Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal
signs=.
STAINED GLASS
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
AUSTRALASIA THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
205 FLINDERS LANE, MELBOURNE
CANADA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.
ST. MARTIN'S HOUSE, 70 BOND STREET, TORONTO
INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD.
MACMILLAN BUILDING, BOMBAY
309 BOW BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA
[Illustration: PLATE I
THE ASCENSION WINDOW, LE MANS
Possibly Eleventh Century]
STAINED GLASS
OF THE MIDDLE AGES IN
ENGLAND AND FRANCE
PAINTED BY
LAWRENCE B. SAINT
DESCRIBED BY
HUGH ARNOLD
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
SOHO SQUARE·LONDON·MCMXIII
PREFACE
The Cathedral verger, conducting his flock of tourists round the
building, while giving them plenty of really interesting and valuable
information about it (for the verger of to-day is a different man from
his predecessor, and is often very intelligent and well informed),
remarks briefly, "The glass is of the thirteenth century"--or
fourteenth or fifteenth, as the case may be; the procession gazes
carelessly at it, and passes on. Yet from out of that dazzling and
glowing labyrinth of coloured jewels a past age is speaking far more
articulately, if one stops to unravel the message, than ever in stone
or wood, and it is for those who can be induced to take that second
look which will be followed by a third and a fourth and many more that
I have written this book.
It is impossible in a book of this size to give an adequate review of
all the important windows even within the limits of place and time
which I have set myself. I have therefore chosen for study certain
typical windows in each century, and have written about them some of
the things which interest me and which, I hope, will interest others.
The work of the countries and period I have chosen is of course the
most important of all. There is beauty, it is true, in much
Renaissance work (only a prig could resist the gaiety and charm of the
windows of St. Vincent at Rouen), but it is for the most part beauty
achieved in spite of, and not through, the material. There is
beautiful mediæval work in Germany and Italy, but the Germans, till
the Renaissance, clung to a rather lifeless and archaic convention,
and the Italians were hampered by their greater knowledge of painting.
The art has found its noblest expression in the work of the great
school which for nearly the whole of the Middle Ages was common to
France and England.
There is especial reason why we English should study the work of our
own mediæval glass painters. They are the chief representatives of our
primitive school of painting. It is true that there are English
manuscripts in the museums, and there are the painted rood screens of
Norfolk, including the superb example at Ranworth, and there is the
portrait of Richard II. at Westminster; but of the painting which must
once have covered the walls of our churches, there is little left but
patches of faded colour clinging here and there to the plaster, and
the occasional dim outline of a figure. Of our glass, on the other
hand, in spite of four hundred years of destruction, a considerable
quantity remains, and is worth far closer study than it has ever had.
I must gratefully acknowledge the help I have had from my brother, Mr.
T. K. Arnold, especially in writing of the Canterbury glass of which
he has made a very close study. My thanks are also due to Mr. Noel
Heaton for information on the chemical composition of glass.
The publishers are fortunate in having been able to reproduce, for the
illustrations, the very beautiful coloured drawings of Mr. Lawrence B.
Saint, which are now in the Victoria and Albert Museum.
H. A.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
1. THE MAKING OF A WINDOW 1
2. THE BEGINNINGS OF STAINED GLASS 11
3. THE STYLE OF THE FIRST PERIOD 29
4. TWELFTH CENTURY GLASS 41
5. EARLY THIRTEENTH CENTURY GLASS IN ENGLAND:
CANTERBURY AND LINCOLN 67
6. THIRTEENTH CENTURY GLASS IN FRANCE: SENS AND
CHARTRES 85
7. OTHER THIRTEENTH CENTURY WINDOWS. EARLY
GRISAILLE 109
8. THE STYLE OF THE SECOND PERIOD 123
9. EARLY FOURTEENTH CENTURY GLASS IN ENGLAND:
MERTON COLLEGE AND EXETER 151
10. FOURTEENTH CENTURY GLASS AT YORK 161
11. FOURTEENTH CENTURY GLASS IN FRANCE 183
12. LATE FOURTEENTH CENTURY GLASS IN ENGLAND:
TRANSITIONAL--GLOUCESTER AND THE WORK OF
THE WINCHESTER SCHOOL 195
13. THE STYLE OF THE THIRD PERIOD 211
14. FIFTEENTH CENTURY GLASS AT YORK 225
15. FIFTEENTH CENTURY GLASS IN FRANCE 241
16. MALVERN AND FAIRFORD 251
INDEX 267
ILLUSTRATIONS
PLATE
1. The Ascension Window, Le Mans. Possibly eleventh
century _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
2. Part of Crucifixion Window, Poitiers. Late twelfth
century 8
3. Methuselah, Canterbury, originally in choir clerestory.
Twelfth century 16
4. "Noë in Archa," from the north choir aisle, Canterbury.
