f view of artistic execution the work in the grand
subject is crisp and splendid; the smaller figures are obscure and
mutilated. The panel representing the Virgin Mary has suffered severely,
and both it and that representing the Ascension are strangely rough and
barbarous, quite inferior to the central tympanum, which contains the
most living, the most haunting, of many figures of Christ.

"Nowhere, indeed, in mediaeval sculpture does the Redeemer appear as more
saddened or more pitiful, or under a more solemn aspect. Seen in
profile, His hair flowing over His shoulders, smooth in front and
divided down the middle, with a nose slightly turned up and a heavy
mouth under a thick moustache, with a short, curling beard and a long
neck, He suggests not so much a Byzantine Christ, such as the artists of
that time were wont to paint and carve, but a pre-Raphaelite Christ
designed by a Fleming, or even derived from the Dutch, showing indeed
that slightly earthy taint which reappeared at a later time with a less
pure type of head, at the end of the fifteenth century, in the picture
by Cornelis Van Oostzaanen, in the gallery at Cassel.

"He rises enthroned, almost sorrowful in His triumph, unamazed as He
blesses, with pathetic resignation, the generations of sinners who for
seven centuries have gazed up at Him with inquisitive, unloving eyes as
they cross the square; and all turn their back on Him, caring little
enough for this Saviour unlike the head familiar to them, recognizing
Him only with sheep-like features and a pleasing expression; such, in
short, as the foppish image at the cathedral at Amiens before which the
lovers of a softer type go into ecstasies.

"Above this Christ are the three windows invisible from outside, and
over them again the huge dead rose window, looking like a blind eye, and
lighting up, like the windows, only when seen from within, when they
glow with clear flame and pale sapphires set in stone; then, higher yet,
above the rose, is the gallery of French kings, under the great
triangular gable between the towers.

"And the two belfries fling up their spires; the old one carved in soft
limestone, imbricated with scales, rising in one bold flight to end in a
point, and send up a vapour of prayer among the clouds; the new one,
pierced like lace, chiselled like a jewel, wreathed with foliage and
crockets of vine, rises with coquettish dalliance, trying to make up for
lack of the inspired flight and humb