Far off in the western corner of France dwells that strange race, the Bretons. Leave behind you Paris, the standard-bearer of things modern, and set out for distant Quimper, the westernmost outpost of French glass. You will find yourself in the midst of a curious folk whose origin is unknown, in a bleak country where over a million people speak an uncouth Celtic tongue utterly unlike French; where customs, handed down from father to son, persist for centuries; where modern costume is ignored and the peasant glories in his bright blue and gold jacket adorned with glittering buttons. You have even passed beyond the fabled forest of Broceliande, where Vivien held the great Merlin by her magic spell.
Quimper must be visited for its own sake because there are no neighbouring glass towns. Long as is the journey, it is safe to say that you will be repaid for its discomforts. Arrive, if you can, on a Sunday. The roomy interior of the cathedral is quite as attractive as the elaborate Gothic detail outside has promised. Here during service, perhaps more than anywhere else in France, will the middle ages seemto you still to be lingering on. No stiff rows of pews obtrude their modern convenience upon your notice. You will find the great church filled with group upon group of Breton men and women sitting on rude rush-bottomed chairs, the men in their gay attire and the women wearing quaint white caps which vary slightly in each little village or commune. All this serves to take us back into feudal times; we sink into a seat and observe the intense interest with which our neighbours are following the ringing exhortations of the priest, couched in homely phrases, quite like the discourse which his predecessors in the fifteenth century preached from the same pulpit to a very similar audience. Our mood becomes so mediæval as to almost make the ancient stained glass seem contemporary. It is a pleasant thought that the series of canopy windows made for the choir clerestory in 1417 by Jamin Sohier should have been continued and carried along the clerestory of the nave and transepts by his son, also named Jamin Sohier, towards the end of the same century. One of these later ones near the west front bears the date 1496. Some of those in the nave were sadly injured by the stress of time, and a few altogether destroyed; but they have been repaired and replaced most successfully, pious care having been taken to restore them as nearly as possible to their original condition. This was done during the years 1867 to 1874 by M. Luçon at the expense of the State. The nave windows of theyounger Sohier are much more brilliant, both in richness and in variety of colours, than the earlier choir windows of his father. The gradual development of the verre doublé (or double sheets of glass) placed a greater variety of tints at the disposal of the artist, and he eagerly took advantage of his enriched palette. By comparing the choir panels with the later ones of the nave, we have here an excellent opportunity to study the development of the canopy window. We cannot help but feel that although the earlier ones lack the brilliancy and glow which characterise those constructed later, this lack is more than balanced by the delicious softness of the light which they transmit. It is interesting to observe how many of them set forth the legend of St. Christopher. Do not fail to notice the skillful contrast of a strong yellow with a rich green of which the east windows of the north transept provide several excellent examples.
There is a striking peculiarity in the ground plan of this church. The choir is not upon the same axis as the nave, but inclines at quite an angle to the north. This peculiarity also exists in one or two other French churches, and the local authorities always delight to tell you that it is a form of Gothic symbolism intended to represent the drooping to one side of the Saviour’s head on the Cross. When the true explanation is discovered, it generally proves to be of a more practical nature. The same slant tothe north is observable in the choir of Saint Jean, at Troyes; there it was caused by the fact that the street line on the south side of the choir had to be pushed northward after the great fire of 1524. At Quimper the explanation is even more interesting. In 1239 Bishop Raynaud wished to add to his cathedral the chapel of Notre Dame (founded in 1028 by the Count of Cornoucilles) which stood a little to the east and was across a small street. He extended his choir so as to take in the chapel; but as it lay a little to the north of the true easterly line, he had to slant his choir to effect his purpose. This explanation may not be poetically symbolical, but it is historically accurate.