Twelfth century 24
5. The Entombment, from the east window, Canterbury.
Twelfth or early thirteenth century 32
6. Scroll-work, from the east window, Canterbury.
Twelfth or early thirteenth century 40
7. Border, from the Trinity Chapel, Canterbury. Twelfth
or early thirteenth century 44
8. Border and Mosaic Diaper, from the Trinity Chapel,
Canterbury. Thirteenth century 48
9. Western Lancets and Rose, Chartres Cathedral.
Twelfth and thirteenth centuries 56
10. The Big Angel, from the clerestory of the apse,
Chartres Cathedral. Thirteenth century 60
11. David, from the clerestory of the apse, Chartres
Cathedral. Thirteenth century 64
12. Amaury de Montfort, from the choir clerestory,
Chartres Cathedral. Thirteenth century 72
13. The Flight into Egypt, from the south aisle, Chartres
Cathedral. Thirteenth century 76
14. Work of Clement of Chartres in Rouen Cathedral.
Late thirteenth century 80
15. The Flight into Egypt, Poitiers. Late thirteenth
century 88
16. Heraldic Panel, from the clerestory of the nave,
York Minster. Early fourteenth century 92
17. Details from windows in the north aisle of nave,
York Minster. Fourteenth century 96
18. Border and Shields, from Peter de Dene window,
north aisle of nave, York Minster, with details
from window in south aisle and sketch of clerestory
window. Fourteenth century 104
19. St. Margaret, west window of north aisle of nave,
York Minster. Fourteenth century 108
20. St. Stephen, from south aisle of nave, York Minster.
Fourteenth century 112
21. The Nativity, upper part of east window of north
aisle, All Saints', North Street, York. Fourteenth
century 120
22. St. John, from east window of south aisle, St. Martin's,
Micklegate, York. Fourteenth century 124
23. St. Barnabas, from clerestory of nave of St. Pierre,
Chartres. Early fourteenth century 128
24. St. Luke, from choir clerestory of St. Ouen, Rouen.
Fourteenth century 136
25. Window with Life of St. Gervais, from south choir
aisle, St. Ouen, Rouen. Fourteenth century 140
26. Grisaille pattern and boss from Plate 25 144
27. Bosses, from Plate 25 148
28. Borders, from Plate 25 152
29. Details, from Plate 25 160
30. Angels in canopy work of Plate 25 164
31. The Annunciation, from St. Ouen, Rouen. Fourteenth
century 168
32. Window in St. Bartholomew's Chapel, St. Ouen,
Rouen. Fourteenth century 176
33. Details, from St. Ouen, Rouen. Fourteenth century 180
34. Canopy, from All Saints', North Street, York.
Fifteenth century 184
35. Canopy, from All Saints', North Street, York.
Fifteenth century 192
36. Nicholas Blackburn and his wife, from east window
of All Saints', North Street, York. Fifteenth
century 196
37. Priest, from "Acts of Mercy" window, All Saints',
North Street, York. Fifteenth century 200
38. Kneeling Donors, from "Acts of Mercy" window,
All Saints', North Street, York. Fifteenth
century 208
39. Figure, from "Visiting the Prisoners," in "Acts of
Mercy" window, All Saints', North Street, York.
Fifteenth century 212
40. Small Figures in White and Stain, from All Saints',
North Street, York. Fifteenth century 216
41. Heads, from All Saints', North Street, York.
Fifteenth century 220
42. Head, from St. Michael's, Spurriergate, York.
Fifteenth century 224
43. Head, from St. Michael's, Spurriergate, York.
Fifteenth century 228
44. Head of an Archbishop, Canterbury. Fifteenth
century 232
45. Head of Patriarch, from window in south aisle of
nave, St. Patrice, Rouen. Fifteenth century 236
46. Head of St. Catherine, from window above altar in
north-west corner of St. Vincent's, Rouen.
Fifteenth century 240
47. Drapery from sleeve of Virgin, from west end of St.
Vincent's, Rouen. Fifteenth century 244
48. Angel's Head, from Great Rose Window in north
transept of St. Ouen's, Rouen. Fifteenth century 248
49. Angel's Head, from Great Rose Window in north
transept of St. Ouen's, Rouen. Fifteenth century 256
50. The Prophets Joel, Zephaniah, Amos, and Hosea,
from the north aisle of the nave, Fairford. Late
fifteenth century 260
I
THE MAKING OF A WINDOW
The making of stained-glass windows is one of the arts which belong
wholly to the Christian Era. Its traditions do not extend back beyond
the great times of Gothic architecture, and it is to the work of those
times that the student must turn, as the student of sculpture and
architecture turns to that of the ancient world, to learn the basic
principles of the art.
In the Middle Ages stained glass formed an important part, but still
only a part, of that interior colour decoration without which no
church was considered complete; but in spite of its fragile nature it
has on the whole survived the attacks of time, the fury of the
Puritan, the apathy and neglect of the eighteenth century, and the
sinister energies of the nineteenth-century restorer better than the
painting which once adorned the walls and woodwork, and for this
reason has come to be considered in these days as peculiarly
appropriate to churches. So much so, indeed, that whereas I have
sometimes found in country parishes a certain amount of opposition to
any attempt to revive wall-painting as savouring of popery, no such
feeling seems to exist with regard to coloured windows.
[Sidenote: The process.]
Stained glass is not one of the arts in which the method of production
reveals itself at the first glance. Indeed, so few people when looking
at a stained-glass window, whether a gorgeous and solemn one of the
thirteenth or fifteenth century, or a crude and vulgar one of the
nineteenth, realize the long and laborious process by which the
result, good or bad, has been obtained, that a short description of
that process as finally perfected some five hundred years ago may not
be out of place here.
