of Joan of Arc, which we approached through narrow streets, so dirty from the late heavy rains, as to be scarcely passable. We had, as we might have expected, little to reward us, except the associations connected with the Maid of Orleans, and her cruel persecutors. The spot had been to me, from my earliest years, one which I had felt a wish to visit, my researches, while writing the Memoirs of the Rival Houses of York and Lancaster, materially increasing the interest which an earlier perusal of the history of England and France had created, concerning scenes trodden by the brave, the great, and the good. However mistaken might have been their notions, however impolitic their actions, we cannot contemplate the characters of the Paladins, who have made Rouen famous, without feelings of respect. The murder of Joan of Arc formed the sole blot on the escutcheon of John Duke of Bedford, and the faults and vices of his companions in arms were the offspring of the times in which they lived.
We were surprised by the excellence of the shops, even in the most dilapidated parts of the city of Rouen, the windows in every direction exhibiting a gay assemblage of goods of all descriptions, while the confectioners were little, if at all, inferior to those of Paris. One small square in particular, in which a market was held, was very striking, from the contrast between the valuable products sold, and the houses which contained them. Seven or eight stories in height, weather-stained, and dilapidated, the lower floors exhibited handsome porcelain and other costly articles, which gave an impression of wealth in the owners, that astonished those amongst our party who were strangers to the country. Our hearts absolutely sunk within us as we thought of the wretchedness of the interiors, the misery of being obliged to inhabit any one of the numerous suites of apartments rising tier above tier, and from which it would be absolutely impossible to banish vermin of every description.
The French appear certainly to be beginning to study home comforts, all the modern houses being built upon very commodious plans; still the middling classes, in the towns at least, are miserably lodged, in comparison with the same grades in England, families of apparently great respectability inhabiting places so desolate as to strike one with horror.
After picking our way through the least objectionable of the streets in the heart of the city, we were glad to escape into the open air, and solace ourselves with the views presented on the neighbouring heights. Nothing can be finer than the landscapes round Rouen; every necessary of life appears to be cheap and plentiful, and persons desirous of a quiet and economical residence abroad might spend their time very happily in the outskirts of this picturesque city.
We found the guests at the table-d'hôte chiefly English, travellers like ourselves, and some of our party recognised London acquaintance among those who, upon hearing our intention to proceed the following day up the Seine to Paris, recommended the boat by which they had arrived—the Etoile.
Again we were summoned at four o'clock in the morning, and wended our way, along the banks of the river, to the starting-place, which was just beyond the second bridge. The one large boat, which conveyed passengers from Havre, was here exchanged for two smaller, better suited to the state of the river. We were taught to expect rather a large party, as we had understood that forty persons were going from our hotel.
The bell of the Dorade, the opposition vessel, was sounding its tocsin to summon passengers on board, while ours was altogether mute. Presently, through the grey mist of the morning, we observed parties flocking down to the place of embarkation, who, somewhat to our surprise, all entered the other vessel. A large boat in the centre, in which the baggage is deposited, was speedily filled, carpet bags being piled upon carpet bags, until a goodly pyramid arose, which the rising sun touched with every colour of the prism. The decks of the Dorade were now crowded with passengers, while two respectable-looking young women, in addition to ourselves, formed the whole of our company.
Our bell now gave out a few faint sounds, as if rather in compliance with the usual forms observed, than from any hope that its warning voice would be heeded; and getting up our steam, we took the lead gallantly, as if determined to leave the heavier boat behind. Presently, however, the Dorade passed us with all her gay company, and speeding swiftly on her way, would have been out of sight in a few minutes, but for the windings of the river, which showed us her smoke like a pennon in the distance. We were now left alone in our glory, and felt assured of what we had more than suspected before, namely, that we had got into the wrong boat. We then, though rather too late, inquired the cause of the extraordinary disproportion of the passengers, and were told that the Etoile was the favourite boat going down the river, while the Dorade had it hollow in going up.
We now began to consider the circumstances of the case, and the chances of our not arriving time enough at the place of debarkation to get on to Paris by the rail-road that night. Agreeing that the detention would not be of the least consequence, that we should enjoy having the whole boat to ourselves, and the slow method of travelling, which would enable us the better to contemplate the beauties of the river, we made up our minds to a day of great enjoyment. The weather was fine, a cool breeze allaying the heat of the sun, which shone upon us occasionally through clouds too high to afford any apprehension of rain.
The boat was very elegantly fitted up below, the ladies' cabin, in particular, being splendidly furnished. Above, the choice of seats proved very acceptable, since, in consequence of a new-fangled apparatus, we had four chimnies, whence sparks escaped in a constant shower, threatening destruction to any garment that might be exposed to them. Seated, therefore, at the prow, beyond the reach of this fiery shower, after partaking of an excellent breakfast, there being a first-rate restaurateur on board, we began to converse with a very intelligent boatman, who amused us with the legends of the river and accounts of the different places which we passed.
At Blossville-Bon-Secours there is an extremely steep hill, with a chapel, dedicated to the Virgin, at the summit; the holy edifice is, upon ordinary occasions, approached by a circuitous winding road, but at Easter and other great festivals, thousands of persons flock from all parts, for the purpose of making a pilgrimage up the steepest portion of the ascent, in order to fulfil vows previously made, and to pay their homage to the holy mother of God. There was a waggery in our friend's eye, as he described the sufferings of the devout upon these occasions, which indicated an opinion that, however meritorious the act, and however efficacious in shortening the path to heaven, he himself entertained no desire to try it. This man had seen something of the world, his maritime occupation having formerly led him to distant places; he had been a sailor all his life, was well acquainted with Marseilles, which he described with great enthusiasm, and gave us to understand that, having had a good offer elsewhere, this would be one of his last voyages in the Etoile, since he worked hard in it, without getting any credit.
At the town of Elboeuf, we picked up another passenger; a country woman, with a basket or two, and a high Normandy cap, had come on board at one of the villages; and with this small reinforcement we proceeded, halting occasionally to mend some damage in the engine, and putting up a sail whenever we could take advantage of the breeze.
Arriving at La Roquelle, our cicerone pointed out to us the ruined walls of what once had been a very splendid chateau; its former owner being an inveterate gamester, having lost large sums of money, at length staked the chateau to an Englishman, who won it. Upon arriving to take possession, he was disappointed to find that he had only gained the chateau, and that the large estate attached to it was not in the bond. Being unable to keep it up without the surrounding property, he determined that no other person should enjoy it, and therefore, greatly to the annoyance of the people in the neighbourhood, he pulled it down. The present proprietor now lives in an adjacent farm-house, and the story, whether true or false, tells greatly to the prejudice of the English, and our friend, in particular, spoke of it as a most barbarous act.
We found the chateaux on the banks of the Seine very numerous; many were of great magnitude, and flanked by magnificent woods, the greater number being clipped into the appearance of walls, and cut out into long avenues and arcades, intersecting each other at right angles, in the very worst taste, according
