The repose--the solemnity we might almost call it--that pervades Bayeux
even in this busy nineteenth century, is the first thing that strikes a
stranger; a repose the more solemn and mysterious when we think of its
rude history of wars, of pillage, and massacres, and of its destruction
more than once by fire and sword. From the days when the town consisted
of a few rude huts (in the time of the Celts), all through the
splendours of the time of the Norman dukes, and the more terrible days
of the Reformation, it is prominent in history; but Bayeux is now a
place of peaceful industry, with about 10,000 inhabitants, 'a quiet,
dull, ecclesiastical city,' as the guide books express it; with an
aspect almost as undisturbed as a cathedral close. There are a few paved
streets with cafés and shops, as usual, but the most industrious
inhabitants appear to be the lacemakers--women seated at the doorways of
the old houses, wearing the quaint horseshoe comb and white cap with
fan-like frill, which are peculiar to Bayeux.

[Illustration]

Every building of importance has a semi-ecclesiastical character; the
feeling seeming to have especially pervaded the designers of the
thirteenth-century houses, as we may see from this rough sketch made at
a street corner. Many houses have such figures carved in _wood_ upon
them, and we may sometimes see a little stone spire on a roof top; the
architects appearing to have aimed at expressing in this way their love
and admiration for the cathedral, and to have emulated the Gothic
character of its decorations; the conventual and neighbouring buildings
harmonizing with it in a manner impossible to describe in words. Even
the principal inn, called the 'Hôtel du Luxembourg,' partakes of the
quiet air of the place; the walls of the _salle à manger_ are covered