One hears it so often spoken of as "painted glass"--Mr. Westlake calls
his book _A History of Design in Painted Glass_--that it is not
surprising that there should be a good deal of misconception on the
point. It must be clearly understood then that the colour effects
which are the glory of the art are not directly produced by painting
at all, but by the window being built up of a multitude of small
pieces of white and coloured glass--glass, that is, coloured in the
making, and of which the artist must choose the exact shades he needs,
cut them out to shape, and fit them together to form his design, using
a separate piece for every colour or shade of colour.
In twelfth and thirteenth century windows many of these pieces are
only half an inch wide and from one to two inches long, and few are
bigger than the palm of one's hand; so the reader can amuse himself,
if he wishes, in trying to calculate the number of pieces in one of
the huge windows of this date in the Cathedral of Canterbury, York, or
Chartres, and the labour involved in this, the initial stage of the
process.
When the window is finished these pieces are put together like a
puzzle and joined by grooved strips of lead soldered at the joints,
just as any "lattice" window is put together (and until glass was made
in large pieces this was the only way of filling a window); but before
this is done the details of the design--features, folds of drapery,
patterns, and so on--are painted on the glass in an opaque brownish
enamel made of oxide of iron and other metals ground up with a "soft"
glass (_i.e._ glass with a low melting-point). This is mixed with oil
or gum and water in order to apply it, and then the glass is placed in
a kiln and "fired" till the enamel is fused on and, if well fired,
becomes part of the glass itself. This is the only "painting" involved
in the production of a stained-glass window, and its effect, in the
hand of an artist, besides enabling him to express more than could be
done merely with glass and lead, is to decorate and enrich what would
otherwise be somewhat crude and papery in effect.
[Sidenote: The two parts of the process.]
The process thus consists of two parts. The cutting and putting
together of the glass is called _glazing_, and it is this that gives
the window colour; while the enamel work is spoken of as _painting_,
and gives detail, richness, and texture.
I shall presently show that the glazing and painting are really two
separate crafts, having separate origins and development, and that
stained glass as we know it, or as it should be called in strict
accuracy "stained-and-painted" glass, is the product of their union.
There is another method, far inferior in the beauty of its results, by
which pictures can be produced in glass, which is to paint on white
glass with transparent coloured enamels. As, however, this method was
not used till the seventeenth century, and is now once more almost
wholly abandoned, it does not concern us here.
The softness of lead which makes it the only practicable metal for
joining pieces of glass of complicated shapes, has the disadvantage
that a stained-glass window when leaded up has a considerable degree
of flexibility, and, if held by the edges alone, would be quite unable
to resist the pressure of the wind, which on a big window is
enormous,--think of the power even of a fresh breeze on a boat's sail.
[Sidenote: The iron-work.]
It would not even be able to support its own weight for long, and so
it follows that it must be held up by a system of short metal bars
fixed firmly into the stone-work. Naturally the design of the window
must be so arranged that these bars either do not interfere with it or
form an integral part of it. In early windows, especially those of the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries and even to some extent in those of
the fourteenth, the bars are sufficiently important to form the
governing factor in the design.
It must not be thought that stained glass loses in beauty by the
presence of these black lines of lead and iron. On the contrary it
gains enormously. Large pieces of unrelieved colour in windows are
thin in effect and trying to the eye, which needs the continual
contrast of the solid black of the lead all over the window to enable
it to appreciate the colour and brilliance of the glass. The painting
when rightly used is directed to the same end, for it may be said that
the smaller and more divided the spaces of clear glass, the more
brilliant and jewel-like is the effect.
[Sidenote: Silver stain.]
To the rule that a separate piece of glass must be used for every
change of colour, there are, in later work, two exceptions. The most
important, which was discovered early in the fourteenth century, is
the use of silver stain. It was then found that if white glass is
painted with a preparation of silver--either oxide or chloride of
silver will do--and then "fired" in the kiln used for the enamel
painting, it will be stained a clear and indelible yellow, varying
from pale lemon to deep orange, according to the strength of the
painting.
[Sidenote: Abrasion.]
The other exception was Abrasion, effected by the use of what is
called "flashed" glass. Flashed glass is glass so made that instead of
being coloured all through, it consists of a thin film or "flash" of
colour on a backing of white. With this glass it is possible to chip
with a burin, or grind away, the coloured film in places (we do
it now with hydrofluoric acid) so as to get white and colour on the
same piece of glass.
[Illustration: PLATE II
PART OF CRUCIFIXION WINDOW, POITIERS
Late Twelfth Century]
In the Middle Ages only red and certain shades of blue were made in
this way, so the use of the process was very much restricted. The
invention of silver stain, on the other hand, by enabling the artist
to decorate his white glass and make it interesting, led him at once
to use a larger quantity of white in his window, and so, as will be
seen later, had a considerable influence on design.
These, however, are the exceptions which prove the rule, and, broadly
speaking, a stained-glass window must consist, to the eye, of flat
patches of colour, large or small, worked on with dark monochromatic
line work and shading. These patches of colour must each be separated
from the next by a black line--the leading--varying from a quarter to
half an inch in thickness, and crossed at intervals by still thicker
black lines--the iron bars.
