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Title: Stained Glass Tours in England
Author: Sherrill, Charles Hitchcock, 1867-1936
Language: English
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 Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, London









Although the purpose of this book is the quest of windows, it happens
that these very windows are so obligingly disposed throughout the length
and breadth of England, and light such different sorts of edifices, that
in the search of them we shall obtain a very comprehensive idea of
English architecture. Not only shall we visit many noble cathedrals
(Canterbury, York, Winchester, Wells, &c. &c.), and smaller religious
edifices (Fairford, St. Neot, Norbury, &c.), but we shall also see
secular buildings of many types. In this latter category will be
included both the great universities of Oxford and Cambridge, a civic
guildhall (Coventry), an ancient hostel for the aged (Guildford), and
one of the finest of the "stately homes of England" (Knole). Thus it
will be seen that our tours are more broadly catholic than their title
would indicate--indeed, we are tempted to promise that by the time the
pilgrim has completed them he will have obtained a well-rounded
impression not only of glass, but also of the history as well as the
ancient manners and customs of England. Unfortunately, no form of
illustration can hope to reproduce the combination of light and colour
which makes the beauty of stained glass; those selected for this book
are the best obtainable, but are chiefly useful in showing how the
windows are set. This is not a technical book, so scale-drawings would
be out of place.

                         CHARLES HITCHCOCK SHERRILL.

     20 EAST 65TH STREET,
          NEW YORK CITY.
       _March 1, 1909._


 INTRODUCTION                             _Page_            1
     TOURS                                                 17

 EARLY ENGLISH                                             21
     EARLY ENGLISH TOUR                                    29
     SALISBURY                                             30
     CANTERBURY                                            36
     LINCOLN                                               51
     YORK                                                  57

 DECORATED                                                 65
     DECORATED TOUR                                        75
     YORK                                                  76
     NORBURY                                               82
     SHREWSBURY                                            85
     LUDLOW                                                92
     HEREFORD                                              96
     TEWKESBURY                                           100
     DEERHURST                                            104
     BRISTOL                                              107
     WELLS                                                114
     EXETER                                               120
     DORCHESTER                                           124
     OXFORD                                               129

 PERPENDICULAR                                            135
     PERPENDICULAR TOUR                                   140
     OXFORD                                               142
     FAIRFORD                                             148
     CIRENCESTER                                          154
     GLOUCESTER                                           158
     GREAT MALVERN                                        166
     LITTLE MALVERN                                       172
     ROSS                                                 174
     WARWICK                                              177
     COVENTRY                                             181
     YORK                                                 185
     SALISBURY                                            192
     WINCHESTER                                           195
     ST. NEOT                                             203

 RENAISSANCE                                              209
     RENAISSANCE TOURS                                    214
     LONDON                                               216
     CAMBRIDGE                                            223
     LICHFIELD                                            230
     GUILDFORD                                            236
     GATTON                                               239
     KNOLE                                                242

 ITINERARIES                                              251

 LIST OF TOWNS                                            253


                                                     _To face

 Cambridge, King's College Chapel              _Frontispiece_

 General Map                                               18

 Map of Early English Tour                                 30

 Canterbury, "Becket's Crown"                              36
   Thirteenth century medallions; notice circular and other
   forms enclosing the figures. The heavy iron bars needed
   to support the great weight of lead are skilfully adjusted
   to the design. The world-famous shrine stood in the centre
   of this space. Tombof Black Prince in foreground, and above
   it armour he wore at Crécy.

 Lincoln, Rose Window                                      56
   Tracery unusual in that it does not radiate from centre.
   Quantity of greenish grisaille used emphasises leaf-like
   design. Thirteenth century medallions in the tall lancets

 York Minster, "Five Sisters"                              62
   Softly toned grisaille, with delicate patterns in faint
   colour. Of its type unsurpassed in the world. Note
   difference between mellow strength of this glass and
   thinness of modern glazing in upper tier of lancets.

 Map of Decorated Tour                                     76

 York Minster, Chapter-House                               78
   Note the grouping together in each embrasure of five narrow
   lights below gracefully elaborated tracery openings. Later
   on, in the Perpendicular period, these traceries lose their
   individuality, become stiffly regular, and part of the window

 Tewkesbury Abbey, Choir                                  100
   A rare example of rounded apse, generally replaced in England
   by a square-ended chancel. Chief charm of these windows is
   their rich colouring.

 Wells, "Golden Window"                                   116
   Notice graceful setting, permitting a glimpse through into
   the Lady chapel beyond. The large Tree of Jesse, rising from
   the loins of the patriarch, is portrayed in colours of almost
   barbaric richness.

 Exeter, East Window                                      122
   Perpendicular stone frame, glazed chiefly with very typically
   decorated figure-and-canopy glass preserved from the earlier
   and smaller window. Below and beyond appears the Lady chapel.

 Map of Perpendicular Tour                                140

 Oxford, New College Antechapel                           144
   Transition window, presented by William of Wykeham, Founder of
   the College. Stone frames are already Perpendicular: note the
   "pepper-box" tracery lights. The glazing, as usual, lags behind
   the architecture, and, because of its strong colour and flat
   drawing, is more Decorated than Perpendicular.

 Gloucester, Choir                                        162
   Great east window commemorative of knights who fought at Crécy.
   Backgrounds of pink and soft blue. Tracery lights no longer
   differentiated from window below, as during Decorated period.
   Note elaborate masking of earlier walls by later Perpendicular

 Coventry, Guildhall                                      182
   Splendid row of ancient English kings, and, below, a great
   tapestry. In the centre of the window, and again on the
   tapestry, appears Henry VI., who was a member of the guild.
   Handsome example of mediæval hall.

 York Minster, East Window                                188
   Tremendous sheet of colour, 78 by 32 feet. Lower half of stone
   frame built in a double plane, and carries a gallery across
   face of the glass.

 Winchester, Nave                                         200
   The excellent effect produced by the Fifteenth Century
   fragments with which this window is glazed proves that colour
   is more important than design in glass. Note swerving to right
   and left of two principal mullions, thus relieving a monotony
   of upright lines.

 Map of Renaissance Tours                                 214

 London, St. George's, Hanover Square                     220
   A Renaissance Tree of Jesse from Belgium, readjusted to fit its
   new embrasures. Figures unusually large for this subject. Fine
   colours and drawing.

 Lichfield, Lady Chapel                                   232
   Excellent example of Renaissance colouring, freer from applied
   paint than then customary. This glass was brought from Belgium.

 Guildford, Bishop Abbott's Hospital                      240
   Charming and complete glazing of a small chapel. Renaissance
   glass coloured by the process of enamelling, often
   unsatisfactory because bits are apt to peel off.

 : : IN ENGLAND : :


The errand of a window seems always to have been that of beauty,
although it has more than one way of performing that service. Sometimes
it seems to have chosen the inspiring manner of recalling ancient wars,
as would appear from the "Dreme" of Chaucer:

     "And sooth to sayn, my chamber was
     Full well depainted, and with glass
     Were all the windows well y-glazed
     Full clear, and not an hole y-crazed,
     That to behold it was great joy:
     For wholly all the story of Troy
     Was in the glazing y-wrought thus,
     Of Hector, and of King Priamus;
     Of Achilles, and of King Laomedon,
     And eke of Medea, and of Jason;
     Of Paris, Helen, and of Lavine."

Sometimes the errand is that of beauty alone, so "mystic, wonderful," as
to make it seem that magic was invoked to yield so fair a result. In
his "Earthly Paradise" Morris voices this feeling:

     "Folk say, a wizard to a northern king
     At Christmastide such wondrous things did show,
     That through one window men beheld the spring,
     And through another saw the summer glow,
     And through a third the fruited vines a-row,
     While still, unheard, but in its wonted way,
     Piped the drear wind of that December day."

Again, the errand of the window may have been not so much that of a
story-teller, nor of a beautiful object to regale one's eyes withal, but
rather to tint and temper the illumination of some holy place like that
described in the "Lay of the Last Minstrel" (Canto XI.):

     "The silver light, so pale and faint,
     Show'd many a prophet and many a saint,
     Whose image on the glass was dyed;
     Full in the midst, his Cross of Red
     Triumphant Michael brandished,
     And trampled the Apostate's pride.
     The moonbeam kissed the holy pane,
     And threw on the pavement a bloody stain."

Beyond the enjoyment and artistic refreshment to be obtained from the
contemplation of stained glass, who shall say that we do not receive
other benefits, the nature of which are as yet undiscovered? It is only
recently that our learned brothers, the scientists, have acquainted us
with the helpful qualities of those rays of light which, in the
language of the spectrum, are "out beyond the violet." In this
connection, it may be edifying to quote from the "Anecdotes and
Traditions" of Aubrey: "The curious oriental reds, yellows, blews, and
greens in glasse-painting, especially when the sun shines, doe much
refresh the spirits. After this manner did Dr. R. revive the spirits of
a poor distracted gentleman, for whereas his former physitian shutt up
his windows and kept him in utter darknesse, he did open his window
lids, and let in the light, and filled his windows with glasses of
curious tinctures, which the distempered person would always be looking
on, and it did conduce to the quieting of his disturbed spirits."
(Aubrey in "Anecdotes and Traditions," edited for the Camden Society by
W. J. Thomas, p. 96.)

Nor is this the only _terra incognita_ still awaiting exploration.
During some recent French experiments wide differences have been
observed in the same kind of vegetable when grown under differently
coloured glass covers. However, these are matters that will not be
"dreamed of in our philosophy"--our investigations will be confined to a
geographical search for that with which to delight our eyes.

When one pauses to consider how fragile the beauty of a stained glass
window, it becomes amazing that even so much as we can now visit has
survived. Over every European country there has, at one time or
another, swept a wave of destruction engulfing things artistic. The
causes for, as well as the agents of, this iconoclasm, differ widely.
Sometimes it comes from within, and is the result of civil war or of
religious fanaticism--less often it is the result of foreign invasion.

English windows had the good fortune to escape the destruction by
foreigners which the French had to suffer during those dreadful
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries when the Hundred Years' War outlasted
its title, and when the hot-headed Plantagenet kings kept France
continually plagued with English soldiery. Although we must record this
particular immunity, other agencies equally baleful were at work. The
Puritans made a practice of smashing stained glass, either because they
regarded it as one of the hated insignia of popery (some of their
ministers even knocking out the glass in churches under their own
charge, like "Blue Dick" Culmer at Canterbury Cathedral), or for reasons
of revenge, as in the case of the troops infuriated by the death of
their leader in the assault upon Lichfield. Dwellers within the
precincts of Lincoln made a common practice of shooting with crossbows
at the windows! At Great Malvern the possible excuse of crossbow
practice is missing; the villagers quite simply amused themselves by
throwing stones at the great east window, just from the sheer joy of
destruction. In some instances, even the mitigating circumstances of
religious fanaticism, revenge, competitive sport, or even amusement are
entirely lacking. Aubrey tells us in his "History of Surrey," that "At a
later date, one Blesse was hired for half-a-crown a day to break the
painted glass windows of Croydon." Little wonder is it that the citizens
of York should have voted Fairfax, the leader of the Roundheads, a tun
of wine, &c., in reward for his protecting care of the cathedral after
he and his soldiers had captured that city.

In an earlier book ("Stained Glass Tours in France") we observed that
French windows divided themselves into periods which were practically
coterminous with the centuries, thus enabling us to designate the styles
by their century number. In England the development of this craft
brought about the style-changes at irregular dates; but here also the
steps of this development are so marked as to separate it into distinct
epochs. English glass follows its architecture so closely that one
cannot do better than to accept the period-designation of the latter,
and especially is this true during the so-called Decorated and
Perpendicular epochs. For our purpose we will therefore use the
following sub-divisions: Early English, which will include all the glass
prior to 1280; Decorated, 1280 to 1380; Perpendicular, 1380 to 1500;
Renaissance (sometimes styled sixteenth century or Cinque Cento), 1500
to 1550. There are extremely few examples of the first and of the last
schools, in marked contrast to the great wealth in France of windows
contemporary thereto. Edward I. came to the throne in 1272, and it was
during his reign that the Decorated period began, running through the
reigns of Edward II. (1307), Edward III. (1327), and Richard II.
(1377)--all of them Plantagenets. This and the succeeding period
produced very little glass anywhere in France, because of the Hundred
Years' War, begun 1337, lasting until 1447, and waged throughout the
length and breadth of the land. The exact opposite is true in England,
where during the Decorated and Perpendicular epochs it reached its
greatest importance and beauty. The Perpendicular period begins in 1380,
shortly before Richard II., the last of the Plantagenets, was succeeded
by the representatives of the rival Houses of Lancaster and York, three
Lancastrians, Henry IV., V., and VI. (1399), (1413), (1422), being
succeeded by three Yorkists, Edward IV. (1461), Edward V. (1483), and
Richard III. (1483). This Perpendicular period came to an end at just
about the same time as that tremendous civil struggle, the War of the
Roses, was concluded by the accession of the House of Tudor, in the
person of Henry VII. (1485). Our Renaissance glass period begins under
him and lasts on through practically all the reigns of the House of
Tudor--Henry VIII. (1509), Edward VI. (1547), Mary (1553), Elizabeth
(1558). At the time that the Tudors were succeeded by the Stuarts (James
I., 1603), there was hardly any English glass being manufactured, save a
little for domestic use, although many Dutch glaziers were then active
in this country, as we shall regretfully observe when we visit Oxford
and Cambridge.

It is clear from many an entry in ancient English church archives that
French glaziers were often in the early days summoned across the
Channel, and that it is to them that we owe the beginning of English
glass; but we shall see that although it owes its origin to this foreign
assistance, it developed along distinctly original lines, and that
therefore the English glaziers deserve full credit for the charming
traits peculiar to them.

Although the period styled Early English has left comparatively few
examples north of the Channel, and cannot hope to vie with the many and
rich displays of mosaic glass to be seen in France, we shall be greatly
consoled by the splendid grisaille (or uncoloured glazing) that fills
the "Five Sisters" at York, and by the remains of the great series at
Salisbury. We have just referred to the scarcity of French stained glass
during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, those sorry days during
which the English occupation of a large part of the country, repeated
plagues, and uprisings of the lower classes against the nobles (like the
Jacquerie), vied with each other in the work of devastation. Indeed, it
is not strange that any art so dependent upon the fostering care of a
luxury-loving class should have been entirely superseded by the sterner
requirements of self-defence, to say nothing of the repairs necessitated
by the ravages of war, pestilence, and famine. Those two centuries, so
dreadful to France and so discouraging to French glaziers, produced in
England the greatest flowers of this craft. It is, therefore, clear that
if one wishes to obtain a comprehensively consecutive knowledge of
stained glass on both sides of the Channel, he must leave France and
cross over to England when the thread of his studies has obtained so far
as the Decorated and the Perpendicular. When, however, he reaches the
sixteenth century he must return to France, to revel in the wealth of
Renaissance glass so wofully lacking in England.

After one has observed a sufficient number of windows to provide a basis
for comparisons, it becomes easy to tell not only the epoch to which
they belong, but also, in most instances, whether they are early or late
in that epoch. In England one is assisted by an unusual amount of
reliable information from two sources, viz., old records and heraldic
indications from the coats of arms which are so often displayed. There
is so little sixteenth century glass in this country as to give but
small opportunity to observe the characteristic Renaissance custom of
placing the dates on the picture itself, which was then common in
France. Of earlier windows, however, English records and a knowledge of
heraldry give us the dates of many more than are obtainable for their
contemporaries in France. By way of example, the original contracts date
the glass at Beauchamp Chapel, Warwick, 1447; at King's College,
Cambridge, 1527; at York, in the nave, 1338, and in the choir, 1405, &c.
A comparative and historical study of their heraldic blazons gives us a
date for many of the windows at Bristol and at Wells, and of more still
in private houses.

The duty of the glazier was to adorn the window embrasures constructed
for him by the architect, and thus assist in the decoration of the
church. It is obvious that the size and shape of these apertures must
necessarily have had considerable, if not controlling, effect upon the
styles and methods of the glazier. A glance at the conformation of these
openings often tells the sub-divisions in which its glass belongs.
During Norman times the window arch was round and the opening wide. In
the Early English style the arch at the top becomes pointed and the
embrasures narrower. When the Decorated time arrives several narrow
lights are grouped together, separated only by slender stone mullions,
and culminating under the pointed arch at the top in a group of
gracefully adjusted small apertures called tracery lights. The
Perpendicular architect did little but straighten out the lines of his
predecessors, especially in the traceries, so that they, as well as the
mullions, should produce the effect of upright parallels which gave this
type its name. In the sixteenth century the Renaissance architect
provided large windows, and the glazier filled them with great pictures
of splendid colour.

