Of all the French schools of glass which at one time or another gained
renown, none ever surpassed that of Champagne. Not only do we know this
from the pages of history, but it is easily proved by the innumerable
examples found in the many churches of Troyes, the ancient capital of
that province. The fame of the glass artists of Champagne not only began
early but lasted long. In fact, in its capital, the perfected methods of
the sixteenth century became so firmly established that their style and
vigour lasted far over into the seventeenth century, which was not
generally true elsewhere. Troyes has always enjoyed prominence and that,
too, along different lines; "Troy weight" testifies to the wide fame of
its jewellers. In our travels we shall observe that most towns have but
one or two churches whose windows repay a visit. Troyes and Rouen are
the marked exceptions to this rule, for in each we shall find many well
worth examining and a great wealth of glass. Then, too, both these
cities provide facilities for studying the art from the earliest to the
latest period of its golden age. We will postpone consideration of Rouen
until we take up the sixteenth century because its thirteenth century
glass is unimportant. This is not true of Troyes, for if by some sudden
calamity all its splendid Renaissance windows were destroyed, we would
still most heartily recommend that our pilgrim visit the city to see the
early glass in the cathedral and in the fairy-like church of St. Urbain.
These two buildings alone provide the best of reasons for including
Troyes in this tour. The story of the foundation of that architectural
eggshell, St. Urbain, is very interesting. In 1261 there became Pope a
certain Jacques Pantaleon, a native of Troyes. After his elevation to
the pontificate he remembered his humble beginnings, and so far from
being ashamed that his father had been a small shopkeeper, he bought
the ground whereon his father's shop had stood, as well as some of
the neighbouring buildings, and erected, about 1263, one of the
most delightful and airy examples of fragile grace in all Gothic
architecture. The walls seem literally to be constructed of glass, so
slender are the stone uprights between the windows, and so wholly is
this little church uplifted and upheld by the innumerable flying
buttresses that stretch away from its roof and delicate sides like the
supporting guy ropes of a tent. At the Ste. Chapelle in Paris we noticed
that although medallion panels give a splendid dark warmth, they do not
admit light enough for a small structure. Perhaps in St. Urbain we shall
feel there is too much light. The medallions of the period are there,
but only in small numbers and imbedded in large fields of silvery
grisaille. The lower half of the clerestory windows is in grisaille and
it is only in the upper half that we find coloured figures. While it is
true that we lose the silvery hue that simple grisaille generally
yields, still, in exchange, we receive a low-toned glow that is
delightful. The proportion of glass surface to wall space is here so
great that if the grisaille had not been warmed by touches of colour,
there would really have been a glare, though the embrasures contain no
white glass. The more we study the subject the clearer it becomes that
the glazier thoroughly understood and appreciated the possibilities of
the medium in which he worked.
As we pass from St. Urbain to the larger and more impressive Cathedral
of St. Pierre, we shall notice that although the artist felt the
necessity for the lighter treatment in the dainty chapel-like church, he
found it more appropriate in the larger edifice to so glaze his windows
as to fill the place with the more solemn and dignified light suited to
its greater size. The choir of the cathedral provides an unusually
complete and satisfying example of this period, not only in its girdle
of chapels, but also above in the gorgeous row of thirteen clerestory
windows from which ferocious-looking figures stare down upon us from
glittering eyes leaded into Byzantine faces. Splendid as they are, we
feel that a little more light should have been admitted, and this
thought must also have struck the glazier, because he resorted to a
trick in the choir chapels to better illumine the eastern part of the
structure. If you will step into one of these chapels you will find that
in most of them he has substituted grisaille for the medallions in the
lancet on either hand nearest the choir. When you stood in the choir
ambulatory, this device escaped you because the arch which provides the
entrance to the chapel conceals these two nearest lancets. The result of
the trick is that two side-lights, properly softened by the grisaille,
are thrown into the chapel. If white panes had been used, they would
have illuminated the inner side of the medallion panels, thus revealing
their ugly machinery of leads, and, worse still, effectually destroying
their power to transmit a combination of colour and glow. Ample
illumination has been furnished this cathedral by its pierced triforium
and the great expanse of its clerestory, but, thanks to the remarkably
warm tone of the glass, we do not find it anywhere overlighted. Even the
later glass which adorns the nave and transepts and which we will
discuss farther on, is so unusually strong in colour that we avoid that
sharpness of contrast between thirteenth and fifteenth century work to
be seen at Bourges. Decidedly, St. Pierre is one of the most beautiful
interiors in France for the glass lover, and he should not fail to see
what the best examples of the Champagne school has done for this church,
the charm of which lays hold upon him directly he enters it (see page
222).