We have now reached the perfected period of stained glass, by some called the Renaissance, and by others the Cinque-cento. The latter affords a graceful recognition of Italian inspiration in the revival of French art at the beginning of the sixteenth century. By this time the reader will have appreciated the truth of the statement in our introduction that stained glass saves us the trouble of dividing it into periods, because it falls of itself into divisions whose boundaries, oddly enough, coincide approximately with those of the centuries. This was heretofore illustrated when the canopy window appeared upon the scene and caused the abrupt change from the sombre glittering tones of the thirteenth century to the light-admitting silvery-grey glass of the fourteenth. Now we are about to see how another change came at the end of the fifteenth century, when the Renaissance sprang full-grown, not Minerva-like from the brows of Jove, but from those of Mars, the God of War, for it was the Italian wars of Louis XII and Francis I that brought about this sudden regeneration of all branches of French art. Whatthe French soldiers saw in Italy they remembered and told at home, and, moreover, many of their trophies bore witness to the wonderful development then reached by Italian art. The fact that after several centuries French territory was at last relieved from distress of war naturally resulted in a sudden interest in building of all sorts. Because of this, architecture was among the first of the arts to be affected by the new Italian taste. We have before noticed the inter-relation of the needs and styles of the architect with those of the glass artist, and therefore we are not surprised to find our windows testifying that the latter quickly perceived Gothic architecture was being superseded by the classic style. During the last two centuries he had grown to appreciate more and more the light-admitting advantages of the canopy window, but now he changes the simulated architecture from Gothic to Renaissance. In his designs we notice an even more important change, which results from the fact that he now enjoys a good working knowledge of the laws of perspective and hastens to avail himself of it in order to lend greater depth to his picture. Indeed, in some instances, he carried the use of perspective almost to an abuse. His predecessors in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries knew nothing of these rules, which, indeed, were then unknown in every art. On our way down through the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, because most of the windows are eithercanopy, or grisaille surcharged with figures, we are by their very nature denied an opportunity to observe the same gradual development of perspective which was contemporaneously taking place in painting. The result is that when in the sixteenth century the glass artist decided to branch out from the conventional canopy style and indulge his taste in the more ambitious effort of the picture window, the sudden change from no perspective to an abundance is all the more noticeable. During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the only hint obtainable of an increasing interest in perspective was when we noticed that fifteenth century canopies were more elaborate than those of the fourteenth, not only because they had much more intricate pinnacles, but also by reason of the curtains hanging in the back of the niches, and other details showing attempts to gain depth in the picture. In his large picture windows the sixteenth century artist also has more chance to show us how greatly the discovery of enamelling on glass has enriched his palette. During the two preceding centuries his development of verre doublé (or glass in double layers) has been yielding a constantly increasing variety of hues in the costumes of his personages, backgrounds, etc.; but now he adds his brilliant enamels and fairly riots in colour.
We shall often have occasion to deplore that the glazier of the Renaissance never truly grasped thefull artistic possibilities of the black outlines ready to his hand in the leads, and that he failed to realise, as did his predecessors, that the more the drawing was executed by the leads the more attractive and convincing the resulting picture would be. Towards the end of this epoch this disregard for their usefulness in the design was often carried to such an extreme that one concludes the artist must have regarded them as of no service except to hold the glass in position. Some of the men who indulged most in enamel painting became so engrossed in this form of decorating glass as to consider the leads an intrusion, and as tending to reduce the size of the sheets, which they preferred should be of large size in order to facilitate the painting thereon of their pictures.
To recapitulate, the most noticeable features of the new régime are then—
(a) Renaissance architecture depicted instead of Gothic.(b) Larger scenes.(c) Use of perspective.(d) Greatly increased diversity of colour.(e) Use of enamel painting.(f) Increasing carelessness in use of leads.
(a) Renaissance architecture depicted instead of Gothic.(b) Larger scenes.(c) Use of perspective.(d) Greatly increased diversity of colour.(e) Use of enamel painting.(f) Increasing carelessness in use of leads.
“DESCENT OF THE HOLY GHOST,” MONTFORT L’AMAURY“DESCENT OF THE HOLY GHOST,” MONTFORT L’AMAURY (16th Century).
Architecture depicted now entirely Renaissance. Tracery lights above, much simplified, lend artist more room for his picture. Lead lines now mar the picture, instead of only providing the outlines. Drawing greatly perfected; note the excellent grouping, the “Golden Tongues,” etc. Kneeling donors are not only too large but intrude upon the subject. (See page237).
Architecture depicted now entirely Renaissance. Tracery lights above, much simplified, lend artist more room for his picture. Lead lines now mar the picture, instead of only providing the outlines. Drawing greatly perfected; note the excellent grouping, the “Golden Tongues,” etc. Kneeling donors are not only too large but intrude upon the subject. (See page237).
Not only does Renaissance architecture supersede the older Gothic on our windows, but it very naturally brings with it certain characteristics of the new architect. For example, because he generally placedthe date conspicuously upon his edifice, so in Renaissance glass we find the glazier introducing the date upon some panel of the simulated architecture. Before this time, windows were seldom dated; now this custom soon became firmly established and various methods for it were devised. In the parish church at Les Iffs, in Brittany, the west panel of the small chapel on the south side of the choir bears its date upon a gold coin held by one of the figures. The writer remembers this well, because, finding no date, it struck him that it might be on the coin. He piled three chairs, one on top of the other, climbed up, and there it was. Immediately after the discovery, the chairs fell down!
