CHAPTER I.

A BRIEF HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE CATHEDRAL.

No city of the modern world has seen such amazing changes as the French metropolis. In the eyes of many persons, from every downfall Paris has arisen more incontestably splendid. But not to all is the Paris of Baron Hausmann lovelier than the city which preceded it. For instance, M. Joris-Karl Huysmans, the author at once modern and mystical of _A Rebours_ and _La Cathédrale_, bitterly regrets the disappearance of those ancient and brooding byways which lent to the Paris of his youth a curious charm which has now almost disappeared. The Paris of magnificent vistas is at least less fascinating to the artist than the comparatively provincial city of crooked lanes which has gone to make way for a series of lofty and pretentious street fronts and spacious squares.

Strange it is that, where so much has been changed, the cathedral church of Notre Dame has remained almost unaltered in outline and general effect. Revolutions have surged round it; monstrous rites have been perpetrated within it; even the hail of shot and shell have left this wonderful Gothic creation poorer only in decorative detail. There is a certain fascination in the grimness of this mysterious building in _la ville lumière_, and I am disposed to agree with Mr. Richard Whiteing that it symbolises the underlying sadness, as opposed to the superficial gaiety of the Parisian. Thousands of French churches are dedicated to Notre Dame: even in Paris itself we have Notre Dame de l’Assomption, Notre Dame de l’Abbaye aux Bois, Notre Dame des Blancs-Manteaux, Notre Dame des Champs, Notre Dame de Lorette, and Notre Dame des Victoires. But still when we speak of Notre Dame we allude instinctively to that vast edifice which frowns over the slow and winding Seine. The cathedral church of Notre Dame is almost as closely connected with the history of the French people as is the Abbey of Westminster with that of the English. And indeed the gray-white building whose foundations are nearly washed by the waters of the Seine has seen pageants more superb, and tragedies more luridly dramatic, than our own proud Minster of the West. Although it can boast no such marvellous continuity of vital historic episodes, Notre Dame is the one building in the French metropolis which seems to stand as a symbol for the whole city in all its memorable phases: with it may not be compared the bragging grandeur of the Arc de Triomphe, the extensive splendour of the Louvre, nor the rebuilt Hôtel de Ville. We do not forget the exquisite beauties of La Sainte Chapelle, the strange fascination of the resting-place of the Great Napoleon, nor the majesty of the once royal church of Saint Denis. None of these, however, will bear serious comparison with the great Metropolitan Cathedral of Paris. Notre Dame has an almost unearthly power of asserting its existence. Neither in full sunshine, nor in the twilight, nor when night has finally set in, will it allow its majestic proportions to be overlooked. Mr. Henley has finely spoken of “the high majesty of Paul’s,” but even our own metropolitan cathedral, with its overwhelming dome, is scarcely more predominant than Notre Dame.

The geographical position of the Cathedral of Paris is not unlike that anciently possessed by Westminster Abbey, and by that crown of the Fens, Ely Cathedral. We find that Notre Dame dominates an islet of the Seine. At its east end is that tragical commentary on the life of modern Paris, The Morgue. The late Mr. Grant Allen, with a cheerfulness which we are far from sharing, noted that this triumphant example of the best Gothic in the world has often been restored. We believe that he was one of many intelligent persons who derive a real satisfaction from the so-called “restoration” of an ancient work, of which no real “restoration” is possible, though repair is an obvious duty.

The mediæval churches of western Europe nearly all claim a pre-Christian origin. It is charming to the mind of a certain type of antiquary to discover the origin of a Christian cathedral in the wreck of a Roman temple. For Westminster Abbey and for St. Paul’s Roman foundations have, with more or less accuracy, been described. In the case of Notre Dame it is certain that the remains of an altar of Jupiter were discovered in 1711, which would seem to indicate that a pagan temple once stood on or near the site in the Gaulish city of Lutetia Parisiorum. In point of fact, it is a matter of no small difficulty to make out clearly the origin of Notre Dame, or to describe with certainty the ecclesiastical buildings which in the dim past occupied its site. A lady writer who has discussed the church with much intelligence writes on this matter as follows:[1]

[Footnote 1: _The Churches of Paris_, by S. Sophia Beale: London, W. H. Allen and Co., 1893.]

