above all things the appearance of a natural and spontaneous growth,
harmonizing with the aspect of the place and with the feelings of the
people.

A silence falls upon the town of Bayeux sometimes, as if the world were
deserted by its inhabitants; a silence which we notice, to the same
extent, in no other cathedral city. We look round and wonder where all
the people are; whether there is really anybody to buy and sell, and
carry on business, in the regular worldly way; or whether it is peopled
only with strange memories and histories of the past.

On every side there are landmarks of cruel wars and the sites of
battles--nearly every old house has a legend or a history attached to
it; and all about the cathedral precincts, with its old lime trees--in
snug, quiet courtyards, under gate-ways, and in stiff, formal gardens
behind high walls--we may see where the old bishops and canons of Bayeux
lived and died; the house where 'Master Wace' toiled for many unwearied
years, and where he had audience with the travelling _raconteurs_ of the
time who came to listen to him, and to repeat far and wide the words of
the historian.[21]

The silence of Bayeux is peopled with so many memories, of wars so
terrible, and of legends so wild and weird, that a book might be
written about Bayeux and called 'The Past.' We must not trench upon the
work of the antiquary, or we might point out where Henry I. of England
attacked and destroyed the city, and the exact spot in the market-place
where they first lighted the flames of Revolution; but we may dwell for
a moment upon one or two curious customs and legends connected with
Bayeux.