Notwithstanding the richness which the artist’s palette has attained, we occasionally meet an indication that he has not forgotten the cool silvery-grey formerly yielded by the canopy window. He now sought to obtain the same result in another fashion by occasionally restricting the colour of a picture window to various shades of grey (or very light brown), relieved by flesh tints where needed, and enlivened by touches of yellow stain. We sometimes find a church glazed throughout in this style, as, for example, St. Pantaléon at Troyes. It was, however, chiefly used in smaller edifices and for domestic or civil purposes. This particular manifestation of sixteenth century style outlived most of its contemporaries and is found as late as the endof the next century. By this last observation we are naturally led to comment upon the almost complete collapse of the cult of stained glass that came at the end of this century. People seemed to no longer care for it, although it had for more than four hundred years been so highly esteemed. We read of many instances of artists who had no orders for work and therefore had to turn their talents into other channels. That master of so many arts, Bernard Palissy, writing at the end of the century, tells us that so completely had the sale of glass fallen into disrepute that it was then hawked about from village to village by those who sold old clothes and old iron, and that although the art was a noble one, many of its practitioners found it difficult to get enough to live upon. For this passing of interest there have been many reasons advanced, but perhaps the most convincing is that of surfeit. Certain it is that an enormous quantity of stained glass was produced during the sixteenth century, much of which has survived. Of course, in some quarters the cult lasted longer than in others, but then it is generally traceable to the existence there of a peculiarly gifted group of glass artists. We shall find this true at Troyes, where the skill and fame of Linard Gonthier and his school produced such a demand for their work as to cause the art in that locality to survive far into the seventeenth century.
While it is true that during the sixteenth centuryglass reached its highest perfection, it is but natural that on the way up it should have outgrown many of the indications of craft tradition which we have from time to time noticed. The perfected picture no longer needed certain conventional signs to tell its story. Perspective and improved drawing obviated the need of them. There are, however, several instances which show that even the sixteenth century artist felt the charm of quaintness, though to a lesser degree than his predecessors. For example, a window in Caudebec Cathedral (the Passage of the Red Sea by the Israelites) takes pains to identify the sea by having the waves glazed in red! Though he had discarded most of the conventions, he retained and much beautified a few of them. For example, in Tree of Jesse windows, he far outstripped the older schools in grace and elaboration of treatment. As an indication of the interest felt in allegory by the later men we must invite attention to the so-called “Wine Press” window. Here we have the same branching vine found in the Tree of Jesse, but in this case it springs from the wounded Christ, who is being bruised in the press (or sometimes from His pressed-out blood), and spreads out over the panes, bearing as its blossoms saints, apostles or historical personages. In a few instances it rises from the wine pressed by Christ from the grapes. Windows of this type are to be seen at Conches, at Troyes and manyother places, but nowhere is the idea so elaborated as at St. Etienne-du-Mont in Paris. Sometimes the heads displayed on the vines indicate another tendency of this century, which can be particularly noted in the last cited window (by Pinaigrier) and in Engrand Le Prince’s Tree of Jesse at St. Etienne (Beauvais). In these two the heads prove to be accurate portraits of contemporary royalties and church dignitaries, a fashion then much affected and highly esteemed. Another evidence of this same tendency to add personal touches is shown in the greatly increased use of armorial bearings, not only serving as the sole decorations of a panel, but also appearing upon picture subjects. These coats of arms are not only agreeable in effect, but also by their heraldry are very useful in fixing dates. Many of these armorial bearings were, however, destroyed after the edict of 1792, forbidding their use. Most sixteenth century windows bear the donor’s figure, nor shall we find excessive modesty shown by the man who paid the price. In this connection it is interesting to note that although stained glass has always been very expensive, strangely enough the expense has remained practically constant throughout all its history, providing, of course, one takes into consideration the varying purchasing power of money. In fact, the cost thus corrected varies so little from epoch to epoch as to be positively surprising. When we consider how costly was a giftof this sort, perhaps it is not extraordinary that, during the sixteenth century, we generally find upon it the givers’ portraits; the wonder is that the custom was not more widely spread before. Unfortunately, the donor was now more aggressive than his predecessors, for often the figure is not only too large, but actually intrudes upon the subject of the window. Frequently not content to appear alone, he had the portraits of several of his family added as well.
Before we make our selection of towns to be visited, let us look about us in Paris, for it has not a little glass to show us.