“The origin of Notre Dame is enveloped in mystery. Whether its first bishop, St. Denis, or Dionysius, was the Areopagite converted by St. Paul’s preaching at Athens, and sent by St. Clement to preach the Gospel to the Parisians, or whether he was another personage of the same name who was sent into Gaul in the third century and martyred during the persecutions under Decius, it is impossible to say, as there is no evidence of any value. Certain it is, however, that the first bishop of Paris bore the name of Denis, and that he suffered martyrdom, with his two companions Rusticus and Eleutherius, on the summit of the hill now called Montmartre. Tradition went so far as to point out the spot where they first gathered their followers together--the crypt of Notre Dame des Champs; also the prison where our Lord appeared to them and strengthened them with His Holy Body and Blood at St. Denis de la Chartre; the place, at St. Denis du Pas, where they suffered their first tortures; and lastly, Montmartre, where they were beheaded. But, with the exception of the latter, all these holy spots have disappeared. So, too, have the crosses which marked the route taken by the Saint, when he carried his head to the place chosen for his burial, at St. Denis. An ancient church covered the remains of the three saints until the present splendid building was erected, in the reign of Dagobert I. Under the Roman dominion, Paris was comprised in the fourth Lyonnaise division, of which Sens was the metropolis. Hence the bishops of Paris acknowledged the Archbishop of Sens as their primate until 1622, when, at the request of Louis XIII., Pope Gregory XV. raised Paris to the see of an archbishopric. The succession has consisted of one hundred and nine bishops and fifteen archbishops, eight of whom have been raised to the dignity of Cardinal. Besides St. Denis six have been venerated as Saints: Marcel, in the fifth century; Germain, in the sixth century; Ceran, Landry, and Agilbert in the seventh, and Hugues in the eighth century.”

We must leave this ancient and hazy story of saints and martyrs, and return to the thorny question of the origin of the cathedral. From the brief account of Notre Dame by Mr. A. J. C. Hare in his entertaining volume on Paris, we glean that about the year 375 a church, dedicated to St. Stephen (St. Etienne), was built on the islet under Prudentius, eighth bishop of Paris. “In 528,” says Mr. Hare, “through the gratitude of Childebert--‘_le nouveau Melchisedech_’--for his recovery from a sickness by St. Germain, another far more rich and beautiful edifice (dedicated to Sainte Marie--) arose by the side of the first church, and was destined to become _ecclesia parisiaca_, the cathedral of Paris. Childebert endowed it with three estates--at Chelles-en-Brie, at La Celle near Monterau, and at La Celle near Fréjus--which last supplied the oil for its sacred ordinances. The new church had not long been finished when La Cité, in which the monks of S. Germain had taken refuge with their treasures, was besieged by the Normans; but it was successfully defended by Bishop Gozlin, who died during the siege. It is believed that the substructions of this church were found during recent excavations in the Parvis Notre Dame,[2] and architectural fragments then discovered are now preserved at the Palais des Thermes.” It may be taken for granted that Childebert’s church took the form of a Roman basilica, and it is probable that Roman materials were used in its construction. In 1847 further Roman remains were discovered on the site which doubtless formed part of Childebert’s building. Some of them are preserved at the Hôtel-Cluny.

[Footnote 2: The space to the west of the church was called _Parvis paradisus_, the earthly paradise leading by the celestial Jerusalem.]

I am, however, inclined to agree with M. de Guilhermy and M. Viollet-le-Duc,[3] that the story of the cathedral previous to the episcopacy of Bishop Maurice de Sully (1160-96) is, if not absolutely fictitious, at least merely conjectural.

[Footnote 3: See _Description de Notre-Dame, Cathédrale] de Paris_: Paris, 1856. The main points of Viollet-le-Duc’s inventory of the cathedral will be found in Queyron’s _Histoire et Description de l’Eglise de Notre Dame_, Paris: E. Plon, Nourrit et C^{ie}.]

