“CREATION” WINDOW, LA MADELEINE, TROYES (16th Century).“CREATION” WINDOW, LA MADELEINE, TROYES (16th Century).
Read from left to right, beginning with lowest tier. Earth evolved from chaos, shown by glowing yellow ball revolving on its axis; birth of Eve, etc. Tracery Lights above are becoming simpler in form as elaborate Gothic gives way to Renaissance.
Read from left to right, beginning with lowest tier. Earth evolved from chaos, shown by glowing yellow ball revolving on its axis; birth of Eve, etc. Tracery Lights above are becoming simpler in form as elaborate Gothic gives way to Renaissance.
Now we come to a style that is better shown here than anywhere else—the picture window composed of grey and occasionally some flesh tints, with touches of yellow stain to relieve it. Two churches are entirely glazed in this manner—St. Pantaléon and St. Nicolas. The latter, it is true, has one or two of its upper windows in colour, but the general effect is that of a church glazed in grey and stain. Of course, these two interiors, because of this glazing, are very brilliantly lighted, and in the opinion of the writer, much too brilliantly. This method proved very felicitous when devoted to domestic purposes (as found towards the end of this century and during the early part of the next), but for a religious edifice, although interesting, it is doubtful if it is beautiful or suitable. There are some unusual architectural features to be found in both these churches. St. Nicolas has a very graceful stone gallery extendingacross the western end approached by a gradually bending staircase, the supports of which are of admirable design. St. Pantaléon can hardly be said to be attractive. The interior is too high and too glaringly lighted, but it affords the best opportunity to study this grey and stain style. Notice that freely as is the yellow stain used to enliven the monotony of the greys, it does not succeed in producing the charming silvery tone yielded by the canopy window of the two preceding centuries. Here and there one observes an attempt to modify the ultra-yellowish grey tone by introducing blues into the borders. The falseness of style everywhere noticeable reaches its climax in a gallery on the left near the entrance, containing two stone figures which appear to be looking down from it. Do not fail to visit St. Pantaléon in order to study its unusual glazing, but do so out of curiosity and not expecting beauty, or you will be disappointed. Its lack of charm will, however, prove useful if you go straight on from here to the Cathedral, for by contrast it will intensify your appreciation of the sympathetic assistance which the wealth of colour there lends to the splendid architectural effect of the interior. We have already taken our reader to inspect the thirteenth century glass around the choir, but now we will have him stop in the nave to see the work which the sixteenth century produced. One immediately notices the particularly clear fresh colouring of the glass, and this, combinedwith its great quantity (for the pierced triforium permits an additional row of windows besides the clerestory above and the aisles below), produces an impression which is so unique, and so distinctive, that it always lingers in the memory. The rather unpleasant contrast noticed at Bourges between the depth and the warmth of the thirteenth century and the lighter tones of the later glass is fortunately absent from Troyes. The reason for this is the unusually rich colour of the later windows. From so many excellent ones it is difficult to select a few to mention, but we particularly commend the fourth on the right (a Tree of Jesse) and the one in the fourth chapel on the left, Linard Gonthier’s famous Wine Press. The Tree of Jesse is not only a beautiful example of its type, but is rather out of the ordinary because it has a red instead of a blue background. Upon this window, as well as on most of the others, are to be seen the donors, their coats-of-arms, and other interesting sixteenth century features. Gonthier’s Wine Press is so well known as hardly to call for a word of description. Christ is stretched out in the press, His blood running into a chalice, while from His breast springs a vine spreading over the window, bearing as its blossoms the twelve Apostles. Although this window is dated 1625, it is in the best style of the sixteenth century and shows no tendency towards decadence in either drawing or colouring. Before leaving the interior,notice an odd architectural device in the north rose. This window is of the wheel type and has a supporting column running up through it as far as its middle, suggesting a gigantic pinwheel. There is a similar supporting column in the north rose at Tours, but there it runs straight up through the window to the top, and unfortunately is too heavily and solidly built.
Nearly all mediæval glass was adorned with religious subjects, and therefore we have an unusual treat when we visit the large hall of the Library and examine the thirty-two panels that fill its eight large windows. They are from the hand of Linard Gonthier, and the scenes are commemorative of the visit to Troyes of Henry IV in 1595. Very charming, indeed, are these pictures of the life and pageants of the time. There are many familiar little touches, such as a small boy being pushed off into the water by the crowd, etc. Some of the panels are also rich in armorial bearings.
We have purposely delayed until the last any reference to St. Martin-ès-Vignes because it was entirely glazed at the time when the Troyes sixteenth century school, although still worthy of its traditions, was about reaching its end. This glass is uniformly good and provides a most pleasing interior, obviously relying for its effect upon the glazing. The dating is that of the earlier years of the seventeenth century. If we examine the windows too closely we easily findindications of a decadence of style. For instance, the second on the left gives so much importance to the kneeling donors that, although we cannot deny the excellence of the work, we must strongly criticise the taste which made them so prominent a feature. Regarded as a whole, however, the result in this church is so excellent that it clearly proves what we have before stated, viz.: the virility and strength of the glassmaker’s art at Troyes outlasted that of most of the contemporary French schools.