Before starting on our thirteenth century tours, Paris supplied us with very useful results from our comparison of the glass in the Ste. Chapelle with that of the north rose at Notre Dame. Not so satisfactory was our study of the fifteenth century canopy windows at St. Sévérin in that city. We shall, however, find excellent sixteenth century glass in several of the Paris churches, and will thus be afforded an opportunity to prepare for our excursions by obtaining in advance some idea of the style of that period, and shall also find some examples by its best artists. Let us begin at St. Germain l’Auxerrois, whose charmingly light tower and graceful exterior seem to give the lie to the sinister fact that from this very belfry rang out the signal for the massacre of St. Bartholomew. The west wall of the north transept provides a reason for here beginning our study of sixteenth century glass, because there, side by side, are two very similar windows, harmonising agreeably one with the other, and yet the architecture of the canopies of one is fifteenth century Gothic, and of the other, Renaissance. This veryconveniently illustrates for us one of the marked changes which came over our glass. If the canopies were not enough to date them, other details are not lacking to perform that service. The earlier window has all the features of the distant landscape put in with the leads, while in the later one they are delicately painted on greyish blue; especially note this in the well scene. The other windows in this transept are also attractive and the warmth of some of the reds in the bed draperies of the earlier one of the pair just mentioned should be noticed. The adjusting of the figures to their panes in the transept rose windows is adroitly handled, particularly some of the kneeling angels in the south one. In the west wall of the south transept, the problem of placing a central figure when the architect provided only four, instead of five lancets, is gracefully overcome.
At St. Gervais we have one of the few opportunities to compare two of the greatest artists produced by the new school—Robert Pinaigrier and Jean Cousin—but that is about all that can be said for this ugly church, where architecture, white windows and modern glass combine to drive away the student. The best window is by Pinaigrier, the Judgment of Solomon (second on the right in the choir chapels); it is dated 1531, and although considered by many his masterpiece, seems to us to have too much marble pavement, etc., for its personages; and further, the little scenes in the tracery lights contrast disagreeablynot only with the picture below, but also with its minarets and their sky background which jut up into the space above. We must, however, note how the accurate perspective contributed by the lines of the pavement and the distant architecture facilitates the correct stationing of the figures without confusing them as to position or foreshortening. His, also, are the twelve panels in the Lady Chapel, giving scenes from the life of the Virgin Mary: here the composition is delightful. We may remark in passing that at least one of them displays verses which by reason of their quaint expressions are less suited to our times than to the more unrestrained speech of those earlier days. Jean Cousin’s window, the Martyrdom of St. Lawrence (1551), is the first on the right in the choir, and though good in technique, is not attractive. We should reserve judgment upon his work until after we have visited Vincennes. Across the river and at the top of the hill crowned by the Panthéon is to be found an edifice that looks more like an architectural freak than a church—St. Etienne-du-Mont. It seems to realise its own ugliness and tries to conceal itself behind the Panthéon. Once we enter its portal we find a vast improvement over the distressing exterior of this confection of stone. There are plenty of spacious windows and a general airy effect. Swung high in the air across the front of the choir is a graceful stone jubé arch, seemingly fastened to the columns at each end bydouble loops of delicate spiral stairways. The choir is so lightly constructed, and with so few obstructing columns, that the whole of the ambulatory space becomes a part of it. This arrangement enables us to enjoy the glazing of the ambulatory and the choir chapels from all parts of the building. A little door marked “Sacristie” leads off from the ambulatory through a corridor to the Chapel of the Catechism. Along the west wall of this chapel are ranged a series of twelve panels by Pinaigrier, and because they are on the level of the observer’s eye, he is afforded every facility for examining what could be accomplished by a great artist in enamelling colour on glass. In fact, there is no place in France where this can be more conveniently studied. Although all twelve are fine, that devoted to the allegory of the wine press is easily the best. Oddly enough, it was the gift of a rich wine merchant. In it are to be found faithful portraits of Pope Paul II, Emperor Charles V, Francis I, and Henry VIII of England, as well as sundry cardinals and archbishops, all in rich ceremonial costume. Needless to say, those individuals have nothing to do with the subject of the window, but the opportunity to display portraits of them was too good for the artist to waste. This frequently appears on glass of the period and sometimes the result verges on the ludicrous.
After visiting these stately temples, the quietchurch of St. Merri appears even more modest and retiring than its obscure site just off the busy quarter about the Hotel De Ville really renders it. In fact, so well is it hidden that we would have missed it had we not been seeking very carefully. The windows here are more interesting than beautiful and their effectiveness has been impaired in several ways. We read that during the eighteenth century those in charge of the church, after careful deliberation, replaced a great deal of the coloured by white glass, especially in the nave, where they removed the two central lancets of each group of four, leaving only the upper half of the two outer ones. Of course, the result was not only disastrous to the window’s general effect, but entirely extinguishes any warmth of tone in such glass as remains. We cannot but deplore the absence of the abstracted panes, for the remains in the side lancets and tracery lights evidence such skill, as well in combination of tones as in drawing (more particularly in the handling of perspective), that one can readily imagine what harm has been done. Even the few scenes that are left are well worth inspection, and are as interesting as any of this epoch in Paris. Notice in the third window on the right, the way in which the landscape is carried back until it ends in a little red-topped tower, from which peer out two heads. Fortunately, these deliberate and painstaking vandals spared the glass in the three westerly windows on each side ofthe choir, and also in the eastern walls of the transepts. The panels on the left, showing the history of Joseph, are better than their neighbours across the choir.
