The real-false gargoyles of Notre-Dame

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It is a masterpiece of medieval art, of course. But above all a great romantic monument, as the current building is the fruit of the imagination of Viollet-le-Duc, assisted by Victor Hugo and the neuroses of his time.

Victor Hugo was the first to draw the world's attention to the rainwater drainage system at Notre-Dame. Quasimodo, the hero of his famous novel, looks like an animated gargoyle: a "bundle of disordered limbs swinging with fury at the end of a rope", which climbs the facade of the cathedral and unearths the crows, jumping "from projection to projection. projection ”. “Sometimes,” wrote Hugo, “in a dark corner of the church we encountered a sort of living chimera, crouching and scowling: it was Quasimodo thinking. »In 1831, the year of the publication of Notre-Dame de Paris, the 13th-century gargoyles and chimeras were long gone, and the years had made most of their later medieval alter egos unrecognizable. Some had shattered on the ground, as if in a hurry to sink their teeth and their threadbare claws into the flesh of sinners below. When he began his restoration work in 1843, Eugène Viollet-le-Duc found only a handful of shapeless stumps and dilapidated monsters, scattered in the garden behind the apse. Eroded by the water they evacuate, the gargoyles suffer the full brunt of the onslaught of bad weather. Forming, in the words of art historian Michael Camille, the “epidermis of the monument”, they were not designed to last, but as temporary decorative elements. This perhaps explains their casual and irreverent character: like the king's buffoons, they could express unpleasant truths. The ornaments known as chimaeras lacked this excuse of evanescence, and the mystery of those fish-mouthed mutants, fresh-flesh-devouring ghouls and other masturbating devils remains unresolved. It is, Camille believes to know, "to protect himself from the demons he is responsible for sculpting that the medieval artist mocks them". If so, the demons have had the final say. Think of the imp of the great portal (one of Viollet-le-Duc's favorites) who sticks out his tongue in a sign of concentration as he sodomizes a king with a stick ... Is it really fear and superstition that guided the hand of its author?