[Sidenote: Limitations of the art.]
It follows from this that anything like illusion is impossible in
stained glass, and no artist with any sympathy for the medium would
attempt it. Unwise persons in decadent times have wasted much
ingenuity in the endeavour, but the result has always been disastrous
and ridiculous. Apart from its higher mission,--the expression of
ideas and emotions,--which it shares with every other branch of art,
the mission of stained glass is to beautify buildings and nothing
else. It is the handmaid of architecture, and can only justify itself
by loyal service of its mistress. The ideal of the stained-glass
artist must not be a picture made transparent, but a window made
beautiful.
Let no one suppose, however, that the artist is hampered by these
limitations on the higher side of his work. On the contrary, they set
him free to tell his story his own way. Ruskin--poor Ruskin, out of
date, ridiculed, forgotten--pointed out long ago, in writing of
Giotto's frescoes, the advantage which the pure colourist has over the
chiaroscurist in his power of telling a story. In our times the fact
has been rediscovered with a flourish of trumpets by the
Post-Impressionists. I have no great enthusiasm, I confess, for the
way in which they have carried out their principles, but I do know two
perfect tellings of the story of the Creation. One is in mosaic on the
ceiling of the narthex of St. Mark's at Venice, and the other is in
the upper part of the east window of York Minster; and in each case
the language used consists of flat forms and colour only.
II
THE BEGINNINGS OF STAINED GLASS
I have said that stained-glass work is the product of the union of two
crafts, the glazier's and the enameller's. The glazier's work being
the groundwork of a window, I will take it first.
[Sidenote: Glass-making.]
What, to begin with, is glass? It is sand melted and run together. The
best sand for the purpose is that which is most largely composed of
the substance called silica, such as sand formed of powdered quartz,
or flint. For some reason, the silica when melted does not
recrystallize on cooling as might have been expected, but forms an
even transparent substance, plastic while still hot. Think of the
tremendous effect this one natural fact has had on the architecture,
dress, and, probably, the physique of the nations of northern Europe.
Given sufficient heat, glass can be made by this means alone, but the
heat required is so great that it has only been done in recent years
for special purposes by means of the electric furnace. Failing this,
the sand must be induced to melt at a lower temperature by means of a
flux, for which either potash or soda may be used, and to which lime
or lead must be added, to enable the glass to resist moisture.
(Theophilus, describing the process in his Treatise, certainly no
later than the thirteenth century, recommends the use of beech twigs
calcined in an earthen pot, whence the name "Pot-ash.")
[Sidenote: Colouring.]
Glass may be coloured or "stained" while in a molten condition by the
admixture of various substances, mostly metals, gold, copper,
manganese, and so on, the result depending on the temperature to which
it is subjected and on the exact composition of the glass as well as
on the colouring matter used.
[Sidenote: Blowing.]
Glass is made into vessels, as most people know, by "blowing." The
workman takes a dab of molten glass on the end of a long metal pipe,
and putting his mouth to the pipe blows the glass--soap-bubble
fashion--into a hollow bulb. Then by a rapid and dexterous series of
alternate and repeated heating, blowing, and spinning, and
manipulation with tools, most fascinating to watch, he shapes it into
the form required. If a flat sheet be required for window glass it may
be run out flat when liquid, or blown as described above, and worked
into a cylindrical form, split open, and unrolled. This is called
"muff glass." But glass can also be formed, by rapidly spinning it
while soft, into a large flat disc, called a "crown," and is then
known as "crown glass." It was by these last two methods, the "muff"
and the "crown," that all the material of the windows we have to
consider in this book was made.
[Sidenote: Cutting.]
When cold, the sheet or disc of glass may be cut to the shape
required, either, as in the old days, by running a hot iron slowly
along the proposed line of fracture, in which case a crack will follow
the iron, or by scratching it with a diamond and then bending it so as
to break along the line of the scratch. The latter is a comparatively
modern invention, and has in its turn been superseded by the use of a
little steel wheel with a sharp edge.
[Sidenote: Pliny's story.]
Pliny gives a story of the invention of glass which, if false, is
still so picturesque that I cannot resist quoting it here.
A certain merchant-ship touched on the coast of Syria, and the crew
landed near the mouth of the river Belus, on a beach of fine white
sand which, Pliny says, was still in his day of great repute for
glass-making. The ship's cargo consisted of natron,--a natural
alkaline crystal which was much used in ancient times for
washing,[1]--and the crew having lighted a fire on the sand used lumps
of it from the cargo to prop up their kettle. What was their surprise
to find afterwards a stream of molten glass running down from their
camp-fire. In this case the natron acted as a flux and enabled the
sand to melt in the heat of the camp-fire, which, however, must have
been a very large and hot one.
[Sidenote: Egyptian glass.]
Now, whether this story is true or not, it cannot have been the
beginning of more than a local industry, for the art of glass-making
was known in Egypt from very early times indeed.
Its earliest use seems to have been in the imitation of precious
stones, and perhaps for this reason it seems from the first to have
been made in colours as well as in white; but the art of blowing it
into vessels was certainly known in the fourth dynasty, and in
some of the paintings in the tombs the process is actually
represented.