Of the sixteenth century glass to be seen in Paris, this much can be said: it varies markedly, illustrates most of the types of that time, and is therefore very useful in preparing us for the tours we are about to take.
We shall have to approach the subject of viewing sixteenth century glass in a very different spirit from that in which we undertook the tours of the preceding centuries. We can no longer set up any claim to thoroughness. If our pilgrim visited all the places recommended in our thirteenth century excursions, as well as those for the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, he can rest with the comfortable assurance that he has seen about all of the really good glass of those periods. Now we have a different problem. There has survived a great deal more glass from the sixteenth century than from all the preceding ones combined. He cannot hope to see it all, and we will have to limit ourselves to sketching out for him three tours covering the best—supplementing these by several detached cities, so that if the glass hunter happens in their neighbourhood he will not overlook them. He will find, however, some compensations for the bewilderment caused by the great quantity of sixteenth century glass, the chief of which is that either Rouen or Troyes provides in its many churches a complete exposition of that period’s style. If the pilgrim’s time is limited, he can accomplish more during a short stay in those two cities than he couldupon any tour which might be outlined. Two other compensations provided by this abundance of material are—first, that there is a great deal of good glass to be seen in Paris, and furthermore, the automobilist especially will delight to learn that there are a half-dozen points in its immediate neighbourhood which offer an excellent excuse for a half-day’s outing. For the leisurely traveller who has both time and inclination, we will arrange three tours; but he must understand that although they will provide him with a sight of the best sixteenth century glass, there will still be left a number of towns worth visiting.
Each of these trips will begin in Paris. On Tour (a) we first stop at Vincennes, just outside the fortifications, then on to Sens, to Troyes, to Chalons-sur-Marne and back to Paris. Tour (b) takes us by way of Versailles to Montfort l’Amaury; then to that perfect shrine of Renaissance glass, Conches; next to Pont-Audemer; then across the Seine by boat to Caudebec, and from there upstream, by the interesting old Abbey of St. Wandrille and the stately Jumièges to Rouen. From Rouen we run out to Grand-Andely, Elbeuf or Pont de l’Arche before we push up the river Seine to Paris. Tour (c) will particularly recommend itself to the automobilist, and most of the points are quite near Paris. We go out through St. Denis to the town of Montmorency, then through the wood of Montmorency to Ecouen,and next a little further on to Chantilly. From there our route lies across to Beauvais, and back to Paris. As stated before, several of the towns comprised in these three tours are so close to Paris as to enable a glass lover with a half-day on his hands to pleasantly employ it in a short excursion by train or automobile. Of course, if he travels by train he can hardly hope in half a day to see more than one of these. If, however, he is an automobilist and therefore untrammelled by time-tables, he can combine several. For example, a glance at the map will reveal that Ecouen, Montmorency and Chantilly are so close together that an automobilist can fit them into one day. A word of warning is not out of place for one about to visit these nearby towns. He must be careful to ascertain from his Baedeker or from the public prints, upon which days they are open to the public. Montfort l’Amaury and Ecouen can be seen any day; Vincennes and Chantilly, Thursdays and Sundays, etc., but these statistics had better be verified in the manner suggested because the regulations are changed from time to time. There are three very important glass shrines which are, however, so located as to make it impossible to combine them into a tour. These are the Cathedral of Auch (down in the southwest near Toulouse), the chapel of the château of Champigny-sur-Veude in Touraine, and the famous church of Brou at Bourg in Savoy. The pilgrim should make every effort to see them.
16TH CENTURY TOURS.16thCENTURY TOURS.
(a) Vincennes, Sens, Troyes, Chalons.(b) Montfort l’Amaury, Conches, Pont-Audemer, Caudebec, Rouen, (Grand-Andely, Elbeuf, Pont de l’Arche).(c) Montmorency, Ecouen, Chantilly (St. Quentin), Beauvais.Also separate visits to Bourg, Auch and Champigny-sur-Veude.(For table of distances, see page295.)
(a) Vincennes, Sens, Troyes, Chalons.(b) Montfort l’Amaury, Conches, Pont-Audemer, Caudebec, Rouen, (Grand-Andely, Elbeuf, Pont de l’Arche).(c) Montmorency, Ecouen, Chantilly (St. Quentin), Beauvais.Also separate visits to Bourg, Auch and Champigny-sur-Veude.
(For table of distances, see page295.)