Romantic Notre-Dame

The scene of Quasimodo's acrobatics must have surprised the first readers of the novel. In 1831, Notre-Dame was nothing more than a blackened carcass, reduced by centuries of rain to a hideous mass, covered with warts. One of the first daguerreotypes of the west facade shows "a large unstitched patchwork", writes Camille. Viollet-le-Duc described it as “a ruin”, a dilapidated cathedral, like the surrounding slums. When the church was to host a national ceremony, it was covered and adorned with cardboard sculptures in the latest fashionable architectural style. It was not until 1864, and the unveiling of the restored building, that its representation of Hugo took shape. One would have said that Notre-Dame had finally found this something "fantastic, supernatural, horrible" that the novel describes: "Eyes and mouths" opening here and there; "The dogs, the guivres, the stone tarascans" watching "day and night, necks outstretched and mouth open, around the monstrous cathedral". Were it not for its horns and folded wings, one of these restored chimeras could pass for the spitting image of "Thinking Quasimodo." No wonder, since Viollet-le-Duc was partly inspired by the novel. Those who jokingly spoke of Notre-Dame as "the cathedral of Victor Hugo" did not believe in saying so. The sculptures perched on the towers and galleries, giving the monument its frightening appearance, were not the result of a simple restoration, but the last avatar to date of the Hugo's conception of the Gothic style. The initial project included very few of these ornaments, because Viollet-le-Duc was keen to reduce the costs of the site to reassure the committee in charge of the restoration. One of the members, Charles de Montalembert, had indeed warned against modern architects, unable to be satisfied with a faithful renovation, always quick to add all kinds of anachronistic details in the course of their work. It was only once his project was accepted that Viollet-le-Duc began to draw the monsters that would later be considered the very essence of medieval art. The architect scoured Notre-Dame and other Gothic cathedrals in search of remains of chimeras: a bird of prey with a human head; a dilapidated dragon mouth; a pair of talons clinging to a rickety balustrade. He was inspired for his sketches of satirical drawings, from an illustrated edition of Charles de Montalembert, had indeed warned against modern architects, unable to be satisfied with a faithful renovation, always quick to add all kinds of anachronistic details in the course of their work. It was only once his project was accepted that Viollet-le-Duc began to draw the monsters that would later be considered the very essence of medieval art. The architect scoured Notre-Dame and other Gothic cathedrals in search of remains of chimeras: a bird of prey with a human head; a dilapidated dragon mouth; a pair of talons clinging to a rickety balustrade. He was inspired for his sketches of satirical drawings, from an illustrated edition of Charles de Montalembert, had indeed warned against modern architects, unable to be satisfied with a faithful renovation, always quick to add all kinds of anachronistic details in the course of their work. It was only once his project was accepted that Viollet-le-Duc began to draw the monsters that would later be considered the very essence of medieval art. The architect scoured Notre-Dame and other Gothic cathedrals in search of remains of chimeras: a bird of prey with a human head; a dilapidated dragon mouth; a pair of talons clinging to a rickety balustrade. He was inspired for his sketches of satirical drawings, from an illustrated edition of always quick to add all kinds of anachronistic details in the course of their work. It was only once his project was accepted that Viollet-le-Duc began to draw the monsters that would later be considered the very essence of medieval art. The architect scoured Notre-Dame and other Gothic cathedrals in search of remains of chimeras: a bird of prey with a human head; a dilapidated dragon mouth; a pair of talons clinging to a rickety balustrade. He was inspired for his sketches of satirical drawings, from an illustrated edition of always quick to add all kinds of anachronistic details in the course of their work. It was only once his project was accepted that Viollet-le-Duc began to draw the monsters that would later be considered the very essence of medieval art. The architect scoured Notre-Dame and other Gothic cathedrals in search of remains of chimeras: a bird of prey with a human head; a dilapidated dragon mouth; a pair of talons clinging to a rickety balustrade. He was inspired for his sketches of satirical drawings, from an illustrated edition of The architect scoured Notre-Dame and other Gothic cathedrals in search of remains of chimeras: a bird of prey with a human head; a dilapidated dragon mouth; a pair of talons clinging to a rickety balustrade. He was inspired for his sketches of satirical drawings, from an illustrated edition of The architect scoured Notre-Dame and other Gothic cathedrals in search of remains of chimeras: a bird of prey with a human head; a dilapidated dragon mouth; a pair of talons clinging to a rickety balustrade. He was inspired for his sketches of satirical drawings, from an illustrated edition ofNotre-Dame de Paris dating from 1844, and his own illustrations of Voyages picturesques et romantiques dans l'Ancienne France [an account of Baron Taylor's wanderings]  ; he imagined griffins, unicorns and vampires, and pondered the strangeness of elephants, pelicans, cats and goats. Most of his howling and roaring demons cast a blank, expressionless gaze on the city that doesn't seem to catch anything specific. Camille brings him closer to that of public transport users.  

