Nowhere in France does the military element seem more out of place,
never did 'fine soldiers' seem so much in the way as at St. Lo. There is
a parade to-day, there was a parade yesterday, and to-morrow (Sunday)
there will be a military mass for a regiment leaving on foreign duty. It
is all very right, no doubt, and necessary for the peace of Europe, the
'balance of power,' the consumption of pipe-clay, and the breaking of
hearts sometimes; but, in contrast to the natural quiet of this place,
the dust and noise are tremendous, and the national air (so gaily played
as the troops march through the town) has, as it seems to us, an
uncertain tone, and does not catch the sympathy of the bystanders. They
stand gazing upon the pageant like the Venetians listening to the
Austrian band--they are a peace-loving community at St. Lo.
But let us look well at the cathedral, at the grandeur of its spires,
at its towers with open galleries, at the rich 'flamboyant' decoration
of the doorways; at its monuments, chapels, and stained glass, and above
all at the _exterior_ pulpit, abutting on the street at the north-east
end, which is one of the few remaining in France.
[Illustration: Exterior Pulpit at St Lo.[23]]
If we ascend one of the towers, we shall be rewarded with a view over a
varied and undulating landscape, stretching far away westward towards
the sea, and southward towards Avranches and Vire; whilst here and
there we may distinguish, dotted amongst the trees, those curious
chateaux of the _ancienne noblesse_, which are disappearing rapidly in
other parts of France; and the view of the town and cathedral together,
as seen from the opposite hill, with the river winding through the
meadows, and the women washing, on their knees on the bank, is also very
picturesque.
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