In our investigation of English glass of the Early English (or mosaic)
period, we shall often find ourselves regretting the almost entire
absence of rose windows, so frequent and splendid across the Channel,
where those great blossoms of Gothic architecture provided such glorious
opportunities for the decorating hand of the glazier. For this lack we
shall later on find ample compensation (especially during Decorated and
Perpendicular times) in the huge sheet of glass filling the great east
window of many English churches. While the southern architect decided in
favour of the rounded apse for the east end of his cathedrals, his
northern neighbour preferred a square ended one, thus permitting a fine
broad embrasure, broken only by narrow mullions, and providing a golden
chance for the glazier, which he lost no time in seizing. Therefore, if
we miss the innumerable rose windows of France, it is but fair to state
that it possesses nothing that can vie with the great expanse of glowing
colour found at the east end of York or Gloucester or Malvern.

It is clear that the glass artist, whatever his nationality, had at
all times to take heed of the architecture which provided the setting
for his glass, and which his work was to help decorate. It is but
natural, therefore, that his designs should have been influenced by
the prevailing architectural style, and this was particularly true
in England during the prevalence of both the Decorated and the
Perpendicular schools. When the time arrived to change from the mosaic
method of constructing stained glass, the whole effort of the Englishman
seemed to have been devoted to making his new product conform to the new
Decorated style of building. Not so his neighbour across the Channel,
for there everything was then being sacrificed to the demand for better
lighted interiors, even to the extent of filling much of his embrasures
with grisaille, and using deep colour only in the borders or in bands of
canopy-framed figures across parts of the windows (Sées, Evreux). The
need for more illumination did not exist in England, for in that land of
cloudy skies and infrequent sunshine they had already realised how
greatly mosaic medallion glass obscured the light, and, therefore, had
early struck out for themselves, and developed an admirable use of
grisaille, as one may see at York and Salisbury. They had already solved
the problem of better illumination, and were that much ahead of their
French neighbours. In France, because of light-admitting grisaille then
demanded (either alone or in conjunction with the early canopies), the
fourteenth century window gives a lighter effect than when later on, in
the fifteenth century, the artist dispensed with the grisaille, enlarged
his canopy completely to fill its lancet, and, thanks to the development
of coated glass--_i.e._, several layers of different colours permitting,
in combination, a wide range of hues--introduced more varied and richer
colouring in both figures and costumes. In England, however, where
light-admitting grisaille had already been freely used during the mosaic
period, and the glazier began the fourteenth century untrammelled by any
sudden demand for brilliant illumination, we shall easily observe a
tendency directly contrary to that just remarked in France. The English
Decorated windows are much deeper in tone than the Perpendicular ones
which followed them. These latter seemed to have proved a satisfactory
solution of the lighting problem for the English climate. Indeed, we
shall see some at St. Neot, manufactured as late as 1530, that are
copied after others of the preceding century, and yet the later ones
are obviously from the hand of an artist so skilful as to have readily
worked in the contemporary Renaissance manner, had he not deliberately
preferred the earlier one.

Those who desire to study this subject seriously should read Lewis F.
Day's excellent "Windows of Stained Glass" (1897).

 EARLY ENGLISH                                   BEFORE 1280
 PLANTAGENET {  Edward I. 1272                    1280-1380
             {  Edward II. 1307                   DECORATED
             {  Edward III. 1327
             {      (Crécy, 1346)
             {      (Poitiers, 1356)
             {  Richard II. 1377                  1380-1500
 LANCASTER   {  Henry IV. 1399
             {  Henry V. 1413
             {      (Agincourt, 1415)
             {  Henry VI. 1422

 YORK        {  Edward IV. 1461
             {  Edward V. 1483
             {  Richard III. 1483

 TUDOR       {  Henry VII. 1485
             {  Henry VIII. 1509                  1500-1550
             {  Edward VI. 1547                  RENAISSANCE
             {  Mary, 1553
             {  Elizabeth, 1558

 STUART      {  James I. 1603


Our glass-hunting tours will take us into almost every part of England.
We shall go up and down the east coast cathedrals, from York in the
north to Canterbury in the south-east. We shall also wander through the
entire range of southern counties, and see the whole coast from
Winchester, west through Salisbury and Exeter to St. Neot, far off in
Cornwall, hard by Land's End. But it will be in that corner of England
which lies between Oxford and the Welsh border, that the greatest wealth
of windows will be found. We shall arrange the tours so that the order
in which the windows are viewed will conform chronologically with the
stages of the craft's development. It will, of course, largely depend on
whether he elects to travel by rail, by automobile, or by bicycle, just
how slavishly the pilgrim follows the order in which the towns have been
set out. The trips have been arranged with an eye to geography rather
than to railway time-tables--geography is so much more stable than
"Bradshaw's General Railway Guide"! The omission from the list of sundry
important cathedrals, like Durham, Ely, Peterborough, Worcester, &c.,
is caused by the deplorable fact that all their ancient stained glass
has been destroyed.

The order of towns is as follows:

 Early English Epoch      Salisbury, Canterbury, Lincoln,

 Decorated Epoch          York, Norbury, Shrewsbury,
                          Ludlow, Hereford,
                          Tewkesbury, Deerhurst,
                          Bristol, Wells, Exeter,
                          Dorchester, Oxford.

 Perpendicular Epoch      Oxford, Fairford, Cirencester,
                          Gloucester, Great
                          Malvern, Little Malvern,
                          Ross, Warwick,
                          Coventry, York.
                          St. Neot.

 Renaissance Epoch        London, Cambridge, Lichfield,
                          Guildford, Gatton, Knole.

In selecting the order of the above itineraries, we have ended the
first, or Early English period, at York, because that city is not only
rich in early mosaic glass, but also in that of the Decorated period,
thus making it most convenient for us there to begin the second or
Decorated tour. In the same manner we have concluded the itinerary of
the Decorated period at Oxford, for there are found not only Decorated,
but also Perpendicular windows, thus permitting us to commence the
Perpendicular tour in the same city which ends our Decorated one.
York is set down as the last of the Perpendicular trip, but if our
pilgrim has already visited that city on either the Early English
or the Decorated tour, he will doubtless also have seen all of its
Perpendicular glass, which will obviate the necessity for again making
the long journey north. In that event, with York left out of the
Perpendicular tour, it will prove to be much more condensed, both as to
territory and distance, than either of the two earlier ones. The last,
or Renaissance epoch, has but few examples in England, and these are so
widely separated that it seems best to break them up into two tours. Of
the seven places cited (London, Cambridge, Lichfield, Shrewsbury,
Guildford, Gatton, and Knole) the best English glass is at London and
Cambridge, while that at Lichfield is Flemish, and most of that at
Shrewsbury German.

For tables of distances, &c., _see_ pp. 251-254.

[Illustration: GENERAL MAP]


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.


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.



There is no country in the world whose ancient history is writ so large
upon its broad acres as old England. It is full of silent testimonials
to past events which render those early days and their happenings more
vivid than any printed page can hope to effect. Many of these remains
are of such remote antiquity as to long antedate our glass, but
nevertheless we must not be so prejudiced as to neglect them when
encountered on our travels. Indeed, it may well be that the existence of
other attractions of this sort may secure for us the company of certain
archæological friends who at first will have but small interest in
glass. Nor need we distress ourselves about how small that interest may
be; for if they, for any reason, accompany us, our charming windows will
surely make converts of them long before the journey is ended. These
same archæological folk will tell us that few localities in England can
show more extraordinary historical remains than Stonehenge and Old Sarum
near Salisbury. The great upright monoliths of Stonehenge, stationed in
the form of a horse-shoe within a circle, loom up in such a solitary
and impressive way upon the great reaches of Salisbury Plain as to
produce a mental picture long to be remembered. Their very isolation
makes them much more striking than the voluminous remains of a similar
nature erected also by the Druids on the west coast of Brittany. As
for Old Sarum, it is now nothing but a lofty fortified camp, but the
enclosure within its circle of high walls formerly contained a town
which was the predecessor of Salisbury. The shape of this high truncated
cone recalls the pictures of the Tower of Babel that used to appear in
our child's geographies. Whatever may have been the real cause for the
removal of Salisbury to its present site, the one generally alleged was
that Sarum lacked water--this certainly cannot be charged against the
present city, which is so sorely harassed at certain seasons of the year
by local floods, as well to merit the name often given it of the
"English Venice." Its vast cathedral is much more regular and balanced
in its proportions than are most examples of mediæval church
architecture. The two great twin spires are esteemed the most beautiful
in England. To one who has become accustomed to the archaic appearance
of most European cathedrals, Salisbury will prove quite a surprise; in
the words of Emerson, "The cathedral, which was finished six hundred
years ago, has even a spruce and modern air." This splendid building,
even if it were not so impressive as it is, would have been rendered
sufficiently picturesque because of the setting provided by the shaded
walks and green swards of its Close. Within the roomy interior are
examples not only of thirteenth century medallion glass, but also some
of the best types of English grisaille of that period. Because of the
belief that the doors, windows and pillars exactly coincide respectively
with the number of months, days and hours in the year, Thomas Fuller
said, "All Europe affords not such an almanac of architecture." We are
concerned only with that portion of the almanac that has to do with the
days. An old rhyme says:

     "As many days as in one year there be
     So many windows in this church we see."

Notwithstanding the great number of light apertures thus provided by the
architect, the glazier was not permitted to make excessive use of the
light-obscuring coloured mosaic glass, as was then the custom in France.
Grisaille was plentifully used, and Salisbury was famous for it. Most of
its remains are found in the upper lancets at the south end of the
easterly transepts, as well as a little in the west windows of the nave
aisles, the east one of the choir aisles, and the lower triplet in the
south end of the small transepts. Two of the easterly clerestory lights
of the large northern transept also show this early pattern glass.
Instead of filling the other embrasures with rudely contrasting modern
glazing, a very intelligent effort has been made throughout the choir
and transept to model as closely as possible upon these ancient
examples. The result is very agreeable--at least it contrives to give us
some idea of how the church must have looked with its original windows
all complete. Little touches of colour are very judiciously interspersed
throughout the strapwork, and serve to correct what otherwise might be
dull-toned. Blue is very extensively used here for this purpose, and to
a greater extent than is usually found elsewhere. It tones in admirably
with the greenish hue of the glass, and enriches it without risking too
striking a contrast. The thirteenth century medallion remains have been
collected into the three lancets at the western end. Note especially the
plentiful and interesting fragments of the Tree of Jesse done in mosaic
style which has been introduced in two parallel columns into the central
lancet: the borders are contemporary. The side lancets are not so
satisfactorily filled, for the combination of strips of later glass
separated by equally wide ones of old grisaille, and all surrounded by
a rich old border on ruby and blue backgrounds, is not pleasing. The
medallions are interesting, but nothing like so fine as we shall see
elsewhere. We shall chiefly remember Salisbury Cathedral for the
effective glazing of its choir and transepts afforded by thirteenth
century grisaille eked out with good modern glass copied after it.

One does not have to search far in the records of Salisbury to find why
there is so little remaining of its ancient glazing. Time has been
materially aided and abetted in its work of destruction by ruthless
restorations, of which the worst was Wyatt's in the eighteenth century.
We read that "whole cartloads of glass, lead, and other rubbish were
removed from the nave and transepts, and shot into the town ditch, then
in course of being filled up; whilst a good deal of similar rubbish was
used to level the ground near the chapter-house." Nor was destruction
the only means used to get rid of the Salisbury windows, as will appear
from the following letter written to Mr. Lloyd, of London, in 1788, by
John Berry, a glazier of Salisbury:

     "SIR.--This day I have sent you a Box full of old Stained &
     Printed glass, as you desired me to due, which I hope will sute
     your Purpos, it his the best that I can get at Present. But I
     expect to Beate to Peceais a great deal very sune, as it his of
     now use to me, and we do it for the lead. If you want more of
     the same sorts you may have what thear is, if it will pay you
     for taking out, as it is a Deal of Truble to what Beating it to
     Peceais his; you will send me a line as soon as Possable, for
     we are goain to move our glasing shop to a Nother plase and
     thin we hope to save a great deal more of the like sort, which
     I ham your most Omble servent--JOHN BERRY."

There is also later glass to be seen here. St. Thomas's Church, in the
first embrasure from the east of the north aisle, has the remains of a
Decorated Tree of Jesse, in which, as well as in other fragments along
the traceries, there is a good deal of yellow stain observable. In the
vestry, which is off the north aisle, are three small lancets upon which
appear figures against quarry backgrounds not as usual ensconced in
canopies. The wooden ceilings in the north and south aisles are
especially fine.

For the Perpendicular glass at Salisbury _see_ p. 192.


Even a careless observer of the life and customs of the Middle Ages will
have noticed that one of its most extraordinary features is the extent
to which people of every European country went upon pilgrimages. The
nature and object of these religious journeys varied widely, running the
gamut from the Crusades to the visiting of neighbouring shrines. The
history of the Crusades is well known, but perhaps few of us realise the
tremendous interest taken in the more domestic and near-by pilgrimages.
The English were like all the rest of Christendom in this curious craze,
and for several centuries the most revered, as well as the most popular
of their many shrines was that of the martyred Thomas à Becket at
Canterbury. More highly prized than any other similar trophy was the
small leaden flask hung about the neck of one who had taken that
journey, and was thus qualified to bear away this pilgrim's token
filled with water from the holy well beneath the cathedral. A modern
counterpart is afforded by the value Mohammedans set upon the wearing
of a green turban, the privilege accorded to one who has visited Mecca.
Although Canterbury had always since the earliest days possessed many
saintly relics, a marked increase in the number of pilgrims was noted
after the martyrdom of à Becket. These pilgrimages steadily grew in
vogue until when, in the fifteenth century, they had reached their
height, not only did the stream of travellers continue steadily
throughout the year, but during the months of December and July
(anniversaries of the martyrdom and the transference of the relics)
we read that the numbers swelled to such an extent that the housing
facilities of the little city were greatly overtaxed. A jubilee was held
every fifty years, and on these occasions the crowds grew to enormous
size. During the jubilee of 1420 we are told that over 100,000 pilgrims
were gathered in the city at the same time. Hay and wood were provided
gratuitously for them, a bounty which the cathedral could well afford,
because of the great value of the gifts constantly received from these
visitors. It is easy to see how important a nationalising influence must
have resulted from this meeting together of all classes of society from
different parts of the country. How widely these pilgrims varied in
station and occupation can be gathered from Chaucer's inimitable
"Canterbury Tales." Those amusing chronicles also show that while
religion was doubtless a powerful motive in causing these pilgrimages,
there was besides a great deal of what is called to-day "the desire for
foreign travel." In fact, it is difficult to find much religious flavour
in the tales of merriment and adventure which follow each other in this
delightful series. Chaucer probably selected a Canterbury pilgrimage
as the setting for his poem in order to appeal to a great number of
readers, for he well knew the kingdom to be full of people who had taken
this journey, and to whom, therefore, his tales would be of peculiar
interest. Although Chaucer was the son and grandson of vintners, he won
his way into high favour at Court, a hint of which is obtained from the
fact that Edward III. paid £16 (then a considerable sum) to ransom him
after his capture by the French.

 [Illustration: _J. G. Charlton, photo._
     Thirteenth Century medallions; notice circular and other forms
     enclosing the figures. The heavy iron bars needed to support the
     great weight of lead are skilfully adjusted to the design. The
     world-famous shrine stood in the centre of this space. Tomb of
     Black Prince in foreground, and above it armour he wore at

Another group of equally diverting but more whimsical poems are
inseparably connected with this neighbourhood. Rev. Richard Barham lived
near Canterbury, and many of his engaging Ingoldsby Legends have their
scenes laid there, some within the cathedral precincts. The county of
Kent, of which Canterbury is the chief city, is peopled by a sturdy folk
who have always been jealous of their rights and insistent upon their
own interpretation of the law, as, for example, although primogeniture
existed almost everywhere else in England, Kent always preferred
gavelkind (an equal division of property among the children of the
deceased). As illustrating the strength of Kentish traditions, it is
amusing to note that one must remember carefully to apply the expression
"Kentish man" to a dweller in the western half of the county, and "Man
of Kent" to him of the eastern. Confuse these two designations at your
peril! There is a bit of local history which has a fine heroic flavour,
and which points our moral excellently. After William the Conqueror had
won the battle of Hastings, all Kent, headed by the Archbishop of
Canterbury, gathered to protect its ancient rights against the invader.
They marched forth to meet William at Swanscourt, each man fully armed,
and carrying above him a green bough to mask the numbers of their host.
William's surprise and perplexity at seeing this perambulating forest
approaching him can well be imagined. When he inquired the reason for
it, there came the fine reply that Kent demanded its ancient rights, and
if granted them would live peaceably under his rule, but if they were to
be denied, then there must be instant war! The politic Norman complied
with their request, and the Kentish forest marched off.