Before paying our second visit here to examine the sixteenth century windows, let us turn back to page87and refresh our memory by glancing through the account of our thirteenth century trip to this city. We shall thus be reminded of the modestly retiring beauty of its small parks, as well as of its cathedral and two fine churches. Every style of sixteenth century glass is to be found in Chalons, but for all that it would hardly be selected as one of the best places in which to compare them. The small church of St. Alpin has in its nave a series of excellent windows of yellow stain and grey such as we noticed in St. Pantaléon and St. Nicolas at Troyes. In those two churches the relatively great window space exposes the weakness of this style by demonstrating that in large interiors it makes the light glaring. By contrast, in St. Alpin, where the nave ceiling is low and the window apertures small, this method of glazing, by admitting a great deal of light, produces a very happy effect. In this St. Alpin glass there are marked traces of Italian taste, more so than in that at Troyes, though the latter is commonlycredited with being the most noticeably affected by foreign influence. The first one on the right, showing St. Alpin before Attila, is delightful, every advantage having been taken of the softness of tone which is the chief merit of this particular treatment. Some of the others are also good, but the one just mentioned is the best. Around the choir are interesting coloured panels, but so broken up into small scenes as to be rendered ineffective. The handsome church of Notre Dame does not, in its windows, fulfill the promise of its architecture. A great deal of the glass is new, and much of the old is mutilated, but in the lower row on the left side of the nave there are several brilliant examples of what the sixteenth century Champagne school could accomplish in the picture window. Especially vigorous and striking is the first on the left, showing St. James encouraging the Spaniards to defeat the Moors. It is as good a battle picture in glass as one will find. In the fifth on the left (a Crucifixion scene) we note a trick often observed in this province, for the little golden stars are separately leaded into the blue sky. Passing on to the Cathedral, disappointment awaits us. On our former visit we found it so fruitful and interesting in thirteenth century glass that we had a right to expect more than is yielded by the inspection of the row of sixteenth century windows which extend along the lower right side of the nave. The canopies in the sixth one betraythat it is fifteenth century, but all the others are later. The first on the right is the most interesting of this series, although it is the poorest in execution. On eleven of its compartments are represented scenes from the Creation, Garden of Eden, etc., wherein certain quaint conceits are noticeable. Unfortunately its many nudes are very poorly drawn and the glass used is mediocre in quality. We can here clearly see that, although the artist of this period was saved a great deal of lead work by his large pieces of glass, their use required him to select sheets of evener tone and better quality than in the days when his pieces were much smaller.
An agreeable route from Paris to Conches, etc., is by way of Montfort l’Amaury, which lies beyond Versailles, just off the main road to Dreux, and 45 kilometres distant from Paris. If the pilgrim is travelling by train or if he wishes to go straight from Paris to Conches, he should then postpone until another occasion his visit to Montfort l’Amaury, and will thus keep in store for himself a very pleasant half-day automobile excursion. The object of the visit proves to be a small church which has preserved its sixteenth century glazing practically intact. Nothing could be more simple than its ground plan, for there are no transepts, no chapels, simply one long building rounded at the east end, whose shape suggests that of a man’s thumb. While we must not expect to find so splendid a glass series as at Conches, neither must we fail to appreciate that here is a church with thirty-three windows, all of the sixteenth century, and in excellent state of preservation. As we enter by the small south portal the effect that meets our eye is most agreeable. Closer inspection of the windows unfortunately reveals that they varymarkedly in quality and are evidently the work of different artists. It cannot be denied that many of them are commonplace, although none is really poor. Their dating helps to explain this mediocrity, for they were constructed towards the end of the sixteenth century, at a time when our art was hurrying into decadence. The few earlier ones, and especially that dated 1544, are the best. The latter is the eighth on the left and depicts Jesus being shown to the people. Another, the third on the left, tells the story of Joseph, and is an obvious example of the Italian influence so prevalent during that epoch. The scene in which he is escaping from Potiphar’s wife is almost an exact copy from Raphael. We must not fail to remark the third from the eastern end, in which the Holy Ghost is descending upon the assembled disciples in the form of a shower of golden tongues. The grouping of the figures, the play of the colours, and the richness lent by these touches of gold, all combine to make a brilliant picture. The second to the right of this contains the Falling of Manna in the Wilderness, but as the tones used here are much lower, and the manna is depicted as a rain of white spots, the window, as a whole, is much quieter than the one just described. In the church at Montfort l’Amaury an instructive light is thrown upon the obtrusive appearance of donors so frequently found during the sixteenth century. We know that the figures are often so large as to bepositively obnoxious, but it is here demonstrated beyond doubt that the artist worked very much more carefully upon these portraits than upon the rest of his window. There are few places where this can be more conveniently studied, and for this reason our visit has been a useful one, even though the glass be of a class a little below the best.
