SEES

En route from Le Mans to Sees we must pass directly through Alencon,

famous for its lace, and especially for the sort known as Point

d'Alencon. If en automobile we should stop here long enough to see the

Renaissance glass in the church of Notre Dame. Although of a later

period than that which we are now considering, we must not be so

narrow-minded as to deliberately pass by fine glass, no matter when it

was made. The exterior of Notre Dame struck the writer as curiously

emblematic of the impression which one receives of the town. The church

is squat and ugly, but it is redeemed by the lace-like Gothic of its

western porch, which, fearful lest it be not remarked, thrusts itself

out into the street. In similar fashion, Alencon as a town has its

commonplaceness condoned by reason of the beauty of its lace, a beauty

which is constantly thrust upon your attention by its inhabitants. The

glass to be noticed is around the nave clerestory. A most charming stone

setting is provided for this sixteenth century glazing by the broad and

high embrasures of six lancets each. Particularly note how, at the top

of each sheaf of lancets, the delicate lines of the traceries flow

upward and inward like flames aspiring from a broad-based fire, seeking

the outlet above of a narrow chimney. The picture period is here at its

best, and the artist, regardless of the upright stone mullions, has

spread his subject across all the lancets of each embrasure, and has

lavished upon them all the shades of his richly stocked palette. Over

the west portal we have the same shape of window, but here it is broader

and permits of eight lancets. The subject is the well-worn one of Jesse

and his descendants, but the design is distinctly novel, and an unusual

amount of green foliage against a blue background lends a pleasant tone

to the picture. The descendants are relegated to the upper panes, while

the major portion of the great surface is divided equally between Jesse

(on the right) and a large panel enclosing the scene of the Saviour's

birth (on the left). Of the rest of the glass in this church it is

kindly comment to say that it is unsatisfactory.

But let us push on to Sees, 20 kilometres further. One reads but little

of the cathedral there, and more's the pity, because from any point of

view it is not only admirable, but picturesquely delightful. Placed upon

a slight eminence in the midst of a wide basin, this elevation suffices

to make it visible from a long distance on every side. Its gracefully

aspiring twin spires, its mantle of flying buttresses, the charming

conformation of its eastern end, all conspire to allure us and fill us

with expectations of what a nearer view may reveal. Nor does the

interior fail to realise all this distant promise. What a graceful

lightness of stonework is everywhere visible, supplemented by the

glazier's intelligent delicacy of touch. The nave alone lacks its

ancient glass. Nowhere in France or elsewhere can the fourteenth century

glass artist be seen to greater advantage than at Sees. Very happy is

the way in which his light-admitting grisaille has been enlivened and

decorated by coloured borders and bands of richly-toned, canopy-framed

figures. At Evreux we will find him more splendid, more varied, but

here, around the choir and the transepts, he has worked out more

consistently, more coherently, his new idea of combining translucence

and colour decoration. Dainty, almost dangerously fragile as is the

stonework that supports the upper windows, the glazier's handwork is

daintier still--a film of soft grisaille held in a spider's web of lead

lines, whilst across the middle third are bands of early canopies. Not

only in the clerestory of choir and transepts, but also in the choir

chapels below, do we find this treatment uniformly carried out. The

completeness of the scheme of decoration, as well as the satisfactory

adjustment of colour to grisaille, give an ensemble which we elsewhere

seek in vain. Not satisfied with the illumination provided by his airy

clerestory, the architect has pierced his triforium gallery throughout.

In this lower tier there has been no attempt to introduce figures, the

glazier having contented himself with surrounding his grisaille by

decorated borders. The only exception to this rule is where the

triforium gallery passes below the lovely rosaces that decorate the

transept ends--there, in each case, the row of ten lancets is filled,

alas! with modern glass whose thin tones betray it at once. Fortunately

one is too much absorbed in looking at the great roses above to notice

them very intently. So high up are these rosaces in their respective

walls that the arching of the ceiling actually passes in front of their

upper corners. That in the south transept is a wheel window with

medallions in the ends of the spokes, but instead of the rest of the

openings being glazed in grisaille (as at Rouen Cathedral), colour is

here used throughout. Very different is the north transept rose, from

the centre of which six broad arms diverge, separating groups of

blossom-like apertures. The colour is good, but would have been better

had there been omitted the white borders that make the coloured panels

seem about to start from their sockets. The luminous effectiveness of

the interior is utilised and accentuated by the placing of the

double-faced altar on a raised platform in the middle of the crossing

where the transepts can contribute to its glory equally with the choir.

The high altar carries off the unusual honour of this central position

with great dignity and success.

So much are we seized and held by the charm of the general effect that

we are not tempted, as is so often the case elsewhere, to solace

ourselves with spelling out quaint details in individual windows.

Nevertheless, that form of research is here well worth while. Three

times on the south side of the choir clerestory and again in the second

choir chapel on the left, do we find the donors, ingenuously holding in

their uplifted hands small models of their gift windows. Several times

we will note two canopy panels whose stories must be read together, as

for example in the first choir chapel on the right, where a mounted man

in armour is piercing with his spear the side of the crucified Christ in

the next panel to the right. Interesting as are these and many other

similar details, it is the softly tinted illumination of the whole

interior, more than any particular feature, that makes us remember Sees

Cathedral as one of the most satisfactory French examples of fourteenth

century glazing.