So beautiful are the distant prospects of Canterbury Cathedral that
excellent æsthetic reasons may be advanced for the religious custom that
required all mounted pilgrims to dismount as soon as they could spy the
Angel Steeple, and complete the last stage of the pilgrimage on foot.
Proceeding in this more leisurely fashion, the beauties of the
picturesque grouping of the buildings about the cathedral developed
slowly before their eyes.

On descending into the town, many interesting sights meet one's view in
the quaint winding streets and narrow lanes. The name of one of these,
Watling Street, recalls the fact that through this city ran that great
Roman road. Another element of the picturesque is added by the
meandering through the town of the river Stour, over whose narrow stream
project many of the houses. Finally we arrive at a large gatehouse,
whose modest portal affords access to the sacred precincts, and
introduces us to a series of most delightful pictures, for there are few
cathedrals in the world placed in so charming a setting. An old legend
gravely narrates that when the walls of the sanctuary were heightened
about the middle of the tenth century, the building was, perforce,
roofless for three years, and that during that period no rain fell
within this favoured enclosure! We need not stop to consider the
different features of the architecture which have delighted so many eyes
and are so well known from photographs and other reproductions. We must,
however, note in passing that during à Becket's exile he chanced to be
in Sens at the very time that the great French architect, William of
Sens, was finishing the first attempt in pointed Gothic. This probably
explains why, when the choir of Canterbury Cathedral was destroyed by
fire, the monks in 1174 summoned William to rebuild it. During the work
he fell from the scaffold and received injuries from which he died. The
selection of that foreign architect assists in explaining why the mosaic
glass at Canterbury so closely resembles the late twelfth century
windows at Sens, and permits us to conjecture that with the French
architect there came over French glaziers. The French Gothic which was
here introduced by William of Sens was, to a certain extent, copied
elsewhere. Traces of it at York Cathedral are doubtless due to the fact
that the Archbishop of York who caused its introduction had been
Archdeacon at Canterbury during the time that William of Sens was
working there. We will enter the church and press on to the northern
transept, where took place that tragic episode resulting from the
constant strife between Henry II. and the proud churchman à Becket. In
the dimness of this old-world corner one can almost live over again the
scene at twilight, December 29, 1170, when the four knights, taunted
into exasperation by à Becket's hot words, cut down the defenceless
priest, thinking thus to serve their royal master. Not only did this
base act bring upon Henry the open shame of being forced to do most
abject penance before the shrine of his sainted victim, but it also
produced many extraordinary results of widely differing nature during
the centuries to follow. Just after the assassination the monks, upon
removing the garments of their murdered chief, found, to their great
surprise, that beneath the rich raiment of him whom they had always
mistrusted as a brilliant courtier, was worn the haircloth shirt of
their monastic order. Their sudden revulsion of feeling, and the
religious enthusiasm which overcame them at that sight, seems prophetic
of other revulsions that were to take place during the Middle Ages in
the attitude of the public mind towards this bloody page of Church
history. Just as then their feelings abruptly changed, so after wealth
and costly gifts had flowed to this shrine for centuries, and almost
every city in Christendom had an altar or a church dedicated to
St. Thomas, suddenly men of thought became disgusted by the many
reprehensible features connected with this cult, which, perhaps, were
only the natural results of the throngs attending the pilgrimages. The
pendulum, which had swung too high on one side, swept back to the other
extreme; and this brings us to one of the strangest parts of this story,
if not, indeed, the weirdest in all the annals of the law. Henry VIII.
cast covetous eyes upon the hoard of jewels gathered together in
Canterbury Cathedral, so he instituted a legal proceeding to enable him
to lay hold upon them. As royal successor to Henry II. he caused the
Attorney-General in 1538 to bring suit against à Becket for treason, and
had the papers duly served upon the famous shrine! Counsel was appointed
to represent the long dead subject, and the case was argued with all the
pomp and circumstance of legal warfare. The martyr was found guilty, and
all the wealth of his shrine was declared escheated to the Crown. We
read that it was necessary to employ twenty-six carts to carry off the
booty. Could anything be more strange and fantastic than so material an
outcome to the wild deed of the four knights!

Of the other tombs here, the most interesting are those of Henry IV. and
the Black Prince. Above the latter is suspended the armour worn by him
at the battle of Crécy.

Before commencing to examine the stained glass, we must warn the reader
that it suffered severely at the hands of that arch-ruffian of all glass
destroyers, Dick Culmer (or "Blue Dick," as he was called), the minister
in charge of the Abbey during the Commonwealth. So violently opposed
to his appointment were the townspeople that they locked all the
cathedral's doors against him, thus forcing him to effect his first
entrance by breaking in one of the windows--an evil omen! No sooner was
he installed than he set diligently to work to destroy the stained
glass, and, furthermore, openly boasted of his energy in that respect.
In his "Cathedral News from Canterbury," he says, "A minister on top of
the city ladder, nearly sixty steps high, with a whole pike in his hand,
rattling down proud Becket's glassie bones when others present would not
venture so high." This glass, so destroyed, was in the north transept.

There is but little mosaic medallion thirteenth century glass in
England, and therefore what there is of it at Canterbury would for that
reason alone have great value, but because the examples there found are
among the best of that period now extant, its importance is thereby
greatly enhanced. An ancient supplement to the "Canterbury Tales"
relates, with amusing conversational detail, how the pilgrims, upon
entering the church by the south-western door of the nave, at once fell
to admiring the windows and studying out their legends. The ruthless
hand of time, assisted by those of Dick Culmer and Co., have made it
impossible for us to enjoy that same pleasure, but certain fragments of
that glass gathered together into the western window give a hint of what
the beauty of the complete series must have been. With this exception
there is nothing to detain one long in the nave, so we will pass on to
the eastern end of the church to inspect the remaining contemporary
windows--they are the finest of their type in England, and will be
found in the north choir aisle, the circular apse at the extreme
easterly end (known as Becket's Crown) and Trinity Chapel. There has
been preserved for us an old Latin list describing and locating all the
windows in their original order, and from this we learn that the ancient
panels now in the north choir aisle between the easterly transept and
the chapel of the Martyrdom (north end of the westerly transepts) were
formerly in the embrasures of the latter. Their workmanship is very
fine, and they tell their parables with great distinctness. Proceeding
eastward to Becket's Crown, we shall be afforded an edifying opportunity
to observe how much more brilliant and generally delightful are the old
mosaic medallions than even the best modern copies. The oldest window
dates from the middle of the thirteenth century, and it takes but a
glance to betray those of its companions which are modern. The
improvements of centuries in glass manufacture fail utterly to yield
us an equivalent for the brilliancy of the crudely constructed panels
of that time. The most interesting and, for various reasons, the most
valuable medallions are those filling the six windows of Trinity Chapel
which retain their original glazing. In those on the north side of where
the shrine used to stand, are medallions whose groups display miracles
performed by the saint, or episodes illustrative of his healing power.
At the top of the second from the east on this side is a medallion of
very peculiar interest because it depicts Benedict's vision of the saint
emerging from his shrine in full canonicals and moving toward the high
altar to say mass. Examine it carefully, for here we have the only
representation now existing of that world-renowned shrine, whose lavish
decoration of gold and jewels so roused the cupidity of Henry VIII. as
to cause its destruction. There is every reason to believe this to be a
veracious reproduction, for being installed directly opposite and a few
yards from the shrine of which it was the counterfeit presentment, any
but a careful copy thereof would have been useless in telling the
window's story. More of this splendid glass is found filling the lower
embrasures along the north side between the two sets of transepts, and
also above in the three upper half-circle windows, both on this and the
opposite side of the church ambulatory; note the mellow richness of
their reds and blues. The central embrasure of the most easterly or
Trinity Chapel retains its early mosaic medallions, easily distinguished
from the modern imitations on either side. High up in the north wall of
the easterly transepts is a rose window which retains its thirteenth
century glazing in the large central circle, but alas! white glass
replaces all but the borders of the outer circles, thus drowning the old
glass in a glare of light and utterly extinguishing the splendid glow
which would otherwise delight our eyes. Although the handsome five-light
Decorated window on the south side of St. Anselm's Chapel (lying off the
south choir aisle) has lost its original glass, the records of the cost
contain features of interest. The contract for its construction is dated
1336, and the items of expense (which total £42 17_s._ 2_d._) indicate
that the heavy iron saddle-bars, &c., required to support the great
quantity of lead used in joining the glass, cost almost as much as the
glazing; £4 4_s._ 0_d._ was paid for twenty hundredweight of iron, £6
13_s._ 4_d._ "for glass and the labour of the glaziers."

The chief window of the north-west transept, generally called the chapel
of the Martyrdom, was presented by Edward IV., and when complete must
have been a fine example of the Perpendicular school. Its seven tall
lancets are broken into four tiers, and surmounted by handsome tracery
lights. Here formerly appeared "The Seven Glorious Appearances of the
Virgin," with à Becket in the centre, but "Blue Dick" Culmer destroyed
them all while engaged in his pleasing task of "rattling down proud
Becket's glassie bones." Notwithstanding the treatment to which this
window was subjected, it still presents a very attractive appearance.
The original fragments have been collected within coloured borders and
throw into bold relief the richly toned kneeling figures of Edward IV.
and his wife, which are placed facing each other. Behind the queen are
stationed her five daughters, divided into one group of three and
another of two, while behind the king are the two little princes, who
were later murdered in the Tower of London. The backgrounds behind the
figures are noteworthy because they are composed of repetitions of the
badge of each individual; behind the king are the white roses and suns
of York; behind the queen, green thistles; feathers behind the Prince of
Wales, &c. Above them is a tier of white-robed angels with red wings,
against backgrounds of blue or green, supporting heraldic shields. Just
below this window and leading off to the east is the Dean's Chapel,
lighted on the east by a very pleasant quarry window, upon each of whose
panes appears in yellow stain the double knot which indicates the donor
to have been Archbishop Bourchier, whom we shall encounter later on at
Knole. A relieving note of colour is lent by the shield of arms at the
bottom of each lancet. Three of the small windows that light the
picturesque little baptistery contain effigies of ecclesiastical
dignitaries and saints within richly toned borders, while in the small
traceries above them are heraldic blazons.

Splendid as this noble cathedral now is, how much more impressive must
it have been when all its windows were filled with mosaic medallions
through which a warmly tinted illumination tempered the minster gloom.
It is difficult to repress the anachronistic wish that the knights who
came here seeking to slay à Becket might instead have wreaked their lust
for blood upon "Blue Dick" Culmer!

       *       *       *       *       *

Near Canterbury there are some Early English fragments at Chartham, four
miles west on the road to Maidstone. They are in the tracery lights on
the north side of the chancel. In one of these small openings there has
been inserted a baptismal scene, but because it is upside down the water
seems like a cross between a shower-bath and the sword of Damocles! The
chief reason for stopping at this church is the very agreeable lighting
of its chancel in the Decorated manner. In the two embrasures on the
north side have been collected all that remains of the original pattern
glass, but the other lights have been glazed as much like these two as
possible. A mellow richness, not often seen, is the chief characteristic
of this low-toned grisaille, overrun with graceful coloured designs. In
its perfection that style was most attractive. In a south-easterly
suburb of Ashford called Willesborough there are in the chancel a couple
of very complete and pleasing Decorated windows. They both have quarry
backgrounds with coloured borders, but the one to the north is much
more attractive. Upon its surface are not only the coloured bosses seen
in the one across the chancel, but also some handsome canopy-framed
figures. The leaf design on the borders should be noted, and also the
labels below the figures.


A golden-brown cathedral crowning the summit of a solitary hill rising
from a wide plain--so Lincoln lingers in one's memory!

Few towns have their situation more clearly described by their names
than this one, derived, as it is, from "llin" a mere, and "dun" a hill,
a hill above a mere. The plain is now drained of the marshes which
formerly overspread it, but the great isolated mount remains always the
same, and upon the summit is stationed, like a splendid sentinel, the
mighty bulk of the cathedral. Rarely, indeed, does a great church have
so dominating and superb a site, nor is it often that so prominent a
point is crowned by such a noble structure. Near it is the ancient
castle, built first by the Romans and later strengthened by warriors of
other races equally quick to appreciate the military strength of its
commanding position. From the tower at one corner of its perfectly
preserved ramparts is afforded a most inspiring view in every direction.
Nor were the great walls of the cathedral less serviceable in affording
a strong refuge in war. It needs but a glance at the sturdy west front
to show why Stephen in 1141, during the war of the Barons, finding the
Earls of Lincoln and Chester in possession of the castle, threw himself
into the adjacent cathedral and thus secured as strong a fortress as
they. Not only is the western façade very beautiful, but it is also a
manifestation, rare in England, of the practice usual in France of
making this portion of the exterior the most important of all. Here at
Lincoln it is as if a wide mask of stone had been built on to the end of
the nave, lending as great an impression of width as one gets of height
by a similar trick at Peterborough. These two are almost the only
attempts in England to use this façade for other than simply closing the
end of the edifice. The result at Lincoln is most imposing, but it
produces its best effect when seen from a little distance, because then
one gets the great sweep of the lines, relieved by the galleries of
statues and warmed by the yellowish brown of the stone. A nearer
inspection discloses how the later work has been pieced on to the older,
which tends to distract our attention from the front as a whole. Not
satisfied with the great strength of the building itself, permission was
early obtained from the Crown to surround the Close with walls and
gates, of which the picturesque Exchequer gate survives. This enclosure
goes by the name of the Minster Yard. When visiting the little hamlet
of Dorchester we will remark upon how great was once its glory and how
widely the sway of its Bishop then extended. This glory departed when
Bishop Remigius (who built the central and oldest part of the Lincoln
west front) decided about 1072 to remove his seat to the more lofty and
far safer site upon Lincoln Hill. Before concluding the inspection of
the cathedral's exterior, it is timely to remark that through all the
centuries it has been famous in story and song for its chime of bells.
During the period when that delightful industry, the making of ballads,
prevailed throughout England, there were many whose scenes were laid at
Lincoln, and in almost every one of these some reference is made to "The
bells o' merrie Lincoln."

Sad havoc has been played with the ancient glass, but here we cannot
blame the Puritans alone. To be sure, they exercised their usual zeal in
destroying the windows as far up as they could reach, but it must be
admitted that they only completed the task earlier begun by the
citizens, who were wont to amuse themselves by shooting with arrows and
crossbow bolts at the roof and at the windows. This appears in the
defence set up by the Dean when, during the time of Henry VIII., charges
had been brought against him for permitting the cathedral to fall into
such shocking disrepair. Notwithstanding the efforts of the crossbow
vandals and their successors, the Puritans, there has been preserved for
us a very considerable amount of old glass, and that, too, of the Early
English type, a period of which there are so few remains in England.
These remnants are so placed as to be seen to great advantage. They fill
the east windows of the north and south aisles of the choir, and the
large windows in the end of the great northerly transept. The old
glazing of the eastern windows of the north and south choir aisles is
complete and very interesting. It is not so beautiful as it would have
been if the spaces between the brilliant medallions had also been filled
with colour instead of the greenish grisaille which the practical
Englishman used so as to admit more light than would have been possible
through the entirely coloured panes of his more artistic, if less
utilitarian, French contemporary. He succeeded in getting his
illumination, but he lost the jewelled shimmer that meets one's eyes at
Chartres and Reims. Moreover, there is also lacking the richness and
solidity of tone which is so enjoyable in France. The French system was
followed at Canterbury, and there is a marked difference in the effect
of that glass from this at Lincoln. Unfortunately, the great east window
between these two excellent aisle ones is filled with modern glass that
suffers sadly by comparison with its ancient neighbours.

Passing to the transepts we shall encounter the pleasant custom so rare
in England (though common in France) of giving a familiar name to a
great window. Here the splendid northern rose is called "The Dean's
Eye," and its sister to the south "The Bishop's Eye," which names they
have borne for more than six hundred years. Many are the reasons that
have been advanced for these titles, but probably the practical one is
correct, viz., the Dean's Eye faces the Deanery and the Bishop's Eye the
Bishop's palace. Among the many fanciful and more poetic explanations
there is one which, although it is less reasonable, we must be pardoned
for finding more attractive, viz., as the north is the region of the
Evil One, it is proper that the Dean's Eye should look into that
direction in order to guard against any attempt on his part to invade
the sanctuary. The Bishop's Eye is turned toward the sunny south, "The
region of the Holy Spirit whose sweet influence alone can overcome the
wiles of the wicked one." The older of the pair, the Dean's Eye, was
probably glazed about 1220. It is best seen from the gallery or from the
triforium which runs along just below it, and is a fine rose of the
usual type. Below it there extends a row of five pointed lancets
containing very light toned grisaille which almost entirely lacks the
usual touches of colour. Below these are two larger lancets flanking the
doorway; the one to the east has grisaille quarries as a border and
within, geometric designs in colour. The westerly lancet shows a vine in
whose branches are angels playing upon musical instruments, the whole
surrounded by grisaille touched with colour. Across in the southern end
of these transepts is one of the most delightful windows to be seen
anywhere, the Bishop's Eye. Not only is this rose window a jewel of the
glazier's art, but the mason as well has added a wondrous charm by the
lightness of his stone traceries and the curious interpenetrated stone
frame which he has placed about it. The architect, too, has joined in
beautifying the _ensemble_ by stationing below it four large lancets of
such harmonious proportions as admirably to balance and set off their
more important neighbour just above them. In these lancets are found
some Early English glass--broad borders of grisaille enframing the
rich-toned medallions within. The Bishop's Eye was glazed about the
middle of the fourteenth century and yields a warm greenish grey light.
Instead of having its lines radiate from the centre in the customary
manner, its gracefully curved mullions tend to flow up and down and
suggest the fibres of five great leaves standing upright side by side.