This prelate--generally counted as the sixty-second occupant of the see--seems at first to have united the adjacent churches of St. Stephen and St^{e} Marie on the Ile de la Cité, and then (without immediately and totally destroying them) to have commenced a new one on the same site, of which Pope Alexander III. laid the foundation-stone in 1163. Rapid progress must have been made with the work, for it is certain that in 1185 Heraclitus, patriarch of Jerusalem, officiated at the altar, in front of which, in the year following, Geoffrey, Count of Brittany, son of Henry II. of England, was buried. Maurice de Sully provided for the continuation of the work after his death, which took place in 1196. By his will he left five thousand _livres_ in order that the choir might be roofed with lead. At this time, according to Viollet-le-Duc, considerable progress must have been made with the nave. Maurice de Sully was succeeded by Eudes de Sully (1197-1208), on whose death the see was occupied, until 1219, by Pierre de Nemours. Towards 1223 the west front was completed to the base of the great gallery, and by 1235 the towers were left much as we see them to-day. The spires, which it is generally admitted they were intended to carry, were never added.

Between the years 1235 and 1240, a fire seems to have broken out at Notre Dame. On this subject history is silent, but that it did serious damage is maintained by Viollet-le-Duc on what appear to be sufficient grounds. According to him, repair was made in haste, so that rose windows, flying buttresses and other structural details were ruthlessly sacrificed. The west front seems to have escaped mutilation. Up to 1245 the cathedral, vast as was its area, possessed either no chapels at all, or chapels of inconsiderable dimensions. In that year, however, the addition of new chapels was proceeded with. It would appear that, shortly after, the plainness of the transept fronts in comparison with the splendidly decorated west façade was acutely felt. In 1257, Jean de Chelles was engaged on reconstructing the southern doorway. At this time St. Louis was King of France, and Renaud de Corbeil bishop of Paris. The northern door and the chapels next the transepts on either side were altered immediately after the southern entrance. In 1351, Jean Ravy and Jean de Bouteiller were engaged about the cathedral as sculptors.

During the next three centuries Notre Dame escaped anything in the nature of important change, destruction or addition; but in 1699 an era of reckless mutilation began. Between the last-named date and 1753 the Cloister, the stalls of the sixteenth century, the old high altar, many sepulchral monuments, and a vast quantity of stained glass were destroyed. The work done in the names of “repair” and “beautification” deprived the cathedral of mouldings, foliated capitals, gargoyles and pinnacles. The damage inflicted by the architect Soufflot (who designed the Panthéon) will be noticed later. Towards the end of Louis XV.’s reign the church was refloored with squares of marble. The new pavement involved the tearing up of a number of curious tombstones, some of which covered the dust of men greatly distinguished in French history. Between 1773 and 1787 minor alterations in the taste of the time were made in various parts of the building, but further additions were brought to an end by the outbreak of the Revolution. That any sculpture of a religious or royal character was spared at Notre Dame during that terrific upheaval seems to have been due to the eloquence of Citoyen Chaumette and the influence of Citoyen Dupuis. Of the great work of repair and addition performed by the architects Viollet-le-Duc and Lassus, their assistants and successors, much will be said when we consider the cathedral in detail.

We have already discussed the early story of Notre Dame, and noted the vicissitudes through which the fabric has passed. I propose, before concluding this introductory chapter, to state in the briefest possible way the great historical events with which the cathedral is connected, from the death, in 1196, of Maurice de Sully to the present time.

From the tenth century up to the end of the fifteenth century the extraordinary _Fête des Fous_ was celebrated in Notre Dame. One of the cathedral employés was elected _Evêque des Fous_, and, wearing the actual vestments used in religious services, was honoured with a great banquet accompanied with grotesque dances and songs. This orgy took place in the church itself, and was so popular that it flourished in spite of the most determined efforts to suppress it. A similar custom was observed in La Sainte Chapelle. During the early years of the thirteenth century the Dominican order was established. St. Dominic himself preached once at least in Notre Dame. During his prayer before the sermon, the Virgin is said to have appeared to him in a cloud of light and to have given to him a book containing the subject-matter of his discourse. Raymond VII., Count of Toulouse, underwent the discipline of the lash for heresy before the door of the cathedral in 1229. This spot was for centuries occupied by a pillory. From 1220 onwards a series of disputes took place between the officials of the church and the university. During the long reign of St. Louis, which ended in 1271, the power of the bishop and chapter of Paris had increased enormously, and a host of vassals did homage to Bishop Etienne II. for their lands. The body of St. Louis was laid in state in Notre Dame previous to its burial at St. Denis. This custom was followed in the case of many other French monarchs and princes of the blood.