There are four modest shrines to which every glass lover should contrive to repair, no matter what may be the difficulties in the way nor how much time it may take. Of these four, one at Fairford (near Oxford) is in England, while the other three are in France, and are the Ste. Chapelle in Paris, the village church at Eymoutiers and Ste. Foy at Conches. In each we find the church completely glazed in one period and, furthermore, with the best glass then procurable. The scene that to-day meets our eye in each of these small sanctuaries is practically the same that rewarded the artist the day he completed his work. We have frequently had occasion on our tours to notice how much certain glass would have been improved if contrasting windows could but be removed from the edifice, or the edifice itself in some way changed. There will be no need for any such mental correction of the picture when we visit Conches. Here, after you have closed the door on the twentieth century life outside, you feel that you have turned back the finger of time and are living in the days of that eloquent beauty which speaks out to you from its windows. Perhaps nowhere else will you get the wonderful accord of tone with toneand hue with hue that makes the colour at Conches so radiantly lovely. We find ourselves in a very simple church about twice as long as broad, the only departure from its rectangular plan being a small five-sided chapel which projects from its eastern end. There is nothing to aid the glass in its service of making splendid the interior. In fact, one might add that there is nothing which dares insult it by an offer of so obviously unnecessary assistance. Practically all the windows are of the sixteenth century, and they are so fine that it seems unfair to call particular attention to the elaborate set designed by Aldegrevers, a pupil of Albrecht Dürer. These fill the seven tall windows of two lancets each, which light the eastern chapel and are dated 1520. Of the forty-two subjects upon these windows, those in the upper range show scenes from the life of Christ and those in the lower from that of Ste. Sophia. It is unfair to describe them; they should be seen. At this point we may comment that although it is occasionally possible to convey some idea of an individual panel by technical description, it is useless to attempt, by means of words, to give a reader a just conception of such an interior as the glass produces at Conches. Beside these by Aldegrevers there are eighteen others whose dates, running from 1540 to 1553, show them to be of slightly later construction. In the fourth on the right the allegorical subject contains an unusual detail. A group of figures represent theLiberal Arts, and among them, Music: upon her insignia appears a musical phrase expressed in proper notation. This representation of written music upon glass is extremely rare. We shall see another of the very infrequent instances when we visit Caudebec. Among the finest windows is the fifth on the right, which represents the allegory of the Wine Press. Here the subject is not treated in the usual gruesome fashion. It is not the blood of Christ which serves as the wine but, instead, the juice of grapes which He is crushing in the press. Throughout all these windows the distant landscapes are depicted in much more convincing colouring than is usually found at this time. This seems due to the fact that the light blue glass used for that purpose is left clear of all paint except that needed for delineation. Elsewhere these blue backgrounds often have so much paint upon them as to be rendered partly opaque and therefore incapable of simulating the depth necessary for great distances. In strength as well as in judicious combination of a surprisingly wide range of colours, their century can show few examples to rival these. Not only is their value enhanced by the simplicity of the interior which they decorate, and which, therefore, has nothing to distract our attention from their beauty, but this very beauty is made all the more impressive by the sharp contrast provided by the dullness of the little town outside and the plain exterior of the church which it so glorifies.
The church of St. Ouen at Pont-Audemer will always have for the writer that peculiar charm of almost proprietary right which the discoverer is sure to feel in something upon which he has happened unexpectedly. On his way through the town he saw the church, and having noticed from the outside that the windows contained stained glass, he stopped and went in, undeterred by the positively dishevelled look of the unfinished and dismantled west front. A delightful surprise awaited him. Around the walls of the nave, the space usually occupied by the triforium gallery here becomes a broad frieze so exquisitely carved in Gothic patterns as seemingly to drape the walls with lace. In fact, you hardly notice the unfinished condition of the upper part of the church, so engrossed are you in this very unusual feature, one of which any cathedral in France might be proud. And in the embrasures below, what a gallery of harmonious glass! Not only are the individual windows excellent, but they harmonise so well as to make one feel that each artist must have been at the greatest pains to make his work contributeto and not interfere with the general scheme. It is for the glass hunter a treasure trove to find a church which has preserved a complete glazing of one period, but to have the windows all good, and better still, in such charming accord with each other, makes the occasion of his visit to Pont-Audemer a red-letter day. The ground plan of the church is somewhat broken up, but even that seems but to add to the charm of the interior. The first window to the left in what might be called the choir ambulatory is not only the best but by far the most interesting. Without any definite division of its surface into panels, the whole picture seems to gracefully resolve itself into four contrasting scenes from the Old and the New Testament, entitled “Devant la Loy,” “Soubz la Loy,” “Devant la Grace,” “Soubz la Grace.” The effect of clouds in the sky is very elaborately worked out, while here and there between them peep forth the head and wings of little cherubs—it is really very engaging. Possibly the over-captious visitor may consider the combination of small heads and surrounding clouds somewhat reminiscent of the buttons holding down upholstery, but such a carping critic should be packed off about his ill-tempered business! In a window on the right side of the nave the donors are ranged along a little gallery in the lowest panel. This method has in its favour that it does not present them as intruders on the picture, so often the case in this century. Wecarry away with us a charming impression of the service rendered by the glass in toning the light for the graceful stone carvings on the nave walls. The effect is unique.