[Illustration: PLATE III
METHUSELAH, CANTERBURY, ORIGINALLY IN CHOIR CLERESTORY
Twelfth Century]
It was not, however, till the first century of the Christian Era that
any one seems to have thought of using glass to fill windows. In Egypt
naturally the climate made it unnecessary, and even in Italy, where it
can be cold enough in winter, civilization had evolved a style of
architecture independent of glass.
[Sidenote: Roman windows.]
Nevertheless it was introduced in Rome under the first emperors.
Caligula had his palace windows glazed, and Seneca mentions it as one
of the luxuries which had been introduced into life in his time, but
which did not really add to a philosopher's happiness. Its
introduction was, however, very gradual, and even two centuries later
its use was still quoted as evidence of excessive luxuriousness.
Remains of these Roman windows have been found at Pompeii and
elsewhere. At Pompeii they are in the form of small panes of glass
held, in one case in a wooden, and in another in a bronze lattice.[2]
It must be remembered that large panes were not available. Another
method seems to have been to set panes of glass directly into small
openings in stone-work.
When coloured glass was first used in windows we have no evidence to
enable us to say. As, however, the manufacture of coloured glass was
already a flourishing art it cannot have been long before the idea
came of using it to decorate windows.
[Sidenote: St. Sophia.]
Whether the windows of St. Sophia at Constantinople originally had
colour in them or not, is not quite certain. That they were glazed we
know, from the description of the church by Paul the Silentiary, an
officer of Justinian's court, but his language about them is
tantalizingly vague. From his enthusiasm at the effect of the sunlight
through them I am inclined to suspect that they were coloured, though
he does not definitely say so. Of this glass, which seems to have been
fixed in small rectangular openings in a slab of alabaster, nothing, I
believe, remains; but similar work--coloured--is to be seen in other
mosques, the only difference being that the openings in the slab are
formed into patterns and kept very small. (I have already mentioned
the necessity, when dealing with _clear_ coloured glass, of keeping
the pieces small and contrasting them with plenty of solid dark.)
[Sidenote: Mahommedan windows.]
This was as far as stained glass in the East ever got. The Mahommedan
conquerors seem to have taken the art as they found it, and continued
it down without much change almost to modern times. Their religion
debarred them from any attempt to represent living forms, so that the
art as it stood sufficed for the needs of their architecture. Visitors
to Leighton House may see some of these pierced and glazed lattices
from Damascus, and very beautiful they are. In them the pieces are not
much larger than a penny, and are set in holes cut in plaster slabs,
bevelled on the inside, the glass being set at the outer edge of the
hole. The glass is not really of very good quality, but treated in
this way even thin poor glass looks rich and jewel-like.
[Sidenote: Glass in the West.]
What course the glazier's art first followed in the West it is
impossible to say, for nothing of it remains earlier than the eleventh
century, if as early. Nevertheless, in spite of repeated barbarian
invasions, it seems never to have quite died out.
The Church, the refuge of the arts and civilization in the general
debacle, sheltered it, and from being the luxury of the Roman
millionaire it became the ornament of the house of God. From time to
time we get allusions to glazed windows, but never a description that
can throw much light on their construction or design. Enough is said,
however, to show that coloured glass was sometimes used. For instance,
we read that St. Gregory of Tours placed coloured windows in the
Church of St. Martin in that city in the sixth century.
One or two facts, however, lead me to think that whereas, in the East,
glass was set in stone or plaster, in the West it was usually set in
metal. At Pompeii, as we have seen, panes of glass are set in a bronze
lattice and fixed with nuts and screws. As colour was introduced it is
probable that from the necessity, already spoken of, of keeping the
pieces small, several bits would be joined together with lead to fill
one opening of the rigid lattice, and so patterns could be formed. Leo
of Ostia says his predecessor, the Abbot Desiderius, filled the
windows of the Chapter-House at Monte Cassino in the eleventh century
with coloured glass, "glazed with lead and fixed with iron"; and
certain it is that the earliest existing windows consist of a large
rigid lattice of massive rebated iron bars, in which leaded panels
have been placed separately, and held there by light cross-bars passed
through staples and keyed with wedges.
If this conjecture is correct, we may assume that the art of the
glazier had for some time been perfected, and had progressed as far as
was possible for it unaided, when its union, probably in the tenth
century, with that of the enameller gave birth to the art of
"stained-and-painted" glass--that is, stained glass as we know it.
[Sidenote: The opaque enamel.]
Without the use of enamel the glazier's craft must always have been
strictly limited to patterns in glass and lead, or, as we now call it,
"plain glazing." What was needed to convert it into the art as we know
it was the addition of painting in the black or brown monochrome
enamel described in the first chapter.
Only one who has worked in glass, and seen his work grow from a
map-like combination of white and coloured glass to the finished glass
painting, knows the power the enamel gives him of controlling,
softening, and enriching his effects of colour. The power it gives of
suggesting form is only one, and not the most important, of its
functions, and it was as vital to the work of the twelfth and
thirteenth as of the fifteenth century. With its introduction the
glorious windows of the Middle Ages became possible.
Exactly when and where the application of the enameller's craft to
glass windows first took place it is impossible to say with
certainty; but there is some reason to suppose that it was in France,
and not earlier than the tenth century.
