Stained Glass Tours in France

by Charles Hitchcock Sherrill

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.