On the outskirts of the town there is a small church, St. Germain, whose east window is an agreeable example of fifteenth century canopy work.
Our way from Pont-Audemer lies for some little distance through the large Fôret de Brotonne, one of those tidy symmetrical woods produced by the excellent system of French forestry. Its excellence, however, is largely practical, for all the charm of the “forest primeval” is pruned away. On reaching the banks of the Seine we find ourselves in full view of the pretty town of Caudebec, its graceful cathedral spire beckoning us across the water. It is just at this point in the river that there occurs the Mascaret, the local name given to a swift-rushing wave produced by the conflict between the incoming tide and the outgoing current of the river; it takes place only at stated intervals and is then viewed by numerous tourists. Assuming that we have arrived at a time when the Mascaret is not interfering with navigation, we embark upon a flat, open ferry-boat and soon reach the bank on the other side and are off to the cathedral. Few French churches have their Gothic architecture lightened and beautified by more infinite detail of carving than this at Caudebec, while over all rises an airy spire encircled at three different heights by a stone crown—a form of decoration very unusual and quite lovely. Above thewest portal is a gallery that attracts our notice because its open-work stone railing is composed of Gothic letters. Once inside the church, we realise that the windows are well worth a visit, particularly to one seeking quaint details in glass, for there are many such here. We have already referred in our introduction to the first window on the right, the Israelites crossing the Red Sea. In order to render the scene as descriptive and realistic as possible, red glass is used to make the sea, thus removing any possible doubt in the observer’s mind as to the identity of that body of water. Almost opposite (the second on the left) is a Tree of Jesse, upon which the descendants appear at full length instead of as the usual busts. Much golden brown is used, not only in the intricate convolutions of the vine, but also in the costumes and in the stone terrace supporting the pavilion below which Jesse is seated. Above the small north portal is a pleasing canopy window of the fifteenth century whose unusual feature is that the bottom of it is curved to fit the arched top of the door. Because of this unusual base, the customary pedestals at the foot could not be used, but the irregularly shaped space is tastefully filled with decorations of yellow stain, surcharged with shields whose heraldry catches the eye of the American traveller, because they bear stars on a blue field, as well as red and white stripes. Fifteenth century canopies also fill the first window to the east of this portaland the three to the west, one being dated 1442, and all containing four lancets. A couple of windows across the church are also of this type, while the whole of the side-lights of the clerestory contain contemporary light-admitting panels, whose colour is restricted to a few round bosses bearing golden rays, and to the broad golden borders which here are carried up into and almost fill the tracery panes above. Another very unusual feature (and one which we have just noticed at Conches) is the presence of two pieces of music written out in the form called “full chant” and borne by angels.
If one can spare the time, Villequier, four kilometres down the Seine, should be visited. The small church there has seven excellent sixteenth century windows, one of which, that in the centre on the north side, is really famous. The lower half of its three lancets each contains a figure on a white background bearing an etched damasked pattern, bordered richly in gold. Across the entire upper half is spread out a spirited naval battle in which four ships are engaged. The armoured knights are depicted with great vigour, while excellent use is made of the artistic possibilities provided by three great pennants, two of red with white crosses, and one of yellow bearing a black eagle.
The route from Caudebec to Rouen is charming, thanks to the ever-changing views provided by the windings of the Seine. If we please, we may stopon the way to view the Abbey of St. Wandrille (recently purchased by Maeterlinck) and also the loftily impressive ruins of the Abbey of Jumièges. Jumièges, in the midst of its beautiful park, is most picturesquely situated within one of those very pronounced loops so common in the lower Seine, which seem to signify the unwillingness of its waters to depart from this delightful corner of France.