[Sidenote: Venetian enamellers.]
Enamel--the art of painting on metal with an easily fusible glass
ground to powder, which is then fused on to its groundwork in a
furnace--was of ancient invention, and had been carried to a high
state of perfection in Constantinople in the eighth and following
centuries. Thence by way of Venice it had come to France, where a
colony of Venetian craftsmen had established itself before the end of
the tenth century.
[Sidenote: Monkwearmouth.]
France was already famous for its glaziers: for instance, when in A.D.
680 the Abbot, Benedict Biscop, glazed the windows of the monastery at
Monkwearmouth, we read in Bede that "he sent messengers to Gaul to
fetch makers of glass (or rather artificers) till then unknown in
Britain.... They came, and not only finished the work required, but
taught the English nation their handicraft"; and it is probable that
the French glaziers, chafing under the limitations of their art,
called in the aid of the Venetian enamellers. It is noteworthy that no
attempt seems to have been made to use transparent coloured enamel on
glass. That mistake was reserved for the decadence of the art seven
hundred years later. Perhaps experiment convinced them that enamel
colour could never hope to rival the depth and richness of coloured
glass, and the glazier would realize that what he wanted of the
enameller was not colour but black, to modify and enrich the colour
which his glass already gave him in full measure. In this book,
therefore, the word "enamel," when used in connection with glass, must
be understood to refer, unless coloured enamel is specifically
mentioned, to this brown opaque enamel or "paint," as glass-workers
call it.
[Sidenote: Cloisonné.]
But the enameller's art had another influence on that of stained
glass. A form of enamelling developed at Constantinople and practised
at Limoges was that known as "cloisonné." In this, narrow strips of
metal are soldered edgeways to the groundwork and the spaces between
are filled with differently coloured enamel, the different colours
being thus separated by strips of metal.
When the enameller's attention was first turned to glasswork, in which
different coloured pieces of glass were separated by strips of lead,
he must have been struck with the similarity of the two arts, and have
perceived that the style of design already developed in enamel could
be applied with little change to glasswork.
This probably explains not only the apparently sudden birth of the art
fully formed, but the strongly Byzantine character of the design in
the earliest work, the enameller's art having been brought, as we have
seen, from Constantinople by way of Venice.[3]
What, then, is the oldest "stained-and-painted" glass in existence? At
Brabourne in Kent there is a small window, of which a coloured tracing
may be seen in South Kensington Museum, which may belong to the
eleventh century. It consists of a simple pattern of white glass and
leading, with small pieces of colour inserted at intervals. Some of
these latter, however, have been formed into rosettes of simple design
by means of opaque enamel, which is the only painting in the window at
all. Whatever the actual date of the window, I think it is not
unlikely that it shows the manner in which enamel painting and glazing
were first combined.
[Illustration: PLATE IV
"NOË IN ARCHA," FROM THE NORTH CHOIR AISLE, CANTERBURY
Twelfth Century]
[Sidenote: Early window at Le Mans.]
Almost the earliest glass, however, to which any date can be
approximately assigned are the panels in Le Mans Cathedral,[4]
which are illustrated by a sketch of Mr. Saint's in Plate I.
In a thirteenth century manuscript preserved at Le Mans it is recorded
that Bishop Hoel, who occupied the See from A.D. 1081 to 1097, glazed
the windows of the Cathedral with stained glass, "sumptuosa artis
varietate," and it is just possible that this glass, which was found
in 1850 scattered and glazed up among fragments of a later date, may
be part of the glass referred to.
It seems to have formed the lower part of a window representing the
Ascension, and consists of figures of the Virgin and the Twelve
Apostles "gazing up into Heaven."
The arrangement is very simple. There seems to have been little or no
ornament in the window, and the figures in white and coloured
draperies, standing on conventionalized hillocks which represent the
top of the "high mountain," are relieved against a background of plain
colour in alternate panels of red and blue. In this window and for
long afterwards the background represents nothing in nature, but
merely serves the purpose of throwing up and isolating the figures.
As the glass is not in its original position, one can only guess at
its original construction and design. All early windows, as I have
said, consisted of separate leaded panels inserted into the openings
of a massive metal framework, an arrangement which of necessity
governed the design. In this case one would expect the six panels,
with their differently coloured backgrounds, each to have filled a
separate opening in the framework.
If this is so, however, the panels must have been somewhat cut down,
since as at present glazed the limbs and drapery of the figures
occasionally overlap into the neighbouring panels. I think it very
probable indeed that the glass has been so cut down, and that the
window at Poitiers, illustrated in Plate II., though of later date,
gives a true idea of the original relation of these panels to the
iron-work. It is probable too that the upper part of the Le Mans
window was filled with a figure of the ascending Christ on the same
plan as that of Poitiers. It is, indeed, only fair to say that the
Poitiers window, which is of the end of the twelfth century, throws
some doubt on the greater antiquity of that at Le Mans.
There is little or no ornament in the latter, and perhaps there was
never much, though it may have once had simple borders between the
panels and a rich border like that at Poitiers (not shown in the
drawing) surrounding the whole. The technique followed in the painting
is precisely that which obtained for nearly three hundred years after.
