We might add something about our misuse of words (as compared with the habit of ‘calling a spade a spade’ in the writings of the old chroniclers), about our unnecessary complications, and the number of words required to express an idea in these days; and suggest another curious consideration, as to how such prolixity affects our thoughts and actions.[63] Is it of no moment to be able to express our thoughts quickly and easily?  Does it help the Bavarian peasant-boy to comprehend the fact of the sun’s rising over his native hills, that ten consonants, in the poetic word morgenlandisch have to travel through his mind?

These things may be considered by many of slight importance, and that if they are wrong, they are not very easily remedied; but in architecture and costume we have the remedy in our own hands.  Why—­it may be asked in conclusion—­do we cling to costume, and prize so much the old custom of distinctive dress?  Because it bears upon its forehead the mark of truth; because, humble or noble, it is at least, what it appears to be; because it gives a silent but clear assurance (in these days so sadly needed) that a man’s position in life is what he makes it appear to be; that, in short, there is nothing behind the scenes, nothing to be discovered or hunted out.  It is the relic of a really ‘good old time,’ when a uniform or a badge of office was a mark of honour, when the bourgeoisie were proud of their simple estate, and domestic service was indeed what its name implies.  We cling to costume and regret its disappearance, when (to use a familiar illustration) we compare the French bonne in a white cap, with her English contemporary with a chignon and the airs of ‘my lady.’

But distinctive costumes, like the old buildings, are disappearing everywhere, and with them even the traditions seem to be dying out.  Queen Matilda (we are soon to be told) never worked the Bayeux Tapestry, and Joan of Arc was not burnt at Rouen!  The old world banners are being torn down one by one—­facts which were landmarks in history are proved to be fiction by the Master of the Rolls; we close the page almost in despair, and with the words coming to our lips, ‘there is nothing true under the sun.’

CHAPTER XII.

THE WATERING PLACES OF NORMANDY.

     ’Trouville est une double extrait de Paris—­la vie est une fete, et
     le costume une mascarade.’—­Conty.

The watering-places of Normandy are so well known to English people that there is little that is new to be said respecting them; at the same time any description of this country would not be considered complete without some mention of the sea-coast.

The principal bathing places on the north coast are the following, commencing from the east:—­DIEPPE, FECAMP, ETRETAT, TROUVILLE and DEAUVILLE, VILLERS-SUR-MER, HOULGATE, CABOURG, and CHERBOURG.  We will say a few words about Trouville and Etretat (as representative places) and conclude with some statistics, in an APPENDIX, which may be useful to travellers.