Upon approaching Rouen one is sure to be struck by the insolent daring of its situation. Lying on a sloping plain beside the river, it seems to disdain the well-nigh impregnable site afforded by the steep cliffs which rise just to the northeast. The history of the city bears out the audacity of its location. Through all the centuries its inhabitants concerned themselves so continuously in conquering other peoples that little time was left in which to consider the security of their own homes. The Norman boasted that his strongest defence was a vigorous offence, and he made good his boast. The town of William the Conqueror seems always to have been imbued by the spirit which gave him his name, and the triumphs of the Normans in England, and later in Italy, are but natural expressions of that virility of race which endures to the present day. Upon the arms of the city there appears a lamb with one of its forefeet lifted. Upon this is based the old Norman saying, “L’agneau de la ville a toujours la patte levée,” a homely comment upon the restless spirit of its citizens and their disposition to be always up and doing.Perhaps the most characteristic feature of Rouen when viewed from a distance is the great number of its spires that shoot up above the house-tops, earning for it the sobriquet of the City of Churches. This very attractive detail is all the more striking because so rarely seen in French towns, and is particularly reminiscent to one freshly arrived from England, a country whose church towers are such a charming feature of the landscape. Full of significant history is this Rouen—a history branded for all time by the cowardly fire that ended the tortures of Joan of Arc, that strangely potent and beautiful spirit. Fortunately, no trace remains of that dastardly deed. Turning to a less sinister page in the city’s history, we see on one side of the market-place, a small pagoda-like structure called the old tower of the Fiérté. Here, on Ascension Day in every year, was freed a prisoner selected by the people, and that this privilege was jealously retained by them is proved by the existence of a complete list of the prisoners so freed from 1210 to 1790. Nor do the records stop there: they also narrate many a fierce encounter resulting from the determination of the burghers to preserve this right. Most of the quaint features of the town have been modernised away—so thriving a commerce as here flourishes could not long tolerate the old narrow crooked streets. Where old features remain they are so obviously protected as to look almost theatrical. Of this the twobest examples are the clockbearing archway over the street which bears its name (Grosse Horloge), and the ancient carved wood housefront transported from its original site, affixed to another dwelling and dubbed the House of Diane de Poitiers.
Placed just at the point where ships coming in from the sea must transfer their freight to the smaller vessels that go up the Seine, Rouen is so intent upon her commerce, that all the principal hotels are strung along the quays on the riverfront, a very unusual arrangement in a French town. When we visited the church of St. Ouen to see its fifteenth century glass, we mentioned the esteem in which the Rouen glass-makers were held at that time both at home and abroad. From what we are now about to see we can judge for ourselves how much truer it must have been in the sixteenth century. The number of splendidly glazed churches which have been preserved for our inspection almost consoles us for the long list of others swept away by the ruthless vandalism of the Revolution, and, to a less extent, by the peaceful hand of time or the mailed fist of war. The principal ones we should visit (beside St. Ouen already described) are St. Maclou, St. Vincent, St. Patrice, St. Godard, St. Romain and the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Perhaps the least interesting sixteenth century glass is in that gem of Gothic architecture, St. Maclou, whose florid façade has its bizarre charm accentuated by the graceful bowing outwards of thewest front. The glass that attracts us most is in the transept rose windows, the lancets below them and in the very brilliant western rose. All these roses are dwarfed by the excessive size of the pendent lancets: it is all the more unfortunate, because considered separately the roses as well as the lancets are excellent. The earlier windows in the choir chapels have been described in our former visit (see page144). In the south transept a well-composed Crucifixion scene is carried across all the lancets. The north transept contains a Tree of Jesse on a blue background, and oddly enough, the tree has white branches. In leaving St. Maclou, notice the dainty spiral staircase that winds up at the south side of the door; it seems almost too delicate to be made of stone.
St. Vincent has its entire lower part lighted by large embrasures completely glazed with glass of this period, producing a singularly brilliant and luminous effect all about us. The columns which separate the ambulatory from the choir are so slender that they do not materially interfere with our view, and thus the whole interior is exposed at once, an enclosure of glorious colour. In fact, it is not too much to say of this church and, to a less extent, of the two which we shall next visit, that they are bowers of iridescent glowing light. There are two Trees of Jesse at St. Vincent, one over the north portal, and another at the east end of the south aisle, butinspection of the latter reveals that the genealogical tree rises not from Jesse but from St. Anne! In the true Jesse tree over the northern door the branches are white, a peculiarity just noticed at St. Maclou.
St. Patrice differs from St. Vincent in that, instead of seeming to stand in the midst of a circle of luminous colour, our attention is rather directed towards the splendid bow-window at the east with its Crucifixion scene, to which all the rest of the glass seems decorously subordinated. Although glazed a little later than St. Vincent, it yields the same splendidly luminous effect, the natural result of a series of panels all of this period. The chief boast of this church is the Triumph of the Law of Grace by Jean Cousin in the Lady Chapel. Nor is his the only great name that we shall find frequently upon the glass of Rouen. One window much admired for its felicitous combination of theoretically uncongenial colours is that which sets forth the legend of St. Hubert. Its greens, reds, yellows and blues must be seen before one can believe that it is possible to agreeably unite them.
