g Caen and the Coast Towards Trouville

Caen, like mediaeval London, is famed for its bells and its smells. If you
climb up to any height in the town you will see at once that the place is
crowded with the spires and towers of churches; and, if you explore any of
the streets, you are sure to discover how rudimentary are the notions of
sanitation in the historic old city. If you come to Caen determined to
thoroughly examine all the churches, you must allow at least two or three
days for this purpose, for although you might endeavour to "do" the place
in one single day, you would remember nothing but the fatigue, and the
features of all the churches would become completely confused.

My first visit to Caen, several years ago, is associated with a day of
sight-seeing commenced at a very early hour. I had been deposited at one of
the quays by the steamer that had started at sunrise and had slowly glided
along the ten miles of canal from Ouistreham, reaching its destination at
about five o'clock. The town seemed thoroughly awake at this time, the
weather being brilliantly fine. White-capped women were everywhere to be
seen sweeping the cobbled streets with their peculiarly fragile-looking
brooms. It was so early by the actual time, however, that it seemed wise to
go straight to the hotel and to postpone the commencement of sight-seeing
until a more rational hour. My rooms at the hotel, however, were not yet
vacated, so that it was impossible to go to my bedroom till eight o'clock.
The hotel courtyard, though picturesque, with its three superimposed
galleries and its cylindrical tower containing the staircase, was not, at
this hour in the morning at least, a place to linger in. It seemed
therefore the wisest plan to begin an exploration of some of the adjoining
streets to fill the time. After having seen the exterior of three or four
churches, the interiors of some others; after having explored a dozen
curious courtyards and the upper part of the town, where the Chateau
stands, the clocks began to strike seven, although to me it seemed like
noon. By half-past eight the afternoon seemed well advanced, and when
dejeuner made its appearance at the hotel it seemed as though the day would
never cease. I had by this time seen several more churches and interesting
old buildings, and my whole senses had become so jaded that I would
scarcely have moved a yard to have seen the finest piece of architecture in
the whole of Normandy. The c