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 could upon 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.

VINCENNES

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 the deep, 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.

SENS

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 page 77) 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 Christian world 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 decided uplift 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 charming throng 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.

TROYES

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 artists should 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 of the 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 page 82, 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 appearance than 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 glass is 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 fact that 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 the creation 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.

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 extending across 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, combined with 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 find indications 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.

CHALONS-SUR-MARNE

Before paying our second visit here to examine the sixteenth century windows, let us turn back to page 87 and 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 commonly credited 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 betray that 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.

MONTFORT L’AMAURY

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 vary markedly 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 be positively 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.

CONCHES

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 tone and 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 the Liberal 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.

PONT-AUDEMER

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 contribute to 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. We carry 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.

CAUDEBEC-EN-CAUX

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 the west 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 portal and 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 stop on 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.

ROUEN

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 two best 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 the west 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 page 144). 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, but inspection 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 the original 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 Gothic detail 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 page 144). 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 the north 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 page 144), 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 south rose 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.

GRAND-ANDELY

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 longest in 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 built against 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

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

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 the bridge 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.

MONTMORENCY GLASS

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 a mediÆval 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 bid him 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 the top 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 page 107).

MONTMORENCY

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.

Perhaps the chief interest here is the gallery of family portraits afforded by the donor’s figures upon the panes. Among the many admirably drawn faces of distinguished scions of the House of Montmorency, the best is that of the founder of this church, William, the father of our friend the great Constable, which is behind the altar, to the left. It is evidently the work of a great artist. The fourth on the right and the fourth on the left (and, therefore, opposite each other) are two windows containing one, Anne de Montmorency, and the other, his wife, Madeleine de Savoie, each attended by their children. These two were made about 1563, while those to the east of them range from 1523 to 1533. The Constable is supported by his five sons and his wife by her seven daughters. She is looking toward the altar, but he is looking across at her. Each of these domestic groups occupies nearly half of the entire embrasures, but it does so in such a frank manner as to entirely avoid the appearance of intrusion, so generally the result of portraits like these. As we walk around the church we are amazed that so fragile a medium as glass should have preserved through all the centuries these portraits in more perfect condition than many which were consigned to canvas or marble. In fact, one wonders why this was not more often done, and at the same time wishes it had been effected as frankly as in these two just described, and not by the intrusion of donors upon a window devoted to another subject. It is impossible to repress a smile upon noticing that the Crucifixion scene which bears the portrait of its donor, Guy de Laval, shows him kneeling in the central panel, while the crucifix is in a side one! Lest these comments may have seemed severely intended, let us point out a few of the many lovely features. For instance, the second window from the east in the north wall has in its central panel the Virgin holding the Infant Jesus, who reaches out His baby hand to receive a dove. The greensward below is picked out with bright flowers and peopled by small animals, quite as one sees them on the early tapestries. Nothing could be more charming. The tracery lights are excellently treated throughout, sometimes in a most unusual manner. Above the window just described, we find on a lilac field thirteen golden coins, each bearing a different head. This comment upon the higher panes leads us to speak of a most delicate group of four panels perched up above the north portal. Across them extends what appears to be a long cloister having a rich damasked curtain fastened shoulder-high from column to column, above which is afforded a distant prospect of gardens, etc., while in each of the panels there stands a female saint. But little height is needed for this picture, so the traceries above come down low, and are filled by a throng of blue eaglets on a golden ground, the heraldic insignia of the Montmorencys. Before the Battle of Bouvines the shield of this house bore but four eaglets, but on that day Mathieu de Montmorency captured twelve of the enemy’s standards with his own hand. In recognition of these deeds of prowess King Philip Augustus added twelve more eaglets to his arms, one for each captured standard, thus raising the total to sixteen. These arms we shall see often repeated in the windows at Montmorency, Ecouen and Chantilly. A visit to this little church is a delightful experience and fills us with eager expectation of what its founder’s son, the great Constable, can show us in his two castles of Ecouen and Chantilly. We are tempted to stray off into the charming forest which stretches away more than five miles to the northwest and to revel in the natural beauty of its chestnut trees, but the Constable awaits us, so off we must be to Ecouen.

