Okay, let’s see who passed the test. First, I know some of you may have peeked at Google to see what we call these things that hung about Notre Dame de Paris. Google would have told you, generically, they are called Gargoyles. Au contraire mes chers amis, only the ones on the right are truly gargoyles. The ones on the left are grotesques. These horrible looking fantasy creatures supposedly protected the church from malevolent spirits, a sort of fighting evil with evil approach. On the right are the gargoyles, their open mouths allowed the water draining from the roof of the building to shoot out away from the walls to protect them from getting soaked. It was rather spectacular to see the gargoyles in action as I walked one rainy day on the north side of the church. As the water fell onto the sidewalks in spouts a few feet apart, a look up presented the view of those open mouths spilling forth streams of rainwater. The decided grimaces on these creatures took me right back some 800 years when Europe had fully emerged from the Dark Ages into what we now know as the Gothic.
However, before we get too far into how Gothic art and architecture were revived and reinvented, let’s get clear on the term. At the time of its existence as an international style for architecture (roughly 1150-1500), it was not known as Gothic. If you notice the end date for Gothic, you will see that it overlaps with the first of the Renaissance, and therein lies the tale of its name. Renaissance means rebirth and referred to a reemergence of the classics from some dark and barbarous period that had come just before. Therefore, that period had to be called by a name that conjured up those feelings of barbarity. Among the most terrifying of those “barbarians” were the Goths, hence Gothic became the name for that preceding period. To see the history of this architecture and see how unbarbaric it truly is, watch this video from Easy Architecture youtube.com
One might ask just how this revival of the art of ages gone by became all the rage in the 19th century. For this, we have to turn once again to Notre Dame de Paris, which stood solidly over the very heart of France for centuries. Unfortunately one currently has to write in the past tense about the Gothic beauty of Notre Dame de Paris because of the fire that destroyed so much of it in 2019. However, that was not the only time the church has suffered destruction and had to be redone. During, and for a while after, the French Revolution which started in 1789, Notre Dame de Paris was used as a stable and a cow barn. Worse yet, there were those who just wanted to tear the old church down, as was being done to churches all across France in the wake of the Revolution.
To the rescue came novelist Victor Hugo, who called this desire to raze the medieval building to the ground “architectural vandalism.” His response was to write a novel about the old church and its famous bells, all ten of which have names. The original title of his novel was Notre Dame de Paris, but it has become known as The Hunchback of Notre Dame in reference to Quasimodo, who, had he been an actual person, might have swung from the biggest and oldest bell, Emmanuel. However, Hugo was not the only one involved in trying to save France’s medieval past. He was joined by a masterful and creative artist, architect, designer, and historical decorator (my term), named Eugène Viollet le Duc, known as the man responsible for the Gothic Revival.
Above we have a photo of one of the most outstanding and iconic works of what we have come to call Gothic architecture, Mont St. Michel. It is also a building that Viollet le Duc worked to restore. Mont St. Michel has a natural location that was easily defensible, making it useful as a garrison. However, in the 8th century, the bishop of Avranches had a dream in which St. Michael told him to build a church there, hence the church that sits atop the mountain. As you can see in the photo above, it has a perfectly medieval, Gothic look. Viollet le Duc took on the renovation of the church and the cloistered garden in the abbey. The Gothic look was enhanced by the narrow cobblestone streets that wind up to the top of the mountain. He was, of course, not responsible for all the souvenir shops, boutiques, galleries, and restaurants that line the streets today. Ah tourism!
The heraldic shield of Mont St. Michel shows its connection to the waters of the sea. Until the building of a permanent bridge in 2018, the mountain was completely cut off from the mainland when the high tide came in. Anyone unfortunate enough to be caught out there as that tide came in – well, let’s just say they got to “swim with the fishes.” Of course low tide was also dangerous, as what might appear as solid ground was often actually quicksand. All this may be why the resident population is still only 30.
However, when we think of the romantic wonder of Mont St. Michel, the majesty of the huge cathedrals like Notre Dame de Paris or Chartres, or the astonding beauty of Sainte Chapelle (Paris), we realize that even in its original form, Gothic, was very sophisticated, very detailed in its decoration, and outstanding in the beauty of its wonderous stained glass windows. There is nothing shabby about Gothic at all, and Viollet le Duc saw that and ran with it.
Sainte Chapelle is a wonderful experience of both Gothic and Gothic Revival work. The building was built as a life-size reliquary to hold treasures that King Louis IX had acquired from the middle east, including part of the Crown of Thorns, the Holy Sponge, a fragment of the True Cross, and a stone from the Holy Sepulchre. Its stained glass is famous, with some fragments stored in the Cluny Museum, but with seven of its original windows still in place in the chapel. However, much of the decorative work inside was inspired by the years of study that Viollet le Duc did on medieval French architecture. He made critical decisions about what was to be painted and what was to be left alone. For instance, most churches in the middle ages were painted on the outside. They were not the gray stone that we see today. Viollet le Duc left them in the gray state that people had become accustomed to. However, while the interiors of the great cathedrals were almost never painted, he decided that “…we do not doubt that the edifice was conceived to receive this decorative complement.” (Viollet le Duc, French Gothic Revival, p. 64). What this means is that what we see inside is more creation that a restoration.
