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Notre-Dame de Paris

Restoration and destruction both start with a spark. Which will it be?
Notre-Dame on fire, April 15, 2019, courtesy LeLaisserPasserA38, Wikipedia.
I’ve never been to France, a deficiency I always meant to correct someday. Now I will never see Notre-Dame de Paris. Whatever is rebuilt there will not be the 800-year-old monument to a nation and a faith that stood there on Monday morning.
Before there were Christians, before there was a France, there was a Roman temple to Jupiter on the Île de la CitĂ©. Around the time when Gaul was transferred from the Romans to the Franks, a basilica was erected on the site. It was dedicated to Saint Stephen, the first martyr of Christianity. In 857, it was remade as a cathedral (which is the seat of a bishop). Successive remodelings attempted to keep up with the growing population of Paris, always unsuccessfully.
The Pillar of the Boatmen is a monumental Roman column from the first century AD. It was found re-used in the 4th century city wall on the Île de la CitĂ©, and indicates a shrine on this site before the conversion of Gaul. This block represents the gods Tarvos trigaranus and Vulcan. Courtesy MusĂ©e National du Moyen Age, Thermes de Cluny.
In 1160, Bishop de Sully embarked on an ambitious plan to raze the Cathedral and replace it in the trendy new Gothic style. The cornerstone was laid in 1163 in the presence of King Louis VII and Pope Alexander III. De Sully lived long enough to see the basic structure in place; his successor built the transepts and most of the nave. The west façade and the rose window were not finished until the 13th century, by which time the transepts were being remodeled. Better supports were added in the form of flying buttresses, one of the great engineering developments of the Middle Ages.
The complex, multi-tier flying buttresses of Notre-Dame.
This fire is not the first hit Notre-Dame has taken, but it’s the most serious. Huguenots destroyed some of its statuary in the iconoclastic fury that swept Europe in the 16th century. The Sun King updated it in the severe classical tastes of his time. As Robespierre and his radical brethren tried to stamp out Christianity during the French Revolution, the Cathedral was dedicated first to the Cult of Reason and then to the Cult of the Supreme Being. Of course, its treasures were destroyed or plundered. Twenty-eight statues of biblical kings on the west façade, mistaken by the mob for statues of French kings, were beheaded. The remaining statuary on the west façade, except for the Virgin Mary, was destroyed.
The Coronation of Napoleon, by Jacques-Louis David, 1805-07, courtesy of the Louvre.
Eventually, the church settled into life as a warehouse. Then Napoleon Bonaparte banned the cults and restored Catholicism. He was coronated at Notre-Dame in 1801.
By then, the Cathedral was a half-ruined mess. In 1844, an ambitious, 25-year reconstruction project ended with the Cathedral being renovated to its modern condition. It survived two World Wars mostly unscathed.
Notre-Dame in the Late Afternoon, 1902, Henri Matisse, courtesy Albright-Knox Art Gallery
Modern Catholics may feel that their church has been burning down around them for quite a while now. They’re under assault from within and without. In another sense, that’s true of the church as a whole, as Christians suffer martyrdom in unprecedented numbers worldwide. The blaze assumed a metaphorical power, coming, as it did, at the start of Holy Week. This is Christendom’s most solemn and significant observation.
The fire corresponded with the cremation of my missionary friend, Lori Delle Nij, in Guatemala. This morning she and Notre-Dame are in ashes, as you and I and everything else here in the Earthly City will ultimately be.
But it’s important to remember how Holy Week ends. I was moved by images of Parisians on their knees singing hymns as their Cathedral blazed in front of them. We are all promised Resurrection. “God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform,” wrote the poet William Cowper. Let it be so.

