the new
generations whose genius, still in the germ, can be heard gushing forth
in our studios. The grain is in the furrow, the harvest will certainly
be fine. He merely fears, and the reason may be seen in the second
volume of this edition, that the sap may have been withdrawn from that
ancient soil of architecture which has been for so many centuries the
best field for art.

Nevertheless, there are to-day in the artistic youth so much life,
power, and, so to speak, predestination, that in our schools of
architecture in particular, at the present time, the professors, who
are detestable, produce, not only unconsciously but even in spite of
themselves, excellent pupils; quite the reverse of that potter mentioned
by Horace, who dreamed amphorae and produced pots. _Currit rota, urcens
exit_.

But, in any case, whatever may be the future of architecture, in
whatever manner our young architects may one day solve the question of
their art, let us, while waiting for new monument, preserve the ancient
monuments. Let us, if possible, inspire the nation with a love for
national architecture. That, the author declares, is one of the
principal aims of this book; it is one of the principal aims of his
life.

"Notre-Dame-de-Paris" has, perhaps opened some true perspectives on the
art of the Middle Ages, on that marvellous art which up to the present
time has been unknown to some, and, what is worse, misknown by others.
But the author is far from regarding as accomplished, the task which he
has voluntarily imposed on himself. He has already pleaded on more than
one occasion, the cause of our ancient architecture, he has already
loudly denounced many profanations, many demolitions, many impieties. He
will not grow weary. He has promised himself to recur frequently to this
subject. He will return to it. He will be as indefatigable in defending
our historical edifices as our iconoclasts of the schools and academies
are eager in attacking them; for it is a grievous thing to see into
what hands the architecture of the Middle Ages has fallen, and in what a
manner the botchers of plaster of the present day treat the ruin of this
grand art, it is even a shame for us intelligent men who see them at
work and content ourselves with hooting them. And we are not speaking
here merely of what goes on in the provinces, but of what is done in
Paris at our very doors, beneath our windows, in the great city, in the
lettered city, in the city of the