He must be insensible indeed to the grandeur of Gothic building who fails to be impressed when he stands at the east end of Notre Dame. There, in the great main circular sweep, we can appreciate the tiers of buttresses, the spear-like forest of pinnacles, each one constructively necessary, each duly subordinated to an ordered scheme, each wisely and appropriately decorated. Standing here, we are indeed under the spell of the august _ecclesia parisiaca_, the ancient silent witness of changes so immense and so fruitful of result, of victories in the arts alike of peace and war which have been of such profound consequence not merely to Paris, and to France, but to mankind in general. [Illustration: _Photo_] [_Ed. Hautecœur, Paris._ THE INTERIOR FROM THE WEST END.] CHAPTER IV. THE INTERIOR.--THE NAVE. It is difficult accurately to state why a sense of disappointment is so often felt on entering the Cathedral of Paris. The unsatisfactory impression given by Notre Dame is one experienced by visitors of all kinds. The architectural critic, who looks upon a Gothic church as the result of certain clearly defined principles of construction and decoration, must inevitably find in it much to admire. But while it satisfies the specialist, and possibly impresses those who have little pretence to technical information, it lacks the qualities of mystery and of surprise which distinguish some buildings less ancient and less stately. Thus we find one writer complaining that it is heavy, another that it is cold, and a third that it is relatively unpicturesque. Most of those who have recorded their dissatisfaction with the interior of Notre Dame have sought to explain the causes thereof. The splendid promise of the exterior, it is suggested, discounts the remarkable beauties of the inside. Some feel that the regularity, the coherence which distinguish the church, produce an _ensemble_ at once ponderous and monotonous. Others complain of the lack of colour; while on the other hand not a few protest against the intrusion of recent polychromatic decorations. It is possible that the secret lies in certain structural idiosyncrasies. The church is extremely broad in comparison with its length. The bays are so few as to give to the interior an air of undue severity. Fergusson, in his history of architecture, condemns the vaulting ribs as ineffective. The marble pavement is regarded on all hands as a misfortune: nothing could be more tedious or inappropriate. It is, however, to be observed that as one becomes familiar with the interior its shortcomings are forgotten and the dignity of its proportions and details are apprehended more fairly.