A short history of being offensive

Shocking the bourgeoisie is so old-fashioned.
A Decadent Girl captures the ennui of the movement. 1899, RamĂłn Casas, courtesy Museum of Montserrat.
The Aristocrats is a very old dirty joke. A family—not the Kardashians—pitches their act to a talent agent. It is a long list of obscene sex acts, none of which I’m prepared to repeat in print. When they finish, the agent asks what their act is called. The father proudly responds “the Aristocrats!”
A tag line is sometimes added:
“Is that all you got?” the agent responds.
Pornocrates, etching and aquatint, 1878, FĂ©licien Rops 
Épater la bourgeoisiewas the slogan of the Decadent poets of fin de siĂšcle France. It meant “Shock the bourgeoisie.” In other words, they weren’t just interested in the sensual experience of breaking taboos; they wanted to be sure to offend the middle class while doing so.
Decadents focused on pleasure, sex, and the bizarre. Their overriding aesthetic was, simply, excess. Of course, the movement was fascinated by drugs: opium, hashish and absinthe (the hallucinogenic properties of which were probably mostly in the drinker’s mind).
Green Muse (absinthe),1895, Albert Maignan, courtesy MusĂ©e de Picardie d’Amiens. 
The seminal Decadent work is the now-forgotten À rebours by Joris-Karl Huysmans. Its hero, Jean des Esseintes, is the last member of a great noble family. Disgusted with human society, he retreats to the countryside, where he contemplates literature and art, punctuated, of course, with his own erotic fantasies.
French Decadence was more than just a rejection of middle-class values, however; it was an obsession with sensuality, death, exotic beauty, fantasy and beautiful language.
Like the closely-related Symbolists, the Decadents were disillusioned with the meaning and truth offered by Nature. There can be no doubt about it,” Hysmans had his hero say. “This eternal, driveling, old woman is no longer admired by true artists, and the moment has come to replace her by artifice.”
La Mort et le Fossoyeur, c. 1895, Carlos Schwabe
While the Decadents were a French movement, they exported their transgressive spirit to other European nations. In England, they were mimicked by the Aesthetes, including Oscar Wilde, Algernon Charles Swinburne, and Aubrey Beardsley.
The movement gained little foothold in the bustling, religious United States, however. We strongly resisted the spirit of declining culture emanating from Europe. Less than a century later, however, shock art, shock literature, shock TV, shock movies and shock music were all the rage here. French Decadence was just ahead of its time.

Je suis France

The ‘controversial’ street art that earned Combo a beating.
On Monday I wrote about the responsibility of artists to tell the truth. In the United States, we are reasonably safe from persecution, but that isn’t the case in France. Last month 17 people were assassinated and 22 wounded in a series of terroristic attacks that were putatively in response to cartoons critical of the prophet Muhammad.  
Compared to the staff of Charlie Hebdo, the street artist known as Combo got off easy. Le Monde reports that four young toughs asked the artist to remove an offensive piece of art last weekend. He refused and they beat him up.  Combo is a big fellow who learned boxing essentials from a younger brother, but he suffered a dislocated shoulder and other injuries sufficient to put his right arm in a sling—in essence, they were trying to silence his drawing hand.

On the other hand, the ‘offensive art’ he posted on a Paris street is, by our lights, soothing and safe. It is a riff on that ubiquitous Coexist bumper sticker that is plastered on Priuses all over America. His art consisted of a picture of himself dressed in a djellaba on a wall alongside the Coexist image.

Part of Combo’s installation in Chernobyl.
Born in Amiens to a Lebanese Christian father and a Muslim Moroccan mother, Combo is the eldest in a family of four boys, of whom the younger have become more religious. “At first I thought I was French, but then I quickly realized that I was Arab. Now, I am told that I am a Muslim. This is the French disintegration,” he added.
Part of Combo’s installation for the 2014 French election.
When Combo decided to leave for Beirut, his friends said, “You are a fool! What are you going to do, jihad?”

“I’m going to make jihad-art on the walls of Beirut,” he answered. “Less of Hamas, more of hummus.”

Combo refuses to speculate on the identity of those who assaulted him. “That would only add fuel to the fire. Of course I’m scared. But I said I was Charlie, and I still am.” And then he smiled. “Too bad for them that I am left-handed.”


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