Notes of an Overland Journey Through France and Egypt to Bombay by Miss Emma Roberts

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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 to the English idea of
landscape-gardening. There was something, however, extremely grand and
imposing in this formal style, and we were at least pleased with the
novelty which it afforded.

At Andelys, perched upon a conical hill, are the picturesque remains
of the chateau Gaillard, which was built by Richard Coeur de Lion, and
must formerly have been of very great extent, its walls reaching down
to the river's brink. We were told that the chateau furnished stabling
for a thousand horses, and that there was a subterranean passage which
led to the great Andelys. This passage is now undergoing a partial
clearing, for the purpose of increasing the interest of the place,
by exhibiting it to strangers who may visit the neighbourhood. Our
informant proceeded to say, that during several years, an old witch
inhabited the ruins, who was at once the oracle and the terror of the
neighbourhood.

The sketch-books of the party were here placed in requisition, and
though the celerity with which a steamer strides through the water
is not very favourable to the artist, a better idea of the scene was
given than that which we found in the Guide Book. The banks of the
Seine present a succession of pictures, all well worthy of the pencil,
and those who are fond of the picturesque, and who have time at their
disposal, will find the voyage up the river replete with the most
interesting materials.

The first sight of the vineyards, which began to spread themselves up
the steep sides of the hills, delighted us all; and our prospects now
began to be diversified with rock, which in a thousand fantastic forms
showed itself along the heights. The country seemed thickly spread
with villages, many at the edge of the water, others receding into
winding valleys, and all boasting some peculiar beauty. Whether upon
a nearer approach they would have been equally pleasing, it is not
possible to say; but, from our position, we saw nothing to offend the
eye, either in the cottages or the people; some of the very
humblest of the dwellings boasted their little gardens, now gay with
sun-flowers and dahlias, while the better sort, with their bright
panes of glass, and clean muslin window-curtains, looked as if they
would afford very desirable homes.

A present of a bottle of wine made our boatmen very happy. They
produced one of those huge masses of bread, which seems the principal
food of the lower classes, and sate down to their meal with great
content. Our dinner, which we had ordered rather early, was delayed by
the arrival of the boat at Vernon, where we were obliged, according to
the French phrase, to "mount the bridge." It was built, agreeably
to the old mode of construction, with a mill in the centre, and the
difficulty, and even danger, of getting through the arch, could not
be called inconsiderable. Letting off the steam, we were hauled up by
persons stationed for the purpose; and just as we got through, passed
the steamers going down to Rouen, the partners of the vessels which
went up in the morning; both were full, our _star_ being the only
unlucky one. However, what might have been a hardship to many others
was none to us, it being scarcely possible to imagine any thing more
delightful than a voyage which, though comparatively slow, was the
reverse of tedious, and in which we could discourse unrestrainedly,
and occupy any part of the vessel most agreeable to ourselves. We
picked up a very respectable man and his daughter, an interesting
little girl, who spoke English very tolerably, and seemed delighted to
meet with English ladies; and also an exquisite, dressed in the first
style of the Parisian mode, but of him we saw little, he being wholly
occupied with himself.

The steam-company are entering into an arrangement at Vernon for
the construction of a lock similar to one already formed at
Pont-de-l'Arche, which we had passed through in the morning, and which
will obviate the inconvenience and difficulty of the present mode of
navigating the river.

The next place of interest to which we came was Rosny, a village
famous in the pages of history as the residence of the great and good,
the friend and minister of Henry IV., the virtuous Sully. Our boatmen,
who were not great antiquaries, said nothing about the early occupants
of the chateau, exerting all their eloquence in praise of a later
resident--the Duchesse de Berri. This lady rendered herself extremely
popular in the vicinity, living in a style of princely splendour, and
devoting her time to acts of munificence. Every year she portioned
off a bride, giving a dowry to some respectable young lady of the
neighbourhood, while to the poor she was a liberal and untiring
benefactress. The boatmen blessed her as they passed, for to all she
sent wine, and upon fete-days gave banquets to the rural population,
to whom her remembrance will be ever dear. Our informants pointed out
a small chapel, which they described as being very beautiful, which
she had built as a depository for her husband's heart; this precious
relic she carried away with her when she left Rosny, which she quitted
with the regrets of every human being in the neighbourhood.