On April 10th, 1302, Philippe-le-Bel held the first meeting of the States-general in the cathedral. In the month of June, 1389, Isabeau de Bavière made a solemn entry into Paris. Froissart tells us that: “Devant ladite église de Notre-Dame, en la place, l’évêque de Paris étoit revêtu des armes de Notre-Seigneur et tout le collège. Aussi on moult avoit grand clergé et la descendit la royne et la mirent hors de sa litière les quatre ducs qui là estoyent, Berry, Bourgogne, Touraine et Bourbon.... La royne de France fut adestrée et menée parmy l’église et le chœur jusqu’au grand autel et la se mit à genoux et fit ses oraisons ainsi que bon lui sembla, et bailla et offrit à la trésorerie de Notre-Dame quatre draps d’or et la belle couronne que les anges lui avoient posée sur la porte de Paris.”

A great thanksgiving service was held when Charles VI. had been saved from burning. The King, it may be recalled, was dressed as a satyr at a palace fête with five companions. The Duke of Orleans was curious as to the identity of the disguised, and approached them with a torch, which accidentally set their clothing alight. The King was saved by the Duchess de Berri, who threw a cloak over him, but four of his companions were burned to death.

We must now turn to the time of Henry V. of England, who, after Agincourt, became Regent of France with the right of succession to the throne. After his marriage with Catherine, daughter of Charles VI., in 1420, he paid a solemn state visit to Notre Dame. On Henry’s death his son, afterwards Henry VI., was crowned King of France in the cathedral. When the English were driven from Rouen, a great service of thanksgiving was held to celebrate the entry of Charles VII. into the Norman capital.

“In the annals of Notre Dame,” says Mr. W. F. Lonergan in his _Historic Churches of Paris_, “from the days of Louis XI., the rebellious dauphin who succeeded his father, Charles VII., to the reign of the fourteenth Louis, there is chiefly a long record of _Te Deums_ after the victories of the French army. Historic Rheims, where Clovis had been baptized by S. Remi in 496, was the favoured city of the Merovingians, who had accorded it great privileges.” Amongst these was the right of crowning and consecrating the Kings of France. Save Henri Quatre and Louis XVIII., all of them were crowned at Rheims; but it was the custom of the newly made sovereigns to go in state to Notre Dame at Paris to return thanks for their advent to the throne. Amongst the most interesting of the historic events which took place in, or were magnificently celebrated at Notre Dame, were the following: the French victory over the Venetians at Agnadel or, as the Italians call it, Vaila, in 1509; the marriage of Louis XII. with Mary, sister of Henry VIII. of England; the victories of Francis I.; and the marriage of Mary Stuart with the Dauphin. The marriage of Henri, King of Navarre, with Marguerite de Valois, took place at the entrance to the cathedral, as the King was a Protestant. In 1590 the Catholic nobles swore at the altar of Notre Dame to fight this same Henri to the bitter end. In 1593, however, he became a Catholic, and attended mass at the cathedral on the occasion of his accession to the throne as the first monarch of the Bourbon line. The metropolitan see was raised to the dignity of an archbishopric by Pope Gregory XV. in 1622. In 1682, under Louis XIV., the great bell or _bourdon_ of the church was christened Emmanuel Louis Thérèse, the King and Queen being the sponsors. Later on, in 1699, the great changes in the church, undertaken in fulfilment of the vow of Louis XIII., were begun. The first stone of the new altar was laid by the Archbishop with the utmost pomp. The foundation slab was inscribed: “Louis the Great--son of Louis the Just--after he had suppressed heresy, established the true faith in his kingdom, terminated gloriously wars by land and sea, wishing to accomplish the vow of his father, built this altar in the cathedral church of Paris, dedicating it to the God of Arms, Master of Peace and Victory, under the invocation of the Virgin, patron and protector of his State, A.D. 1699.” During the reign of the “Grand Monarque,” _Te Deums_ were even more frequent than before.

