English Villages

by P. H. Ditchfield

STAINED GLASS, TILES, AND MURAL PAINTINGS

Destruction of old windows—Wilfrid’s glass-window makers—Glass, stained and painted—Changes in style—Work of foreign artists—Inlaid tiles—Ironwork on doors and screens—Norman hinges—Mediaeval plumbing work—Mural decoration, frescoes, and wall-painting—Cause of their destruction—St. Christopher—Consecration crosses—Norman art—Favourite subjects—Yew trees in churchyards—Lich-gates—The churchyard—Curious epitaphs.

No branch of archaeology is more interesting than the study of our stained-glass windows, which illustrate so clearly the faith, history, and customs of our ancestors. We have again to thank the fanatics of the Reformation and Cromwellian periods for the shameful destruction of so many beautiful windows. How great has been the loss to art and history caused by their reckless demolition! And in addition to this miserable violence our windows have suffered greatly from the ignorant indifference of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which allowed priceless examples of old glass to be removed and replaced by the hideous specimens of the modern glass-painters.

In Saxon times this art found a home in England, the artifices lapidearum et vitrearum fenestrarum having been invited to this country by Wilfrid, Bishop of York, in 709. The earliest specimen of ancient glass now in existence is in the choir-aisles of Canterbury Cathedral, where it was probably fixed when the cathedral was rebuilt after the fire in 1174.

Coloured glass is of two kinds: (1) Stained glass, made by mixing metallic oxides with the glass when in a state of fusion, the colours thus going through the whole mass; (2) Painted glass, in which colouring is laid upon the white or tinted glass, and fixed by the action of fire. As the style of architecture changed, so the art of the glass-painter changed with it. In the Early English period the colours were very rich, and the designs consisted of medallions containing subjects taken from Holy Scripture, or the lives of the saints, upon grounds of ruby and blue. Mosaic patterns form the groundwork of the medallions, and a border of scrolls and foliage incloses the whole design. The outlines of the figures are formed by the lead. In the Decorated period the medallions disappear, and in their place we find single figures of large size under canopies. Instead of the mosaic backgrounds diaper-work in whole colours is used. Lights and shades are introduced in the dresses and canopies, and foliage is painted on the panes. The artists of this period first introduced heraldic devices into the windows. A border of white glass intervenes between the window and the medallion.

When the Perpendicular style was in vogue the art of the glass-painter degenerated, as did that of the architect. Stained glass was little used, and the artists painted with enamel colours their designs upon the glass. The figures were larger than before, and the canopies of great size and with much architectural detail, landscapes and buildings appearing in the background. During this period inscriptions began to be used. In the sixteenth century the progress of the art was in the same direction. Large figures, and groups of figures, fill the whole window, and the existence of mullions is disregarded in the execution of the design. Glass-painting flourished until the Civil War period, and then died out.

English churches benefited much by the work of foreign artists. The great Florentine Francesco di Lievi da Gambassi visited this country. There is a letter dated 1434, written “to the master glass-painter Gambassi, then in Scotland, and who made works in glass of various kinds, and was held to be the best glass-painter in the world.” How much must we regret the destruction of the windows made by this excellent artist in Holyrood chapel and elsewhere by fanatical mobs! The Fairford windows are perhaps the finest and most interesting in England. The story runs that they were made in Germany for a church in Rome, and that the vessel conveying them was captured by an English ship; and as the noble church at Fairford was then being built, the glass was sent there and given to it. Shiplake Church, Oxfordshire, has some of the beautiful glass which once adorned the ruined church of St. Bertin at St. Omer, plundered during the French Revolution.

Some good work was accomplished in the seventeenth century by English artists, who practised enamel painting, notably by Jervais, who in 1717 executed from designs by Sir Joshua Reynolds the beautiful west window of New College Chapel, Oxford.

The floors of our churches were enriched with inlaid tiles. Various patterns and designs were impressed upon them when the clay was moist, a metallic glaze covered the surface, and then the tiles were placed in the furnace. Many designs are found on ancient tiles, such as heraldic devices, monograms, sacred symbols with texts, architectural designs, figures, and patterns. The age of the tiles may be determined by comparing the designs imprinted upon them with the architectural decorations belonging to particular periods. In the sixteenth century many Flemish tiles were brought to England, and superseded those of English manufacture.

In the Middle Ages no branch of art was neglected. Even the smith, who made the ironwork for the doors, locks, and screens, was an artist, and took pains to adapt his art to the style of architecture prevailing in his time. Norman doors are remarkable for their beautifully ornamented hinges. They have curling scrollwork, and a large branch in the form of the letter C issuing from the straight bar near the head. Early English doors have much elaborate scrollwork, with foliage and animals’ heads. During the Decorated period the hinges are simpler, on account of the carved panelling on the doors, and they continue to become plainer in the subsequent period. The knockers on the doors often assume very grotesque forms, as at Durham Cathedral. The mediaeval plumber was also an artist, and introduced shields of arms, fleur-de-lis, and other devices, for the enrichment of spires, and pipes for carrying off water from the roof.

