screen of open work (carrying
the clock) was raised in front of the rose window, and four turrets
were added, of which but one remains. So Rouland Leroux finished his
contract in 1527, having left for himself a greater fame in the
masonry of the central tower, whose base he rebuilt after the old
stone spire had been destroyed by fire, and especially in the tomb of
Cardinal d'Amboise, than ever he will gain by the patchwork of the
west facade. What he could do with a free hand and his own designs to
begin with, may be imagined from the fact that he built the Bureau des
Finances on the opposite side of the Parvis and laid the first plans
for the Palais de Justice. No wonder that he worked at Havre, at
Beauvais, and at Angers, as well as in his native town.

I shall hardly be blamed, I think, if among the full tones of a praise
that must become monotonous, a single note of regretful
misunderstanding cannot remain quite unheard; and I must confess that
in this western front so many unfinished and supervening designs occur
that I find myself unable to imagine the meaning of its builders.
Considering, first of all, the arrangement of its detail, I find
elaborate flower-mouldings and renaissance-work placed so high up that
they can barely be distinguished as anything save light and shade,
whereas upon the Portail des Libraires all such delicate work ceases
at about 9 feet high, and the upper carving is done boldly in broad,
simple masses for an effect of distance. But if this is bad flamboyant
work, the central gate itself is purer, and perhaps among the finest
examples existing of the flamboyant style. There are four strings of
niches round this porch from the ground to the top of the arch, each
holding two figures; every detail in them and about them is worked
with the most elaborate and tender patience, full of imaginative
carvings, trellised with leaves and blossoms deep wrought in the
stone. At this part of the western front and at the northern side-door
I could never tire of looking. But the whole facade I had to give up
in despair, save when the moonlight softened it into a tracery of
lacework climbing to the sky, as delicate as the pattern of white
spray upon a rising wave.

The masonry upon the central tower I have already mentioned. In 1544
it was crowned, by Robert Becquet, with a light spire of wood, 132
metres in height, that was burnt by the lightning in 1821.[27] The new
cast-iron erection, with which it has