To one approaching York by road, especially if coming by way of
Scarcroft Hill, the ancient appearance of the town seems to translate it
out of the Middle Ages. The dust-grey line of walls along the grassy
banks that slope down to the moat, sweep far around in unbroken majesty,
strengthened here and there by bastions or by a sturdy gatehouse. To
complete the old-world picture, above the walls peep red-tiled gables,
or occasionally the towers and spires of numerous churches, all
dominated by the great bulk of the cathedral.
Insignificant historically ever since the days when the city of Eboren
was the capital of Britain, York is chiefly known for the use of its
name in two prolonged struggles (fought out, however, on other fields),
the one between the House of York and Lancaster, called "The War of the
Roses," and the other the great contest lasting from 601 on till the
middle of the fourteenth century to decide whether the Archbishop of
York or he of Canterbury should be the Primate of England. York's
unimportance in English history may be due partly to its situation too
far north to have been in the heart of the constant struggle for power,
and partly to the fact that it was so repeatedly ravaged by Danes and
other invaders, the worst blow of all being when William the Conqueror
gave all that neighbourhood such a dreadful harrowing that the lands
from York to Durham laid untilled for nine years, and did not fully
recover for centuries. Almost the sole exception to this unimportant
_role_ was the seven years during which Edward I. moved the law courts
to York and made it his royal capital. Fortunately for the city, its
connection with the bloody struggle of the rival Roses was almost
entirely confined to lending its name to one of the Houses, for this
great drama was chiefly enacted to the south of it. Although the other
famous contest to which we alluded, and which dragged its weary length
through nearly eight centuries, had to do only with ecclesiastical
predominance, yet it exercised a potent influence upon the destinies of
the generations it concerned. It is impossible to obtain a realising
sense of men and events in the Middle Ages unless one takes into account
the tremendous force, and that, too, a militant one, exercised by the
great ecclesiastics. A striking example is provided by Archbishop Scrope
of York, who aspired so high that he rebelled against his king and was
only defeated after the strenuous campaign described in Shakespeare's
"Henry IV." He was executed at York in 1405. We remarked another
example at Canterbury in the bloody ending of a Becket's attempt to
brave Henry II. Because he was Archbishop of Canterbury and opposed to
the king, it is not surprising to find that the contemporary Archbishop
of York, Roger Pont l'Eveque, was a staunch adherent of Henry. It was
this very Roger who, in 1176, precipitated one of the many disgraceful
rows that besmirched this struggle for the Primacy. The Papal Legate was
presiding at the Council of Westminster, and a Becket's successor,
Richard of Canterbury, was seated on his right. Roger came in late, and,
declining to accept any but the most honoured seat, sat down on
Richard's lap, whereupon a brawl ensued, ending in Roger's discomfiture.
Pitiable as was this scene, at least it was less disastrous to the
people at large than many another episode of this tedious and
acrimonious struggle, finally ended by the Bull of Pope Innocent VI.,
designating the Archbishop of Canterbury as the Primate of all England.
York is by all odds the most important of all English glass
centres. Although one often finds occasion elsewhere to curse the
glass-destroying Puritan, at York it must be admitted that the presence
of so many ancient windows is due to the control exercised by Fairfax
over his Parliamentary troops after a successful siege of the place. He
well deserved the butt of sack and tun of French wine voted him by the
Corporation in recognition of his efforts in restraining the misguided
enthusiasm of the soldiery. Indeed, his action here almost atones for
the devilish tricks at Canterbury of "Blue Dick" Culmer.
Even the most casual observer, and one entirely unlearned in our
beautiful art, cannot fail to notice how large an amount of wall-space
is given over to ancient glass in York Minster. As a matter of fact it
covers an area of more than 25,000 square feet, easily double that in
any other English cathedral, and challenging comparison with any in
the world. Nor are the examples confined to one epoch, for there are
fragments of Norman mosaic medallions in the great transepts and the
vestibule of the chapter-house, Early English in the "Five Sisters" and
along the nave clerestory, Decorated in the nave and chapter-house, and
Perpendicular in the choir. Not only are these examples plentiful, but
they are of the first order. Entering by the door at the southern end of
the great transepts, one is at once confronted by the five tall lancets
opposite him in the north wall, filled with the most deliciously soft
greyish green grisaille. Of their type there is nothing in the world to
approach them for beauty. From where we stand the lead lines used in
construction do not exist as lines, but melt away into a dainty film,
like dew on the grass at morn. This set of lights is gracefully
grouped, and is known by the pleasantly familiar title of the "Five
Sisters." Many fanciful tales are told of when and where they were
constructed and how they received this name. Dickens in his "Nicholas
Nickleby" relates an engaging legend to explain how the design and the
name were provided for them. That this legend has no basis in fact
should not make us forget that his narrative has doubtless caused many
of his readers to visit these windows--a most excellent justification.
Dickens tells of five maiden ladies having worked upon a large piece of
embroidery and how, years later, when four of them met together in York
(the youngest, Alice, having been buried in the minster's nave), "They
sent abroad, to artists of great celebrity in those times (Henry IV.),
and having obtained the church's sanction to their work of piety, caused
to be executed in five large compartments of richly stained glass, a
faithful copy of their old embroidery work. These were fitted into a
large window until that time bare of ornament; and when the sun shone
brightly, as she had so well loved to see it, the familiar patterns were
reflected in their original colours, and throwing a stream of brilliant
light upon the pavement, fell warmly on the name of Alice." Those of our
company who are by nature critical may point out that the windows date
from the thirteenth century, not from the reign of Henry IV., and also
that they contain grisaille, not colour, and further, that being at the
end of the north transept, they could not very well throw a stream
of light into the nave! The writer urges leniency of criticism, but
nevertheless, one is forced to the melancholy conclusion that the great
Dickens could never have delighted his eyes by this splendid glass, else
he could not have made the windows coloured, or placed them in the
nave! As for the four surviving sisters, they are certainly open to the
severest censure in that they sent abroad for stained glass during the
reign of Henry IV., because there was then the highest development of
the art in England, and its product could not be approached by that of
any foreign contemporaries. Close inspection discloses the design of the
leads to be that of a graceful adjustment of the foliage of the benet
plant. At the bottom of the central light is observable a panel of
highly coloured mosaic glass. The glazing of the five small lancets
above is modern. We must turn to the nave to see the rest of the Early
English glass, of which, however, only fragments remain. They are to be
found along the clerestory, in all of its tracery lights on the south
side except the third from the west, and also some in its lower panes;
on the north side they are in the traceries of the second from the west,
the next five east of it, and also in the lower panels of the fifth and
seventh.
[Illustration: _F. Valentine, photo._
"FIVE SISTERS," YORK MINSTER
Softly-toned grisaille with delicate patterns in faint colour.
Of its type unsurpassed in the world. Note difference between
mellow strength of this glass and thinness of modern glazing in
upper tier of lancets]
The church of St. Dennis, Walmgate, has attractive panels of early
English glass dating from the latter half of the thirteenth century
inserted in two Decorated windows on the north side of the church.
An account of the Decorated glass at York will be found at p. 76, and of
that of the Perpendicular at p. 185.