EVREUX

In one's mental picture of a town there is almost always a single

feature which stands out prominently at the expense of the others. For

example, winding crowded streets are apt to rise in one's mind when

London is mentioned. The broad straight thoroughfares of St. Petersburg

are sure to give roominess and breadth to our memory of the Russian

capital. In a similar fashion when the writer thinks of Evreux there

always promptly arises a picture of the narrowness which not only

characterises the cathedral's nave, but also the little channels into

which the river Iton subdivides itself in preparation for its leisurely

meandering through the town. Nor must this be taken as a reproach to

Evreux. The little branches of the Iton add very materially to the quiet

beauty of the place. So, too, beauty is, though indirectly, lent to the

cathedral's interior by the very narrowness of its nave. A nave only 21

feet wide made very difficult the problem of later joining to it a roomy

choir, but the architect hit upon an ingenious device to secure greater

width for the latter without having the difference unpleasant to the eye

when viewed from other parts of the church. Just behind the columns at

the edge of the transept crossing he deftly swelled out his choir walls

at such an angle that from no part of the nave is the curving swelling

of these walls visible.

The chapels that surround this graceful choir are separated from the

ambulatory by light carved wooden screens, very dainty and each one

different. The windows all about us reveal this to be a perfect

treasure-house of fourteenth century glass, for it has more of this

period than any other church in France except, perhaps, St. Ouen, at

Rouen. In our preliminary talk about the fourteenth century we referred

to the startling abruptness with which taste in glass veered around from

the light-obscuring medallions of the preceding century to the

light-admitting treatment of the fourteenth. We there stated that the

two favourite methods of getting more light were, first, the canopy

treatment, and second, but to a less extent, grisaille windows with rich

borders which were sometimes, but not always, surcharged with coloured

figures or panels. At Evreux we shall not only find many an excellent

example of both these new methods, but also interesting proof of how

early in the century the new style laid hold upon public taste and that,

too, in a very fully developed and completed form. The windows given by

Guillaume d'Harcourt, dated 1310, show us the canopy window with a

perfection of architectural elaboration that is surprising when we

consider its early date. Not only is the canopy well advanced in its

detail, but we find that the blue background is damasked, a feature of

adornment that elsewhere took some time to develop. The use of grisaille

to increase the illumination of the interior is here amply illustrated,

as is also a certain variation of it, very much in vogue at that time,

partly because it was decorative, and partly, perhaps mostly, because it

was so easy to glaze. This is the so-called "quarry window" of white or

grisaille glass with its surface composed of either square (_carre_) or

diamond-shaped panels. These quarry windows were not only easy to lead,

but their formal design broke up the surface of the glass very

agreeably, especially when here and there touches of colour were

introduced. Nor were these quarries always used without colour

decoration, for around the choir triforium we shall see them surcharged

with gay heraldic blazons, while above, in the clerestory, they serve to

fill out such portions of the embrasures as are not occupied by the

bands of canopies. It was some time before the fourteenth century

glazier arrived at the point of filling the entire embrasure with his

canopy, and therefore this hesitating use of bands of canopies across a

light field is often seen. Below in the choir chapels even less of the

space is devoted to canopies and more to quarries or grisaille than in

the clerestory. Passing to the nave, almost all the window surface of

the chapels is given over to grisaille; indeed, it is only across the

upper third that one sees the quaint little fourteenth century canopies.

So, too, the clerestory is all grisaille except for an occasional panel

in colour. The finest work of the period here is around the choir

clerestory--the colours are richer and every part of the decoration more

carefully studied. Notice that in the fourth on the left, the second

lancet contains a kneeling figure holding up in his two hands a model of

the window which he is offering; his name appears in large letters

below--M. Raoul De Ferrieres. The rich red background, surrounded by the

golden canopy, makes a very effective combination. This same pleasant

conceit is found again in the most westerly lancet of the fourth choir

chapel on the right, but here the figure is much smaller and the model

of the gift window not so carefully drawn. Almost all these clerestory

lights display facts concerning their donors set out in bold lettering

that adds materially to the decorative effect. A few of the panels were

glazed in the next century; they are readily picked out by the perfected

drawing of their canopies, the fact that they completely fill the

embrasures, the pedestals beneath them, etc. Of these later ones, the

first on the left especially merits our attention: within its elaborate

canopy framing are a triple tier of niches. In the middle tier, the

second niche contains the Dauphin (later Louis XI) and the fourth,

Charles VII, his father. This reference to the fifteenth century brings

us to the consideration of its numerous examples found here, for the

Lady Chapel, all the north transept and part of the southern are glazed

in that later style. In the Lady Chapel the canopies enclose a double

tier of niches which contain scenes remarkable for their strong

colouring, as well as for the unusual number of individuals in each

little group. Under the second canopy on the lower tier of the first

window on the left is depicted Christ feeding the multitude, and no less

than twenty-five figures can be counted: this is the greatest number the

writer has ever observed in a canopy panel.

The transepts are most charming. Each is lighted by a large rose,

while the east and west walls have each not only two great six-lancet

windows, but in addition, the triforium gallery is pierced and is

carried around under the rose. Where the triforium passes below the

rose we have in each case eight lancets filled with canopies enclosing

single figures, and in the clerestory of the north transept the same

treatment--elsewhere the lancets contain grisaille or quarries

surcharged with coloured bosses or shields--the whole bordered in

colour. Throughout all this interior so much grisaille and quarry work

was used that one should select a rainy or grey day for one's visit,

because on a sunny day the illumination is distinctly garish.

Nor is it for the Cathedral alone that we have come here--so fine is

the glazing at St. Taurin that we would have included Evreux in our tour

even if there had been nothing to enjoy at the Cathedral. The east end

of the choir juts out from the body of the church, and is lighted all

round by seven lofty windows, each of two lancets except the westerly

pair, which have four. The treatment of all these lancets is alike: the

enframing canopy encloses three tiers of niches, one above the other, in

each of which is a little scene in colour. One pair of these windows,

the second from the west, are modern, but so faithfully are they

modelled after their neighbours, that they do not mar the effect of the

whole. Instead of one lone saint beneath each canopy (then so common as

to be almost monotonous) we have here groups, always agreeable and

sometimes amusing. For example, the lower left-hand corner of the window

just left of the centre shows us St. Taurin rescuing a lady from some

very pointed flames, while a red imp, evidently much annoyed at being

exorcised, is darting off, much to the pious satisfaction of five smug

onlookers. In accordance with the conventions, each niche has at the

back a damasked curtain, above which a glimpse is afforded of an

interior lighted by three windows, all very delicately portrayed. It

seems ridiculously incongruous to find cows and other animals in the

foreground of such a niche. Unfortunately, this absurd combination of

tradition and realism was not rare during that epoch. The original

glazing of the upper part of the southwesterly window has been replaced

by a later Ascension scene, running across all four lancets. At the end

of the south transept is a broad window, very interesting because of the

different types of canopies in its six lancets. The chief charm of the

interior is undoubtedly the choir, whose deliciously soft-toned glazing

is so complete as to afford the student not only valuable material, but

also (and this is much rarer) an excellent impression of the general

effect sought for by the fifteenth century glazier.