     Tracery unusual in that it does not radiate from centre.
     Quantity of greenish grisaille used emphasises leaf-like design.
     Thirteenth Century medallions in the tall lancets below]


To one approaching York by road, especially if coming by way of
Scarcroft Hill, the ancient appearance of the town seems to translate it
out of the Middle Ages. The dust-grey line of walls along the grassy
banks that slope down to the moat, sweep far around in unbroken majesty,
strengthened here and there by bastions or by a sturdy gatehouse. To
complete the old-world picture, above the walls peep red-tiled gables,
or occasionally the towers and spires of numerous churches, all
dominated by the great bulk of the cathedral.

Insignificant historically ever since the days when the city of Eboren
was the capital of Britain, York is chiefly known for the use of its
name in two prolonged struggles (fought out, however, on other fields),
the one between the House of York and Lancaster, called "The War of the
Roses," and the other the great contest lasting from 601 on till the
middle of the fourteenth century to decide whether the Archbishop of
York or he of Canterbury should be the Primate of England. York's
unimportance in English history may be due partly to its situation too
far north to have been in the heart of the constant struggle for power,
and partly to the fact that it was so repeatedly ravaged by Danes and
other invaders, the worst blow of all being when William the Conqueror
gave all that neighbourhood such a dreadful harrowing that the lands
from York to Durham laid untilled for nine years, and did not fully
recover for centuries. Almost the sole exception to this unimportant
_rôle_ was the seven years during which Edward I. moved the law courts
to York and made it his royal capital. Fortunately for the city, its
connection with the bloody struggle of the rival Roses was almost
entirely confined to lending its name to one of the Houses, for this
great drama was chiefly enacted to the south of it. Although the other
famous contest to which we alluded, and which dragged its weary length
through nearly eight centuries, had to do only with ecclesiastical
predominance, yet it exercised a potent influence upon the destinies of
the generations it concerned. It is impossible to obtain a realising
sense of men and events in the Middle Ages unless one takes into account
the tremendous force, and that, too, a militant one, exercised by the
great ecclesiastics. A striking example is provided by Archbishop Scrope
of York, who aspired so high that he rebelled against his king and was
only defeated after the strenuous campaign described in Shakespeare's
"Henry IV." He was executed at York in 1405. We remarked another
example at Canterbury in the bloody ending of à Becket's attempt to
brave Henry II. Because he was Archbishop of Canterbury and opposed to
the king, it is not surprising to find that the contemporary Archbishop
of York, Roger Pont l'Evêque, was a staunch adherent of Henry. It was
this very Roger who, in 1176, precipitated one of the many disgraceful
rows that besmirched this struggle for the Primacy. The Papal Legate was
presiding at the Council of Westminster, and à Becket's successor,
Richard of Canterbury, was seated on his right. Roger came in late, and,
declining to accept any but the most honoured seat, sat down on
Richard's lap, whereupon a brawl ensued, ending in Roger's discomfiture.
Pitiable as was this scene, at least it was less disastrous to the
people at large than many another episode of this tedious and
acrimonious struggle, finally ended by the Bull of Pope Innocent VI.,
designating the Archbishop of Canterbury as the Primate of all England.

York is by all odds the most important of all English glass
centres. Although one often finds occasion elsewhere to curse the
glass-destroying Puritan, at York it must be admitted that the presence
of so many ancient windows is due to the control exercised by Fairfax
over his Parliamentary troops after a successful siege of the place. He
well deserved the butt of sack and tun of French wine voted him by the
Corporation in recognition of his efforts in restraining the misguided
enthusiasm of the soldiery. Indeed, his action here almost atones for
the devilish tricks at Canterbury of "Blue Dick" Culmer.

Even the most casual observer, and one entirely unlearned in our
beautiful art, cannot fail to notice how large an amount of wall-space
is given over to ancient glass in York Minster. As a matter of fact it
covers an area of more than 25,000 square feet, easily double that in
any other English cathedral, and challenging comparison with any in
the world. Nor are the examples confined to one epoch, for there are
fragments of Norman mosaic medallions in the great transepts and the
vestibule of the chapter-house, Early English in the "Five Sisters" and
along the nave clerestory, Decorated in the nave and chapter-house, and
Perpendicular in the choir. Not only are these examples plentiful, but
they are of the first order. Entering by the door at the southern end of
the great transepts, one is at once confronted by the five tall lancets
opposite him in the north wall, filled with the most deliciously soft
greyish green grisaille. Of their type there is nothing in the world to
approach them for beauty. From where we stand the lead lines used in
construction do not exist as lines, but melt away into a dainty film,
like dew on the grass at morn. This set of lights is gracefully
grouped, and is known by the pleasantly familiar title of the "Five
Sisters." Many fanciful tales are told of when and where they were
constructed and how they received this name. Dickens in his "Nicholas
Nickleby" relates an engaging legend to explain how the design and the
name were provided for them. That this legend has no basis in fact
should not make us forget that his narrative has doubtless caused many
of his readers to visit these windows--a most excellent justification.
Dickens tells of five maiden ladies having worked upon a large piece of
embroidery and how, years later, when four of them met together in York
(the youngest, Alice, having been buried in the minster's nave), "They
sent abroad, to artists of great celebrity in those times (Henry IV.),
and having obtained the church's sanction to their work of piety, caused
to be executed in five large compartments of richly stained glass, a
faithful copy of their old embroidery work. These were fitted into a
large window until that time bare of ornament; and when the sun shone
brightly, as she had so well loved to see it, the familiar patterns were
reflected in their original colours, and throwing a stream of brilliant
light upon the pavement, fell warmly on the name of Alice." Those of our
company who are by nature critical may point out that the windows date
from the thirteenth century, not from the reign of Henry IV., and also
that they contain grisaille, not colour, and further, that being at the
end of the north transept, they could not very well throw a stream
of light into the nave! The writer urges leniency of criticism, but
nevertheless, one is forced to the melancholy conclusion that the great
Dickens could never have delighted his eyes by this splendid glass, else
he could not have made the windows coloured, or placed them in the
nave! As for the four surviving sisters, they are certainly open to the
severest censure in that they sent abroad for stained glass during the
reign of Henry IV., because there was then the highest development of
the art in England, and its product could not be approached by that of
any foreign contemporaries. Close inspection discloses the design of the
leads to be that of a graceful adjustment of the foliage of the benet
plant. At the bottom of the central light is observable a panel of
highly coloured mosaic glass. The glazing of the five small lancets
above is modern. We must turn to the nave to see the rest of the Early
English glass, of which, however, only fragments remain. They are to be
found along the clerestory, in all of its tracery lights on the south
side except the third from the west, and also some in its lower panes;
on the north side they are in the traceries of the second from the west,
the next five east of it, and also in the lower panels of the fifth and

 [Illustration: _F. Valentine, photo._
     Softly-toned grisaille with delicate patterns in faint colour.
     Of its type unsurpassed in the world. Note difference between
     mellow strength of this glass and thinness of modern glazing in
     upper tier of lancets]

The church of St. Dennis, Walmgate, has attractive panels of early
English glass dating from the latter half of the thirteenth century
inserted in two Decorated windows on the north side of the church.

An account of the Decorated glass at York will be found at p. 76, and of
that of the Perpendicular at p. 185.


Before crossing the threshold into the two next periods (the Decorated
and Perpendicular), it is worth pausing to notice that although
architecture generally tends to elaborate as time goes on, the opposite
was true in England during the two centuries of which we are about to
speak. In fact, the work of the earlier of these two epochs obviously
deserves the title of "Decorated" and the later does not. Its glass,
too, is much more florid than its successor, and is far more ambitiously
ornamental. It bears many bits of leafy foliage, twining vine tendrils,
&c., all drawn as true to life as possible. Later these bits of flora
are rarely used, and then only in a conventional and, therefore, less
decorative form. In our introduction we have stated that in England, the
arrival of the fourteenth century does not show the abrupt difference
found in France between the light-obscuring mosaic glass of the
thirteenth century and the fainter tints of the fourteenth, permitting
the brighter interior then demanded. The explanation seems to be
that the English, having been early forced by cloudy skies to use
light-admitting grisaille (either alone, or combined with their early
medallions) already enjoyed the proper illumination which, at the
beginning of the fourteenth century, was so lacking in France as to
bring about a cry for light at any cost. In place of the early
fourteenth century glare that strikes one at Sées, Evreux, and in St.
Ouen at Rouen, we have rich strong colour in their contemporaries at
Tewkesbury, Wells and Bristol. Occasionally grisaille will be found
pleasantly combined with small coloured scenes, as at Dorchester and in
Merton Chapel, Oxford, but even then it seems much like a local survival
of the thirteenth century tradition. So much for the difference between
the English Decorated and the French fourteenth century windows. Now let
us briefly consider what it was that succeeded to the mosaic medallion
style seen at Canterbury, Lincoln, &c., and also what causes must have
been at work to produce the change. About the end of the thirteenth
century there chanced to be discovered a method of producing yellow
which obviated the necessity of cutting out a piece of glass of that
tint and laboriously leading it into the picture where needed, as was
still obligatory if they wanted blue or red, &c. Some lucky glazier
stumbled on the fact that if chloride of silver be put on a sheet of
glass it would, when exposed to the fire, produce a handsome golden
stain, and that only at the points to which it was applied. Many
stories are related to explain this discovery, but as they are all more
pleasing than convincing, it seems best to credit Dame Fortune with this
valuable assistant to the glazier. It is obvious that this facility in
staining a touch of yellow just at the point desired by the artist was
eagerly seized upon. He at once made use of it to decorate the robes of
great personages, or to brighten the hair of women and angels, as well
as to liven any bits of stonework necessary to his drawing. It made
possible the development of an unimportant detail in the earlier windows
into the perfected result called the "Canopy window," which we shall
learn to know as a most useful and satisfactory combination of
decoration and serviceability. It will be remembered that from the
earliest times there frequently appeared above the heads of saints
certain conventional coverings meant to indicate an architectural
shelter. Upon the arrival of the Decorated period this detail became
more complete, the roof being fully depicted (although as yet in flat
drawing, with no attempt at perspective) and columns added at the side
to support it, thus completely enclosing the little figures in a niche.
Here we have the first, or Decorated canopy, now complete in form
although crude. It must be noticed, however, that these canopies,
generally drawn to a small scale, do not attempt alone to fill the
embrasures, and either are shown in bands across a ground of grisaille
or occur alone surrounded by grisaille. Their architectural portion is
of a strong brassy yellow, that colour being provided by pot metal glass
leaded in. Now comes the next and final development. The discovery of
yellow stain did away with the laborious need for leading in the yellow
bits to simulate stonework, so the limit as to size of the canopy was
removed, and at once they began to increase in dimensions. The obvious
result ensued, each canopy was made to fill an entire lancet, its
simulated stonework occupying as much surface as the enclosed figure,
and we have the logical whole of a decorative colour panel within
surrounded by a frame of lighter panes which admit the necessary amount
of illumination. So satisfactory did this style of window prove that it
persisted longer than almost any other type of glazing, and we must
remember it is the discovery of yellow stain that we have to thank for
making this result possible.

During the period we are now considering, the canopy was, of course,
rather crude, in fact it looked more like a sentry-box than anything
else. There was as yet no pedestal beneath it, and the pinnacles at the
top showed entire ignorance of perspective, as well as of drawing in
relief. During the Perpendicular period that followed, they did little
but elaborate this canopy idea, combining and softening the colours so
as to prevent jarring contrasts, and generally much improving the
logical combination of a coloured central portion surrounded by
light-admitting canopy framing. Without the use of yellow stain all this
would have been difficult, if not impossible, for without the little
touches of gold livening the grey stonework these canopies would have
been dull and unconvincing.

Nor was this the only novelty in the method of imparting colour to
glass. They now began to enrich their palettes by coating one colour
with another, thus getting a tint not before obtainable. For example,
red on blue gave a rich purple, blue on yellow a fine green, &c. This
was effected in a very simple manner. Suppose the glass-blower wanted a
purple--he dipped his pipe into liquid blue glass, and started to blow
his bubble. When it began to take shape he dipped the small bubble into
liquid red glass and then finished his blowing. This last dipping of
course coated the outside of the blue bubble with red, and when it was
completely blown, cut and opened out, it produced a sheet which was red
on one side and blue on the other. Held up to the light, the red and
blue combined to produce purple. Nor did the glass-blower confine
himself to combinations of two colours, for the writer knows of an
instance in France showing six superimposed coats. The French call this
"verre doublé" (or lined glass), a very descriptive name. In passing we
may say that although this manner of colouring glass first reached
prominence during the Decorated period, it was but an elaboration of the
way the ruby or red glass had always been made, _i.e._, coated on to the
colourless glass.

We have said that the earlier canopies did not have pedestals below
them. This lack was soon noted, and the need was felt for something to
complete them below; the first expedient hit upon for this purpose was
shields gay with heraldic tinctures. Not only were these decorative, but
we shall learn at Tewkesbury and Gloucester how valuable they have
proved to be in enabling those learned in heraldry definitely to date
windows whose histories have long since been forgotten.

It must not be overlooked that the architect had much to do with the
development from the mosaic to the canopy style. He decided to change
from the wide single windows that one sees at Salisbury, and to
substitute for them groups of narrower lights separated only by slender
stone mullions and all bound together at the top and tapered off by a
pyramid of smaller openings called tracery lights. These latter will be
particularly enjoyed by the glass-lover while studying this period, for
the Decorated glazier was singularly happy in his treatment of these
smaller panes--much more so, in fact, than his successor of the
Perpendicular era, who was obliged to conform to the stiff little
pill-boxes provided for him by the architect. The use of vines and
leaves was of great assistance in this problem of treating small
irregular openings; nor were these the only motives--at Wells there is a
very happy use of busts filling small trefoils.

Besides the canopy treatment, the English glazier of the Decorated
period was very fond of the Tree of Jesse theme, and, as is usually the
case with congenial tasks, obtained most satisfactory results. He used
it to great effect in his broad windows made up of several narrow
lights, separated by slender mullions. The very shape of these windows
invited this design, because a separate branch of the vine bearing its
little personages could be run up each lancet without disturbing the
coherence of the picture. The men of that time used the Tree of Jesse
nearly as much as did their fellow craftsmen across the Channel during
the sixteenth century. In France the descendants of Jesse almost always
appear as blossoms on the vine, but their earlier English prototypes
usually stand in small cartouches formed by convolutions of the vine.
This brings us to yet another reason why the Decorated glazier liked the
Tree of Jesse. We have already stated that he was much given to
introducing leaves, tendrils, &c., done in the natural manner, which, of
course, made him entirely at home in delineating the great vine rising
from the loins of the Patriarch. What success he achieved with this
style of window we shall judge for ourselves at Ludlow, Bristol, and

A convenient touchstone for deciding whether a window belongs to this or
the next period is provided by an examination of the manner in which the
artist executed his shading. It was smeared upon Decorated glass, and a
close inspection will reveal the streaky lines. During the Perpendicular
epoch the shading was stippled on with the end of a brush.

To recapitulate, the distinctive features of the Decorated epoch may be
enumerated as follows:

     1. Windows of several lancets, with tracery lights above them.
     2. Decorative treatment of tracery lights.
     3. Yellow stain.
     4. Coated glass (several layers of different colours).
     5. Deep rich colouring.
     6. Canopies.
     7. Use of leaves, vines, &c., copied closely from nature.
     8. Tree of Jesse windows.
     9. Shading which was smeared on.


Our Decorated tour will lead us far afield through the western part of
the beautiful English country. At the end of the Early English tour we
found ourselves in the interesting walled city of York. There we shall
also begin our study of the succeeding, or Decorated, period. We shall
next strike across to Norbury, in Derbyshire, then on to steep-streeted
Shrewsbury, and thence down through Ludlow with its church and ancient
castle, and stately Hereford beside the Wye to Tewkesbury, and its
ancient neighbour Deerhurst. Gloucester will be passed _en route_, and
then west to smoky Bristol, where the Severn meets the Bristol Channel.
From Bristol it is only a short trip south to Wells, then down to
Exeter, followed by a long one northeasterly to Saxon Dorchester, a few
miles from Oxford. This tour will end in that famous university town,
where, in like manner to the ending of the last tour in York, we shall
find ourselves able to begin the inspection of the next, or
Perpendicular, glass, without leaving the city.