No part of the ancient decoration of our churches has suffered more than the paintings and frescoes which formerly adorned their walls. In the whole of the country there are very few of the ancient edifices which retain any traces of the numerous quaint designs and figures painted on the inner surfaces of their walls during the Middle Ages. Our ancestors used to make free use of colour for the purpose of architectural decoration, and employed several means in order to produce the effect. They sometimes used fresco, by means of which they produced pictures upon the walls covered with plaster while the plaster was wet. Sometimes they employed wall-painting, i.e. they covered the walls when the plaster was dry with some pictorial representation. The distinction between fresco and wall-painting is frequently forgotten. Most of the early specimens of this art are monochromes, but subsequently the painters used polychrome, which signifies surface colouring in which various colours are employed. The vaulted ceilings, the timber roof, the screens and canopies, the monuments with their effigies, as well as the surface of the walls, were often coloured with diaper-work. Colour and gilding were marked features in all mediaeval buildings, and even richly carved fonts and sculptural monuments were embellished with this method of decoration. The appearance of our churches in those times must have been very different from what it is now. Then a blaze of colour met the eye on entering the sacred building, the events of sacred history were brought to mind by the representations upon the walls, and many an unlearned rustic acquired some knowledge of biblical history from the contemplation of the rude figures with which his village church was adorned.

“Even the very walls of this dread place,
And the tall windows, with their breathing lights,
Speak to the adoring heart.”

The practice of painting the walls of our churches dates as far back as Saxon times; but very few fragments of pre-Norman art remain. Of Norman work we have numerous examples, and sometimes it is found that the early specimens of the art have been painted over in later Gothic times, and ruder and larger figures have eclipsed the more careful work of previous ages. An example of this was discovered in the church of St. Lawrence, Reading, where no less than five distinct series of paintings were discovered, painted one over another.

Several circumstances have combined to obliterate these specimens of the art of former days. It was not the intention of the Reformers themselves to destroy them. They distinguished carefully between “an embossed and gilt image, and a process of a story painted with the gestures and action of many persons; and commonly the sum of the story written withal hath another use in it than one dumb idol or image standing by itself.” It was left to the Puritans, impelled by fanaticism and ignorance, to make “a slanderous desolation of the places of prayer,” and it is to them we owe much of the destruction of the old mural paintings. At the end of the eighteenth century there was a prejudice against these works of art; for in 1773 we find the Bishop of London refusing to allow Reynolds, West, and Barry to clothe the naked walls of St. Paul’s Cathedral with pictures painted by themselves. Coated over by layers of plaster, or whitewashed until all traces were obliterated, these relics of ancient art have remained for generations, and it is only when an old church is being restored, and the coats of plaster and whitewash removed, that their presence is revealed; and then too often the colours fade away on exposure to the air.

One of the favourite subjects of mural decoration was a figure of St. Christopher with the Infant Saviour on his shoulder.[[8]] He usually has a staff, and strange-looking fish swim about his feet as he crosses the river; on one side there is a hermitage, with the figure of a hermit holding a lantern to guide the saint, and on the other a windmill. This figure usually was painted on the wall opposite the principal entrance, as it was deemed lucky to see St. Christopher on first entering a church. Moreover the sight of the saint was a preservative against violent death during the day, and also a preventive against drowsiness during the service, as the following verses show:—

“Christophori sancti speciem quicunque tuetur Illo namque die nullo languore tenetur.”

Churchwardens’ accounts record the painting of these figures—

"1503-4. It. payd to mylys paynter for payntyng
of Seynt X'fer viii's iiii'd"
"1521. It. payd to John Payne for payntyng
of Sent Leonard left by the wyffs
onpaynted xx'd"

A curious order was issued by Edward III. for arresting painters to work in St. Stephen’s Chapel at Westminster, to which artists of every description were liable to surrender as often as the king required their services.

In Saxon times Consecration crosses were painted on the interior walls, twelve in number, on the spots where the bishop marked the cross with holy oil; and sometimes twelve crosses were carved or painted on the exterior walls. During Norman times the art made progress, and there are many specimens of mural decoration of this period, which correspond with the mouldings generally used then; but not many scenes and figures were depicted. Representations of bishops, Agnus Dei, scenes from the life of our Lord, the apostles, the Last Judgment, St. George, scenes from the life of St. Nicholas, St. John writing the Apocalypse, were favourite subjects. At Copford the painter evidently tried to make the chancel figuratively to represent the glories of heaven.