Viollet le Duc did not create the designs purely from imagination but did extensive research in historical studies of fabrics, ornamentation, and goldwork. The richly painted and gilded walls, columns, and statues that one sees in his renovated buildings all work in color harmony to delight the eye, and in the case of Sainte Chapelle work in conjunction with the beauty of the sunlit stained glass windows. For more on his work, and how it also influenced Gothic Revival in England, see victorianweb.org and the article “Decorative Elements at La Sainte Chapelle, Paris.”
Now, we return again to Notre Dame de Paris, which having suffered that devastating fire in April of 2019, must once again be reconstructed. The debate is on about how traditional it should be versus how modern it should be. The president of France promised it would be done in five years, but stonemasons who work in traditional format say that is impossible. On the other hand, there are more modern ideas, including a version with a glass and steel roof containing a full garden atop the church for visitors to enjoy. See this video youtube.com, and after you watch it, tell me what you think Viollet le Duc would say about that design.
To get a better idea about the evolution of the Gothic, see this little video, Gothic Revival:Design in a Nutshell youtube.com. It focuses on the history of Gothic in England, but basically it works for everywhere else as well.
Source material for this post: Viollet le Duc, the French Gothic Revival by Jean-Paul Midant, translation into English by William Wheeler, 2002.
Marjorie Vernelle is an artist, writer, college professor, and traveler. For more see the Pages at ofartandwine.com or her author page at amazon.com and her art at Vernelle Art Boutique vernellestudio.com.
The Phylloxera Epidemic: What? Grapes can have epidemics!
I can’t say that it is any comfort in this time of global pandemic to note that plants can suffer their own global bouts with pests, but indeed it can happen. Above you can see what happens to the grape vines when they are hit by Phylloxera vastatrix (Phylloxera, the Devastator). The culprit is an aphid that carries a louse that likes to feed on the roots of the grape vines, which produces the disastrous images like the one above. As we saw in the presentation of the Gothic Revival, France in the 19th century was full of transformative events. Unfortunately, the arrival of the plant louse from the phylloxera aphid was one of them, wiping out 2.5 million hectars of vineyards. (A hectar is 2.5 acres. I will let you do the math.) However, America saved the day (hurrah!), but that was after it was the cause of the infestation to begin with (oops).
In the 1850s there were experiments involving the grafting of American and French grape vines. It is thought that somewhere between 1858 and 1862, there were American vines carrying Phylloxera from Missouri into France, where it appeared in the vineyards and began spreading in 1863. The devastation continued in part until around 1930.
The Great French Wine Blight, as it was called, proved to be a threat to the whole of the European wine industry. However, George Hussmann, a viticulturist in Missouri along with an entomologist, Charles V. Riley, set to work finding root stock that was immune to the phyllocera aphid and brought those to France to graft onto the French vines. As can be expected any kind of bug investation is difficult to get rid of once it gets started, so the process of saving the French vines took long years. However, it was ultimately successful, and the two Americans were rewarded with much praise and recognition given by the French government. As well, there were French vignerons who fled to California with uninfected root stock to graft to California mission grapes that had been originally brought by the Spaniards. This hybridization of the vines helped start the California wine industry. George Hussmann moved to California after his time in France and is credited as the father of the Napa Valley wine industry. (See this link: experiencehermann.com)
Interestingly, at this same time a little accident on the part of some Chileans actually saved the Carménère grape, which has a root that does not take to grafting. This deficit of biology caused this dark red grape to fall into disuse in Europe. However, a few years before the phylloxera aphid hit, a few Chilean vinters took with them what they thought were Merlot vines, only to find out they were Carménère. Luckily Carménère thrives in Chile, which is a land free of phylloxera. It has become the basis of the Chilean wine industry with 96% of all the grapes grown in Chile being Carménère.
So it looks like all is well that ends well, at least for the moment. One thing we know about epidemics, pests, bugs, viruses, is that they always evolve because like everything else on the planet, they like to live, too.
For an interesting article on what wine might have tasted like before phylloxera hit France and the grafting with American roots began, “Phylloxera: The great escape” by Kerin O’Keefe shows how some vintners are using ungrafted vines to create the taste of yesteryear decanter.com. Speaking of taste, do not forget that a great way to taste lots of different wines, get tasting notes, and stay within your wine-tasting budget is to join a wine club. Cellars Wine Club offers a wide range of clubs for every level of enthusiasm and budget. Just click here cellarswineclub.com or go to the Cellars Wine Club page in the right hand column.
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©marjorie vernelle 2021
Coming soon: “L’enfant Terrible” of Venice and Which Wine, Which Glass?
Yes, Jacopo Tintoretto was the wild child of the Lagoon (as Venice called its surrounding waters). He was a great painter with great competition from Titian and Veronese, among others. He fought for and won many a handsome commission and was very cunning in how he gained some of them. A realist and and earthy fellow, he famously said, “God, grant me paradise in this life; I am not sure I will attain it in the next.” Enfant terrible indeed. One sure way to feel a touch of paradise is to drink your wine in lovely glasses – Venetian handblown glass, perhaps – and to make sure you have the right glass for the right wine.