An account of the Early English glass at York will be found on p. 57.

The Decorated glass in the cathedral is almost entirely confined to the
nave and the chapter-house (with the vestibule leading thereto).
Notwithstanding their early date, the nave windows are large and afford
more illumination than one would expect at that time. So much wall-space
is used for light apertures that of the entire height of ninety-nine
feet only thirteen feet of stone intervene between the bottom of the
clerestory windows and the top of the main arches. All this portion of
the edifice is dominated by the great west window, given by Archbishop
Melton in 1338, a splendid sheet (fifty-six feet by twenty-five feet) of
highly coloured glass, supported by curvilinear stonework. Its eight
lights retain their original glazing almost intact (as does also the
head of the door below). It is skilfully fitted to the elaborate pattern
of the supporting stone frame. First there is a row of archbishops, then
one of saints, and highest of all a line of smaller personages. The


windows in the west wall at the end of each aisle are of the same
period, and also display excellent workmanship, especially the
Crucifixion in the northern one. It should be remarked that all the
aisle embrasures but two, and all those of the clerestory but two,
retain their original glazing, and if to this we add the windows in the
west wall just described, it is clear that Winston was right in stating
that this nave contains the most perfect and extensive remains in
England of the early part of the fourteenth century. His studious
heraldic analysis of the first window from the east in the north aisle
yields him the conclusion that it was made in 1306 or 1307. He remarks
that the yellow stain there used to tint the hair of one of the
personages is the earliest instance he ever found of the use of that new
colour. Next this on the west is a very charming window given by Richard
Tunnoc, Lord Mayor of York, who died in 1330: above his effigy appears a
small reproduction of this gift window. This is perhaps the finest of
its type in England. It was in honour of the Bell-Founders' Guild, and
is appropriately ornamented by numerous bells in the borders as well as
other parts of the design. For the rest of the Decorated glass we must
go to the chapter-house and the vestibule which leads thereto. It would
be difficult to find a spot in which one becomes so thoroughly imbued
with the feeling of Decorated glazing as in this vestibule. Here we
have no distracting features from other periods. The tall, slender
lancets that light this L-shaped hallway are completely filled with
grisaille overrun with archaic figures and crude canopies, here
displayed to the greatest advantage. Passing through to the handsome
octagonal chapter-house, we are at first disappointed to notice that the
window facing us contains modern glass. Although this first glance is
unfortunate, one is soon consoled by observing that all the other six
have excellent Decorated glazing of the time of Edward II. and III.,
showing four bands of late medallions in colour drawn across a grisaille
background livened with occasional touches of red and blue. The
grisaille here leans to grey rather than to the usual greenish hue, and
moreover, the quarries are cut into irregular shapes, thus relieving the
monotony of the commoner diamond-shaped panes.

 [Illustration: _F. Valentine, photo._
     Note the grouping together, in each embrasure, of five narrow
     lights below gracefully elaborated tracery openings. Later on,
     in the Perpendicular period, these traceries lose their
     individuality, become stiffly regular, and part of the window

Even if the vast Minster were not one of the world's greatest
treasure-houses of glass, the many smaller churches of York would
provide ample grounds for its being included in this book of tours. So
numerous are these churches that, in several instances, there are found
to be more than one dedicated to the same saint, and therefore the
pilgrim will do well to note carefully the name of street or gate placed
after that of the saint's to indicate which one is intended. The most
interesting of these modest shrines is All Saints' (or, as it is
sometimes called, All Hallows'), in North Street. It alone is well worth
a visit to York. Not only is its Decorated glass in excellent repair and
in satisfactory quantity, but it evidences such careful attention to the
little touches which make a window successful that one concludes the
best artists must have been employed in its manufacture. For example,
the canopies in the eastern embrasure of the north aisle have pedestals
beneath them, a most unusual feature at that early date. Furthermore,
the scenes from the life of the Virgin are depicted in a very careful
manner, not only appearing in the three lancets below, but in the three
major lights of the traceries above, although not there surrounded by
canopies as below. Older than this window, but also typically Decorated,
is that at the east end of the south aisle. The brassy tint is more
noticeable in the canopies which run in two bands across its three
lancets, and the canopies themselves are cruder in drawing than those
just described, but are excellently illustrative of their period. These
two windows are assisted in their service of beauty by the fact that the
embrasures about them are not burdened with modern mistakes, but were
glazed during the Perpendicular period. Reference will be made to this
later glass further on (_see_ p. 188); although much more famous than
its earlier neighbours, it is not a whit more satisfactory. These two
sets contrive to set each other off in admirable fashion, and together
they effect a delightful illumination for this interesting church.

St. Dennis (Walmgate) has already been mentioned for its two Early
English panels (p. 63), but its chief interest lies in the really fine
Decorated remains. On entering you will not long be detained by the
fragments of Perpendicular canopies that are gathered into parts of the
central eastern window and two other embrasures, but will pass on to the
north aisle. The three most easterly windows in the north wall taken
with the eastern one of that aisle provide an excellent exposition of
the glazier's art during the epoch we are now considering. The eastern
one has a fairly well preserved Tree of Jesse, filling all of its five
lancets, except just along the lower sill. Note the green vine and the
use of many green leaves. Turning to the three lights in the north
wall we find the usual brassy canopies against a quarry background,
surrounded by a coloured border. The traceries, too, show the most
approved treatment of leaves, green vines, &c., as well as some small
heads. The diminutive kneeling donors on the quarry-panes below are very
interesting; note the pendent sleeves, and especially the tiny gift
window held up by one of these little people. It is upon the central
lancet of one of these windows that we find the two Early English

St. Martin-cum-Gregory boasts of ten windows of Decorated work, mostly
small brassy canopies enclosing coloured figures, all placed upon a
background of quarries. The best is that at the east end of the south
aisle; across its three lancets is carried a row of canopies larger than
then generally drawn--in fact, the space usually occupied by quarries at
the upper parts of the lights is here pre-empted by the lofty pinnacles
of the canopies; the quarries appear below, as usual, and upon them in
the two outer lancets are the small kneeling donors. Under the centre
canopy is St. Martin dividing his cloak with a beggar, and above in the
flowing tracery lights are kneeling angels. This window is rendered
especially brilliant by the generous use of red in the backgrounds.
There is also some unimportant Perpendicular glass in this church (_see_
p. 185).


Tucked away within the Peak of Derbyshire there is a "Happy Valley"
wherein, embowered in green woods and pleasant pastures, lie Chatsworth
and Haddon Hall, well known to and well beloved of all industrious
tourists. Sweeping around this valley as a protecting wall are rolling
hills, whose bare summits have their sombre treeless austerity clothed
by a mantle of purple heather. Not very far to the south of this
protecting girdle lies a little group of houses called Norbury, nestled
alongside a leaping stream that comes down from above. In the midst of
this hamlet stands a small church which knows not the industrious
tourist aforesaid, but to which we counsel the enlightened and eclectic
pilgrims of our company to repair. The chancel here is a delicious
morsel preserved for us out of the fourteenth century, complete,
enchanting. In its midst are stationed two splendid marble tombs, one
double, and both of the most exquisite workmanship. Upon them are
stretched the life-size effigies of the deceased, while along the sides
are sculptured in high relief angels supporting shields. Around the
walls runs mellow wood panelling, set off by carved oak stalls of great
beauty. To complete the picture the many windows which light the chancel
contain some of the finest Decorated pattern glass in England. Nor does
the quantity of it yield in any respect to the high quality. There are
four three-lanceted windows on each side, while a larger one of five
lights completely fills the eastern end. In those few parts of the
surface which have lost their original glazing, no attempt at modern
restoration has been made, but the space has been quite simply filled
with white glass. Across the pattern of the east window have been drawn
two bands of very light-hued figures (lacking the usual canopies) and
harmonising agreeably with the decorous tints of the background. Labels
appear above the heads. The figures in the upper row are slightly larger
than those below. Turning to the side windows, nothing of their type
could be more attractive than the graceful grisaille patterns pricked
out with points of colour and surrounded by broad borders which, in
diminished scale, are carried up, into and around the tracery lights.
Very satisfactory use of blue is made, and that, too, in an unusually
free manner. The heraldic blazons placed upon the panes add materially
to the charm of the glazing, and in very decorative fashion preserve the
names of the donors. Although a special emphasis has been deservedly
laid upon this altogether lovely chancel, the pilgrim must not leave the
church without a peep into the diminutive chapel that opens off to the
south. Here we shall see a cross-legged Crusader lying in effigy upon
his place of last repose. The light that falls upon him streams through
two small windows, one on the east and the other on the south, both
having three lancets. These lancets each contain a saint framed in a
Perpendicular canopy, while below, in the center, an armorial shield
separates two kneeling groups of donors. The southerly window shows the
father with two sons on one side, and the mother similarly attended by
her daughters on the other; while on the easterly lancets the father is
accompanied by no less than eight sons and the mother by five
daughters--a goodly company, and one which would have alarmed the
philosopher Malthus. Note the steeple head-dresses of the women, pendent
behind. "Tell it not in Gath" that this charming sanctuary lies hidden
away in Derbyshire, come away privately with us and enjoy its beauties
undisturbed--"Odi profanum vulgus et arceo."


     _"High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam
     Islanded in Severn stream;
     The bridges from the steepled crest
     Cross the water east and west._

     _The flag of morn in conqueror's state
     Enters at the English gate;
     The vanquished eve, as night prevails,
     Bleeds upon the road to Wales."_

So sang the "Shropshire Lad" (A. E. Housman) concerning that fair city
of the Welsh Marches, high-perched Shrewsbury. Most picturesque is the
fashion in which the river Severn knots itself about the foot of the
high peninsula upon which the town has been built, and to which access
is given by the two ancient bridges, named English and Welsh from the
direction in which they lead. The Kirkland Bridge is an addition of
modern times. Thoroughly mediæval is the impression one receives as he
approaches and enters Shrewsbury. In the first place, the passage of a
bridge always affords an excellent adjustment of the traveller's mental
attitude; it lends a certain aloofness to the town on the other side.
It seems to say, "We are letting you across the natural barrier
established for us by this river; but remember, it is a privilege, and
not a right!" Directly we are arrived on the other side, there commences
the ascent of the steep streets, and on the way up there is unfolded
before us a series of old white and black half-timbered houses, which
will serve to complete the mental picture of those distant days when
protecting rivers and steep streets were not eschewed on the grounds of
inconveniencing the city's prospective growth. Safety was then vastly
more important than commercial convenience. That features hampering to
modern commerce were exactly suited to a border stronghold was proved by
the way this town withstood shock after shock of warring tribes, or
nations, or factions. In his play of _Henry IV._, Shakespeare tells how
the Prince of Wales here made his sudden transformation from dissolute
youth to resolute manhood by defeating and slaying Harry Hotspur, thus
in one day quelling the mutinous combination of the Scotch, the Welsh
under Owen Glendower, and the rebellious English Archbishop Scrope of
York. Quaint and ancient to the last degree is the flavour of this old
city, which has owned, first and last, thirty-one charters. Those
interested in half-timbered dwellings will do well to come here and
inspect their number, variety, and excellent state of preservation.
Perhaps the best are around Wye Cop, passed on the way up the steep
streets. The remains of the ancient castle and walls add still other
picturesque features to this artistically noteworthy town. An inspection
of St. Mary's Church brings home to us the fact that as this was a
fortress city, ground could not be spared to provide the usual Close
which so pleasantly surrounds most English churches; in fact, this
modest sanctuary is so set upon by other buildings that it seems almost
to shrink from public gaze. An outpost occupying a strategic position on
an embattled frontier required every foot of ground within its walls,
and could devote no space to artistic surroundings, even for a church.
St. Mary's is very rich in glass, and that, too, of varied epochs and
styles. Fortunately alike for that church and for us, the Rev. W. G.
Rowlands (Vicar from 1825 to 1850), was a discriminating collector of
stained glass. He secured not only the great St. Bernard window (of
which we will speak later), but also much of the other glass that
decorates the interior. We will begin our examination by inspecting the
large east window, which displays a fourteenth century Tree of Jesse in
the usual Decorated manner, of which we shall see prototypes at Ludlow,
Bristol, and Wells. Jesse is reclining across the bottom of three of the
lancets, the convolutions of the vine arising from him forming series
of oval enclosures in which appear his descendants. Note the skilful use
of the leads in providing the black outlines needed to draw the figure
of Jesse. In the row of panels below appear small figures of the donors.
The fine reds and blues are hurt by the use of too much green--a common
fault at that time. We must look to the nave windows (all of three
lancets) for the other glazing of that period. The middle embrasure on
the northerly side is beautified by the tasteful use of written scrolls,
which wind about the figures and the columns of simulated architecture.
Scrolls are also used in the next one to the east, but there they are
not so important a part of the decoration. On the southerly side of the
nave the embrasures nearest to the west and to the east have single
figures in canopy. That to the east displays shields below the figures,
a decoration which is absent in the western one. The central window on
this side dates from the sixteenth century, and is the best of that
period here. It contains three subjects in each side lancet, and two in
the central one. Such intelligent use has been made of the leads that
one concludes that the men who made the designs, and they who
constructed the window, were either identical or else worked side by
side. The result forms a pleasing contrast to the usual disregard during
the Renaissance for the decorative and useful purposes of the leads.
The most interesting and pleasing of all the windows is the large one of
three lancets on the north side of the choir showing fourteen scenes
from the life of St. Bernard, six in the central lancet, and four in
each of the side ones. Four more episodes from the same life are to be
seen in the middle one of the south aisle. This glass, originally in the
German Abbey of Altenberg, and then for many years in the vaults of St.
Severin at Cologne, was finally brought to London, where it was secured
for St. Mary's by the Rev. Mr. Rowlands. The designs are attributed to
Albrecht Dürer, but this is a common claim for German glass of that
time. The perspective throughout is good, and the colouring very
satisfactory. An unusual charm is added to the little figures by the use
of Latin labels issuing from their mouths. There are also inscriptions
below most of them, but these are frequently mutilated and misplaced. If
proof were needed that this glass was not specially constructed for its
present location, it is provided by the fact that the scenes do not
follow in their proper order. A field-glass can be had on application to
the clerk, and the use of it reveals many interesting and amusing
details. The second window on the east in the chapel, south of the
choir, has in its tracery-lights written music carried by angels. The
pilgrim will later observe a great deal of this in the Beauchamp
Chapel at Warwick. Although rare in England, it is rarer still in
France. A fine sixteenth-century Crucifixion scene, covering three
lancets, decorates the north window just off the north transept.
In the modest-sized east window of this transept are twelve small
sixteenth-century enamel panels placed on white, a demonstration of yet
another style of that later period. The rest of the glazing in St.
Mary's is either modern or so completely repaired with new glass as to
have lost all its ancient feeling. An inspection of this church would
not be complete without observing the fine wooden ceilings of both the
nave and the choir.

Devotees of the Ingoldsby Legends will remember that when the Great Dog
in the castle of "Bloudie Jacke of Shrewsberrie" was about to seize upon
Mary Anne, she vicariously appeased him with:

     "A Shrewsbury cake, of Pallin's own make,
     Which she happened to take
     Ere her run she begun,
     She'd been used to a luncheon at One."

Mindful of this dainty's historic existence, the traveller will
doubtless regale himself therewith, that product of the town being as
excellent and famous to-day as ever it was of yore.

From Shrewsbury our route lies southward over that centuries-old
battle-ground, the Welsh Marches. We shall find not only much
architectural beauty and fine glass, but also many inspiring memories of
the border warfare whose bitterness lasted so many centuries.