The chateau has been purchased by an English banker, but is now
uninhabited: there was a report of its being about to be pulled down.
It is a large, heavy building, not distinguished by any architectural
beauty, yet having an imposing air, from its extent and solidity.
It is surrounded by fine woods and pleasure-grounds, laid out in
the formal style, which is still the characteristic of French
landscape-gardening. Nothing can be more beautiful than the
surrounding scenery, the winding river with its vineyards hanging
in terraces from the opposite heights, the village reposing beneath
sun-lit hills, while corn-fields, pasture-land, and cattle grazing,
convey the most pleasing ideas of the comfort of those who dwell upon
this luxuriant soil.

The city of Mantes now appeared in the distance, and as we approached
it, our guides pointed out, on the opposite heights of Gassicourt,
a hermitage and Calvary, which had formerly proved a great source
of profit. An ascetic, of great pretensions to sanctity, took up his
abode many years ago in this retreat, carrying on a thriving trade,
every boat that passed contributing twopence, for which consideration
the hermit rung a bell, to announce their arrival at the bridge of
Mantes, giving notice to the town, in order to facilitate the transfer
of baggage or passengers. This tax or tribute the hermit was not
himself at the trouble of collecting, it being scrupulously despatched
to him by the donors, who would have deemed it sinful to deprive the
holy man of what they considered his just due.

The sort of piety, which once supported so great a multitude of
religious mendicants, is greatly on the decline in France. A few
crosses on the bridges and heights, and the dresses of the priesthood
whom we encountered in the streets, were the only exterior signs of
Roman Catholicism which we had yet seen. Our boatmen spoke with great
respect of the Sisters of Charity, pointing out a convent which they
inhabited, and told us that during illness they had themselves been
greatly indebted to the care and attention of these benevolent women.

It was now growing dark, and we very narrowly escaped a serious
accident in passing the bridge of Meulan, the boat coming into contact
with one of the piers; fortunately, the danger was espied in time.
There was now not the slightest chance of reaching Paris before the
following morning; but we regretted nothing except the want of light,
the gathering clouds rendering it impossible to see any thing of the
scenery, which, we were told, increased in beauty at every mile. We
consoled ourselves, however, with tea and whist in the cabin; in fact,
we played with great perseverance throughout the whole of our journey,
the spirits of the party never flagging for a single instant.

We found a good hotel at the landing-place, at which we arrived at a
very late hour, and starting the next morning by the early train
to Paris, passed by the rail-road through an extremely interesting
country, leaving St. Germain-en-Laye behind, and tracking the windings
of the Seine, now too shallow to admit of the navigation of boats of
any burthen.

The construction of this rail-road was attended with considerable
difficulty and great expense, on account of its being impeded by the
works at Marli, for the supply of water to Versailles. The building
of the bridges over the Seine, which it crosses three times, was also
very costly. The carriages of the first class are very inferior to
those of the same description upon the rail-roads in England, but they
are sufficiently comfortable for so short a distance. We were set down
at the barrier of Clichi, an inconvenient distance from the best part
of Paris. Here we had to undergo a second inspection of our baggage,
and I became somewhat alarmed for the fate of my medicine-chest. We
had taken nothing else with as that could be seizable, and this was
speedily perceived by the officials, who merely went through the form
of an examination.

The divisions in one of my portmanteaus had excited some suspicion
at Havre, one of the men fancying that he had made a grand discovery,
when he pronounced it to have a false bottom. We explained the method
of opening it to his satisfaction, and afterwards, in overhauling
my bonnet-box, he expressed great regret at the derangement of the
millinery, which certainly sustained some damage from his rough
handling. Altogether, we had not to complain of any want of civility
on the part of the custom-house officers; but travellers who take the
overland route to India, through France, will do well to despatch all
their heavy baggage by sea, nothing being more inconvenient than a
multitude of boxes. I had reduced all my packages to four, namely, two
portmanteaus, a bonnet-box, and a leather bag, which latter contained
the medicine-chest, a kettle and lamp, lucifer-matches, &c; my
bonnet-box was divided into two compartments, one of which contained
my writing-case and a looking-glass; for as I merely intended to
travel through a portion of our British possessions in India, and
to return after the October monsoon of 1840, I wished to carry every
thing absolutely necessary for my comfort about with we.

