GENERAL MAP
EARLY ENGLISH
We shall find it more convenient to group all early glass under the heading of “Early English,” although it will be found not only in its own narrow, pointed-arched windows, but also before that, in the round-arched ones of the Norman style. So slow was the development of our craft during all the time covered by those two schools of architecture as to make it hardly proper or necessary that our subject be likewise divided into two epochs. During both of them there is found richly coloured glass of the “mosaic” type, and also uncoloured windows of the sort styled by the French “grisaille.” Obviously, uncoloured glass admits much more light than that made up of rich dark hues, and, therefore, it is but natural that the glazier who dwelt in a cloudy northern land should early have realised the need for sufficient light in his churches, a need which did not concern his fellow craftsmen in the sunny lands of the south. Indeed if he had not appreciated this practical side of his craft he would not have been the artist which his windows prove him to have been. The glaziers of sunny Italy were never confronted with this problem of sufficient illumination—if anything, they had too much, no matter how richly they painted the panes. Their fellows in France had less sunlight than they, but more than the English, and therefore occupied an intermediate ground in the matter of church illumination; the result was that the French neglected it so entirely during both the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and so darkened their interiors by heavily leaded mosaic glazing as to bring about, at the opening of the fourteenth century, a sudden revulsion in favour of better lighted interiors, which went so far as to produce the excessive light and glare observable at Sées, St. Ouen (Rouen) and Evreux. This sudden revulsion did not appear in England where, indeed, there were no grounds for it, because, as we have just seen, the glaziers had already thoroughly grasped the need for, as well as the value of, light-admitting grisaille. That they thoroughly mastered the technique of uncoloured glass we will readily conclude from the splendid monuments to their genius in the “Five Sisters” at York, and the grisaille in the south transept at Salisbury, ideal glazing for a land of infrequent sunshine. Turning from these untinted windows to those filled with colour, one notices at once that the early examples of the latter are made up of very small pieces of different hues bound together by winding strips of lead having little sunken channels on both sides to hold the glass in place. So small are these pieces that the windows seem to have been composed much in the same way that the diminutive cubes are assembled to make a mosaic. It is because of this striking similarity of method, that this early glazing, constructed of small fragments, is frequently referred to as “mosaic” glass. Another name which it often receives is also easily explainable. The stories on these early windows are told by groups of very small figures, and to prevent a chaotic multitude of these little persons spread over the glass, each episode or group is separated from the others by a frame of contrasting colour, thus breaking up the whole surface into medallions. For this reason, early mosaic glazing is sometimes spoken of as “medallion glass.” Unfortunately for England, it possesses but few remains of this delightful product, and therefore suffers sadly by comparison with the great wealth of it to be seen in France. We shall find enough, however, at Canterbury and Lincoln to kindle our enthusiasm for the splendid jewelled glow which the glazier of that time, and of no other, knew how to make his windows produce. It will not take long for the intelligent observer to notice that this glitter is due partly to the fact that the glass is free from paint (except that used to delineate features, folds of garments, &c.), and partly because its surface is not regular as is ours to-day. Furthermore, the pieces were small, and the constantly recurring leadlines (breaking up and combining the rays of light coming through the little panes) assisted materially to produce the brilliancy and shimmer which so delight the eye. There is no doubt that the glazier thoroughly realised this, and availed himself of this mingling of the coloured rays to suit the purposes of his picture. We frequently see a thirteenth century window that produces a purple effect, and yet a closer inspection will reveal that there is only red and blue glass used in it, but so cunningly have they been intermingled as to produce a much warmer purple than any sheet of purple glass could render. Some writers would have us believe that the glazier had no choice but to use these small bits in building up his picture, and that therefore the rich glowing effect was the result of chance, and not that of intelligent deliberation. Any one who has been fortunate enough to visit St. Maurice’s Cathedral at Angers is amply equipped to refute this theory, and will be prepared to give full credit to the glazier of the thirteenth century, for, in that church, the twelfth century mosaic glass of the nave is readily seen to be composed of much larger fragments than were employed in the choir by the thirteenth century man. These latter in the choir glisten and glitter, while the earlier ones in the nave, composed of larger pieces, do not. This indicates that the improvement shown by the thirteenth century windows over those of the twelfth century was caused by artistic intelligence, and at the expense of more labour to the glazier, because in lessening the size of his panes, he greatly increased the work of leading them together. As he purposely used smaller fragments, he should receive full credit for his splendid results. Those who have been so fortunate as to see the French thirteenth century windows will not only regret the fewness of examples of that period in England, but will also remark the dearth there of the great rose windows so frequent in France. Furthermore, he will notice that in the case of English medallion windows, the medallions are smaller than those across the Channel; this is caused by the fact that the lancets of the Early English school were narrower than contemporary French ones, and therefore necessitated a smaller medallion. While it is true that it is only at Lincoln that one finds the splendid rose windows which reach their greatest perfection in France, compensation for their absence is found in the development in their place of a style of window almost unknown in France, i.e., the great east window, of which such superb examples will be seen during the next (or Decorated) period at York, Bristol, and many other places. This difference in the development of the largest light aperture of a church is due to the architect; in France he built the eastern end of his churches round, but in England they were square, thereby permitting a large sheet of glazing at the east end, which the French rounded apse could not afford. It is gratifying to note the way in which the genius of the glazier, no matter where he lived, seized upon and developed to the utmost the artistic possibilities of his glass, and, furthermore, how cleverly he adapted them to the structures prepared for him by his architect. We shall see at Canterbury, more clearly even than elsewhere, that in the manufacture of this early mosaic glass the English glaziers followed the French models. In [“Stained Glass Tours in France,”] p. 17, we have made some conjectures as to the beginnings of glass in France and whence it came into that country. Indications appear to be in favour of its first steps being guided by a group of enamellers in Limoges, who were instructed or influenced by a colony of Venetians that settled near by in 979, bringing with them their Byzantine art. Whatever opinion we may hold, there can be no doubt that a striking similarity in drawing, colouring, &c., is to be remarked between stained glass of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Limoges enamels of those two and the two preceding centuries, and the Byzantine mosaics of St. Mark’s in Venice, &c.
EARLY ENGLISH TOUR
Even though we shall encounter but few examples of this period in England, a tour of the towns in which they are to be found will perhaps yield us more interesting glimpses into history than our later tours, far richer though they may be in glass. Starting at ancient Salisbury hard by the site of Druid Stonehenge, we follow the oldest of English national roads, the “Pilgrim’s Way,” through Winchester (for so long the English capital) on to Canterbury with its dramatic history of the martyred archbishop. Close to Canterbury are Chartham and Willesborough; these may be seen en route from Salisbury. Thence we go north to Lincoln, and, after an interesting visit to its sanctuary-crowned hilltop, we will push on still further north to York, that treasure-house of glass of this as well as of all periods. Although we end our first tour in that city, we shall also be able there to begin our second one, and may also, if we choose, inspect the glass of a still later (the Perpendicular) epoch.