Lyons is one of the largest and most important cities in France, very interesting in its manufactures, and well worth a day or two's visit. Unfortunately, like its sister Marseilles, with its huge working population, it is extremely democratic, and only quite lately has been the scene of a kind of communistic outbreak. The neighbouring scenery is very striking and beautiful, in some places grand. We were reminded somewhat of the Thames at Charing Cross when passing over the noble bridge, with the great city stretching far and wide, and the numerous bridges spanning the river. At night the illumination is a pretty and brilliant sight.
In the summer the journey from Lyons to Marseilles in one of the many flat-bottomed steamers would be very enjoyable, and a pleasant break to the pent-up, wearisome railroad.
The scenery much resembles the Rhine, with its high cliffs, richly wooded promontories, historic and baronial castles, and picturesque chateaux. The turbulent river in some places dashing wildly by, and separating two beautiful shores.
"Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between
Heights which appear, as lovers who have parted
In hate, whose mining depths so intervene,
That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted.
Love was the very root of the fond rage
Itself expired, but leaving them an age
Of years all winters,—war within themselves to wage."
How grand and sublime that part of the Rhone must appear, with its great forest-clad cliffs, and the rushing foaming waters during a thunderstorm!
The land is full of ancient interests, especially near Marseilles, at Avignon and Arles. Here we meet with many old Roman settlements and ruins.
Passing thus swiftly through France, we obtain a wonderfully comprehensive idea of the country, and note the different products of the soil springing into view in ever-varying profusion, making a continuous change in the appearance of the landscape—a change which would perhaps be less noticeable were the journey performed in a more leisurely manner. Thus we pass from the wheat-growing country to the land of the vine, and thence to that of the olive. And one cannot help being struck by the wonderful industry of the people, women taking almost more than their fair share of out-door work, in the fields, etc. Up to the very summit of the hills and rocky knolls, terrace upon terrace, every inch of ground, seems to be well cultivated.
I could not but think that in some places women are employed out of their proper sphere, more particularly at the railway stations, where one is shocked to find a woman where none but a man should be. And while on this subject, it may be well to remark how exceedingly disgusting some of the retiring places are at these stations—at all events, to English men and women, who do not like being treated as cattle. At some places it is really shocking, and the Lyons and Mediterranean railway officials should certainly rectify this evil without loss of time; for if the unpleasantness is so great in winter, what must it be during the hot months?
The officials are most exemplary in providing fresh foot-warmers, but not so particular in a more important matter—that of lighting the carriages, even the first-class compartments being dull and gloomy in the extreme. The kind of oil burnt has probably something to do with it.