During the reign of Henry III. great progress was made, and travelling monks roamed the country leaving behind them in many a village church traces of their skill in artistic decoration. The murder of St. Thomas of Canterbury now became a favourite subject, also the lives of St. Catherine of Alexandria, St. Nicholas, St. Margaret, St. Edmund, the Seven Acts of Mercy, and the wheel of fortune. In the fourteenth century the Doom was the usual decoration of the space over the chancel arch, and scenes from the New Testament, legends of saints, “moralities,” etc., were depicted on the walls. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the artists paid little respect to the work of their predecessors, and frequently painted new designs over the earlier mural decorations. They also adorned very beautifully the roofs and screens. The arrival of the Flemings in the eastern counties is shown by the portraying of subjects and saints not usually worshipped in England. The figures of St. George become more numerous and also of St. Christopher, who were regarded with much superstitious reverence by all classes.

The vanity of human greatness is taught by the morality, “Les Trois Rois Morts et les Trois Rois Vifs,” representing three kings going gaily hunting meeting three skeletons, the remains of kings once as powerful as they. “The Dance of Death,” so popular abroad, also appears in some English churches. The wholesale destruction of so many specimens of mediaeval art cannot be too strongly condemned and deplored. If any of my readers should be fortunate enough to discover any traces of colouring hidden away beneath the coats of whitewash on the walls of their church, I would venture to advise them to very carefully remove the covering, and then to consult Mr. Keyser’s book on Mural Decorations, where they will find an account of the best methods for preserving these valuable specimens of early art.

In the churchyard stands the old weather-beaten yew tree, looking like a sentinel keeping watch over the graves of our forefathers. Some of these trees are remarkable for their age; the yews at Fountains Abbey, in Yorkshire, were probably in a flourishing condition so long ago as the year 1132, and some are older still. Why they were planted in churchyards it is difficult to ascertain. It has been conjectured that they were planted in so secure a spot in order that the men might provide themselves with bows, as all the bows used by the English, with which they did such execution against their enemies, were made of yew. Others contend that its green boughs were used instead of palms on Palm Sunday, or for funerals. But I think that they were regarded with veneration by our forefathers when they were still heathen, and that some religious symbolism—such as of immortality—attached to them; and that when the Christian teachers came they made use of this religious sentiment of the people, planted the Christian cross by the side of the yew, and under its shade preached lessons of true immortality, of which the heathen ideals were only corrupt legends and vain dreams.

At the entrance of the churchyard there is often a lich-gate, i.e. a corpse-gate, where the body may rest while the funeral procession is formed. Lych is the Saxon word for a dead body, from which Lich-field, “the field of dead bodies,” is derived. Bray, in Berkshire, famous for its time-serving vicar, is also famous for its lich-gate, which has two rooms over it.

“God’s acre” is full of holy associations, where sleep “the rude forefathers of the hamlet.” There stands the village cross where the preachers stood in Saxon times and converted the people to Christianity, and there the old sundial on a graceful stone pedestal. Sometimes amid the memorials of the dead stood the parish stocks. Here in olden days fairs were held, and often markets every Sunday and holiday, and minstrels and jugglers thronged; and stringent laws were passed to prevent “improper and prohibited sports within the churchyard, as, for example, wrestling, football, handball under penalty of twopence forfeit.” Here church ales were kept with much festivity, dancing, and merry-making; and here sometimes doles were distributed on the tombstones of parochial benefactors, and even bread and cheese scrambled for, according to the curious bequests of eccentric donors.

And then there are the quaint epitaphs on the gravestones, of which many have made collections. Here is one to the memory of the driver of a coach that ran from Aylesbury to London:—

“Parker, farewell! thy journey now is ended, Death has the whip-hand, and with dust is blended; Thy way-bill is examined, and I trust Thy last account may prove exact and just, When He who drives the chariot of the day, Where life is light, whose Word’s the living way, Where travellers, like yourself, of every age, And every clime, have taken their last stage, The God of mercy and the God of love, Show you the road to Paradise above.”

Here is another to the memory of a once famous Yorkshire actor, buried at Beverley:—

“In memory of Samuel Butler, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. Obt. June 15th, 1812, Aet. 62.”

Here is a strange one from Awliscombe, Devon:—

“Here lie the remains of James Pady, brickmaker, late of this parish, in hopes that his clay will be remoulded in a workmanlike manner, far superior to his former perishable materials.

“Keep death and judgment always in your eye, Or else the devil off with you will fly, And in his kiln with brimstone ever fry; If you neglect the narrow road to seek, Christ will reject you like a half-burnt brick.”

Those interested in the brave mortals who go down to the sea in ships will like to read the following verses which appear on the tomb of William Harrison, mariner, buried in Hessle Road Cemetery, Hull:—

“Long time I ploughed the ocean wide, A life of toil I spent; But now in harbour safe arrived From care and discontent. “My anchor’s cast, my sails are furled, And now I am at rest; Of all the ports throughout the world, Sailors, this is the best.”

The following original epitaph in a neighbouring churchyard compares very favourably with the flattering and fulsome inscriptions prevalent at the beginning of the nineteenth century, written in what has been called “lapidary style ”:—

“He was—— But words are wanting to say what; Say what is just and kind, And he was that.”

[8] At Sedgeford the Infant is portrayed with three heads, illustrating the doctrine of the Blessed Trinity.