That is to say, as far as possible the effect is obtained by glazing,
and the features and folds of drapery are put in with strong, dark,
sweeping lines of enamel. The style of the drawing, however, both in
the figures and the drapery, is perhaps more purely Byzantine than any
later work. The sweeping lines of the drapery are graceful and
decorative, but the action of the figures is absolutely conventional.
There is none of that feeling for motion which, expressed in line,
gives so much vigour and animation to the subject windows of the
thirteenth century.
In colour, however, which after all is the most important thing in a
window, this glass is splendid, and for the quality of the material
and the way in which it has resisted the attacks of time it is
superior to much glass of a later date.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Pliny's word "nitrum" does not mean what we call nitre, which is
potassium nitrate, but natron, or natural carbonate of soda, of which
deposits are found in the Nile Delta. It is this that is meant in the
passage in Jeremiah: "Though thou wash thee with nitre, and take thee
much sope...."
[2] These panes are, I believe, of cast glass; but I have seen Roman
window glass found at Silchester that was obviously "blown" glass and
of very good quality.
[3] By some writers it has been claimed that the whole idea of
stained-glass work was derived from cloisonné enamel; but from the
fact that the glazing of windows in glass and metal had been known
long before, I think the course of events I have suggested above to
have been more probable.
[4] There is some at Augsburg and at Tegernsee in Bavaria which may
perhaps be a little earlier, but it is not certain.
III
THE STYLE OF THE FIRST PERIOD
[Sidenote: The three periods.]
Stained glass from its birth to the Renaissance has been divided by
Winston into three main periods, each having broad characteristics
peculiar to itself, and which he named after the corresponding
architectural styles, Early English, Decorated, and Perpendicular. As,
however, these terms only apply to English work, and as the
architectural styles do not altogether correspond in date with those
of the glass, I prefer to speak simply of the First, Second, and Third
Period.
The First lasts from the earliest examples almost to the end of the
thirteenth century, and might be subdivided again into twelfth and
thirteenth century work, between which there is a distinct difference.
The Second covers nearly the whole of the fourteenth century.
The Third lasts down to the end of the fifteenth century, by which
time the influence of the classic Renaissance began to be felt in
glasswork, but lingers on in belated examples well into the sixteenth.
Between each of these periods there is a very short transitional
period lasting hardly a decade, and occupying the closing years of
each century.
It must not be thought, however, that at any time design in stained
glass stood still. Its history is rather one of periodic impulses, due
no doubt to the work of individual genius, followed in each case by a
long and gradual decline, towards the end of which artists began to
grow restless and feel about for new modes of expression, and so
prepare the way for the next impulse of genius.
[Sidenote: The First Period.]
The broad characteristics then which distinguish the First Period
are--
(1) Its rich colour.
(2) Its mosaic character.
(3) The importance of the iron-work and its influence on the design.
(4) The method of painting.
* * * * *
[Illustration: PLATE V
THE ENTOMBMENT, FROM THE EAST WINDOW, CANTERBURY
Twelfth or early Thirteenth Century]
[Sidenote: Its rich colour.]
(1) _Its Colour._--The colour of the glass in this First Period is of
a barbaric richness, unequalled in the succeeding periods. A very deep
and splendid blue is used, in contrast with the greyish-blue of
later glass, and it is of an uneven tint, which greatly adds to its
quality. The ruby,[5] too, is often of a streaky character and of
great beauty. These two usually form the dominant colours in the
window, the greens, yellows, and purples being used rather to relieve
them.
So much is the artist in love with his deep reds and blues, which he
nearly always uses for the backgrounds of his figures, that he seldom
insults them by painting on them except in so far as is necessary to
the drawing, reserving his enamel mainly for the decoration of his
whites and paler colours, keeping them in their places by a delicate
fret of line and pattern work.
It is only towards the latter part of the period, when the quality of
the glass began to fail a little, that he ever covered the whole
surface of a blue background with an enamelled diaper, to give it a
depth and richness which was lacking in the glass itself.
Except in the grisaille windows to be described later, in which a
definitely white effect is aimed at, the amount of colour used in
proportion to the white glass is considerably greater than in
succeeding periods. Nevertheless the white is always present, running
everywhere among the colour like a silver thread, relieving and
beautifying it. In fact it was not till modern times that any
glass-worker ever thought he could do without it.
[Sidenote: Its mosaic character.]
(2) _The Mosaic Character of the Glass._--The designer depends for his
effect primarily upon glass and lead, and builds up his window out of
tiny pieces. He had learned the jewel-like effect this gave to his
work, and seemed to grudge no labour in it. Take, for example, the Ark
at Canterbury in Plate IV. Where a fifteenth century painter would
have been content to make the ark of perhaps only one piece of glass,
probably of white, getting his detail in enamel and silver stain only,
our thirteenth century craftsman has used over fifty pieces, purple,
blue, red, yellow, green and white, and that in a space less than a
foot square! He was a colourist par excellence, and his waves, too,
are blue, greenish-blue and green, with caps of white foam--all a
mosaic of glass and lead.
