Not a single
house in the river bank remains, and not more than about a hundred
feet of the old "piliers des Halles," the last that have resisted the
action of time, are left; and before long even that relic of the
sombre labyrinth of old Paris will be demolished. Certainly, the
existence of such old ruins of the middle-ages is incompatible with
the grandeurs of modern Paris. These observations are meant not so
much to regret the destruction of the old town, as to preserve in
words, and by the history of those who lived there, the memory of a
place now turned to dust, and to excuse the following description,
which may be precious to a future age now treading on the heels of our
own.
The walls of this house were of wood covered with slate. The spaces
between the uprights had been filled in, as we may still see in some
provincial towns, with brick, so placed, by reversing their thickness,
as to make a pattern called "Hungarian point." The window-casings and
lintels, also in wood, were richly carved, and so was the corner
pillar where it rose above the shrine of the Madonna, and all the
other pillars in front of the house.
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