Another annoyance sustained by persons who take the route through
France is, the trouble respecting their passports, which must be ready
at all times when called upon for examination, and may be the cause of
detention, if the proper forms are not scrupulously gone through. We
were not certain whether it would be necessary to present ourselves
in person at the Bureau des Passeports, Quai des Orfevres, in Paris,
after having sent them to the British embassy; but we thought it
better to avoid all danger of delay, and therefore drove to a quarter
interesting on account of its being a place of some importance as
the original portion of Paris, and situated on the island. In this
neighbourhood there are also the famous Hotel Dieu and Notre Dame,
to both of which places we paid a visit, looking _en passant_ at the
Morgue. The gentleman who accompanied us entered a building, with
whose melancholy celebrity all are acquainted; but though it did not
at that precise moment contain a corpse, the report did not induce us
to follow his example: a circumstance which we afterwards regretted.
It may be necessary to say, that at other places we sent our passports
to the Hotel de Ville; but at Paris there is a different arrangement.

Although the journey up the Seine from Havre proved very delightful to
me, I do not recommend it to others, especially those to whom time is
of importance. There is always danger of detention, and the length of
the sea-voyage, especially from London, may be productive of serious
inconvenience. For seeing the country, it is certainly preferable to
the diligence, and my experience will teach those who come after me to
inquire into the character of the steam-boat before they enter it.

CHAPTER II.

* * * * *

PARIS TO MARSEILLES.

* * * * *

Description of Paris--Departure by the Diligence--The Country--The
Vineyards--Hotels and fare--Arrival at Lyons--Description of
the City--Departure in the Steam-boat for Arles--Descent of the
Rhone--Beauty and Variety of the Scenery--Confusion on disembarking at
Beaucaire--A Passenger Drowned--Arrival at Arles--Description of the
Town--Embarkation in the Steamer for Marseilles--Entrance into the
Mediterranean--Picturesque approach to Marseilles--Arrival in the
Harbour--Description of Marseilles--Observations upon the Journey
through France by Ladies.

A week's residence in Paris does not give a stranger any title to
decide upon the merits or demerits of that far-famed city. The period
of the year (September) was not the most favourable for a visit, all
the best families having emigrated to their country habitations, and
the city consequently exhibited a deserted air, at variance with every
preconceived notion of the gaiety of the French capital. The mixture
of meanness and magnificence in the buildings, the dirt and bad
smells, combine to give an unfavourable impression, which time only,
and a better acquaintance with the more agreeable features of the
place, can remove.

We had entertained a hope, upon our arrival in Paris, of getting the
_malle poste_ for our journey to Chalons; but it was engaged for at
least a month in advance. We were not more fortunate, our party now
being reduced to three, in our endeavour to secure the _coupe_, and
were obliged to be contented with places (corners) in the interior.
We despatched all our heavy goods--that is, the portmanteaus--by
_messagerie_, to Marseilles, which was a great saving of trouble.
Though the expense of this conveyance is enormous, it has the great
advantage of speed, travelling nearly as quickly as the diligence,
while by the _roulage_, which is cheaper, very inconvenient delays may
be incurred.

We quitted Paris on the 13th of September, well pleased with the
treatment we had received. Though the charges for lodging, washing,
&c. were high, there was no attempt at imposition; our landlady
would not allow us to pay any thing for the eighth day of our abode,
although we thereby entered into another week. We had the pleasure
of leaving every body well satisfied with us, and willing to receive
another English party.

The diligence started at the appointed hour, namely, six o'clock in
the evening. Unaccustomed to travel all night, we were rather anxious
about breakfast, as we had merely stopped to change horses, without
resting for any refreshment since we quitted Paris. Upon our arrival
at Sens, at about seven o'clock in the morning, we were amused by the
appearance of a party of persons running, gesticulating, and talking
with all their might, who brought hot coffee, milk, bread, and fruit
to the carriage-door. At first we were disinclined to avail ourselves
of the breakfast thus offered, but learning that we should not get any
thing else before twelve o'clock in the day, we overcame our scruples,
and partook of the despised fare, which we found very good of its
kind.

