Listen to Victor Hugo once more: "Il est difficile de ne pas soupirer, de ne pas s'indigner devant les dégradations, les mutilations sans nombre, que simultanément le temps et les hommes ont fait subir au vénérable monument, sans respect pour Charlemagne, qui en avait posé la première pierre, pour Philippe-Auguste, qui en avait posé la dernière. Sur la face de cette vieille reine de nos cathédrales, à côté d'un vide on trouve toujours une cicatrice. Tempus edax homo edacior: le temps est aveugle, l'homme est stupide." Sixty years have passed since this was written, but the great poet lived to see a restoration which he probably sighed over as much as over the mutilations of former times. Viollet-le-Duc did his work better than most restorers; but of the old church nothing remains but the shell—even the surface of the stone has been scraped and scrubbed, giving the building as new an appearance as that of the churches of S. Augustin and La Trinité. Hugo's words in 1832, directed against the architects of Louis XIV. and Louis XV., apply equally to those of our time: "Si nous avions le loisir d'examiner une à une avec le lecteur les diverses traces de destruction imprimée à l'antique église, la part du temps serait la moindre, la pire celles des hommes, surtout des hommes de l'art." The great destruction occurred between 1699 and 1753. Louis XIV., the great destroyer of men and of their works, in order to carry out the "Vœu de Louis XIII.", made away with the old carved stalls, the jubé, the cloisters, the high altar with its numerous châsses and reliquaries, its bronze columns and silver and gold statuettes, the tombs, and the stained glass. In 1771, the statues above the great west doors disappeared when Soufflot began his evil work of widening them. Another great loss to the church was the destruction of the statue of S. Christopher, a huge colossal figure as celebrated in the Middle Ages as the relics of the Sainte-Chapelle. It stood at the entrance of the nave, and was the work of Messire Antoine des Essarts in 1443, in gratitude to the saintly giant for having saved him from the Burgundians. Miracle-working Virgins, Philippe-Auguste posing as S. Simon Stylites, and two bishops of Paris, likewise upon columns, were amongst some of the former treasures. Whether three great figures in wax of Gregory XI., his niece, and nephew, which tumbled into decay in 1599, are equally to be regretted, is doubtful; but the description of an equestrian statue which stood in the nave, the man in armour, and the horse in emblazoned trappings, sounds fascinating. It was a Louis VI., or a Philippe le Bel—who knows? Perhaps the latter, erected as a thank offering to Our Lady for the victory at Mons, for Philippe founded solemn commemorations of that battle at Notre-Dame, at Chartres, and at S. Denis. But in spite of this evidence, Père Montfaucon pronounced in favour of Philippe de Valois, who rode into the church equipped and armed to give thanks for the victory of Cassel, and fulfil a vow made in front of the enemy. This same Philippe's effigy also rode a stone horse upon the façade of the Cathedral of Sens.
Du Breuil cites some quaint verses explaining the dimensions of the church, which were written upon a picture hanging near the statue of S. Christopher by the doorway:
Si tu veux sçauoir comme est ample
De Nostre-Dame le grand temple:
Il a dans œuure, pour le seur,
Dix et sept toises de haulteur,
Sur la largeur de vingt et quatre;
Et soixante cinq sans rabattre,
A de long. Au tours hault montées
Trente quarte sont bien comptées,
Le tout fondé sur pilotis,
Ainsi vray que ie le te dis.[109]
When the revolutionary period began, little remained to be done in the way of destruction, but that little the votaries of Reason did pretty well as regards everything pertaining unto royalty; for to be just, we must remember that anything that could be construed into philosophy or art was spared. In August, 1793, it was decided that eight days should be allowed for the destruction of the "gothiques simulacres" of the kings upon the portals. Later on the Saints were ordered to share the same fate, but Citizen Chaumette, as we have seen, stepped in and saved the sculpture by assuring his colleagues that the astronomer Dupuis had discovered his planetary system on one of the portals. Thereupon the Citoyen Dupuis was put upon the council for the preservation of public buildings, and in consequence much was saved from complete and hopeless destruction. We all know how a goddess of the class so dear to the kings of old, a vulgar Gabrielle or Pompadour in sabots and a Phrygian cap, was set upon the altar and worshipped in derision, a ceremony followed by others that "we leave under a veil which appropriately stretches itself along the pillars of the aisles—not to be lifted aside by the hand of history."[110] Robespierre and his friends must have been utterly wanting in a sense of humour, or they never would have instituted these curious ceremonies. In an old print[111] representing the great Feast of the Supreme Being upon the Champ de Mars, we see the President of the Convention in a fine blue coat, and bearing an enormous bouquet of flowers, discoursing to the multitude; and, after burning the statue of Atheism, sticking up Wisdom in its place. Young girls in the inevitable white of church processions, beadles, and singing men, with all the paraphernalia of the dethroned ecclesiastical pomp, are depicted: but only one man seems to have seen how ludicrous it all was: "Tu commence à nous ennuyer avec ton Être Suprême!" said he to Robespierre, somewhat profanely.
The prelates and sovereigns who succeeded to these stormy days endeavoured to restore Notre-Dame; but the ignorance which prevailed at the commencement of the present century with regard to Gothic architecture rather added to the destruction than mended it; and it was not until the Christian art and Liberal Catholic revivals led by Montalembert and his friends that a thorough and rational restoration of the church was commenced by the eminent architects, Viollet-le-Duc and Lassus.
The central portal is a mass of wonderful sculpture. The lower part of the stylobate bears lozenge-shapen compartments enclosing roses and lilies. Above this are the Virtues and Vices,[112] the former being figures of women bearing their emblems; the latter, little scenes describing each particular vice. It is interesting to see that the Virtues should be portrayed as women, Guillaume Durand giving the reason that they are men's nursing mothers; but Eve, having been supposed from all time to have been man's temptress, how comes it that the Mediæval sculptors exempted her and all other women from personifying the vice, for example, of curiosity? Courage our first mother undoubtedly had, and so this virtue on the front of Notre-Dame is represented by a woman with a shield bearing a lion. Equally certain is it that Adam was mean and cowardly, and so we find Cowardice painted as a man running away terror-stricken from a harmless hare. Amongst the vicious we see Judas in despair, an iniquitous Nero, an impious Mahomet, and a funny little Nimroud throwing a javelin at the sun, symbolic of that great warrior's attempt to build a high tower in order to attack Heaven itself.
Above the Virtues and Vices are the Twelve Apostles, placed over the Virtue which in their lives they especially displayed. Nothing in these sculptures was done without a purpose; thus S. Paul stands over Courage, and S. Peter above Faith; indeed the whole doorway was designed to carry out a particular idea, and to illustrate the main doctrines of Christ, whose statue stands upon the central pier, giving the benediction to all who enter.
