THE MARRIAGE OF QUASIMODO.
We have just said that Quasimodo from Notre-Dame on the day of the gypsy’s and of the archdeacon’s death. He was not again, in fact; no one what had of him.
During the night which the of la Esmeralda, the night men had her from the gibbet, and had it, according to custom, to the of Montfaucon.
Montfaucon was, as Sauval says, “the most and the most superb in the kingdom.” Between the of the Temple and Saint Martin, about a hundred and sixty from the of Paris, a from La Courtille, there was to be on the of a gentle, almost eminence, but to be for about, an of form, to a Celtic cromlech, and where also were offered.
Let the reader picture to himself, a hillock, an of fifteen in height, thirty wide, long, with a gate, an and a platform; on this sixteen of stone, thirty in height, in a three of the four of the which support them, together at their by beams, at intervals; on all these chains, skeletons; in the vicinity, on the plain, a and two of secondary importance, which to have up as around the gallows; above all this, in the sky, a of crows; that was Montfaucon.
At the end of the century, the which from 1328, was already very much dilapidated; the were wormeaten, the rusted, the green with mould; the of were all at their joints, and was on that which no touched. The a profile against the sky; at night when there was a little moonlight on those white skulls, or when the of the and the skeletons, and all these in the darkness. The presence of this to all the places.
The of which as to the was hollow. A had been there, closed by an old iron grating, which was out of order, into which were not only the remains, which were taken from the of Montfaucon, but also the of all the on the other permanent of Paris. To that charnel-house, where so many and so many have in company, many great ones of this world, many people, have their bones, from Enguerrand de Marigni, the victim, and a just man, to Admiral de Coligni, who was its last, and who was also a just man.
As for the of Quasimodo, this is all that we have been able to discover.
About eighteen months or two years after the events which this story, when search was in that for the of Olivier le Daim, who had been two days previously, and to Charles VIII. had the of being in Saint Laurent, in company, they among all those two skeletons, one of which the other in its embrace. One of these skeletons, which was that of a woman, still had a of a which had once been white, and around her was to be a of adrézarach with a little with green glass, which was open and empty. These objects were of so little value that the had not for them. The other, which this one in a close embrace, was the of a man. It was noticed that his was crooked, his seated on his blades, and that one leg was than the other. Moreover, there was no of the at the of the neck, and it was that he had not been hanged. Hence, the man to it had had come and had died there. When they to the which he in his embrace, he to dust.
NOTE
ADDED TO THE DEFINITIVE EDITION.
It is by mistake that this was as by many new chapters. The word should have been unpublished. In fact, if by new, newly is to be understood, the added to this are not new. They were at the same time as the of the work; they date from the same epoch, and from the same thought, they have always a part of the of “Notre-Dame-de-Paris.” Moreover, the author cannot how fresh be added to a work of this after its completion. This is not to be done at will. According to his idea, a is in a manner that is, in some sort, necessary, with all its chapters; a is with all its scenes. Think not that there is anything in the numbers of parts of which that whole, that which you call a or a romance, is composed. Grafting and take on of this nature, which should in a single and so remain. The thing once done, do not your mind, do not touch it up. The book once published, the of the work, or not, has been and proclaimed; when the child has once his he is born, there he is, he is so, neither father mother can do anything, he to the air and to the sun, let him live or die, such as he is. Has your book been a failure? So much the worse. Add no to an book. Is it incomplete? You should have it when you it. Is your tree crooked? You cannot it up. Is your consumptive? Is your not of living? You cannot supply it with the which it lacks. Has your been lame? Take my advice, and do not provide it with a leg.
Hence the author particular to the public for a that the here added have not been for this reprint. They were not published in the of the book for a very reason. At the time when “Notre-Dame-de-Paris” was printed the time, the of these three had been mislaid. It was necessary to them or to with them. The author that the only two of these which were in the least important, to their extent, were on art and history which in no way with the of the and the romance, that the public would not notice their loss, and that he, the author, would alone be in of the secret. He to them, and then, if the whole truth must be confessed, his from the of the three chapters. He would have it a to make a new romance.
Now the have been found, and he himself of the opportunity to them to their place.
This now, is his entire work, such as he it, such as he it, good or bad, or fragile, but such as he it.
These will no doubt, but little value in the of persons, otherwise very judicious, who have in “Notre-Dame-de-Paris” only the drama, the romance. But there are perchance, other readers, who have not it to study the æsthetic and in this book, and who have taken pleasure, while reading “Notre-Dame-de-Paris,” in the something else than the romance, and in (may we be these expressions), the of the and the of the artist through the of the poet.
For such people especially, the added to this will complete “Notre-Dame-de-Paris,” if we admit that “Notre-Dame-de-Paris” was the trouble of completing.
In one of these on the present of architecture, and on the death (in his mind almost inevitable) of that king of arts, the author and an opinion well in him, and well out. But he it necessary to say here that he that the may, some day, put him in the wrong. He that art in all its has to from the new genius, still in the germ, can be in our studios. The is in the furrow, the will be fine. He fears, and the may be in the second of this edition, that the may have been from that of which has been for so many centuries the best for art.
Nevertheless, there are to-day in the so much life, power, and, so to speak, predestination, that in our of in particular, at the present time, the professors, who are detestable, produce, not only but in of themselves, excellent pupils; the of that mentioned by Horace, who amphoræ and produced pots. Currit rota, exit.
But, in any case, may be the of architecture, in manner our may one day solve the question of their art, let us, while waiting for new monument, the monuments. Let us, if possible, the nation with a love for national architecture. That, the author declares, is one of the of this book; it is one of the of his life.
“Notre-Dame-de-Paris” has, opened some true on the art of the Middle Ages, on that art which up to the present time has been unknown to some, and, what is worse, by others. But the author is from as accomplished, the which he has on himself. He has already on more than one occasion, the of our architecture, he has already many profanations, many demolitions, many impieties. He will not weary. He has promised himself to to this subject. He will return to it. He will be as in our as our of the and are in them; for it is a thing to see into what hands the of the Middle Ages has fallen, and in what a manner the of plaster of the present day the of this art, it is a for us men who see them at work and ourselves with them. And we are not speaking here of what goes on in the provinces, but of what is done in Paris at our very doors, our windows, in the great city, in the city, in the city of the press, of word, of thought. We cannot the to point out, in this note, some of the of which are every day planned, debated, begun, continued, and under the of the public of Paris, to with criticism, which is by so much audacity. An archbishop’s has just been demolished, an in taste, no great is done; but in a with the a bishop’s has been demolished, a of the century, which the not from the rest. He has up the with the tares; ’tis all the same. They are talking of the of Vincennes, in order to make, with its stones, some fortification, which Daumesnil did not need, however. While the Palais Bourbon, that edifice, is being repaired at great expense, of wind and are allowed to the painted of the Sainte-Chapelle. For the last days there has been a on the tower of Saint Jacques de la Boucherie; and one of these the will be to it. A has been to a little white house the towers of the Palais de-Justice. Another has been to away Saint-Germain-des-Prés, the with three towers. Another will be found, no doubt, of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois. All these to be architects, are paid by the or from the budget, and wear green coats. All the which false taste can on good taste, they accomplish. While we write, spectacle! one of them of the Tuileries, one of them is Philibert Delorme a across the middle of his face; and it is not, assuredly, one of the least of the of our time to see with what the of this is being over one of the most façades of the Renaissance!
PARIS, October 20, 1832.
