The
Magic and Majesty of the Middle Ages:
Notre-Dame de Paris
Bill Ranauro
©
Copyright 2020 by Bill Ranauro
|
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In April 1999, I made my first
trip to Europe. I
was helping three other teachers chaperone forty students on a trip
that would take us to Paris, Venice, Florence, and Rome over the next
two weeks. I was hooked on European travel after visiting Notre-Dame
Cathedral on my first day in Paris.
Paris - April 16, 1999
The first stop for us on a four-city tour
of France
and Italy was the city of light, Paris. After we checked into our
hotel on Boulevard de Montparnasse, I fumbled around my room,
unpacking clothes, putting away toothbrushes, and taking care of any
mindless chore I could think of. I was stalling. Our group had
several hours on our own before we would come together for dinner, so
I was free to go wherever I wanted. I was excited but felt paralyzed
being in a foreign country for the first time in my life; I was
unsure of myself, a feeling I had not expected. My imagination ran
wild. Would I embarrass myself in front of these sophisticated
Parisians? Would I cause an incident that would strain relations
between France and the U.S.? What if someone talks to me in French?
What if I lose my way and need to ask directions? What if…?
Finally, after wasting about twenty minutes by myself in my room, I
straightened myself up and thought, “OK, you’re in Paris.
Get outside and start walking!” So that is what I did.
I turned left out the hotel door and began
walking in
the general direction of the Seine until something familiar came into
view: the distinctive twin towers of Notre-Dame Cathedral rose
above the Paris skyline. I felt better, since I now had a definite
destination and would no longer be mistaken for a pathetic lost
tourist. I picked up my pace and strode across the Pont
Neuf (New Bridge) toward the cathedral.
I was awestruck by the sight of this marvel
of
engineering, design, and beauty. I knew this was exactly the effect
church leaders in the twelfth century wanted the cathedral to have on
all those who came within view of it. Abbot Suger, who directed the
construction of the first Gothic cathedral at Saint-Denis twenty
years before the building of Notre-Dame, envisioned this new style of
church as a reflection of the church’s spiritual and political
power. The Gothic cathedral is arguably the greatest artistic and
engineering accomplishment of the Middle Ages. Because I was a
history teacher, I had studied this great landmark, knew something of
its over 800 year history, and regularly used the architecture of the
Gothic cathedral to help my students better understand the mindset of
people at a time in history when theology and religion ruled the
lives of ordinary people.
But religion was not the only role of the
cathedral
in medieval Europe. These huge leviathan-like houses of God, which
seemingly reached for the heavens, dominated the skylines of medieval
towns and cities and were built as enduring symbols of civic pride
and honor. Unofficial competitions to see who could build the largest
and highest cathedral cropped up soon after the first Gothic
cathedral, the Basilica of Saint-Denis, was completed in 1144. The
ensuing mania for building had some amazing, but also tragic, results
as builders pushed the limits of technology. A collapse at Beauvais
Cathedral in northern France seemed to stop the quest to reach
further and further into the skies.
So here I was in the presence of perhaps
the most
famous cathedral of all, Notre-Dame de Paris. I took the obligatory
pictures of the magnificent west towers and went inside. I
reflexively looked up into the soaring spaces above the nave created
by the ascending vaults of the cathedral. I instantly recalled how,
while projecting a view of the interior of another great Gothic
church, the cathedral at Reims, I would ask my students to imagine
their reaction upon entering such a place. They inevitably agreed
that, given the height of the structure, looking up was hardly a
choice. The heavens beckoned all who entered to look up.
My presence in the cathedral provoked an
emotional
response I was hardly prepared for, as a sort of spiritual serenity
overtook me. After looking up into the ceiling and stained-glass
windows for several minutes, I decided to find a pew away from other
people in the cathedral; this was a place to revel in the peace and
tranquility it inspired. Most artifacts the age of Notre-Dame are in
museums behind glass and are not to be touched, but this great
cathedral was a functioning, living object. Though raised Roman
Catholic, my own feelings about religion can best be described as
ambiguous. However, my presence in this place seemed, at least for
the moment, to inspire feelings of ethereal delight. By stepping into
this great cathedral, I was stepping back into the Middle Ages. What
could be better for a history teacher? If this perceived feeling
seems phony or contrived, consider what I wrote in my travel journal
that evening:
Friday, April 16
Incredible first day. Went to
Notre-Dame, which
was spectacular. The place is truly awe-inspiring with its
soaring piers and stained-glass windows. I think everybody, including
a few Asians I saw, were Catholic while inside.