Perched high in a strong position at a bend in the River Teme rises the
noble ruin of what was once the castle of Ludlow, visible from quite a
distance, no matter from which direction one approaches it along the
winding Shropshire lanes. It still retains enough of its ancient walls
and towers to demonstrate what valiant service it must have rendered in
keeping the turbulent Welsh back on their own side of the Border. Nor is
the note of war the only one that echoes from the early history of this
castle, for in its great hall was enacted for the first time Milton's
"Comus." After a brief visit to the castle let us wend our way to St.
Lawrence's Church in the town, for which an effective and judicious
restoration has revived much of its original charm. A diverting legend
relates that the arrow at the top of the north transept gable was shot
hither by Robin Hood from the Old Field two miles away. Although many of
the parishioners devoutly believe this to be true, it strikes the modern
traveller that the great outlaw must on that occasion have drawn a very
"long bow"! The ancient appearance of the fine hexagonal porch with the
room above it makes a most inviting entrance. We shall find our glass
in unusual parts of the church, nor is this the only unique feature
of the edifice. The Lady chapel is not at the east, but at the south
side of the chancel; in it is an interesting Tree of Jesse in the
approved Decorated method, very like the one we have just seen at
Shrewsbury. Unfortunately, the restorer has here been too thorough, but,
nevertheless, the pattern has been preserved, and also many of the
figures, for example, those just above the head and feet of Jesse.
He lies recumbent along the bottom of three of the five lancets
which compose the window, while above, in compartments formed by the
convolutions of the vine, are his descendants. In accordance with the
common practice, too much green was used. Although the chancel does not
as usual afford the greatest attraction in the way of glazing, we must
observe an interesting fifteenth century window in the middle of the
southerly wall. Its five lancets each contain three tiers of figures in
canopy, the details of which are much elaborated, especially in the
pedestals. Notice also the jewelled borders to the robes. The red and
blue glass is free from obscuring paint. Although our principal object
was the Decorated glass, this church would repay a visit because of the
Perpendicular glazing of the chapel of St. John which lies north of the
chancel, from which it is shut off by a beautiful fifteenth century
screen. The two most easterly windows in the north wall are much lower
in tone than either the very golden Annunciation which adjoins them on
the west, or the red, white and blue legend of Edward the Confessor and
the Palmers, which is round the corner in the east wall. This latter
dates from about 1430 and has two tiers of canopies across its four
lancets. There is here illustrated an absurd contradiction into which
this originally graceful style was developed;--within one of its
elaborately pinnacled shrines we find a ship! and under another a rural
scene with trees! most out-of-place substitutes for the customary and
appropriate saint. Let us return to the two low-toned windows in the
north wall, of which we have just spoken. The writer does not remember
ever having seen any similar to them. Each embrasure has three lancets
subdivided horizontally at the middle, making six spaces. The two
windows thus afford twelve panels, which are used to display the Twelve
Apostles. Local tradition says that there is here represented the
Council at which the Apostolic Creed was composed. Each holy man sits on
a bench behind a rail, but as they are drawn to a modest scale and
occupy each the centre of his panel, they are thereby so far removed
one from the other as to destroy utterly any appearance of a Council.
There is a great deal of soft-hued architecture throughout, but it is
used as background and not as a frame, thus differing radically from
typical canopies. A more satisfactory result would have been attained if
they had adhered closely to contemporary tradition, for here the
figures, low-hued as they are, start out too abruptly from the
over-spacious architectural background. The general effect is not that
of a series of gracefully framed Apostolic portraits, but of lonely
figures seated in empty halls. If for no other reason than that they
have provoked this criticism, these windows should be carefully
remarked, because they demonstrate how sound was the theory of employing
the architectural canopy as a light-admitting frame for the coloured
central figure. The east window of the south transept contains fragments
of fourteenth and fifteenth century glass from other parts of the
church. The wooden ceilings are well worthy of inspection.


A very charming feature of English country life is the pleasure one can
derive from boating on the small rivers. Our American watercourses are
generally too wide or too turbulent to become such a domestic pet as we
all know the river Thames to be. To one who has not seen Boulter's Lock
on a bright Sunday, or who has never witnessed a Henley Regatta, that
most brilliant of all athletic spectacles, it would be difficult to
explain how thoroughly the Englishman enjoys and how constantly he uses
the opportunity which Father Thames affords for a short outing. Nor is
the Thames the only stream thus available. Small watercourses of the
same sort are to be found all over the country, and afford delightful
trips for those who are willing to travel in so leisurely a fashion. The
writer remembers with the keenest pleasure certain canoe trips, one of
three days from Bedford to Ely on the Ouse, another on the Stour, from
Sudbury to Manningtree, lasting two days, and a third of similar
duration from Petworth down the Rother into the Arun at Pullborough and
thence to Arundel. All the preparation necessary is to buy your canoe a
third-class ticket, put it into the luggage van at the railway station,
and set out for the point at which you wish to begin. Jerome K. Jerome
has immortalised a similar trip taken down the Thames from Oxford to
London. One of the most charming of all English river journeys is that
down the Wye. If one wishes to take a long trip, the start can be made
at Hay, thirty-four miles above Hereford, or perhaps better at Whitney,
twenty-eight miles above. The next stretch is from Hereford to Ross,
twenty-seven miles, and, if desired, this can be lengthened by
continuing on down to Monmouth, Tintern and Chepstow. The charming bits
of scenery that unfold themselves as this little river lazily winds down
the Welsh Marches are most varied and delightful. It must, however, be
admitted that it is only the middle section of this agreeable trip that
properly concerns one engaged in glass-hunting. We should, therefore,
content ourselves with the stretch from Hereford to Ross, twenty-seven
miles, if, indeed, we have the time to devote to this slow method of
travelling. Over by the river end of the peaceful town of Hereford is
the lovely green Close which lies about the sturdy reddish brown
cathedral. Few churches, even those of great size, give such a square
and solid impression as results here from the combination of the ruddy
tones of the building material and the early type of its architecture.
The defacing effects of an earlier restoration are being rectified by
the erection of a new west front, now almost completed. The massive
Norman columns that support the nave within, carry out in their grand
simplicity the sturdy promise of the exterior. Every division of the
church seems spacious, the ample transepts, wide choir aisles, and large
Lady chapel, completing the effect begun by the nave and choir. Indeed,
so commodious is the Lady chapel, that it is used as a parish church.
The cathedral has a number of interesting possessions, chief among which
is the large Mappa Mundi made in 1300, and showing the world as then
known. It hangs in the south choir aisle. The world is represented as
round like a plate, and in addition to the cities and countries marked
thereon, there also appear the fabulous animals which were then a part
of orthodox geography. It was about this time that there was written the
adventures of that famous traveller, Sir John de Maundeville, whose
voyages were only exceeded in extent by his imagination. His reports of
fabulous beasts, &c., are in excellent accord with the pictures on this

The ancient glass here is somewhat limited, and is all of the Decorated
period. On the south side of the Lady chapel we shall remark two
windows, chiefly glazed in greenish grisaille, but each bearing four
coloured decorations placed one above the other. In one case these prove
to be geometrical designs outlined in colour, while in the other they
are small coloured groups, the topmost scene showing Christ, on a red
background, pointing upward. Glass even more typically Decorated is to
be seen in the eastern wall of the north-east transept, and again in the
most easterly embrasure of the south choir ambulatory. These windows
each contain four lancets surmounted by tracery lights, and in each
lancet is a coloured figure framed in an unusually lofty canopy--in fact
the latter is three times as high as the figure it encloses. Note the
brassy tone of the early golden stain used in the architecture. Modern
grisaille has replaced its ancient prototype, which, in accordance with
the conventions, surrounded these early canopies to increase the
light-admitting power of the embrasures. This glass was formerly in St.
Peter's Church, but about sixty years ago that church disposed of it for
£5 to a purchaser who presented it to the cathedral. Limited though it
be in amount, it will repay a careful examination.


As one wanders through the streets of quiet Tewkesbury, the
half-timbered houses on every side lend it an Old World flavour that
most suitably prepares us for the sturdy Abbey, the dignity of whose
recessed west front is all in harmony with the mediæval gravity so
characteristic of the place. It is as if that eloquently silent edifice
had never been able to shake off the sombre memories of the sanguinary
scenes enacted within it May 4, 1471, when, after the defeat of the
Lancastrians under the Duke of Somerset by Edward IV. in the "Bloody
Meadow" just outside the town, the slaughter of the wearers of the Red
Rose was not only carried on through the streets of Tewkesbury, but
even into the Abbey itself. An echo of this butchery is heard in
Shakespeare's _Richard III._, when the ghost of the murdered Prince
Edward (son of Henry VI.) appears to King Richard the night before the
fatal battle of Bosworth and cries out:

     "Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
     Think, how thou stabb'st me in the prime of youth
     At Tewkesbury."

With what reproach must not that splendid row of fourteenth century
knights, victors over the French at Crécy, have looked down from the
windows of the choir clerestory upon this bloody violation of the rights
of sanctuary by those fifteenth century butchers of the House of York.
Indeed, these effigies of the earlier warriors were fortunate to have
escaped those later desperate struggles. The ravages of war do not seem
to have dealt so harshly with stained glass in this country as
elsewhere. A learned French contemporary of these tragic events,
Philippe de Comines, remarked this fact, and spoke of England as a land
where "there are no buildings destroyed or demolished by war, and where
the mischief falls on those who make the wars." Although Tewkesbury's
fame in history rests largely upon its having been the theatre of this
wild closing scene of the War of the Roses, it is not because of any
fifteenth century happening that we are moved to come here, but by
reason of the seven large windows of the preceding, or Decorated, period
which fill the choir clerestory. This is one of the few instances where
we shall remark the absence of the square eastern end so usual in
England. It is here omitted in favour of the rounded apse then prevalent
in France. Advantage has been taken of this unusual shape to throw out a
series of chapels around the chancel, which add greatly to the beauty of
the Decorated choir, and contrast sharply with the sturdy Norman nave.
The seven large embrasures that light the choir clerestory each contain
a group of lancets, five in every case, except in the most westerly
pair, where there are but four. Although the design is the same
throughout (a large figure in colour surrounded by a canopy frame),
these frames are differently occupied, those in the westerly pair
containing armoured knights, while in all the others are saints. The
depth of their colour scheme is due partly to the great quantity of rich
greens and reds used, and partly to the opacity of the panes depicting
the canopies. The figures generally occupy about one half the window
height, the rest being given over to the canopy. Below the feet of the
knights are their shields, which serve to provide the artistic balance
later obtained from pedestals. The same conventional attitude has been
assumed for all these warriors; each stands with his feet well apart,
his left hand on the sword by his side, the right hand on the hip,
holding up a sceptre. The pinnacles of almost all the canopies are
outlined against red backgrounds. Note the little rose windows
introduced in the upper part of the canopies. The most easterly window
provides a variation in that the enshrined saints are higher up on the
panes, thus making room below them for small groups consisting mostly of
naked figures, with flesh tints glazed in brown. The right-hand lancet
shows six kneeling figures praying, doubtless the donors. The borders
are carried up and around all the tracery lights, which are very
Decorated in form and do not yet show any hint of the stiffer
Perpendicular treatment to follow. Perhaps here more effectively than
anywhere in England shall we feel the warm colour-value of Decorated
glass, with as yet no tendency toward the paler tints that are to come
with the Perpendicular style. A similar warmth of tone is to be remarked
in the east windows of Bristol and Wells Cathedrals, and the writer is
moved to conjecture that the same glazier had to do with all these
three. This conjecture is not only based on the still undiminished
strength of colour throughout them all, but also on the marked
similarity in the drawing and tinting of a certain white vine decoration
upon a red ground, to be remarked in the upper tracery lights of
all three, and also in the traceries of certain transept windows
at Gloucester. Whoever this workman was, we feel his results so
satisfactory to-day that it would be small wonder if contemporary
appreciation caused his employment in these different towns.

     A rare example of rounded apse, generally replaced in England by
     a square ended chancel. Chief charm of these windows is their
     rich colouring]


Possibly some of our travellers are proceeding in so leisurely a fashion
that they may decide to sojourn a day or two in Tewkesbury. To them we
address the suggestion that they visit the adjoining town of Deerhurst
and see its venerable church. It is but a two-mile walk across the
fields, or a pleasant trip by boat on the Severn. It may, however, by
means of a small _détour_, be visited on the way to Gloucester. Although
it can boast of but little Decorated glass, that little is lodged in an
edifice of great interest, because it is the earliest dated one in
England. The obviously Saxon architecture, with its "herring-bone" and
"long and short" work, the window-tops composed of two slanting stones,
or else of arches cut from one piece--these unmistakable signs would
have told us that it antedated the Normans, but of such buildings there
are many in this country. Here, however, we have an exact date given us,
and, furthermore, the earliest known in all the land. A stone found here
(now preserved at Oxford) relates that this chapel was dedicated in
1056, and that Earl Odda caused it to be erected "in honour of the Holy
Trinity and for the good of the soul of his brother, Elfric, which at
this place quitted the body." It goes on further to say that "Bishop
Ealdred dedicated it on 12th April in the 14th year of Edward King of
the English." Two other early Saxon edifices of even more modest
dimensions lie close at hand. The ancient glass is contained in the four
small lancets of the west wall on the right as one enters, and is
obviously of the Decorated period. The most attractive bit is the small
panel showing St. Catherine framed in a canopy, holding her wheel in one
hand, and revolving it with the other. The background is red within the
canopy, but green outside, a very frequent adjustment at that time. In
both the upper and lower parts of these lancets are groups of three and
four kneeling donors, about eight inches high, with labels above them.
This glass has not always remained in its original embrasures, but,
fortunately, did not stray far. Its travels were cut short by a
gentleman who purchased it for £5 from an antiquary's shop in a
neighbouring town, and restored it to its early home. More important and
more beautiful sanctuaries will be encountered in our travels, but it is
well to have halted for even a brief time at this ancient Saxon fane, if
only to ponder upon how tenacious must have been the traits of those
early ancestors of ours, to have persisted to these modern days with
such vigour as to have made the adjective "Anglo-Saxon" so significant.


Bristol is connected with London by the Old Bath Road. What memories
that name arouses of beaux and belles of stage-coach days, gaily
chatting to while away the fifteen-hour trip from London to Bath, or
furtively glancing out to see if bold Dick Turpin, or some gentleman of
his profession, be not lurking in the shadows of the trees, intent on
relieving the tired horses by lightening the passengers' luggage. This
stage-coach period is of peculiar interest to visitors from across the
seas, because it takes one back to old Colony days, and the War of the
Revolution. In England the improved facilities of travel provided by the
stage coach had much to do with advancing parliamentary government and
doing away with the system of "rotten borough" representation in
Parliament. Bustling and hearty days were those of the four Georges,
which produced a Prime Minister like William Pitt. In this progressive
era of railroad construction and stock manipulation, it is interesting
to read how Richard Palmer besought the Government to establish a
regular mail-coach service on the Bath Road, alleging the great profits
they could thereby secure, but really hoping in this way to increase the
profits of his theatre in Bath. After a long struggle he finally got the
ear of William Pitt. The service was established, and his subsidy (which
was to be regulated by the amount saved in carrying the mails) proved so
large that they cut it down to the lump sum of £50,000! The first coach
started on August 8, 1784. Nowadays it causes us to smile when we read
of the tremendous effect produced throughout the country by the news
that this coach left London at eight o'clock in the morning and arrived
at Bristol at eleven the same evening! Such unheard-of speed aroused
wide interest, and had much to do with the great success of Bath as a
fashionable watering-place. Bowling along this historic road we shall
only stop long enough at Bath to see the remains of the baths built by
the Romans, and the famous Pump Room, the scene of the triumphs of Beau
Nash, and many another. We may also take a peep into the small, but
fine, church whose great window surface has earned for it the title of
the "Lantern of the West." It will not detain us long because its glass
is all modern, except in the second embrasure from the west in the north
aisle, where seven shields surmounted by elaborately plumed helmets are
agreeably disposed across the five lancets. On we go out of Bath and
along the narrow valley of the Avon, twelve miles further to smoky
Bristol, squatted like a puffing Dutch burgher at the point where the
Severn empties into the Bristol Channel. Although the great shipping
industry that gave the town its early importance has of late years
diminished, it still retains enough to be an active port of trade. To
some fanciful folk the pall of smoke that hangs over the town may seem a
gloomy retribution for the fact that from the days of the Saxon and the
Norman down to the abolition of slavery, Bristol was the greatest port
in England for that nefarious traffic. Changing to a brighter subject,
this was the harbour from which John Cabot, the Anglicised Venetian, and
his son Sebastian (who was born here), sailed upon their voyages of
discovery across the little-known Atlantic.

The Mayor's Chapel contains some very interesting sixteenth century
glass, but as it was bought abroad and fetched here, it has not, for us,
the interest which we shall feel in the home-made Decorated windows of
the cathedral. Bristol Cathedral lacks the pleasing setting of foliage
and green lawns which one finds about almost every English church.
Indeed, in this respect, it is more like the famous French ones, which
nearly all rely upon architectural charm for their effectiveness.
Inside, the chief matters of interest are the great Tree of Jesse which
fills the east window, and the two large lights on each side of the
chancel. These side windows are glazed in grisaille upon which are
figures framed in canopy, two tiers, one above the other. The most
westerly embrasure of the southerly pair has in its upper row three
canopies which, taken together, show the martyrdom of St. Edmund. He is
within the central canopy, while those on each side contain archers
drawing their bows to shoot at him. The bent knees, the awkward pose of
the heads, &c., show the drawing to be most primitive. The tracery
lights are glazed in red, with white winding vines, and are remarkably
like the traceries at Tewkesbury. The Berkeleys, who gave this glass,
were related to the de Clares of Tewkesbury, so it is more than likely
that they employed the same glazier. The great east window is in a very
good state owing to its restoration in 1847 and is a graceful work of
the Decorated period. The erudite Winston concludes that as it does not
bear the arms of Piers Gaveston (murdered in 1312), and does show those
of Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford (slain in open rebellion against
his sovereign in 1322), the date of the window is probably about 1320,
which furthermore is borne out by internal evidence. This great window
rises above and behind the altar and has its nine lancets subdivided
into three groups of three each by two mullions which, as was usual at
that time, curve away from each other when nearing the upper part of the
embrasure. Although the subject is a Tree of Jesse, the patriarch
himself does not appear. The various branches of the vine rise
perpendicularly from the lower sill and are then gracefully intertwined.
The treatment of the personages is the same throughout, each being
enclosed by a loop of the vine. The 1847 restoration was so well done
that except for an occasional harsh note of colour in the robes, it
conceals its modern substitutions quite successfully. The lancets each
contain two figures, one above the other. It is fair to comment that the
encircling vine is rather too light to harmonise well with the figures
in the background.