Our next church is St. Godard, whose ancient glories have been so restored and replaced by modern trash that we find it hard to believe that, when it possessed its original glass, no church in all Normandy could vie with it. To-day it is far less attractive than St. Vincent and St. Patrice, the latter of which, by the way, now contains several of theoriginal windows of St. Godard. The second in the chapel named after St. Romain, depicting scenes from his life, is one of the few in the church which is not either restored or renewed. It is so good in every way that one is surprised the other windows do not seem more out of place by contrast. We sigh for the days when there was justified the phrase used by the Norman peasant in describing good wine, “As red as the windows of St. Godard.”
Near the railway station is St. Romain, which, though less ancient than those which we have just visited, is the fortunate possessor of glass brought from several of the churches swept away by the Revolution. Particularly notice the spirited scene of St. Romain slaying the Gargouille, the fabled dragon of early Rouen. On the left, in what seems to be a transept, is a pretty window at the bottom of which appear such a sensibly modest row of small kneeling donors that we could wish that all sixteenth century glaziers might have seen them, and had been thereby restrained from their customary exaggeration in this particular. Unfortunately, the ancient panels were not large enough to fill the embrasures here provided, so this extra space was filled by wide borders of light modern glass. The result is that these borders admit such a flood of light as to drown the beauties of the older panels.
Now we have arrived at the Cathedral. Before we enter, let us feast our eyes upon the delicate Gothicdetail which softens and decorates its sturdy west front. At the southwest corner rises the Tour du Beurre, built (as was the same named tower at Bourges) from the moneys received out of the sale of indulgences to eat butter during Lent. The modern iron spire is so well designed as to seem hardly out of place among its older sisters. We should enter by the north portal. Just outside it is an enclosure formerly devoted to exhibiting the wares of booksellers, which is shut off from the street by a light Gothic screen. Viewed through it the wonderful carvings on the north portal become doubly effective. The interior of the cathedral is as full of interest as the best style of Gothic can make it. On the right is a very attractive zigzag stairway which leads up to the library. In the Lady Chapel are two especially fine tombs, one of the Duc de Brézé, husband of the famous Diane de Poitiers, and the other of Louis XII’s great Minister, Cardinal d’Amboise. The fourteenth century glass of this chapel has already been described (see page144). The 130 windows which light the cathedral’s interior are mostly glazed in colour, but they are the product of various centuries and are of varying excellence. We find here but eight thirteenth century medallion windows, but they are delightful. Two of them are in the nave, the third and fourth on the left. The others are in the choir ambulatory and are so placed as to be singularly effective. If one stands in either thenorth or the south aisle of the nave and looks directly east, the only glass which meets his eye is that of windows brilliant with these early medallions, far off at the other end of the great cathedral. Just at this time the western rose window chiefly concerns us because it is of the sixteenth century. Its concentric circles of white angels, red seraphim, green palm branches, etc., provide a strong contrast between the reds and yellows (filling the centre third of it) and the dark greens and dark blues of the outer two-thirds. In the southeasterly corner of the south transept, the window on the east, as well as that on the south, are worthy of our attention. The latter is by Jean Cousin, and its six panels show six virtues, each entitled in Latin. Those of us who are subject to fits of depression should especially observe “Fortitudo,” for there the bishop has slain the Blue Devil, and is pursuing its lilac and its green brothers!
Although St. Ouen has already been visited for its magnificently complete fourteenth century glazing (see page144), the rose windows of its transepts are such noteworthy examples of the Renaissance that we must not omit a comment upon them at this point. That in the north transept has its diverging figures arranged like herrings in a barrel, but while those at the sides and around the lower part are light in tone, those in the upper part are red seraphim and blue cherubim: this is very unusual. The southrose is peopled by a multitude of small personages, each occupying a pane by itself. Careful examination reveals that we have here a Tree of Jesse. He is in the middle, but it is only with some difficulty that we distinguish the branches of the vine radiating from him.
Before leaving Rouen the traveller should see the interesting carvings on the House of Bourgetheroulde, depicting the Field of the Cloth of Gold, nor will he fail to admire the magnificent apartments which Norman love of equity constructed for it in the Palais de Justice.
Besides the towns already visited, there are three others near Rouen which contain interesting glass, Grand-Andely, Elbeuf and Pont de l’Arche, distant, respectively, 33, 20 and 18 kilometres from Rouen. They are worth a visit if one can spare the time, but we risk an anti-climax in recommending our traveller to see them after the glories of the Norman capital. The nearness of these towns and also of Pont-Audemer (48 kilometres), Caudebec (35 kilometres), and Conches (51 kilometres), suggests a way in which one can change the whole itinerary just outlined. This can be done by using Rouen as a centre from which to run out and back, and thus visit all this group of six without cutting oneself off from one’s base. To one at all encumbered with luggage, this suggestion will probably appeal.