ECOUEN

Ecouen is generally visited because of its fine chÂteau, built on the crest of a hill and entirely surrounded by a delightful wood except on the side where from a flowered terrace there is disclosed a far-reaching view out over a smiling country. But it is not the chÂteau which lures us hither, but the parish church down in the town that nestles at the foot of the castle walls. The chÂteau has lost its old glass, the two panels from its chapel showing the children of Anne de Montmorency being now in the chapel at Chantilly, which place also rejoices in the possession of the famous series of forty-four scenes from the adventures of Cupid and Psyche, which originally decorated the now destroyed Salle des Gardes at Ecouen. For us, therefore, the chÂteau has lost most of its charm; if you wish to inspect it you must obtain a carte d’entrÉe from the Chancellerie de la Legion d’Honneur in Paris, for it is now a school for daughters of members of that order, and is not open to the public. For those of us who have come here to see the parish church there will be no bother about permits, for none is needed. This church not only contains excellent Renaissance windows, but upon them we shall find a fine array of Montmorency portraits as well. The upper panels of the lofty lancets that flank the high altar are filled with scriptural scenes, but below they contain, that to the left, Anne de Montmorency with his five sons, and that to the right, his wife attended by five daughters. Although we have here the same family portraits as those seen in Montmorency Church, this pair is much older (1544-5), and not only shows the children as much younger than at Montmorency (1563), but also has but five daughters instead of the seven seen on the later glass. Nor are these the only similar pairs of these windows. The Constable was so proud of his children and of their number that he seemed to never tire of having them portrayed on glass. We have just referred to a third pair (dated 1544) made for the chapel of Ecouen chÂteau, but now at Chantilly, and there is still a fourth pair in the nearby church of Mesnil-Aubry which are the latest of all, for the Constable is there shown with a snow-white beard. At Ecouen we observe that the parents occupy each a separate panel from the children, but at Chantilly the parent panels are both missing. The remaining three windows on the south side of the choir bear as donors still other Montmorencys, but the work is later and not nearly so good. The high altar concealed the lower half of the central eastern windows, so they did the next most sensible thing to lowering the altar back—they transferred to a little northern chapel the panels it obscured. The whole northerly side of the choir opens out into a chapel whose northern and eastern ends are lighted by three large embrasures filled with excellent Renaissance glazing, depicting scenes from the life of the Virgin. Especially fine is the second from the east, showing in the lower half, the death of the Virgin, while above are clouds peopled with angels, all leading up to the Father in the top pane of the tracery. The traceries of the three easternmost choir embrasures are filled with blue eaglets on a golden ground, the insignia of the Montmorencys. This same treatment of the traceries may also be remarked in the chapel of the chÂteau; in fact, they are all that remains there of the original glazing. We have already admired this same form of decoration over the north portal at the Montmorency Church.

It seems a pity that the Ecouen glass now at Chantilly could not be restored to the embrasures for which it was made; it obviously does not belong where it is now found, and, besides, it loses there the historic significance which it would enjoy in its old home at the chÂteau of Ecouen.

