We are treading in the 'footsteps of the Conqueror' at Caen, but its
busy inhabitants have little time for historic memories; they will
jostle us in the market-place, and in the principal streets they will be
seen rushing about as if 'on change,' or hurrying to 'catch the train
for Paris,' like the rest of the world. A few only have eyes of love and
admiration for the noble spire of the church of St. Pierre, which rises
above the old houses and the market-place, with even a grander effect
than any that the artist has been able to render in the illustration.
'St. Pierre, St. Pierre,' are the first and last words we heard of Caen;
the first time, when--approaching it one summer's morning from Dives, by
the banks of the Orne--the driver of our caleche pointed to its summit
with the pride of a Savoy peasant, shewing the traveller the highest
peak of Monte Rosa; and the last, when Caen was en fete, and all the
world flocked to hear a great preacher from Paris, and the best singers
in Calvados.
Built in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, in the best period of
Gothic art in Normandy, its beautiful proportions and grace of line
(especially when seen from the north side) have been the admiration of
ages of architects and the occasion of many a special pilgrimage in our
own day. Pugin has sketched its western facade and its 'lancet windows;'
and Prout has given us drawings of the spire, '_percee au
jour_'--perforated with such mathematical accuracy that, as we approach
the tower, there is always one, or more, opening in view--as one star
disappears, another shines out, as in the cathedral at Bourgos in Spain.
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