Vincennes lies so close to Paris that it can be reached by an electric car which starts from the Louvre. Its sternly forbidding fortress of the most approved feudal type, and the delightful park, have been the scene of many an interesting episode in French history. In the old forest which was the predecessor of the modern park, good Louis IX was wont to seat himself beneath an oak and measure out to all comers that even-handed justice which supplied one of the reasons for his canonisation. Often, on our travels, we have noted how enthusiastically he espoused the cause of stained glass, and, therefore, we of the Brotherhood of Glass Lovers should feel a sympathetic glow of interest whenever we happen upon any scene hallowed by his personality. As for the castle, perhaps the best proof of its great strength is its sinister record of having served during many reigns as a dungeon for prisoners of State. Many are the great names on its roster of prisoners, nor shall we wonder it was chosen for that purpose after climbing to the top of its donjon tower and remarking the vast thickness of its walls surrounded by thedeep, yawning moat that isolates it from the smiling countryside. It is with a feeling of relief that we turn from the contemplation of such a subject to the delight which awaits us in the graceful Gothic chapel with its fine vaultings, set off by the superb set of windows from the hand of that great master, Jean Cousin. Poor windows, they have suffered many vicissitudes since their completion in 1558; it was not enough that they should be subjected to the ordinary hazards of time—they were actually taken out of their settings and moved away! After an interval they turned up in 1816 in the collection of Lenoir. Later they were restored to their original embrasures, but some of the heads and limbs having been lost, a bungling repairer replaced them by fragments from other panels. Fortunately for us, the last restoration in 1878 has corrected this and they are now in condition to show us what their artist intended to set forth. Notwithstanding the glaring light from the uncoloured windows to the west, these stained glass pictures are so delightful in tone and drawing as to give us a very high opinion of Jean Cousin. It was but natural that he should, in accordance with the custom of his time, seize this opportunity to recommend himself to royal favour, and, therefore, we must not criticise him for putting Henry II attired as a Knight of St. Michael in one of the eastern windows. We may, however, very properly object to the presence of the royal mistress,Diane de Poitiers, among the Holy Martyrs! Henry II must have lacked a keen sense of humour, or the artist might have run some risks in so placing the fair Diane. The subjects of these windows are taken from the stories of the Apocalypse and allow the artist wide scope for his fancy, of which he avails himself to the fullest extent. He also indulges in several daring combinations of colour, as for example, in depicting the flames in the panel to the right of the central one, where he used lilac, yellow, brown and red, and each colour in several shades. Just below, in his shipwreck picture, he again represents the flames in the same bold way. Then, too, there is a distinctly bluish tone to his enframing stone canopies; all this sounds very raw and harsh, but the general effect is nevertheless excellent. This was the official chapel of the Order of the Saint Esprit, so we are not surprised to find upon some of the windows knights of that order in full regalia. Vincennes is perhaps the best place to study Jean Cousin; certainly far better than his birthplace, Sens, which we next visit. There the cathedral contains but two examples of his skill, but they are veritable masterpieces.
Even the most enthusiastic admirer of Sens could not bring himself to describe that city, or the surrounding country, as picturesque. The latter is monotonously flat, relieved only by occasional chalk ridges. The town straggles away from the river Yonne with little to remind us of its former glories except the cathedral and its immediate neighbourhood. As we cross the bridge near the railway station we will remark a very incongruous service which practical science has exacted from a relic of the past. Rising from the parapet at the highest point of the bridge is a crucifix up the back of which runs a wire ending over the head of Christ in an incandescent electric light! When we passed through Sens on our earlier trip (see page77) we took occasion to relate the fateful coincidence which took place in the twelfth century when representatives from all parts of Christian Europe came there to visit the exiled Pope just in time to see William of Sens completing, in the cathedral, the first great step in Gothic. This coincidence not only caused the rapid spread of the new style of architecture to every part of the Christianworld represented by these visiting delegates, but also explains why Thomas à Becket, then sojourning in Sens, selected this architect to rebuild Canterbury Cathedral in far-off England. Now we come to a sixteenth century tale which serves to show that the people of the Middle Ages were likewise keenly interested in art and that an artist’s fame travelled perhaps even more widely, all things considered, than it does to-day. The beautifully light and graceful transepts at Sens were built by Martin Cambiche, who was also the architect of Beauvais Cathedral and likewise drew the plans for the west front of St. Pierre at Troyes.
