While tourists queue in the summer sun to ascend Notre Dame Cathedral and admire its iconic gargoyles, a remarkable archaeological excavation is unfolding just four metres beneath their feet. This deep dive into Paris’s past, reaching back 2,000 years to Roman times, is a direct consequence of the cathedral’s 2019 fire and the subsequent plans to revitalise its forecourt.
Following the devastating blaze that saw Notre Dame’s spire collapse, the cathedral reopened in late 2024. As part of wider urban renewal, Paris aims to transform the currently stark square into a shaded, tree-lined space.
However, in a city steeped in history, no ground can be disturbed without first meticulously excavating what lies beneath, safeguarding against potential damage to invaluable historical artefacts.
Consequently, a section of Notre Dame’s forecourt has been transformed into an active excavation site – an open pit, cordoned off by barriers and traversed by a wooden walkway, mere steps from the bustling tourist queues. French media have already dubbed it the “dig of the century”.
Lucie Altenburg, a conservator with the Paris archaeology unit, highlighted the profound importance of the project. She said: “It’s a rare opportunity for us to work on something that’s tangibly going to make a difference to the history of Paris.”
Among the hundreds of objects unearthed so far are a fourth-century coin bearing the image of Emperor Constantine and fragments of medieval pottery. These shards are particularly intriguing, featuring faint, undeciphered markings painted on their interior – a mystery that has led some to liken it to a “modern Da Vinci Code”.
The ongoing discoveries have captivated visitors. Emily Carter, 34, a tourist from Manchester waiting in line with her two children, remarked: “It makes Notre Dame feel alive again. You come to see the cathedral, then realise there’s another city under your feet. That’s almost more moving.”
The first historical traces emerge just 50cm down, but the team is still unearthing history four metres deeper. Some days, they fill as many as 15 crates with finds from underground that have remained undisturbed for decades.
This phenomenon is a common thread in ancient cities: history isn’t confined to museums but lies directly beneath the streets. Urban centres evolve, with each era building upon the remnants of the last, causing the ground level to gradually rise. Rome, for instance, has seen its ground level ascend by approximately nine metres since the fall of its empire in the fifth century AD.
Similarly, when Athens constructed its metro system for the 2004 Olympics, it triggered the largest excavation in Greek history, yielding tens of thousands of artefacts now displayed within the stations themselves. Paris, originating on the Ile de la Cite in the Seine, is no different.
Centuries after Paris’s inception, Notre Dame itself rose on this very island. Camille Colonna, the lead archaeologist for the current dig, explained that at the cathedral’s birth in 1163, the entire square was densely packed with medieval houses, bisected by a single street.
As her team digs deeper, they have uncovered the cellars of these medieval homes, representing their specific historical period. Below these lie Merovingian and Carolingian grain pits, dating from the sixth to the tenth centuries. Deeper still, a dense Roman quarter from the fourth and fifth centuries has been revealed. In total, 20 centuries of history are stacked within just four metres of earth – roughly the height of two-and-a-half Napoleon Bonapartes.
Yasmine Benali, a 22-year-old archaeology student observing from behind the barriers, reflected on the significance: “Here you can see the layers – medieval Paris, Roman Paris, maybe even before that. It makes the city feel less like a postcard and more like something still being discovered.”
Intriguingly, some of the richest finds have emerged from the most unlikely of places: the deep pits beneath the medieval houses, which served as both latrines and rubbish dumps. From these, the team has retrieved entire jugs and cups, discarded centuries ago yet remarkably intact, alongside broken plates and animal bones.