After descending the hill, crowned by the cathedral, we cross over into
the other part of the town to see the fine church of St. Mary Redcliffe,
where, although there is but little glass, that little is arranged in a
unique manner. Each of the three easterly windows of the south transept
consists of three lancets. For each window there is provided a border
consisting of a series of fifteen small four-pointed openings fitted
over it in the shape of an inverted U. The glazing of these stars
reminds one of the ordinary Decorated treatment of tracery lights.
Within a narrow border is a red field upon the centre of which appears a
coloured boss from which radiate four leaves. The general effect is a
yellowish green. These windows date from about 1360. On the way out let
us stop in the north-west corner of the nave and notice in the north
wall a window filled with a collection of about eighty-five roundels and
heads, all helter-skelter, eked out with fragments from other
embrasures. The effect, though motley, is interesting. A window in the
westerly wall of this corner also contains _débris_, but here it is of
figures and canopies. This church, called by Queen Elizabeth "the
fairest, the goodliest, and the most famous parish church in England,"
is chiefly known for having been the literary browsing-ground of that
infant prodigy Thomas Chatterton, who announced that it was an old chest
in its muniment-room that yielded what he alleged to be transcriptions
from certain ancient Rowley manuscripts. So well were these forgeries
contrived that it took Horace Walpole, himself the constructor of an
imitation Gothic romance ("The Castle of Otranto"), to discover the
fraud. Although but seventeen years old when he committed suicide in
1770, Chatterton had already published a number of writings. No good
American should depart without a glance at the monument and armour of
Admiral Penn, father of our William Penn.

It will be no small relief to emerge from the smoky pall which hangs
over this enterprising city and escape again into the clearer atmosphere
of the charming English country.


Off in Somerset, snugly tucked away at the foot of the Mendip Hills,
lies one of the most charming cathedrals to be seen anywhere, and, in
the opinion of Fergusson, certainly the most beautiful in England. The
fact that it has grouped about it more perfect ecclesiastical buildings
than any other church of its size, and also that the town which grew up
around is very interesting, combine to make Wells a peculiarly
delightful place. The distant prospects of it are very attractive,
whether you stand upon Moulton Hill and look toward its western façade,
or view the eastern end with the group of adjoining buildings from the
top of Thor Hill. Even when you have come down into the quiet town and
the cathedral is near at hand, the approach to it continues to be most
picturesque, first through a battlemented gateway in one corner of the
market square, and then across a lovely lawn shaded by fine trees. The
ample proportions of the rugged west front are saved from the appearance
of excessive breadth because of the perpendicular lines lent by the
buttresses built against it. A most attractive feature of this great
façade is the unusual collection of carved figures beneath canopies with
which, at the close of the thirteenth century, it was lavishly adorned.
There are over six hundred in all, carved of stone from a local quarry,
and originally gilded and coloured. Nearly all are of life-size, and
represent not only Biblical characters, but also kings and queens of the
Saxon, Norman, and Plantagenet dynasties. Within the building the scene
is one of exceptional splendour and beauty. Even what elsewhere might
prove ugly is here turned to artistic account, as, for example, when the
stability of the great central tower demanded a strengthening arch
across the nave at that point, it was rendered a decorative feature by
placing above it another arch inverted so that the lines should sweep
upward as well as downward. An odd and unusual position was selected for
the chapter-house--above and to the north of the chancel--and nothing
could be more delightful than the way in which the old stone stairway
bends gently up to it. East of the chancel is a fine roomy Lady chapel.
The entrance to this chapel is provided by the removal of the lower
third of the east wall of the chancel, the middle third being stone wall
with empty niches, and the upper third a great arched window of seven
lancets containing a Tree of Jesse in the Decorated manner, above
which, in the traceries, is shown the Judgment Day. This is known as the
"Golden Window," and Canon Church calls it "one of the most remarkable
in England for simplicity and harmony and richness of colouring, for the
force of character in the faces, and the stately figures in flowing
mantles of green and ruby and gold, like Arab chiefs; figures such as
some artists in the last Crusading host under Edward might have seen and
designed, and so different from the conventional portraiture of Bible
characters." Although this window is less lofty than the similar one at
Bristol, it does not seem so incomplete and cut off, because we have
here the recumbent figure of Jesse across the bottom of the five central
lancets, a feature lacking at Bristol. Another point of difference is
that the convolutions of the vine do not here enclose the seventeen
figures of the descendants, but instead they stand under canopies, of
which, however, only the topmost ones have pinnacles. The broad borders
have the same design throughout, viz., gold crowns alternated with
colour, which changes from red to blue in each successive lancet. The
backgrounds within the canopies also alternate red and blue, always
contrasting with the colour outside. Almost all the small personages
are draped in either green or yellow, and four have undergarments of
red. Though their colouring is splendid, the figures are rather too
crowded. The two most easterly lights on each side of the chancel are
contemporary with the east window--they are each of three lancets
and contain single figures, occupying about half the height of the
embrasure, and have no pedestals below them. So similar is the treatment
here to that at Bristol that it seems safe to assign the same date to
both (1320). The tracery lights around the choir ambulatory still retain
their Decorated glazing. To the right and left just before we enter the
Lady chapel are single windows containing fragments of ancient glass.
The Lady chapel itself is finely illuminated by five large windows of
five lancets each containing figure and canopy work. One should remark
the unique pedestals consisting of golden lions or bears surmounted by
the characteristic ball-flower ornament. Very interesting, also, are the
tracery lights, which consist of pyramids of small trefoil openings,
four at the base, then three, then two, then one. They are reminiscent
of the tracery lights of the Lichfield Lady chapel, but here the glazier
has been more adroit in the use of his opportunities. Instead of putting
a head alone in each opening, he has availed himself of the broader
space at the bottom to put in the shoulders as well. These little busts
adjust themselves admirably to the trefoils. Although the glass which
once filled the octagonal chapter-house is all gone save that up in the
traceries, those remnants are of interest because the disposal of the
designs against the red backgrounds is reminiscent of the work at
Tewkesbury and Gloucester. The great west window of the nave has
seventeenth and eighteenth century glass at the sides, and in the centre
a fine sixteenth century French panel showing the beheading of St. John.
This bears the date 1507 and a Gascon inscription, and was bought by
Bishop Creyghton during the time that he was sharing the exile of
Charles II. on the Continent. This provokes the comment that not only
is there a small amount of sixteenth century glass in England, but
curiously enough much of it proves upon inspection to have been made
across the Channel. Before leaving this noble interior one should notice
a feature of quaint interest. In the south choir aisle stands the
monument to Bishop Bytton (1524), long renowned for his cures of
toothache. After his canonisation this tomb was resorted to by pilgrims
seeking relief from that malady, and so famous were the cures that we
find carved upon the capitals of piers on the west side of the south
transept, and again in the north transept, little men whose sufferings
from toothache are reproduced in the most detailed and dramatic manner.

     Notice graceful setting, permitting a glimpse through into the
     Lady Chapel beyond. The large Tree of Jesse rising from the
     loins of the Patriarch is portrayed in colours of almost
     barbaric richness]

No matter by which road we leave Wells, one should look back more than
once to enjoy the charming views of the cathedral and its Close.


In travelling about England one is struck by how greatly the colour of
the building-stone varies. One sees greenish grey around Tavistock in
West Devon; golden brown in the country just north of Oxford;
silver-grey in many parts of Yorkshire, &c. &c. One might continue to
enumerate instances, but in the end the most marked of all would surely
be the red seen about Exeter. Not only are many of the edifices built of
this ruddy stone, but the earth in any ploughed field thereabouts shows
the same unusual colouring. The Normans must have been struck by this
fact, for they called the hill on which they built their castle
"Rougemont." In view of this marked peculiarity of the Exe Valley, it is
noteworthy that the exterior of the rugged cathedral, with its mighty
transeptal towers, is blackish grey. Within, it shows the reddish hue
which one would expect hereabouts, but outside is similar in tone to
Westminster Abbey. If one be so whimsically-minded as to group
cathedrals by colour, one must class Exeter with Peterborough as black,
while Lincoln will be golden brown, York and Canterbury soft grey, &c.

Very fine as well as decorative glass is to be seen in this cathedral.
It fills the east window, and another near it in the north choir
clerestory, as well as a large window in each of the chapels that close
the easterly end of the choir aisles. These charming little chapels are
each reached by an entrance from the choir ambulatory, and are only
separated from the Lady chapel between them by a light screen. The east
window of the northerly chapel has five lancets, although the glass was
seemingly made for one of six, the number which still exists in that of
the southerly chapel. The treatment in both is the same, a handsome and
well-balanced combination of quarry-panes relieved by gaily-tinted
heraldic shields, and all surrounded by coloured borders. In the
northerly chapel there has been introduced into the central lancet a
Decorated panel, showing a kneeling chantry priest within a canopy
praying for the donor. This appears to have been removed hither from the
chapter-house, where there still remain a couple of similar panels. The
two windows just described are excellent examples of one of the glazing
methods of the epoch, while of still another style (the figure in
canopy), equally good ones are above in the choir clerestory, the fourth
from the east on the north side showing in each of its four lancets a
figure under a canopy with a shield of arms at the feet. It is
practically complete, except that the shields have lost their heraldic

     Perpendicular stone frame glazed chiefly with very typically
     decorated figure-and-canopy glass preserved from the earlier and
     smaller window. Below and beyond appears the Lady chapel]

The archives tell of a large purchase of glass in Rouen in 1301 and
again in 1317 for use in this cathedral. Much of these purchases is
still to be seen in the large east window. Here we are struck by a
strange anomaly of obviously Decorated glass in purely Perpendicular
masonry. Nothing could be more distinctive of the later period than the
Perpendicular mullions surmounted by stiffly upright tracery lights,
and yet the glazing could not be mistaken for anything but Decorated.
Evidently old wine has been put into new bottles. Although a great deal
of restoration is noticeable in this window, the strongly brassy tone of
the canopies in the three outer lancets on each side clearly indicate
that they antedate the discovery of yellow stain. An explanation of this
anachronistic clash between the glazing and its framing stonework
appears upon the rolls of the Chapter. April 21, 1389, one Henry de
Blakeborn, then Canon, moved by the fine appearance of the newly
constructed west window, offered 100 marks towards properly enlarging
the eastern one. This offer was accepted and the work at once put in
hand. The glazing of the earlier east window was saved to put into the
new and larger embrasure. As yellow stain was not known at the time of
glazing the first east window, it is absent from the early glass,
although it is plentifully used in the heads, &c., of the additions made
necessary in 1389 by the increased size of the window. One must not
quarrel with the judicious restoration which has preserved so charming
an _ensemble_. But this indulgent mood will be abruptly dismissed when
one examines the lights along the north side walls of the choir aisles,
for here the colour in the patterns upon the white panes proves to be
Decorated glass cut up into bits for this purpose by some modern
glazier! Any further comment upon his taste is unnecessary. It is one of
the instances which causes one to query if it be always wise to impose a
punishment for murder!


Before setting out upon our journeys we stated that although the viewing
of stained glass was our main purpose, we intended to be broad-minded
and enjoy whatever other interesting sights might be encountered. When
we approach the little hamlet that "Dorchester ys ycluped, that bysyde
Oxenford ys" those of our company learned in archæology will doubtless
point out the Dykes, those two great parallel earthworks twenty feet
high, separated by a dry fosse twenty yards wide, which run for a
distance of 900 yards round the south side of the town, from the banks
of the Thames to those of the little Thame. Our archæological friend
will not need to point out how strong a defence was provided for the
ancient Briton by these walls and the two rivers, but he will doubtless
earnestly set forth many arguments for and against the theory that this
fortification was an outpost of the entrenched camp on Sinodun Hill near
by. The writer well remembers how strongly these Dykes impressed him
when he first saw them years ago. In company with two friends he was
rowing down from Oxford to London, and having arrived at Dorchester
after sunset, stopped there to spend the night. Early in the morning, on
our way down to the boat, we came upon these earthworks overgrown with
yellow wheat and red poppies sparkling with dew. Instantly one forgot
the dull modern village, and went back in fancy to the days when these
great lines of earth were thrown up to protect the early owners of this
land, later to be so often harried by conqueror after conqueror. The
greatest glory of Dorchester came much later, in fact even after the
centuries of Roman occupation had come to an end and the last legions
had left England for ever. It was under the rule of the West Saxons that
Dorchester became the seat of a Bishop whose See was so important that
it included all those now known under the names of Winchester,
Salisbury, Exeter, Bath, Wells, Lichfield, Hereford and several others.
The exact date of the present long stone church is not known, but it is
generally believed to be about 1150. The interior will provide but
little of interest that one does not often see in many another old
English church, but a glance toward the eastern end reveals that some
architect of the Decorated period there added a veritable bower of
light. One must search far and wide to find so pleasing a combination of
excellent glass, disposed in such light and noteworthy stone traceries.
The walls which enclose this chancel on the north, east and south are
nearly of equal length, but the architect's treatment of each is quite
different. That to the east seems almost entirely of glass, so greatly
has the builder subordinated his stone structure to the glazing. In
fact, so much is given over to the glazier as to necessitate the
erection of a stout buttress which runs up the centre, and without the
assistance of which the slender mullions would be unable to support so
great a weight of glass. This buttress stops about three-fourths of the
way up the window, the explanation of which is that the original roof
was lowered to this point, and it was not until 1846 that it was again
elevated to its original height, making necessary the modern glass in
this restored portion. Very graceful is the adjustment of the cartouches
into which the stone mullions divide the entire surface, and also the
way in which they tend to become pointed in the upper part of the
embrasure. Within each one we find evidence of the beginnings of the
canopy style which was destined soon to emerge from the cramped methods
of the glazier here visible. Upon the four lancets of the northern
window appear large figures displaying much more freedom of drawing. Our
first criticism tends to be that they would be more attractive if they
had some background or framing and were not stationed alone upon white
panes. The reason for this appears from a close inspection of the
supporting mullions. Along each of these are little carved figures.
The writer believes this window to be unique in the respect that
the carvings on the stone and the figures on the panes combine to
form a Tree of Jesse. Jesse, as usual, is reclining below; the stone
mullions are used to represent the branches of the vine, and at their
intersections are disposed the descendants, much as we have often seen
them depicted on glass. They hold scrolls on which probably their
names were once painted. The figures on the glass (some of them still
labelled) supplement those in the carvings. Carved figures are also
freely introduced at the intersections of the stone mouldings of the
east window, but here they represent New Testament episodes, such as the
cutting off of Malchus's ear, the rousing of the sleeping guards, &c.
So, too, along the transom that runs across the southern window are
carved figures representing a religious procession. Above are coats
of arms distributed upon the panes. Below is a handsome Gothic stone
seat or sedilia which has for us a great interest in that four little
star-shaped lights are let into the back of it, containing late twelfth
century medallions. These earliest remains were doubtless preserved from
the edifice which preceded the present one. One of them shows a scene in
which appears St. Birinus, who converted the great kingdom of Wessex and
was the first Bishop of Dorchester (635-49). This little chancel, with
its delightful glass gracefully supported by the quaintly carved stone
traceries, will remain in one's memory as one of the loveliest nooks in
England for the glass-lover.


