentle shake; it opened slowly, but silently, and we drove the automobile noisily inside. Two horses stampeded, a dog barked, a cock crowed, and sleepy-headed old Pierre appeared, saying that they had no room, forgetful that another day was born, and that he had allowed two fat commercial travellers, who were to have left by the early train, to over-sleep.
Église de la Madeleine, Martigues
As there was likely to be room shortly, we convinced Pierre (whose name was really Pietro, he being an Italian) of the propriety of making us some coffee, and then had leisure to realize that at last we were at Martigues—“La Venise Provençale.”
Martigues is a paradise for artists. So far as its canals and quays go, it is Venice without the pomp and glory of great palaces; and the life of its fishermen and women is quite as picturesque as that of the Giudecca itself.
Wonderful indeed are the sunsets of a May evening, on Martigues’s Canal and Quai des Bourdigues, or from the ungainly bridge which crosses to the Ferrières quarter, with the sky-scraping masts of the tartanes across the face of the sinking sun like prison bars.