Notre-Dame de Paris

Currit rota, urcens exit.

But, in any case, whatever may be the future of architecture, in whatever manner our young architects may one day solve the question of their art, let us, while waiting for new monument, preserve the ancient monuments. Let us, if possible, inspire the nation with a love for national architecture. That, the author declares, is one of the principal aims of this book; it is one of the principal aims of his life.

Notre-Dame de Paris has, perhaps opened some true perspectives on the art of the Middle Ages, on that marvellous art which up to the present time has been unknown to some, and, what is worse, misknown by others. But the author is far from regarding as accomplished, the task which he has voluntarily imposed on himself. He has already pleaded on more than one occasion, the cause of our ancient architecture, he has already loudly denounced many profanations, many demolitions, many impieties. He will not grow weary. He has promised himself to recur frequently to this subject. He will return to it. He will be as indefatigable in defending our historical edifices as our iconoclasts of the schools and academies are eager in attacking them; for it is a grievous thing to see into what hands the architecture of the Middle Ages has fallen, and in what a manner the botchers of plaster of the present day treat the ruin of this grand art, it is even a shame for us intelligent men who see them at work and content ourselves with hooting them. And we are not speaking here merely of what goes on in the provinces, but of what is done in Paris at our very doors, beneath our windows, in the great city, in the lettered city, in the city of the press, of word, of thought. We cannot resist the impulse to point out, in concluding this note, some of the acts of vandalism which are every day planned, debated, begun, continued, and successfully completed under the eyes of the artistic public of Paris, face to face with criticism, which is disconcerted by so much audacity. An archbishop’s palace has just been demolished, an edifice in poor taste, no great harm is done; but in a block with the archiepiscopal palace a bishop’s palace has been demolished, a rare fragment of the fourteenth century, which the demolishing architect could not distinguish from the rest. He has torn up the wheat with the tares; ’tis all the same. They are talking of razing the admirable chapel of Vincennes, in order to make, with its stones, some fortification, which Daumesnil did not need, however. While the Palais Bourbon, that wretched edifice, is being repaired at great expense, gusts of wind and equinoctial storms are allowed to destroy the magnificent painted windows of the Sainte-Chapelle. For the last few days there has been a scaffolding on the tower of Saint Jacques de la Boucherie; and one of these mornings the pick will be laid to it. A mason has been found to build a little white house between the venerable towers of the Palais de-Justice. Another has been found willing to prune away Saint-Germain-des-Prés, the feudal abbey with three bell towers. Another will be found, no doubt, capable of pulling down Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois. All these masons claim to be architects, are paid by the prefecture or from the petty budget, and wear green coats. All the harm which false taste can inflict on good taste, they accomplish. While we write, deplorable spectacle! one of them holds possession of the Tuileries, one of them is giving Philibert Delorme a scar across the middle of his face; and it is not, assuredly, one of the least of the scandals of our time to see with what effrontery the heavy architecture of this gentleman is being flattened over one of the most delicate façades of the Renaissance!

Paris, October 20, 1832.

Endnotes

1. The word Gothic, in the sense in which it is generally employed, is wholly unsuitable, but wholly consecrated. Hence we accept it and we adopt it, like all the rest of the world, to characterize the architecture of the second half of the Middle Ages, where the ogive is the principle which succeeds the architecture of the first period, of which the semicircle is the father. ↩

2. Faire le diable à quatre. ↩

3. Thibaut au des⁠—Thibaut of the dice. ↩

4. An old French coin, equal to the two hundred and fortieth part of a pound. ↩

5. Got the first idea of a thing. ↩

6. The ancient French “hurrah.” ↩

7. A chamber of the ancient parliament of Paris. ↩

8. A blank: an old French coin; six blanks were worth two sous and a half; targe, an ancient coin of Burgundy, a farthing. ↩

9. A coffer of great richness
   In a pillar’s heart they found,
   Within it lay new banners,
   With figures to astound.

   ↩

10. Alms. ↩

11. Give me the means to buy a bit of bread, sir. ↩

12. A high-toned sharper. ↩

13. Thieves. ↩

14. L’argot. ↩

15. A small dessert apple, bright red on one side and greenish-white on the other. ↩

16. When the gay-plumaged birds grow weary, and the earth⁠— ↩

17. My father is a bird,
    My mother is a bird.
    I cross the water without a barque,
    I cross the water without a boat.
    My mother is a bird,
    My father is a bird.

    ↩

18. Time is a devourer; man, more so. ↩

19. Histoire Gallicane, liv. II. Periode III fo. 130, p. 1. ↩

20. This is the same which is called, according to locality, climate, and races, Lombard, Saxon, or