The thoughtful air of the gargoyles

The entourage of Viollet-le-Duc and his “medieval production factory” did not live in the Middle Ages. So we do not find a sodomized king, but only a demon (vaguely Goyesque) buying himself a piece of human flesh, while the happy little torturers of Satan have been replaced by "a dog devouring grapes", "a bald demon with long ears crushing a toad ”or even an eagle-like sparrow. Viollet-le-Duc's drawn monsters, and those of his associate Jean-Baptiste Lassus, were carved from Soissons stone - softer, unfortunately, than the original rock. Their execution was entrusted to a certain Victor Pyanet, a craftsman "as talented as he was prolific" in whom Camille sees the forgotten hero of this adventure. Gargoyle sculptors were at the bottom of the hierarchy: they had to work quickly and conform to the architect's drawings. No doubt one could not expect them to render identically the agility and the delicate features of the monsters drawn. The comparison between drawings and sculptures nevertheless suggests that Pyanet was rather well remunerated for his work (350 francs the chimera, enough to maintain a decent family of craftsmen for about six months) ... But it is perhaps the rigidity and the lack expression of his characters who gave them a character that we could qualify as "medieval". A few years before his death in 2002, Michael Camille was able to attend the last restoration of Notre-Dame. He knew his population of demons and monsters almost as well as the sculptors who worked there. The centerpiece in his eyes was this two-horned demon, with a pensive look and protruding ears, which a famous engraving by Charles Méryon popularized under the name of Stryge (masculinized version of a female demon of the night). Chin in hand, elbows resting against the balustrade of the west facade, the creature seems absorbed in the contemplation of some unhealthy element that has arisen from the outside world or from its own demonic spirit. "This 'icon' of the modern gargoyle is just as indecipherable today as it was at the time of its creation, between 1848 and 1850," Judge Camille, who keeps turning around him in the hope of "identifying the target aimed at by his petrified gaze ”. This sculpture is the “star” of the book. Camille makes a detailed semiotic analysis of it. With her long female vampire nails, his head offering a digest of phrenological aberrations, and his hooked nose betraying the anti-Semitism of its creator, the Stryge and his acolytes embody the bourgeois terrors: terror of disease and prostitution; terror of the "savages" of the insurrection of June 1848; terror of seeing the behavior of monkeys reappear in humans; and terror, finally, of the intangible demons of madness. The Notre-Dame de Viollet-le-Duc, this cathedral which cries out its pain in silence, is a monument to the neuroses of the mid-19th century. terror of seeing the behavior of monkeys reappear in humans; and terror, finally, of the intangible demons of madness. The Notre-Dame de Viollet-le-Duc, this cathedral which cries out its pain in silence, is a monument to the neuroses of the mid-19th century. terror of seeing the behavior of monkeys reappear in humans; and terror, finally, of the intangible demons of madness. The Notre-Dame de Viollet-le-Duc, this cathedral which cries out its pain in silence, is a monument to the neuroses of the mid-19th century.  

From the Chrysler Building to Gotham City

During his first stay in Paris, the young Freud - who came to study hysteria with Charcot - liked to walk the galleries of Notre-Dame, "between monsters and devils". But the real monsters, he saw them in the street: “People seem to me to belong to a completely different species than us […]. They are the people of psychic epidemics, historical mass convulsions and they have not changed since the time of Notre-Dame de Paris.by Victor Hugo (1). The chimeras could symbolize, Camille tells us, the "phallic gaze", or even unbridled female sexuality. For others, they were "cosmic antennae", guardians of esoteric mysteries. Later, they crystallized all kinds of fantasies. Thus the Stryge has in turn lent itself to a caricature of William II, that of the Jew seen by the Nazis and a gay icon. Replica gargoyles appeared on the Chrysler Building and in Gotham City, Batman's imaginary city. Camille insists on this point: “If Viollet-le-Duc claims that these sculptures are naturalists and have no symbolic content, they should not, however, be seen as empty ornaments. Certainly, but his interpretations are inevitably subjective, and his explanations sometimes a little short. Camille tends to use these statues as a plasticine easily adaptable to any theoretical mold. Is La Stryge really the product of Viollet-le-Duc's neuroses, and was he struggling "with the chimeras of his imagination"? Are we even sure that he is the author? Camille recognizes that the Stryge may have been designed by Lassus. Like everyone else, Viollet-le-Duc was certainly inhabited by all kinds of unconscious fears and shameful fantasies, but he was also a conscientious and pragmatic architect. Gargoyles were for him "integral components of his strictly practical conception of Gothic", and not the manifestation of diabolical forces. The restorer of Notre-Dame was a man of his time, very attached to the functional dimension of his art. His observations of drainage systems are at least as newsworthy as the alleged ramblings of his subconscious. The chapter of hisArchitecture talks(1863) devoted to the flow of rainwater offers a striking description of what life could be like in Paris in the middle of the 19th century. "The majestic mode does not take these necessities into account, and yet it rains in France," he wrote. The masters of the Middle Ages “knew how to make this necessity a reason for decoration. In Gothic buildings […], the means of draining water are apparent, easy to monitor, maintain and even replace ”. On the contrary, modern architects had made a habit of concealing downspouts in masonry, so that they could not be detected until the wall was stained with moisture and the plaster had crumbled. "We cannot believe, if we have not seen it, how far today this unforeseen architecture extends today," said Viollet-le-Duc, indignantly. describing attics through which passed "a small canal covered with a plank" in which the inhabitants could go to draw water on rainy days. The sound of the flow was sometimes so loud that you could no longer hear yourself speak. The supposedly medieval gargoyles of Notre Dame actually offered a rational architectural solution to an old problem. Camille shows, by venturing into the jungle of signifiers of gargoyles and chimeras, that Notre-Dame is not only a relatively well-preserved masterpiece of medieval art, but also one of the great monuments of the romantic era. Anyone who has ever seen the small steam locomotive that adorns one of the facades of the Louvre knows that not all Parisian monuments are as old as they seem. The restoration of the cathedral by Viollet-le-Duc is an example of particularly successful and ingenious modernization. His sculptures have aged, of course, but in a singular and complex way, which Camille has been able to perceive by paying a maniac and joyful attention to details that at first glance derisory and grotesque.  