First let us look at the cathedral’s exterior. When viewing the west front we are struck by the appearance of unusually great breadth, due partly to the construction of the cathedral itself and partly to the placing of the Officialité (a thirteenth century building) which has its greatest length extending to the south level with the cathedral’s west front. Note the device of the Officialité’s architect to increase the seeming length of his front by gradually diminishing the distances between his buttresses. Within this fine hall St. Louis (Louis IX) was betrothed. This ponderous appearance of breadth resulting from the juxtaposition of these two buildings might have produced too massive an effect if it were not for the almost coquettish fashion in which the tower rises up at the cathedral’s southwest corner, giving a decideduplift and point to the entire façade. Although the cathedral has far fewer windows than we shall see at Troyes (because its triforium is not pierced), the lighting here is almost garish, owing to the fact that the clerestory embrasures are glazed only in grisaille. In the charming transepts, however, we obtain what is perhaps the ideal lighting sought for by the glass artist of the sixteenth century. The windows are very numerous and of such general excellence as to render these the best glazed transepts in France. They have not only unusually ample window space in their sides, but have also large low-reaching panels below the big rose windows which, as usual, decorate the upper portion of the end walls. So generous was this architect in the number and size of wall apertures as to prove how greatly he esteemed the assistance of the glazier. The records show that those in charge of the building made most intelligent use of the opportunity provided by the unusual amount of window space. They sent far and wide for the best artists. We read that in 1500 they summoned from Troyes three master glass painters, Lyenin-Varin, Jean Verrat and Balthazar Godon, and turned a large part of the work over to them. These men finished their task in three years, and the result amply justifies their selection. The rose windows are especially pleasing, that to the south showing the Last Judgment with many repetitions of the Angel Gabriel, and that to the north a most charmingthrong of angels playing upon various musical instruments, the interweaving of the glass tones being as harmonious as befits this heavenly choir. The best known window in this part of the church is a very brilliant Tree of Jesse with a red background bearing on one of its branches the celebrated Grey Jackass (a familiar figure in the old “Fête des Fous”): it is at the north end of the east wall of the south transept. Of the beauty of these transepts, as well as of the way in which their architecture and glass prove mutually helpful, too much cannot be said. The most famous windows in the church are two by Jean Cousin, who, although born in this city in 1501, is only represented in his home cathedral by these examples. His glorious St. Eutropius is in the third chapel on the right of the nave, but even finer still is the Tiburtine Sibyl in the Notre Dame de Lorette chapel on the right side of the choir ambulatory. It is only fair to this second window to say that it was somewhat damaged during the siege of 1814. After inspecting these two products of his genius, it is easy to understand why Jean Cousin enjoyed so wide a fame. We have already referred to the splendid relics of the twelfth century which are found on the other side of the choir ambulatory. The result of this very convenient opportunity to compare the best work of the twelfth and the sixteenth centuries is that we are sure to be startled by the difference not only in results, but also in methods.
SOUTH TRANSEPT, SENSSOUTH TRANSEPT, SENS (16th Century).
The Rose is now greatly elaborated, its lines more flowing, and its position in the wall beautified by the graceful adjustment of the lancets below.
The Rose is now greatly elaborated, its lines more flowing, and its position in the wall beautified by the graceful adjustment of the lancets below.
To-day the flat country of the ancient province of Champagne, broken only by occasional ridges of the chalk which underlie the surface to the great advantage of its famous grapes, affords but little of interest to the traveller by automobile, and has only its level going to recommend it to the bicyclist. There is not enough traffic on its roads to enliven the monotony of the journey. How different must it have been when these same highways teemed with interesting groups from every rank of society, all crowding to the famous fair of Troyes, which during the Middle Ages was the bourne of so many traders, knights and other seekers of adventure from all parts of Christendom. In those days no one would have had leisure to notice the monotony of the scenery, so engrossed would he have been in those passing crowds made up of every nationality of Europe, all repairing to this great mart of trade. During those halcyon days of commercial distinction there must have been laid broad foundations of cosmopolitan tastes, and a reflection upon those times makes it easier to understand why so many artistsshould later have been born citizens of that stout burgh. This also explains why so large a number of Flemish and Italian artists resorted hither, leaving marked traces of their influence. This prosperity was temporarily checked by the edict of Louis X forbidding the Flemish to trade at its fairs, and the absence of these lowlanders was soon followed by that of the Italians. From this cause, combined with others, the fairs lost their importance, and the Hundred Years War coming soon after, put the finishing touches to the city’s decadence. The damaging and dreary years of the English occupation were, however, enlivened by the episode of the marriage of Henry V of England to Catherine of France, attended by all the pomp and pageantry that would naturally be attracted thither by so notable an event. Troyes did not, however, recover her old commercial prestige until just before the beginning of the sixteenth century. Then she took such a bound forward as, through the new wealth of her citizens, to make possible that encouragement of art which developed the unrivalled school of glass painters soon to make her famous far and near. In fact, so widely was their fame spread and so firmly were they established, that their school persisted far into the seventeenth century, the vigour of their art long outliving that of most of the other French glass centres. There is no place in France in which one can better see examples of the various ramifications ofthe sixteenth century style in glass. We have here not only the cathedral, but church after church full of the work of the best masters. We shall see not only the picture window in lively colour, but also that in the subdued style of grey and yellow stain, to which we have alluded before. Furthermore, in the Library there is a series of historical panels which is not excelled anywhere, the secular topics of the scenes giving an excellent opportunity to show costumes and manners of the times. Nor must one confine oneself within the exact limits of the sixteenth century, because we have noted that here the style of that century extended practically unchanged far into the next. We shall begin when the style begins and we shall follow it as long as its healthy life continues. Of the numerous churches in Troyes, those which chiefly interest the glass student are the Cathedral, St. Urbain, St. Jean, St. Nizier, La Madeleine, St. Pantaléon, St. Nicolas, and St. Martin-ès-Vignes. Besides these churches, there is also the Library to be visited for its series of windows devoted to civic subjects. For a description of that Gothic eggshell, St. Urbain, turn back to page82, where will also be found an account of the splendid thirteenth century glass that makes the choir of the Cathedral so glorious.