Of the trio just mentioned, Grand-Andely is much the most interesting, in fact it deserves greater renown for its glass than it at present enjoys. Unfortunately only one side of the church retains its original glazing, but we find ample compensation for this, because the entire southern half is filled with brilliant sixteenth century subjects, not only along the chapels below, but also in the clerestory. After a delightful hour spent here one readily credits the tale that a youth of the neighbourhood, by constantly contemplating their glories, so developed his love of colour that he determined to devote his life to painting. This youth was Nicolas Poussin. The great width of the embrasures, as well as their number (six in the nave and four in the choir, on each side, both above and below), provide ample scope for the display of the glazier’s skill. Among so many of such excellence it is difficult to select which to praise the most, but the third on the right in the nave clerestory (dated 1560), because of Abraham’s gorgeous yellow robe, as well as the blue canopy with red draperies above the aged Isaac, will linger longestin the writer’s memory. Even when viewed on a dull, grey day, one cannot escape from the impression that a bright sun is shining outside, because of the brilliancy of this window’s hues. It is one of the few examples of this epoch to possess that peculiarity, which, by the way, is so common among the mosaic type of the thirteenth century. This tendency towards the ornate, everywhere apparent throughout this series, finds its ultimate expression in the sixth nave chapel on the right, where the stonework of the Renaissance canopies is heavily overlaid with golden designs. The choir’s four southerly clerestory windows each contains a large figure under a canopy of the time, the treatment varying in each case. Below, in the south wall of the choir, the tracery lights of the two easternmost windows are filled with diminutive angels, eleven praying or playing musical instruments in one of them, and in the other, nine, each carrying a symbol of the Passion. The way in which each angel is adjusted to the small pane it occupies is very graceful.
The apse end is square, in the English fashion. Its great east window contains good fourteenth century canopy work, in bands across a grisaille field. The subsequent addition of a Lady Chapel to the east has injured the effect of this glass, not only by an entrance being cut through it below, but also because the second tier of canopies is entirely shut off from the light by the wall of this later chapel builtagainst it outside. There is thus left only the third, or upper tier, for our inspection. If the northern side of this church were as fortunate as the southern in the possession of its original glazing, this would rank among the best French glass shrines, which is high praise.
Elbeuf has two churches worthy of our attention, St. Etienne and St. Jean, but the former is very much the better. In St. Jean the first four windows on the right, three of those opposite them, and the first on each side in the Lady Chapel are all of the sixteenth century. There is, however, so much restoration as to greatly diminish our interest, except in the Lady Chapel. There the one to the right displays scenes from the life of the Virgin, with a label below each. The lower right-hand panel, in which appear Joseph and Mary, carries realism to an extraordinary point, while its label prevents any misunderstanding of its meaning.
However unsatisfactory St. Jean may prove, we shall be consoled when we enter St. Etienne. There the whole effect leads up to and culminates in the splendid bay that, with its three lofty windows, each containing three lancets in double tiers, forms the eastern end of the choir. There are no transepts, the nave joining directly on to the choir. Although the nave glass is all modern, it does not affront the glories of its older neighbours in the choir, which is, unfortunately,so often the case elsewhere. One is tempted to confine one’s comments to the splendid easterly screen of colour, but that would be discriminating unjustly. The famous legend of St. Hubert, dated 1500 (the second from the east in the southerly choir aisle), has been too much restored, but this is the only one that can be thus reproached. In the east end of this aisle we find at the bottom of a window two panels with tapestry-makers at work, showing that it was the gift of that guild. Across, in the north aisle, the easternmost window in the north wall is a Tree of Jesse, dated 1523. Jesse is seated beneath a pavilion; from the tent pole sprouts a vine, out of whose blossoms arise the usual half-length figures. In the topmost pane of the traceries, the Virgin is seen emerging from a great lily.
Pont de l’Arche, approached from Rouen, is most picturesque. It lies snuggled down by the river, its bridge flung invitingly towards you across the Seine, while behind it the forest comes down the steep slope almost to the town. The church, perched high upon a corner of the old fortifications, seems to be keeping watch over the homes of its parishioners. Its elaborately carved exterior gives rise to expectations that are not realised, for within we find but little glass to arrest our attention, although what there is dates from the sixteenth century. At the eastern end of the north wall there is a Tree of Jesse, but it is clumsily imagined and coarsely drawn. The flowers upon the vine are too large, and from them protrude great half-length figures, so much out of balance with the rest of the design as to render the ensemble lumbering and ungraceful. The reason for our visit is provided by the second window east from the south portal. The upper part shows Christ walking on the sea. Below, reaching across the entire window, is a scene full of the liveliest local interest. A boat is being drawn under an arch of thebridge over the Seine, and pulling upon the two long tow-ropes are groups of the townspeople, fifteen of them and two teams of horses tugging at one rope, and eighteen and one team at the other. These groups are carefully painted in enamel. A second vessel is being similarly assisted under another arch of the bridge, the tow-rope in this instance being made fast to a rowboat. The details of the bridge, of the fortified island in the right foreground, and of the enamelled figures of the citizens, are all most engaging. In the matter of correct perspective, the artist relies heavily upon the indulgence of the spectator, but otherwise the panel is agreeable, full of quaint interest, and absolutely unique.
