Pencillings by the Way: Written During Some Years of Residence and Travel in EuropeWillis, Nathaniel Parker
General
Pencillings by the Way: Written During Some Years of Residence and Travel in Europe
Willis, Nathaniel Parker
Europe -- Description and travel
I found a day and a half quite enough for Lyons. The views from the
mountain and the river were the only things that pleased me. I made
the usual dry visit to the library and the museum, and admired the
Hotel de Ville, and the new theatre, and the front of the _Maison de
Tolosan_, that so struck the fancy of Joseph II., and having
"despatched the lions," like a true cockney traveller, I was too happy
to escape the offensive smells of the streets, and get to my rooms.
One does not enjoy much comfort within doors either. Lyons is a great
imitation metropolis--a sort of second-hand Paris. I am not very
difficult to please, but I found the living intolerable. It was an
affectation of abstruse cookery throughout. We sat down to what is
called the best table in the place, and it was a series of ludicrous
travesties, from the soup to the salad. One can eat well in the
country, because the dishes are simple, and he gets the natural taste
of things; but to come to a table covered with artificial dishes,
which he has been accustomed to see in their perfection, and to taste
and send away everything in disgust, is a trial of temper which is
reserved for the traveller at Lyons.
The scenery on the river, from Lyons to Avignon, has great celebrity,
and I had determined to take that course to the south. Just at this
moment, however, the Rhone had been pronounced too low, and the
steamboats were stopped. I probably made the last passage by steam on
the Saone, for we ran aground repeatedly, and were compelled to wait
till horses could be procured to draw the boat into deep water. It was
quite amusing to see with what a regular, business-like air, the
postillions fixed their traces to the prow, and whipped into the
middle of the river. A small boat was my only resource, and I found a
man on the quay who plied the river in what is called _batteaux de
poste_, rough shallops with flat bottoms, which are sold for firewood
on their arrival, the rapidity of the Rhone rendering a return against
the current next to impossible. The sight of the frail contrivance in
which I was to travel nearly two hundred miles, rather startled me,
but the man assured me he had several other passengers, and two ladies
among them. I paid the _arrhes_, or earnest money, and was at the
river-stairs punctually at four the next morning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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