Rouen, from this point of view, is seen to considerable advantage, at
least by those who, like us, make a _detour_ to the north, and enter it
in that direction: the cathedral, St. Ouen, the hospital and church of
La Madeleine, and the river, fill the picture; nor is the impression in
any wise diminished on a nearer approach, when, through a long avenue,
formed by four rows of lofty elms, you advance by the side of a stream,
at once majestic from its width and eminently beautiful from its winding
course.
Rouen is now unfortified; its walls, its castles, are level with the
ground. But, if I may borrow the pun of which old Peter Heylin is guilty
when, describing Paris, Rouen is still a _strong_ city, "for it taketh
you by the nose." The filth is extreme; villainous smells overcome you
in every quarter, and from every quarter. The streets are gloomy,
narrow, and crooked, and the houses at once mean and lofty. Even on the
quay, where all the activity of commerce is visible, and where the
outward signs of opulence might be expected, there is nothing to fulfil
the expectation.
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