Apparently, I had concluded that Asian
people could
not be Catholic. However, it’s no secret that the architecture
of the Gothic cathedral was specifically designed to take over the
minds, bodies, and souls of those who venture inside. Indeed, the
architecture was designed to advance the spiritual agenda of the
medieval church.
Among the most important advancements was
the
development and use of vaults in combination with a system of
exterior buttresses. This allowed churches to acquire great height
while opening up the exterior walls, which no longer bore the weight
of the roof. These vast walls were then filled with exquisite stained
glass, which visually tell the stories of Jesus and the saints. In an
age when ordinary people were rarely literate and books were scarce,
pictures were the most practical way to tell the stories of the
Gospels. The numerous rose windows, both in the west facing facade as
well as the north and south transepts, evoked the most powerful
symbol of Notre-Dame, the Virgin Mary. The very name “Notre-Dame”
summons Mary, the translation being “Our Lady,” the rose
her well-known symbol.
All this colored glass enables the nave to
fill with
filtered light. Abbot Suger called this light flooding the interior
of the cathedral “the light of God,” representing mystery
and divinity. Suger meant to convey that those experiencing this
mystical light were in the presence of God. I’m not sure I felt
God, but I was in some way under the spell of this marvel of the
Middle Ages. A sense of well-being coupled with feelings of
peacefulness while sitting in the nave of Notre-Dame Cathedral had
made me a believer in the power of this place. Believer in the
Almighty or not, one’s presence in Notre-Dame is enough to
provoke even a skeptic to meditate on the possibilities. Despite the
photo-taking tourists all around me, I just sat and enjoyed the
feelings brought about by this setting. I’m certain this was
also the experience of the medieval church goer.
*****
Twenty Years Later, April 2019
By now virtually everyone is aware of the
tragic fire
that nearly destroyed Notre-Dame Cathedral in April 2019. Author Ken
Follett’s research for his best-selling novel The
Pillars of the Earth made him an authority on the
construction of the Gothic cathedral. Follett has done his best to
answer perhaps the most commonly asked question in the wake of the
fire: How does a great church constructed of stone catch fire? In his
recent work Notre-Dame: A Short History of the
Meaning of
Cathedrals, Follett writes:
The
rafters consist of hundreds of tons of wood, old
and very dry. When that burns the roof collapses, then
the falling debris destroys the vaulted ceiling, which
also falls and destroys the mighty stone pillars that
are holding the whole thing up.
As someone who has such a profoundly
personal
relationship with Notre-Dame, Follett was asked if he resented all
the tourists who show up in their shorts and t-shirts with their
obnoxious cameras and loud voices. His response was measured and
philosophical. Said Follett, “No. Cathedrals have always been
full of tourists. In the Middle Ages they were not called tourists,
they were pilgrims, but they traveled for many of the same reasons:
to see the world and its marvels, to broaden their minds, to educate
themselves, and perhaps to come in touch with something miraculous,
otherworldly, eternal.”
Hmm. Sounds something like my experience at
Notre-Dame twenty years ago.
For Follett, as well as for Parisians,
France, and
all who care about this great monument to the history of
architecture, the Middle Ages, and the Catholic Church, the sight of
Notre-Dame burning was a shock. This great monument has touched many
people in many ways, spiritually and otherwise. People come
from
around the world to see it and feel it work its magic on them. I had
my time. Only time will tell if others will be so lucky.
Bill
Ranauro is a retired high school history
teacher. Bill has had several articles published in the Forum,
a publication of the New England History Teacher’s Association,
and Scholastic
Coach magazine.
Bill has also
self-published two books, a memoir, West of Boston: Growing
Up Red Sox in in a Yankee Household, and Frontier
Elegance: The Early Architecture of Walpole, New Hampshire
1750-1850. Bill lives in New Hampshire
with his wife Lisa.
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