hitecture have been restored with great
thoroughness so that the marks of antiquity that one might expect are
entirely wanting in both buildings. The exterior of the great church of St
Etienne disappoints so many, largely from the fact that the gaunt west
front is the only view one really has of the building except from a
distance. Inside, services seem to go on at most times of the day, and when
you are quietly looking at the mighty nave with its plain, semicircular
arches and massive piers, you are suddenly startled by the entry from
somewhere of a procession of priests loudly singing some awe-inspiring
chant, the guttural tones of the singers echoing through the aisles.
Following the clerical party will come a rabble of nuns, children and
ordinary laity, and before you have scarcely had time to think a service
has commenced, people are kneeling, and if you do not make haste towards
the doors a priest will probably succeed in reaching you with a collecting
dish in which one is not inclined to place even a sou if the service has
hindered the exploration of the church. Owing to the perpetuation of an
error in some of the English guides to Normandy, it is often thought that a
thigh-bone of the founder of the abbey is still lying beneath the marble
slab in the sanctuary, but this is a great mistake, for that last poor
relic of William the Conqueror was lost during the Revolution. The whole
story of the death, the burial, and the destruction of the tomb and remains
of the founder of the abbey are most miserable and even gruesome. William
was at Rouen when he died, and we need scarcely remind ourselves of that
tragic scene discovered by the clergy when they came to the house not long
after the great man had expired. Every one of William's suite had
immediately recognised the changed state of affairs now that the inflexible
will that had controlled the two kingdoms had been removed, and each,
concerned for himself, had betaken himself with indecent haste to England
or wherever his presence might be most opportune. In this way, there being
no one left to watch the corpse, the Archbishop of Rouen discovered that
the house and even the bed had been pillaged, so that the royal body was
lying in great disorder until reverently tended by a Norman gentleman named
Herluin. Having fulfilled William's wishes and brought the remains to Caen,
a stately funeral was arranged. As the procession slowly passed through the
narrow streets, howeve