CHANTILLY

At one time or another during our glass pilgrimages we have happened upon examples of other mediÆval arts and crafts which all combine to make France so absorbingly interesting. It has been reserved for our visit to Chantilly to show us one of the formal gardens of Old France in which nature has been made to yield to the whim and fancy of the landscape artist. Most travellers have seen the famous gardens of Versailles and have heard that they were designed and arranged by Le Notre, but those at Chantilly were designed by this same master before he was called by the King to do his greatest work at Versailles. There are many who prefer his earlier effort, and we must be grateful to our glass for having brought us to this delightful spot. The forest of Chantilly, which covers over six thousand acres, forms an excellent foil for the formal stateliness of the gardens. One is not allowed to visit the chÂteau except on Thursdays and Sundays and not then if it happens to be a day when there is racing at the Chantilly track. This regulation is to prevent race crowds from overrunning the chÂteau and grounds. The beautiful building with its priceless collections was the private property of the Duc d’Aumale and was by him presented to the Institut de France. In a long low gallery especially constructed for them, and which receives all its light through them, is a much travelled and widely discussed series of forty-four panels narrating episodes from the adventures of Cupid and Psyche. They are of the yellow stain and grey type which we have noticed at Troyes and Chalons, but here the workmanship is far superior. Note that the grey is in places almost brown, and that the yellow is used but sparingly. The high state of perfection to which the design and drawing are carried, combined with the fact that their subjects are non-religious, make them delightfully unique. It is easy to observe the strong influence of Italian art, not only in their general style but also in the very liberal borrowing of designs from well-known Italian paintings. Until recently they were attributed to that versatile master of many arts, Bernard Palissy, but that has been definitely disproved. They are now generally acknowledged to be the work of Cocxyen, a Flemish student of Van Orley (who made the windows of Ste. Gudule in Brussels), and the Italian influence is explained by the fact that he studied in Rome. These panels are dated 1542-4 and were originally made for the windows of the Salle des Gardes at the ChÂteau of Ecouen upon the order of Constable Anne de Montmorency. The Revolution dislodged them and they found their way into a museum arranged by Lenoir. This collection was dispersed in 1818. It is narrated that the Prince de CondÉ, when visiting the museum, admired this set of glass. Hearing someone remark that they had formerly adorned a castle belonging to his family (meaning Ecouen), he had them bundled up and packed off to his chÂteau at Chantilly, where they have since remained. This picturesque tale serves to show that stained glass panels were not then regarded as necessarily stationary. We have seen several other instances of this lack of respect for their stout iron bars. They were beautiful and valuable, and therefore, when the occasion arose, they were removed! Excellent as is the work upon these panels and graceful as are the figures, we cannot but notice that our art is taking rapid strides towards its decadence. They are no longer windows where the full value of colour and leading are appreciated and used. In this set they are careful colourless paintings on glass in which the artistic value of the leads is so disregarded that they no longer provide or even assist the drawing—they only mar it as they run across the panes wherever their supporting strength is necessary. We have arrived at a time when the windows are becoming painted pictures done in the manner of paintings on canvas. The artist no longer remembers that stained glass is a separate art and that he has certain advantages in technique over the oil painter, just as the latter has over him.

The small ante-chapel has on each side a tall window. In the middle of each is set a large panel of sixteenth century glass, the one on the right showing five Montmorency daughters kneeling in a row, attended by Ste. Agathe, and the one on the left their five brothers, also kneeling, and similarly attended by St. John. The remainder of the embrasure is, in each case, filled with modern glass done in the Renaissance manner and intended to harmonise with the older panel in its midst. The artist devoted more care to the faces of the boys than to those of their sisters, for although the latter are monotonously alike in drawing and posture, the former differ markedly. The face of the smallest boy is most diverting. His hands are clasped in prayer, but unlike his more devout brothers and sisters, his eyes are not turned toward the altar, but he is gazing out into the chapel with childish curiosity. In these two panels the leads are not so cumbrously intrusive, but there is a lesson which every glass artist should learn from an inspection of the carefully painted windows at Ecouen, Montmorency and Chantilly. He cannot fail to notice how the misuse of the leads has been accentuated by the careful painting, and he should carry away with him a firm conviction that the more delicate the design the less it can afford to quarrel with the leading.

BEAUVAIS

The average tourist looks forwards with keen interest to his first visit to Beauvais. He has, of course, heard of the ancient glories of its tapestry, which industry is still kept up by the French Government. He has also read that the perfect French cathedral would be composed of the choir of Beauvais, the nave of Amiens, the west front of Rheims and the towers of Chartres: so of the choir of Beauvais he expects great things. Nor will he be disappointed, especially if he first views it from the Amiens road. This approach reveals the town to him in the most picturesque way imaginable. On reaching the brow of a short hill he becomes suddenly aware of Beauvais, lying below him in the valley beside a lazy river. One could more properly say that he first saw not the town, but the amazing uplift of the cathedral, and next the town about it. The great height of this edifice is accentuated by the fact that only the choir and the transepts are now standing. Long ago the nave succumbed to the great strain which its unnatural height put upon the materials of which it was constructed, and collapsed. The architect’s vaulting ambition o’erleapt itself. In fact it is only by means of constant shoring and repairing that this choir, the loftiest in France, is preserved in a safe and solid condition. When the pilgrim descends into the town he comes upon many interesting timber-framed houses, some of them with second stories projecting over the arcaded footway below and exhibiting quaintly attractive carvings on their heavy beams. We find an intelligent attempt to preserve the best traditions of the older Beauvais tapestry in the modern factory. Just as formerly, it bears floral designs and very rarely personages, being of the sort called “basse lice,” and woven on a horizontal frame, thereby differing from the “haute lice” of the Gobelins factory, where the frames are perpendicular. Not only in the Cathedral, but also in the church of St. Etienne, do we find excellent glass of the sixteenth century. The latter’s fine Gothic choir, adorned with graceful flying buttresses, provides a strong contrast to its sturdier Romanesque nave. The glass is only to be found around the choir, and is well deserving of its high repute. One should notice the tone of the blues, especially in the background of the church’s finest window, a Tree of Jesse, the first on the left from the Lady Chapel. It is the work of Engrand le Prince, and is one of the best known examples of the irrelevant use of portraits of high dignitaries. Their half-length figures appear as blossoms on the vine. Among the fourteen, almost all contemporary likenesses, the most recognisable are Francis I and Henry II. At the back of the choir clerestory there is a fine window, blue with golden rays of the sun spreading out over it. The legend of St. Hubert is very agreeably set out just to the east of the small south portal, the green used therein being seldom surpassed.