From this dependence for its effect on the actual material used, it
follows that the work of no period is more easily damaged than this by
so-called "restoration." The introduction of only half a dozen pieces
of crudely coloured modern glass is often enough to upset the whole
harmony of the colour and to make the window irritating instead of
restful to the eye. In France, indeed, so few windows of this period
have been left unrestored that the period does not always get justice
done it. I doubt if many people honestly get much pleasure from the
effect of the windows of the Sainte Chapelle at Paris taken as a
whole; but if you notice how much of the original glass is in South
Kensington Museum you will understand the reason.
[Sidenote: The iron-work.]
(3) _The Influence of Iron-Work._--The windows of this period
consisted from the first, as we have seen, of separate leaded panels
inserted into the openings of an iron lattice. This lattice was formed
of iron bars of a =T= shaped section, the head of the =T= being
outwards, and having staples at intervals on the inner rib, through
which light iron bars were thrust and keyed with wedges, to hold the
glass in its place.
In the absence of any tracery to assist in the support of the glass,
this iron-work in large windows was of a massive character and could
not be disregarded in the design. In figure work there were two
possible ways of dealing with it: one was to make the figures so large
as to be independent of it; and the other was to make the figures so
small that a complete figure-subject could be included in one opening
of the frame work.
Both these methods were used by the artists of the early period. Where
the work is far from the eye, as in the clerestory windows, we usually
find large single figures--far larger, often, than life--filling the
whole window, like the big angel from Chartres on Plate X. and the
smaller and older figure of Methuselah from Canterbury on Plate III.
When, on the other hand, the work is near the eye, as in the aisle
windows, they used the other method, filling each opening of the
iron-work with a small subject-panel like that of Noah and the Dove in
Plate IV., thus producing what is called the medallion window.
[Sidenote: Medallion windows.]
At first the lattice work consisted merely of upright and horizontal
bars. These, it is true, sometimes, as in the twelfth century window
at Poitiers in Plate II., were manipulated to fit the subject, but
more usually the subject fitted the bars.
[Sidenote: Bent iron-work.]
In the earliest form of medallion window, such as those in west
windows at Chartres and some of the earliest ones at Canterbury, the
window is divided by the iron-work into a series of regular squares,
each of which alternately is filled with a square and a circular
figure-subject. Later, however, in the thirteenth century, the
iron-work itself was bent into geometric patterns which the medallions
were shaped to fit, producing the elaborate designs shown in the
insets of the whole windows in Plates IV. and VIII. from Canterbury.
Even when in the latter part of the thirteenth century there was a
return, prompted no doubt by motives of economy, to iron-work composed
of straight bars, the influence of these elaborate lattices is still
seen in the shapes of the medallions, though these are no longer
outlined by the iron-work which now passes across or between them. An
example of this is shown in Plate XIV. from Rouen Cathedral.
[Sidenote: The method of painting.]
(4) _The Method of Painting._--This consists of vigorous line work in
the brown enamel, laid on with a brush in beautiful, firm, expressive
strokes on a ground of clear glass. Lettering and patterns are formed
by being scratched out clear from a solid coat of enamel. There is no
attempt at modelling in planes or at light and shade, and half-tone
is only used, as I shall presently explain, to soften the edges of the
line work.
[Sidenote: Irradiation.]
Now the optical law which most affects the technique of stained glass
is that of which the effect is known as "irradiation." In an
unscientific work it is enough to say that it is the law which causes
the filament of an electric light, in reality thin as a hair, to
appear when incandescent as thick as a piece of worsted. In the same
way it makes the clear spaces of glass appear larger than they really
are in proportion to the obscured parts, and also tends to make them
look rounded.
From the fact that the glass between the line work was left nearly
clear, the work of this period is more affected by irradiation than
any other, and the artist had to make his line work very black and
thick in order to tell at all, especially in work far from the eye.
For instance, if he wished to distinguish the fingers of a hand he
separated them with solid black spaces as thick as the fingers
themselves.
[Sidenote: The line work.]
The glass between the line work is left nearly clear, but not quite;
for if quite clear the intensity of the light would have bitten into
the edge of the black line and made it appear what engravers call a
"rotten" line, or even be invisible altogether at a little distance.
Therefore the painter softened the edges of his line work by one of
two methods. The first, described by Theophilus, though I cannot say
for certain that it has been used in any glass I have examined, was to
slightly smear the painting when wet with a soft brush. The other,
which seems to have been more used, was to edge the dark line work, so
to speak, with fainter strokes in semi-transparent half-tone. In work
that was meant to be placed near the eye the line work is
extraordinarily fine and delicate, while in work that has to be seen
from a distance, such as the clerestory windows of a cathedral, we
find the whole scale of the execution increased. Lines are there used
from half an inch to an inch thick, but in every case the work is
equally admirable for its precision and vigour.
[Sidenote: The "Matt."]
In the later periods the half-tone shading became developed into the
"matt" or thin coat of enamel laid evenly all over the surface of the
glass, from which, when dry, the lights were brushed out and the line
work became more and more delicate. Still, as long as technique
remained sound, the strength of shading was really obtained by line
work, the matt or half-tone serving its true use in softening the
light and making the line work visible.
Renaissance glass painters, in their efforts to produce the effects of
oil painting in glass, tried to get rid of the effect of irradiation
altogether by dulling the whole surface of the glass, with fatal
results to the beauty of the material.