The country we passed through was rich with vineyards, and, on account
of the undulating nature of the land, and the frequency of towns
and villages, exceedingly pleasing to the eye. We were continually
delighted with some splendid burst of scenery. There was no want
of foliage, the absence of the magnificent timber which we find in
England being the less remarkable, in consequence of the number of
trees which, if not of very luxuriant growth, greatly embellish the
landscape, while we saw the vine everywhere, the rich clusters of its
grapes reaching to the edge of the road. Though robbed of its
grace, and its lavish display of leaf and tendril, by the method
of cultivating, each plant being reduced to the size of a small
currant-bush, the foliage, clothing every hill with green, gave the
country an aspect most grateful to those who are accustomed to English
verdure.

We made our first halt at Auxerre, when a _dejeuner a la fourchette_
was served up to the travellers in the diligence. A bad English
dinner is a very bad thing, but a bad French one is infinitely worse.
Hitherto, we had fed upon nothing but the most dainty fare of the best
hotels and _cafes_, and I, at least, who wished to see as much as I
could of France, was not displeased at the necessity of satisfying the
cravings of appetite with bread and melon. There were numerous dishes,
all very untempting, swimming in grease, and brought in a slovenly
manner to the table; a roast fowl formed no exception, for it was
sodden, half-raw, and saturated with oil. It was only at the very
best hotels in France that we ever found fowls tolerably well roasted;
generally speaking, they are never more than half-cooked, and are
as unsightly as they are unsavoury. Our fellow-passengers did ample
justice to the meal, from which we gladly escaped, in order to devote
the brief remainder of our time to a hasty toilet.

From what we could see of it, Auxerre appeared to be a very pretty
place, it being at this time perfectly enwreathed with vines. In
fact, every step of our journey increased our regret that we should be
obliged to hurry through a country which it would have delighted us
to view at leisure, each town that we passed through offering some
inducement to linger on the road. Active preparations were making
for the vintage, the carts which we met or overtook being laden with
wine-casks, and much did we desire to witness a process associated in
our minds with the gayest scenes of rural festivity.

It would not be a fair criterion to judge of the accommodation
afforded at the hotels of the French provinces by those at which the
diligence changed horses; in some I observed that we were not shown
into the best apartments reserved for public entertainment, but in
none did we find any difficulty in procuring water to wash with,
nor did we ever see a dish substituted for a basin. From our own
observation, it seems evident that the inns in the provinces have been
much improved since the peace with England, and it appeared to us,
that no reasonable objection could be made to the accommodation
supplied. Auxerre certainly furnished the worst specimen we met with
on the road; at no other place had we any right to complain of our
entertainment, and at some the fare might be called sumptuous.

On the third morning from our departure from Paris, when nearly
exhausted, the rising sun gave us a view of the environs of Lyons.
We had been afraid to stop at Chalons the day before, having been
informed that the Saone was not sufficiently full to ensure the
certainty of the steam-boat's arrival at the promised time at Lyons.
This was a great disappointment, but we were rewarded by the rich and
beautiful scenery which characterises the route by land. We could not
help fancying that we could distinguish the home of Claude Melnotte
amid those villages that dotted the splendid panorama; and the
pleasure, with which I, at least, contemplated the fine old city, was
not a little enhanced by its association with the Lady of Lyons and
her peasant lover.

Lyons more than realised all the notions which I had formed concerning
it, having an air of antique grandeur which I had vainly expected
to find at Rouen. It is well-built throughout, without that striking
contrast between the newer buildings and the more ancient edifices,
which is so remarkable in the capital of Normandy. The Hotel de Ville,
in the large square, is a particularly fine building, and the whole
city looks as if it had been for centuries the seat of wealth and
commerce.

Friends in England, and the few we met with or made in Paris, had
furnished us with the names of the hotels it would be most advisable
to put up at; but these lists were, as a matter of course, lost, and
we usually made for the nearest to the place where we stopped. The
Hotel de Paris, which looks upon the Hotel de Ville, was the one we
selected at Lyons; it was large and commodious, but had a dull and
melancholy air. As it is usual in French hotels, the building enclosed
a court-yard in the centre, with galleries running round the three
sides, and reaching to the upper stories. The furniture, handsome of
its kind, was somewhat faded, adding to the gloom which is so often
the characteristic of a provincial inn.

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