It is difficult to express in words the effect of extreme loftiness which strikes one as he enters the south door of the Cathedral. It seems almost impossible to shake off this impression; in fact, one is constantly being surprised that he does not grow accustomed to the great sweep of the upward lines. In the two great rose windows which decorate the transept ends, and in the double row of lancets below each, there is excellent glass of this period. The northern rose shows the golden rays of the sun spreading out over a blue background, reminding us of its prototype at St. Etienne. Below, the ten figures of women are attributed to Le Pot. The southern rose contains the history of the Creation with such interesting detail as to well repay the trouble to decipher it caused by its great height above us. Below are two handsome rows of lancets dated 1551, the upper containing prophets, and the lower, saints. The western wall, rising abruptly at the point where the nave should commence, has in its north and south corners two chapels. Each of these chapels has large sixteenth century windows, the northerly one in the west wall, the Descent from the Cross, being very fine; in fact, it is by some considered the best in the cathedral. The choir also has fine Renaissance glass, although in several of the choir chapels (especially in the Lady Chapel) and around the clerestory at the east end, there are some very interesting thirteenth century windows, one, in particular, a Tree of Jesse, rendered attractive by the halo of flying birds about the head of the Saviour. So tall are the clerestory embrasures that generally only the middle portion of them contains personages, the upper and lower parts being filled with grisaille. Most of these upper embrasures were glazed in the fourteenth century, and show to a marked degree the revulsion from the sombre mosaic, and the demand for greater illumination. All this glass would be much more effective if nearer the eye of the observer, the great height at which it is placed not only spoiling the perspective, but resulting in a jumble of colours. The City Hall contains the flag which the gallant townswoman, Jeanne Hachette, captured with her own hands upon the occasion of the attack on the city made by Charles the Bold and his army. Although this gallant deed was performed in 1472, it has never been forgotten by the people of Beauvais, and its anniversary is reverently commemorated upon the 29th of every June.

BOURG

In addition to the glass seen during these three trips, there are three isolated churches whose windows are so interesting as well as important that one should not be contented to conclude his sixteenth century studies without visiting them. Not only is each one of them distant from other contemporary glass, but it would seem as though the Imp of the Perverse had taken a hand in placing them as far away from each other as possible. Bourg is down south in Savoy; Auch is near Toulouse in the southwest; and Champigny-sur-Veude is off in the western part of Touraine, near the lower reaches of the river Loire. Each of these three not only was completely glazed during this epoch, but has also retained its glass in good condition. In each case the special interest which causes our visit is quite peculiar and very different from that which attracts us to the others. When we concluded our trips of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries we were confronted with the advisability of a separate journey to Quimper, and in like manner we should now decide to visit Bourg, Auch and Champigny-sur-Veude. It must be confessed that it is inconvenient, but it will prove well worth while.