Let us begin our stroll about the town by a visit to St. Jean. It would be difficult for a church to more completely preserve its mediæval appearancethan this one. Besides, the way in which it is tucked in between two crooked, narrow old streets conforms to the most approved rules of stage setting. Its quaint, irregular exterior makes it appear a picturesque medley of three or four churches of varying size, while its ancient belfry perched on one side like a feather in a cap lends the ensemble an almost jaunty air. The altar before which Louis II was crowned and Henry V of England married, has been removed to the east and placed in the more modern Lady Chapel. We get an interesting hint of the great value attached to stained glass when we learn that the original of a window on the right side of the nave clerestory (showing the coronation of Louis II) was demanded as part of the ransom of Francis I when he was captured at the Battle of Pavia. This original window is said to be somewhere in Spain. The axis of the choir slants quite noticeably from that of the nave, and the priests say that this slant is intended to symbolise the inclination of the head of Christ on the Cross after His death. We notice the same difference in axis, as well as the same tradition, at Quimper, but we there learned that the true explanation was not so poetic. Here also we are obliged to reject the quaint legend of the priests; the municipal improvements after the great fire which ravaged the city in 1524, necessitated the rectification of the street line, and the north side of the choir had to be slanted to conform thereto. The glassis in many ways of interest, but has been a good deal mutilated. That in the nave has suffered most, but fortunately much of its beauty remains. Notice the admirable Judgment of Solomon on the south side. In the choir and in its chapels we shall get a real taste of the Troyes glass school, some of the windows being excellent, especially that of the brothers Gonthier, showing the Marriage Feast at Cana, the Manna in the Desert, etc. In many of the churches in this city we shall observe paintings hung upon the walls, and two of those which decorate this sanctuary will serve to remind us that Pierre Mignard, the great painter of Louis XIV, was born here.
Another ancient church, and one much richer in glass, is St. Nizier. Its original glazing had remained practically intact until in August, 1901, when a most unusual calamity overcame some of it. An anarchist exploded a bomb in a chapel on the north of the choir. We have observed what our poor friend has had to endure in many places, but to be shattered by an anarchistic explosion seems a most incongruous fate. It is, however, a pleasant surprise to find how little damage was done by this act of vandalism. The finest window is undoubtedly that which adorns the south transept and shows Religion overcoming Heresy. The central one in the choir (the Virgin Mary and the Apostles receiving the Holy Ghost) is by the celebrated Macadré of Troyes, but the writer finds its effect injured by the factthat the artist (probably to indicate that the side panels are to be considered in conjunction with the central one) allows the hands of certain figures at the side to extend over upon the central panel. This century surely went far enough in its disregard for the delimiting duties of the leads, but when we find an artist so careless of the properties of his materials as to put a hand over on the other side of a stone mullion, it would seem that the limit had been exceeded.
The most ancient of all the Troyes churches is La Madeleine. It contains a marvellous jubé arch swung in air between the two western columns of the choir. Although of stone, the workmanship is so delicate and lace-like that we are not surprised that the epitaph of its builder buried below used to read that he calmly awaited the Judgment Day with no fear of the stone arch falling upon him. The glass around the choir is excellent, but we must go to the Lady Chapel to see the best. On the right is a Tree of Jesse, remarkable for the number of figures it contains. The east window is the gift of the Jewellers’ Guild, which fact is carefully set forth thereon. To the left is a fine example of glass-making, but in addition to that, because of the treatment of its subject, it is as interesting as one will often find. Beginning at the lower left-hand corner and reading to the right, are a series of scenes depicting the creation of the world, Garden of Eden, etc. The imagination of the artist set forth thecreation of the world in a manner surprisingly close to the latest theories of modern science. He starts with a round glowing ball of matter which, by means of rotation upon its axis, develops in the succeeding pictures, first, a more symmetrical shape, and then the appearance of land, formation of continents, etc., etc. On the left of each of these scenes stands the figure of Jehovah, in a costume resembling that of a high priest. There is hardly a window in France that tells as much or is more interesting in the telling than this one.