No germ of mortification

The Viollet-le-Duc “factory” has proven to be incredibly profitable. Its production did not cease after the death of its founder: the monsters posed for thousands of photographers; their howling mouths became dull, suggesting that they had lost their power and that it had never been but these boors of the Middle Ages to be afraid of it. Disney believed they could sign their death certificate in 1996. Conjuring "the fundamental darkness of Hugo's novel", its filmmakers invented three adorable gargoyles - Victor, Laverne and Hugo - who, while having fun, dedicate the indecrottable superstition of the populations of the Middle Ages, and underline by contrast how enlightened we are today. "The end of the film," writes Camille, "testifies to a disconcerting optimism. »It does not contain, as Walter Benjamin said of the first Disney films, “no germ of mortification”. But the real gargoyles hadn't said their last word. Notre-Dame underwent a new restoration in 1996. While the stalls of the Ile de la Cité were selling their stocks of Disney merchandise - mouse pads with the effigy of gargoyles and other screaming mechanical Stryges - something strange loomed behind the scaffolding. Once the tarps were removed, we were supposed to be able to admire the gargoyles and chimeras again in all their genuine strangeness. But something had changed: some monsters gave a silly little smile; others looked downright silly. An invisible and irresistible force had guided the hand of the restorers. The monsters had changed, suggesting a prospect even more frightening than the Last Judgment: the servants of American mass culture had colonized the most eminent symbol of French tradition. The cathedral disneyified, its diabolical menagerie has not finished giving birth to horrible nightmares. Only the patina of acid rain and pollution can restore it to its enigma. In the meantime, the brand new Stryge is licking its chops at the recently opened McDonald's in the Carrousel du Louvre. Only the patina of acid rain and pollution can restore it to its enigma. In the meantime, the brand new Stryge is licking its chops at the recently opened McDonald's in the Carrousel du Louvre. Only the patina of acid rain and pollution can restore it to its enigma. In the meantime, the brand new Stryge is licking its chops at the recently opened McDonald's in the Carrousel du Louvre.   This article appeared in the London Review of Books  on February 25, 2010. It was translated by Hélène Quiniou.

Notes

1. Sigmund Freud, letter to Minna Bernays of December 3, 1885, Correspondence. 1873-1939 , Gallimard, 1979, p. 200.

For further

• Jean-Paul Midant , In the Middle Ages with Viollet-le-Duc , Parangon, 2001. In the footsteps of an architect whose conception of restoration continues to be debated. By an architectural historian.