First in importance is the church of Brou at Bourg. Although Savoy now forms part of France, we shall, upon this excursion, find proof that it was not always French, and shall furthermore encounter much interesting history wrapped up in the tale of the building and glazing of the church of Brou. Up in the north, at St. Quentin, we found the high-water mark (on French soil) of that splendid empire which the Spaniard, Charles V, agglomerated under his banner and which he resigned to his son, Philip II, the victor of the Battle of St. Quentin. So vast and important was his empire that he lacked only France to have all the continent of Europe beneath his sway. It was the aunt of this Emperor Charles V, Marguerite d’Autriche, who built the exquisite church of Brou in memory of her husband, Philibert le Beau, Duke of Savoy, killed in a hunting accident. After this glance at history, it is not difficult to understand why Marguerite sent to Flanders for her architect and for her glass designers, for as Flanders was part of her nephew’s empire, none was more fully advised than she of the high reputation then enjoyed by the artists of the Low Countries. Apropos of the way in which her husband Philibert died, it is related that when his father had been at the point of death from a similar hunting accident, Philibert’s mother, Marguerite de Bourbon, had vowed to erect a chapel to St. Hubert, patron saint of huntsmen, if he recovered. Her failure to comply with this vow was by many firmly believed to be the reason why her son Philibert was killed upon the hunting field, and that his untimely end was a solemn warning that a vow to St. Hubert must be strictly kept. In any event, St. Hubert must have been fully satisfied with the manner in which the oath was finally carried out, for the chapel so built has remained to amaze and delight many generations. The wonderful marble tombs, the graceful rood screen, the splendid glass, all go to prove that there was here lavished everything that wealth, power and intelligence could command.

It is bewildering to decide with which of the eighteen windows we shall begin our inspection. Because of our interest in the foundress and her husband, let us commence with that in the choir, which is at the left of the most easterly window. Upon this one and its neighbour to the left we shall see spread out much concerning the life, family and habits of Philibert. The first window shows the Duke himself attended by his patron saint, St. Philibert, while in the background there looms up his favourite ducal palace of Pont d’Ain, where he lived and died. As indicating the importance of his duchy there are arranged above him thirteen shields displaying the arms of provinces at one time part of Savoy. The next window to the left bears a splendid array of thirty-five shields whose heraldry serves to complete our information about Duke Philibert by showing the individuals composing his family tree. Those on the right are of the paternal line of Savoy, and on the left we follow his mother’s line (the House of Bourbon) as far up as Louis IX, whose arms appear at the very top of the embrasure. It is most fitting that the arms of our old friend, the royal patron of stained glass, should preside over the most brilliant window in this famously glazed sanctuary. It is to be noticed that this church is very rich in heraldic blazons; in fact, upon five of its windows we find seventy-one shields. The Chapelle des Sept Joies contains a gorgeous work, the Crowning of the Virgin, in which every effort of the glassmaker’s skill seems to have been exerted. Above the principal subject runs a panel-like frieze showing in allegory the Triumph of Christ. This frieze is done in grey and yellow stain. The whole window would leave nothing to be desired in either technique or colour if it were not made the victim of an exaggerated outbreak of the curse of donors’ figures. The foundress and her husband are not only allowed to intrude upon the drawing of the general subject, but each of them is actually larger than the figure of the Virgin. The records show that this church (begun in 1511) had all its glass installed at the time of its completion in 1536, thus showing that the windows were made during the most vigorous part of the century, a fact thoroughly borne out by internal evidence. We may consider ourselves fortunate that the use of this glorious building for a store-house during the Revolution damaged the glass so little. In this connection it is surprising to read that its beauty was so much appreciated that the people voted to preserve it as a public monument, thus staying the hand of the ever-ready vandalism which then raged through so many French churches.

A sketch of Bourg would not be complete without a reference to the noble poem of Matthew Arnold. The following lines are particularly appropriate to the moving cause for our visit to this lovely shrine:

So sleep, forever sleep, O marble Pair!
Or, if ye wake, let it be then, when fair
On the carved western front a flood of light
Streams from the setting sun, and colours bright
Prophets, transfigured Saints, and Martyrs brave,
In the vast western window of the nave;
And on the pavement round the tomb there glints
A chequer-work of glowing sapphire-tints,
And amethyst, and ruby—then unclose
Your eyelids on the stone where ye repose,
And looking down on the warm rosy tints,
Which chequer, at your feet, the illumined flints,
Say: “What is this? We are in bliss—forgiven—
Behold the pavement of the courts of Heaven!”