We come at length to the part played by the cathedral during the Revolution. We need say nothing of the fate of the fabric itself, for that has already been alluded to. Its escape is little short of marvellous. The result of the sack of the treasuries of the churches of Paris is best told in Carlyle’s vivid translation of Mercier: “This, accordingly, is what the streets of Paris saw: Most of these persons were still drunk, with the brandy they had swallowed out of chalices;--eating mackerel on the patenas! Mounted on Asses, which were housed with Priests’ cloaks, they reined them with Priests’ stoles; they held clutched with the same hand communion-cup and sacred wafer. They stopped at the doors of Dramshops; held out ciboriums: and the landlord, stoup in hand, had to fill them thrice. Next came Mules high laden with crosses, chandeliers, censers, holy-water vessels, hyssops;--recalling to mind the Priests of Cybele, whose panniers, filled with the instruments of their worship, served at once as storehouse, sacristy and temple.” On November 10th, 1793, the Cult of Reason was decreed by the Convention, and Notre Dame converted into the temple of the new religion. To quote Carlyle again: “For the same day, while this brave Carmagnole-dance has hardly jigged itself out, there arrive Procureur Chaumette and Municipals and Departmentals, and with them the strangest freightage: a New Religion! Demoiselle Candeille, of the Opera; a woman fair to look upon, when well rouged; she borne on palanquin shoulder high; with red woollen nightcap; in azure mantle; garlanded with oak; holding in her hand the Pike of the Jupiter-_Peuple_, sails in: heralded by white young women girt in tricolor. Let the world consider it! This, O National Convention, wonder of the universe, is our New Divinity; _Goddess of Reason_, worthy, and alone worthy of revering. Her henceforth we adore. Nay, were it too much of an august National Representation that it also went with us to the _ci-devant_ Cathedral called of Notre Dame, and executed a few strophes in worship of her?... And now after due pause and flourishes of oratory, the Convention, gathering its limbs, does get under way in the required procession towards Notre Dame;--Reason, again in her litter, sitting in the van of them, borne, as one judges, by men in the Roman costume; escorted by wind-music, red nightcaps, and the madness of the world. And so, straightway, Reason taking seat on the high-altar of Notre Dame, the requisite worship or quasi-worship is, say the Newspapers, _executed_; National Convention chanting ‘the _Hymn to Liberty_, words by Chénier, music by Gossec.’ It is the first of the _Feasts of Reason_; first communion-service of the New Religion of Chaumette.” The real heroine of this orgy was probably an opera dancer called Maillard. ‘Demoiselle Candeille’ was an actress and writer of some repute, who strenuously denied that she ever had anything to do with the Feast of Reason. An imitation “mountain” was erected in the nave for the “fête,” on which was built a Gothic temple inscribed _A la Philosophie_. Around were busts of famous philosophers, and below an altar surmounted with the so-called Torch of Truth. The goddess sat on the hill, hymns were sung in her honour and vows of fidelity to her were taken. In 1794 the church was used as a bonded store for the wine seized in the cellars of guillotined or outlawed Royalists. The month of May in the same year saw the “Temple of Reason” turned into that of the “Supreme Being,” for Robespierre persuaded the Convention to sign a decree recognising “the consoling principle of the Immortality of the Soul.” In 1795 Christian worship was once more restored at Notre Dame. Nothing of great importance happened to the church until the star of Napoleon rose--until, indeed, the first Consul had become Emperor.

