It was Sunday when we were there, and the town teemed with holiday life. Up to noon it was comparatively quiet, with some appearance of sabbath rest, but after that what a change! The whole place was like a great fair, every one bent on fun and pleasure: hucksters' stalls, marionettes, bazaars, rifle-galleries, concerts, theatres, and crowded cafés, the latter resounding with the click of dominoes and billiard balls; the more quiet folk reading their beloved Figaro.
We felt this was indeed very different to our English way of enjoying Sunday. Even our museums, picture galleries, and such-like comparatively quiet and innocent places of recreative amusement are not yet declared open. And thankful we should be that on at least one day in the week there is peace and rest for both man and beast; and that simply in obedience to a natural and Divine law, made by the great Creator who so well knew our human wants and requirements. The more one sees of this sabbath unrest abroad, the more content one feels for the sweet and peaceful Sunday rest at home. I do not really believe in the happiness, health, and prosperity of any people who disregard the sabbath as a holy day, dedicated to God for bodily rest and spiritual refreshment.
"Then I turned away in sadness, from these gay and thoughtless lays,
Longing for my own dear country, and the voice of prayer and praise."
CHAPTER III.[ToC]
Leaving Marseilles—Toulon—Hyères—Fréjus—Coast scenery—The Hotel Windsor—An unexpected meeting, and a pleasant walk—Isles de Lerins—The Mediterranean—Defective drainage—Mosquitos and Nocturnal Pianos—Christmas Day—Cannes—The Pepper tree—The English cemetery—Antibes—Miscalled Health Resorts—Grasse—Orange blossoms—Leaving Cannes.
The mistral blew us away from Marseilles, which we left on the afternoon of the 25th by the two o'clock train for Cannes. The route lay through rocky defiles, with numerous tunnels, for we were cutting through the promontories on the sea coast, of which we occasionally caught magnificent glimpses.
Of Toulon, the great naval arsenal of France, we saw but little as we passed quickly through its suburbs. Here it was that Napoleon, then a young lieutenant-colonel of artillery, first made his mark in the capture of the place by storm from the English in 1793. Englishmen, however, do not forget that it was accomplished only after a long and stubborn defence of its garrison, consisting of only a tenth of the storming party.