The tour which we now propose will prove particularly attractive to the automobilist or bicyclist, although we do not by that statement desire to discourage the traveller by train. He will find the same glass and the same towns, but he will miss the opportunity to enjoy, en route, the forests of Montmorency and Chantilly which during the summer are so alluring. During the first part of the journey we will see glass designed for moderate sized interiors and, therefore, adapted for close inspection. On these windows will be found many careful portraits of the donors, some of which in their perfection of treatment have never been surpassed. It would be unfortunate if this itinerary for any reason should be omitted, because without it our study of sixteenth century glass would not be comprehensively complete. We leave Paris by the road going north through St. Denis: our pilgrim will hardly, upon this occasion, stop to visit the Abbey Church, because nearly all of its glass is modern and glaringly poor. What there is of old glass is twelfth century and either fragmentary or much restored and repaired.The celebrated window showing the devout figure of its donor, Abbot Suger, excites our reverence, hardly our admiration. Its chief interest lies in the fact that there has come down to us the good abbot’s own account of this among other windows which he presented. The tombs of the French kings are, of course, most impressive, and provide one of the great sights of France to one interested however slightly in its history, but to-day we are in pursuit of stained glass, so the Abbey of St. Denis must wait until another occasion. The road straight on to the north leads to Ecouen, but that visit must be deferred a little, so just outside of St. Denis we turn sharply to the left and after eight kilometres arrive at Montmorency, delightfully perched upon a hill with orchards on every side. From the little platform just outside the west front we get a fine view of the forest of the same name which, fortunately for American eyes, has not been so pruned as to no longer resemble a forest. From Montmorency we take the right hand to Ecouen there to rejoin the straight road running north out of St. Denis. We follow this road to Chantilly, where the Montmorency glass ends, then turn northwest to Beauvais, and after enjoying its splendid cathedral, return to Paris. At this point let us remark that although automobiles and trains undoubtedly add to the comfort of the traveller, it would be better for us on this particular trip if we could substitute for them amediæval belief in magic. Then our first move would certainly be to seize a fairy wand and summon as our guide that glorious warrior, courtier and patron of the arts, the great constable, Anne de Montmorency. Nothing could be more incongruous than the selection for him of a woman’s name, even though borrowed from the Queen of Louis XII. The reason for summoning him is most obvious: it was he who built the castles of Ecouen and Chantilly, while the church at Montmorency, though founded by his father, William, was completed by the son. Who, then, could better tell us their stories or more delightfully revive by familiar anecdote the originals of their glass portraits? Even after our conjuring had secured for us his company, we might find ourselves in trouble, unless we were willing to discard our automobile or train for a stout horse. The arts by which we secured his presence in the flesh might seem to him quite natural, for magic was much more respected in his time than in these more practical days, but it is greatly to be feared that the puffing engine would overcome that stern courage, tested in many a stricken field, and that it would take the utmost vigilance on our part to prevent him from bolting back into the sixteenth century. After accompanying him to Montmorency and Ecouen, and after wandering together through the forest, park and château of Chantilly, we shall bidhim farewell, but we must not be surprised if he stoutly objects to our turning off towards Beauvais, demanding that, having recalled him from the spirit world, we hear his story out, and to that end push on to St. Quentin. The lusty old warrior would be quite right, for the chronicle of his career would be incomplete if it omitted the delaying and glorious defeat he there received while commanding the French forces, thereby providing time for Henry II to rally the remaining strength of France and save Paris from the victorious Philip II of Spain. The result of that battle proved highly satisfactory to both victor and vanquished, for while its delay saved Paris, on the other hand Philip’s victory so elated him that in memory thereof he erected the famous palace of the Escorial near Madrid. Though most of us will conclude to refuse the Constable’s request, some few of our company may desert us and follow him to St. Quentin. Once there, they must not fail to view the two splendid sixteenth century windows in the second northern transept of the church already visited on our thirteenth century tour. They are each two and a half metres wide by nine and a quarter high. One is dedicated to Ste. Barbe and is dated 1533, and the other, dated 1541, to Ste. Catherine, each displaying elaborately gruesome episodes depicting the martyrdom of the heroine. The latter one shows God the Father at thetop receiving the saint, who is borne upward by flying angels. In the lowest panel we remark Catherine’s headless body sitting bolt upright, while nearby on the floor lies her severed head intently regarding it (see page107).
Up a steep road that has more turns and branches than a grape-vine, and suddenly we come out on a little platform before the west front of the diminutive church of St. Martin. Off to the west and around on each side there unfolds a panorama of smiling valleys and green hillocks in most enticing succession.
As one enters the western portal, he first observes that the three westerly windows on each side are modern, and of these there can be no higher praise than that they harmonise admirably with their fourteen ancient neighbours to the east of them. These fourteen are chiefly interesting because of the delicacy of their composition, which is really delicious.