Of all the magnificent ceremonies of which Notre Dame has been the scene, the most splendid was the joint coronation of Napoleon and Josephine in the winter of 1804. A full account of it will be found in the _Mémoires de la Duchesse d’Abrantès_, of which I quote a part, purposely leaving it in the original French, as any translation would be comparatively colourless and unpicturesque: “Le pape arriva le premier. Au moment où il entra dans la basilique, le clergé entonna _Tu es Petrus_, etc.; et ce chant grave et religieux fit une profonde impression sur les assistants. Pie VII. avançait du fond de cette église, avec un air à la fois majestueux et humble.... L’instant qui réunit peut-être le plus de regards sur les marches de l’autel, fut celui où Joséphine reçut de l’empereur la couronne et fut sacrée solennellement impératrice des Français. Lorsqu’il fut temps pour elle de paraître activement dans le grand drame, l’impératrice descendit du trône et s’avança vers l’autel, où l’attendait l’empereur, suivie de ses dames du palais et de tout son service d’honneur, et ayant son manteau porté par la princesse Caroline, la princesse Julie, la princesse Elisa et la princesse Louis.... Je vis tout ce que je viens de dire dans les yeux de Napoléon. Il jouissait en regardant l’impératrice s’avancer vers lui; et lorsqu’elle s’agenouilla ... lorsque les larmes qu’elle ne pouvait retenir, roulèrent sur ses mains jointes qu’elle élevait bien plus vers lui que vers Dieu, dans ce moment où Napoléon, ou plutôt _Bonaparte_, était pour elle sa véritable providence, alors il y eut entre ces deux êtres une de ces minutes fugitives, unique dans toute une vie, et qui comblent le vide de bien des années. L’empereur mit une grâce parfaite à la moindre des actions qu’il devait faire pour accomplir la cérémonie. Mais ce fut surtout lorsqu’il s’agit de couronner l’impératrice. Cette action devait être accompli par l’empereur, qui, après avoir reçu la petite couronne fermée et surmontée de la croix, qu’il fallait placer sur la tête de Joséphine, devait la poser sur sa propre tête, puis la mettre sur celle de l’impératrice. Il mit à ces deux mouvements une lenteur gracieuse qui était remarquable. Mais lorsqu’il en fut au moment de couronner enfin celle qui était pour lui, selon un préjugé, son _étoile heureuse_ il fut _coquet_ pour elle, si je puis dire le mot. Il arrangeait cette petite couronne qui surmontait la diadème, en diamant, la plaçait, la déplaçait, la remettait encore, il semblait qu’il voulût lui promettre que cette couronne lui serait douce et légère.”

Napoleon, on this occasion, hastily took his crown from the Pope’s hands and placed it haughtily on his own head--a proceeding which doubtless startled his Holiness. In May 1814 Louis XVIII. and his family attended mass at Notre Dame after their entry into Paris. A great service was held there in 1840, to celebrate the restoration of the remains of Napoleon I. to French soil, while Archbishops Affre, Sibour and Darboy, who died violent deaths, were commemorated with fitting solemnities.

The marriage of Napoleon III. to Eugénie de Montijo, Comtesse de Teba, on January 29th, 1853, was the occasion of a great display of gorgeous pageantry at Notre Dame, as was the baptism of the ill-fated Prince Imperial in 1857. The Terrorists of 1871 robbed the treasury of the cathedral of many valuable relics, but their intention to injure the fabric itself was prevented by the timely arrival of troops. The most notable ceremonies during the existence of the present Republic have been the funeral service, in June 1894, for President Carnot, assassinated in that year at Lyons, and the splendid State funeral of Louis Pasteur in October 1895.

The great festivals of the Church are celebrated at Notre Dame on a scale of almost unrivalled magnificence. On Assumption Day, in particular, splendid music, wedded to the most ornate ritual, produces an effect never to be forgotten. The pulpit of the metropolitan cathedral has been occupied by a succession of great preachers, amongst them Bossuet and Bourdaloue, and the services and conferences are noted throughout the Roman Catholic world. The Dominican Lacordaire began in 1835 a series of majestic and picturesque discourses, which earned for him the title _le Romantique de la Chaire_, and he has been described as filling as a preacher the place occupied in literature by Victor Hugo and in painting by Delacroix, H. Vernet, and Delaroche. In recent times among the most popular pulpit orators have been the fiery Jesuit Père Ravignan, Monseigneur d’Hulst, Père Monsabré, and M. Hyacinthe Loyson, better known to fame as Père Hyacinthe.

Needless to say, this is the merest outline of the wonderful history of the Cathedral Church of Paris. If the columns of Notre Dame could speak, they would--to adapt a phrase of Viollet-le-Duc--be able to recount the history of France from the time of Philip Augustus to our own day. It is therefore natural that the whole French nation has for Notre Dame a feeling of veneration and affection similar to that which is called forth in English hearts by the Abbey Church of Westminster.