Probably there is no city in all England where the average American
tourist feels more at home than at Oxford. All of us have read a great
deal about this city of colleges, and most American boys have perused
"Tom Brown at Oxford" more than once. Besides, we all feel an interest
in colleges and college men. While many realise the charms of this
ancient city of learning, some of us know them in great detail; we have
wandered in the lovely gardens of Magdalen, of New and of Worcester; we
have heard the shouting of the multitudes along the banks of the Isis
when one eight has succeeded in bumping another just ahead; we have
canoed up the silent tree-shaded windings of the Cherwell--in a word, we
are familiars of the place. Apart from its life as a university, as a
city of students, its chief association in history may be said to be
that it was a refuge and stronghold of the ill-fated Charles I., after
his defeat at Edgehill. It was admirably suited for this purpose,
because rendered well-nigh impregnable by the encircling streams of the
Isis and the Cherwell, the surrounding morass of flooded fens, and,
last of all, its stout city walls. Right loyally did both townspeople
and students rally to the support of the unfortunate monarch. The
colleges even melted down their plate to eke out his military chest. Of
all the towns of England it can, therefore, best lay claim to having
been the most loyal to the fortunes of Charles Stuart at a time when
loyalty meant most. But it is not for reminders of that dreadful civil
strife, terminated by bloody tragedy, that we are coming to the ancient
town built on the river near the "ford of the oxen," no, our researches
lie a couple of centuries earlier than those bitter days. First of all
we shall enter Merton College to see its windows of the first part of
the Decorated period. Then we will repair to New College to view its
glass so instructive of the transition from Decorated to Perpendicular.
Lastly, All Souls' Chapel must be inspected for its examples of the
Perpendicular style. In many another college can be seen later glazing,
but none so good or so important as those just cited. The presence
here of such fine examples of the two best periods of English glass
makes easy an instructive comparison of their methods and results.
Furthermore, it justifies the selection of Oxford as the last stage of
our second tour, because we have only to step from one college into
another to begin our third tour.

Not only do the most ancient traditions of all Oxford linger about
Merton, but it looks the part--it conveys the impression of its extreme
age to any one who enters its gates. Mob Quad is the oldest quadrangle
in the whole University. Bishop Walter de Merton, Chancellor of Henry
III., devised the idea of segregating the students into colleges, so as
to govern them better, and to render more difficult, if not impossible,
the general lawlessness and bloody frays between nationalities that used
to be so frequent. A visit to the chapel will not only show us glass of
the early part of the Decorated period, but in such quantity and so well
placed as to give one the best possible impression of it. The large east
window is filled with modern glazing, only the upper half of the
traceries above retaining the original red and blue diaper work. In
addition to this great embrasure, the choir is lighted by seven ample
three-lanceted windows on each side. These are filled with grisaille
bordered in colour, while across them, about two-thirds of the way up
from the bottom, is drawn a band of strongly hued canopied figures.
Because of their early manufacture we are not surprised to find the
canopies very crude, lacking pedestals, &c. The enclosed backgrounds are
generally blue, although a few toward the east are red. In the central
lancet of each embrasure the canopy usually contains an upright figure,
while in the side lancets they are almost all kneeling. Each personage
has a written label which either winds gracefully over his head and down
behind his back, or runs along beneath him. The borders are not carried
up into the traceries; their design is sometimes a vine, sometimes
yellow castles, or fleur-de-lis of white or green. In addition to the
band of canopies, the duller grisaille is further enlivened by three
coloured bosses in each lancet, mostly containing heads. The western end
of the choir opens into the antechapel, which lacks its ancient glazing
except for the fragments gathered together into the central western
embrasure, whose original tracery glass, however, remains intact. Before
leaving Merton mount the stairs to the quaint L-shaped library and
inspect its attractive remains of Renaissance glass. Along the lower
side of the east wall of the north wing are seven narrow lancets filled
with dainty grisaille quarries, bordered in faint colour and bearing a
brightly toned boss. Of more importance to us, however, is the pleasing
bay window at the east end of the south wing. Here we find quarries of
soft grey, each containing a monogram in yellow stain. In the midst of
these quarry panes are placed little scenes, circular in form and
decorated with enamel paint in grey and stain, each bearing a German
inscription. The central embrasure contains six of these, three above
and three below, and the two side bays have two each, one above the
other. They bear the date 1598.

An account of the Perpendicular glass at Oxford will be found at p. 142.


Little proof is needed of how greatly the glazier depended upon the
architect, or of how necessary and proper it was that his glazing should
harmonise with the prevailing architectural style. The period we are
about to study affords a striking example of this subserviency of the
window to the building it lights. In no country can there be found a
school whose glass was so dominated by its architecture as was that of
the Perpendicular in England. This Perpendicular style never crossed the
Channel, for the French Gothic of that time, instead of becoming stiff
and regular, grew more flamboyant and elaborated. Another marked
difference is that all the time the English were softening their tints
and striving for a silvery sheet of low tones (Great Malvern, &c.), the
fifteenth century French were, on the contrary, using stronger and more
varied colours than during the century before. To such excellence of
delicate drawing and tints did the English attain in their Perpendicular
windows that it may safely be said that in those respects they were
never surpassed elsewhere. This is particularly noticeable at Ross and
Cirencester. An opportunity to compare the French with the English glass
of that time is afforded by the fact that the French windows of the
Beauchamp Chapel at Warwick will be visited between the distinctively
English ones of Great Malvern and York. This Warwick glass was brought
from France because the contract exacted "Glasse from beyond the Seas,"
and we at once notice the strong hues, which differ so markedly from the
then prevailing English ones. Nothing could be more convenient than the
way in which these particular windows enable us to differentiate between
contemporary glass on opposite sides of the Channel.

When the Perpendicular architect arrived upon the scene, he found the
canopy window already well developed. The shape of the embrasures which
he provided were peculiarly suited to this agreeable method of glazing.
The straight upward sweep of his mullions made easy an effective
adjustment of the narrow canopy-framed niches, and left the artist
little to do but elaborate the more modest sentry-box of the Decorated
period. This he did in a very artistic and pleasing manner. The signs of
development are easily distinguishable, and chief among them are the
elaboration of the architectural detail of the canopy (by increasing the
number of pinnacles and drawing them in relief instead of flat), and
the completing of the frame effect by adding elaborate pedestals below
the feet of the figures. We must remember that the earlier glazier
either placed nothing below the enframed figure or else, in a few
instances, heraldic shields (as at Tewkesbury). In many instances the
earlier solitary figures within the canopies now give way to groups,
although not so frequently as in France. The glazier did well to abstain
from this change as much as possible, for although it is logical to find
a saint within a shrine, nothing could be more absurd than to install
therein a rural scene or a small battle picture. The Perpendicular
architect, unlike his Decorated predecessor, was not content to leave
the tracery lights differentiated from the rest of the window below.
Instead, he tied the upper and lower lights together by carrying his
mullions straight up through them all, and thus deprived the tracery
ones of the independence as well as the decorative success they formerly
enjoyed. In a few instances (as at Great Malvern), the glazier
accentuates the stiff regularity of these upper lights by filling each
with a canopy-enclosed figure. Lest the upright parallel lines of the
mullions lend too monotonous an appearance, care was generally taken to
make two of them (usually thicker than the others) swerve outward when
nearing the top of the embrasure, one to the right and the other to the
left. These two thicker mullions served the further artistic purpose of
breaking the line of tall lights into groups of two or three each. This
can be observed in the illustration.

The chief features of this school are as follows:

     (_a_) Increasingly lighter and softer tones;
     (_b_) Stiff parallel lines of upright mullions;
     (_c_) Tracery lights lose their independence;
     (_d_) Greatly elaborated canopies;
     (_e_) Stipple shading, replacing the earlier smear shading.

It can be said with no fear of contradiction that we have now arrived at
the finest period of English glazing.


Our Decorated tour was brought to a close by viewing the glass of that
period in Merton College at Oxford. Not only shall we be able to begin
our new tour in that same city, by inspecting the fully developed
Perpendicular windows at All Souls', but we are also afforded an
opportunity, thanks to the transition character of the New College
windows (1386), to learn the intermediate steps through which the change
of style was effected. On leaving Oxford, we will betake ourselves to
the famously glazed church at Fairford, and thence journey, _viâ_
Cirencester, to Gloucester. The next point will be Great Malvern and its
neighbour Little Malvern, and then over the bold uplift of the Malvern
Hills to Ross. A northerly _détour_ will take us first to Warwick and
then to Coventry, which will probably conclude this tour, for although
York appears as the last of this series, it is so placed for the sake
of regularity, and only for those who may not have taken the first or
second tours. York was visited on both of those, and occasion was given
to inspect the Perpendicular glass which there abounds.


In addition to the places just mentioned there are three so situated as
to make it inconvenient to include them in this tour--Salisbury,
Winchester, and St. Neot (Cornwall). Salisbury has already been visited
on our Early English tour. Winchester lies well to the south near
Southampton, while St. Neot is off in the west, a few miles beyond
Plymouth. These two towns should, however, be on no account omitted,
even though each require a separate trip.


An account of the Decorated glass at Oxford will be found at p. 129.

Having visited Merton, and, by examining its Decorated glass, concluded
our second tour, we must address ourselves to the third one, devoted to
the Perpendicular period. Nothing could be easier. We have only to walk
as far as New College to see how the forces of transition performed
their work, and then to All Souls' Chapel to study the fully fledged
product of the Perpendicular glazier.

New College is picturesquely alluring to all who visit Oxford, thanks to
the agreeable manner in which the college buildings are set off by
attractive gardens enclosed within remnants of the ancient city walls.
This corner of the old ramparts owes its preservation to a covenant for
its upkeep between the Founder and the city. We glass-lovers will remark
that in similar fashion a very advantageous placing enhances the beauty
of the glass which we are about to see. It is contained in the
antechapel, which adjoins the chapel proper on the west and opens into
it. A dim passage-way leads to the small portal by which one enters,
admirably preparing our eyes to appreciate the beauty of the glazing.
There is also some later work in the main chapel, but it is fortunately
shut off from our observation by a conveniently placed screen, thus
enabling us to enjoy the antechapel and its glazing without any
distraction. The original glass that once filled the large window in the
middle of the antechapel's west wall is now stored in boxes at that
other foundation of William of Wykeham, Winchester College, Winchester,
having been removed to make room for an ambitious effort by Sir Joshua
Reynolds. All the other embrasures retain the original glazing, given
about 1386 by the Founder, whose name frequently appears thereon. Let us
not be drawn into the violent discussion which has so long raged on the
subject of the rival merits of the earlier and later glazing. All
glaziers condemn the work of the great Sir Joshua, and even most art
critics agree with Horace Walpole that the painting of this large
subject is "washy." He has confined himself to the use of browns, greys,
and some pink in depicting the Virtues and the other figures assembled
in his composition; but, as was to be expected from one who was only a
painter, and not also a glazier, he used so much paint as to interfere
perceptibly with the translucence of the glass. Nevertheless, the
writer, although he vastly prefers the earlier windows, frankly states
that he began by liking the west one best. The advantage which stained
glass windows have over paintings on canvas is that while the latter
have only colour the former have both colour and light. For this reason
one should be disposed to admit a great deal on behalf of this picture
painted by a great artist on a medium which adds light to his colour.
There is no good reason why we should quarrel with a man who begins by
preferring Sir Joshua's window, because it may lead him to become
interested in stained glass. Almost every one unlearned in our subject
admires this west window;--if he will but come with us we will promise
sooner or later to open his eyes to far greater beauties, which he will
grow to love in the seeing! For those who have learned to enjoy the
Wykeham windows more than their showier neighbour, it is suggested that
there are two points from which to view them so as to eliminate the
contrasting presence of the later one--either stand close to the small
entrance door, or else near the chapel screen so that one of the columns
comes between you and the west window. Thus one sees only the Wykeham
glazing, and that, too, in a frame of mind receptive of the Latin
legends which unceasingly beseech us to pray for him. This glass is
not only beautiful, but very important, because it clearly illustrates
the transition from the Decorated to the Perpendicular. The sixty-four
personages ensconced in their canopies, while possessing traits of both
schools, demonstrate clearly how naturally one led into the other. The
figures are not yet well drawn, are rudely posed, and are still strongly
coloured. Although there is a general flatness in the composition,
indicative of the earlier school, tapestries are already hung across the
backs of the little niches, and handsome ones too, with crowned initials
powdered over them. So, too, pedestals appear below the canopies,
although, of course, not yet so complete or elaborate as those to be
seen presently in All Souls' Chapel. The canopies themselves are more
robust and not so finished as will be later encountered. An examination
of the method of shading also bears witness to a transition, for there
is observable both smear and stipple work. The learned Winston makes
a very interesting argument to the effect that the panels have been
considerably changed about since their original placing, based on the
seemingly disordered arrangement of the six varieties of canopies, the
unusual order of displaying the Apostles, &c. For us who are less
enlightened, however, the chief interest of this delightful series is
in the general harmony of the colour scheme, the judgment shown in
adjusting the figures to the canopies, and both to the embrasures, and
the graceful use of the written scrolls.

 [Illustration: _Taunt, photo._
     Transition window presented by William of Wykeham, Founder of
     the College. Stone frames are already Perpendicular: note the
     "pepper-box" tracery lights. The glazing, as usual, lags behind
     the architecture, and, because of its strong colour and flat
     drawing, is more Decorated than Perpendicular]

The dining-hall possesses some interesting coats of arms glazed into
seven of its large lights. Half of these are contemporaneous with the
Founder, among them appearing his arms and those of his See; the other
half are of the time of Henry VIII.

From "the High" we enter All Souls' College, undaunted by the scathing
comment of Humphrey Prideaux in 1674, that "All Souls' is a scandalous
place and full of fast gentlemen." Without stopping to remark the beauty
of the full-domed Radcliffe Library, rising beyond the graceful stone
screen that walls in the westerly side of All Souls' inner quadrangle,
we press on to the chapel at the further end. We shall not spend much
time over the windows of the chapel proper, for they contain nothing of
interest, but for this there is ample compensation in the splendid
display all about the antechapel that opens off to the west. It is true
that some of the panels have been restored, but this has been done so
judiciously and patterned so closely after the originals that it is not
only no detriment, but, on the contrary, enables us to enjoy a completed
whole. As was to be expected, figures within canopies meet our eyes on
all sides. Owing to the date of their manufacture, the depicted
architecture of the shrines is very elaborately worked out. Pedestals
are provided, and in the westerly embrasures we find small supplemental
and supporting canopies on each side of the principal ones, which
latter, however, alone contain figures. These western lights show more
restoration than the others. There is a great deal of red and blue
everywhere, not only in the backgrounds, but even in the pedestals
below. The four large windows (each containing a double row of three
lancets) in the easterly wall are, perhaps, more interesting than their
more elaborate neighbours. Especially note, in the one just north of the
choir entrance, the charming group of Salome and two children in the
lowest panel on the left. Most pleasing of all is the scene of St. Mary,
with two children in her arms and two more at her feet, in the
right-hand lowest panel of the most northerly of these east windows. The
glass here is so conveniently placed as to afford every facility for
studying details, thus preparing us admirably for the highly interesting
tour upon which we are about to set out.


Lying in the midst of a pleasing but tame countryside the little
village of Fairford has nothing to recommend it to the seeker after
the unusual but the windows of its parish church. This glass is not
only historically famous, but also very complete and beautiful. On the
outer side of the little church door we are still in the midst of the
commonplace, nothing rises above the level of the unimportant; once
inside that modest portal, what a change do we not experience! Around us
on every side and above in the clerestory opens out a complete series
of windows--harmonious, excellent, delightful! And to add unneeded
supplement to the charm that meets the eye, our ears are regaled with
the strange tale of how these lovely panels found themselves here, and
why they so perfectly fit the church. This latter query is answered most
simply--the church was built to provide embrasures for these treasures.
The records state that Richard Tame caused the building to be erected
and finished in 1493 expressly for this glass, which had been captured
at sea from a Dutch vessel. From the same source we also learn that his
son, who died in 1534, completed the building--a rather anomalous
statement for, if it was finished in 1493, it would not seem to have
needed a further completion by the son. It is to the windows themselves
one must turn for some explanation of this seeming contradiction.
Although but little comment has hitherto been made upon the subject,
the writer was struck by the lack of any similarity between the
figure-and-canopy windows in the western half of the church (including
the clerestory), and those around the eastern half. The former show a
conscientious following of Perpendicular conventions and a careful
attention to the proper use of colours, but the latter enjoy an easy
victory in style, combination of hues and general artistic appreciation
of the possibilities of glass. The sexton relates the usual legend about
Albrecht Dürer having designed this latter series, but it is probably no
truer here than elsewhere in England, for it is the customary tale one
hears about German glass. There is no doubt, however, that in
composition and style it differs noticeably from anything made north of
the Channel. While the figure-and-canopy work is clearly of the
fifteenth century, it must be admitted that if the windows in the
eastern part of the church be likewise of that period, then they
certainly represent an early manifestation of a style that did not
generally prevail until the sixteenth century. May not this very
difference help to explain the second "completion" of the church?
Suppose we credit Richard Tame with having secured the canopy windows
for the edifice he completed in 1493, and leave to his son the honour
of having added the series showing later attributes when he finally
finished the structure in 1534. The first windows may have been captured
in the way reported in the legend, and the later ones secured in some
other manner from the Continent, for it is known that most of the
sixteenth century glass in England was procured from foreign sources.
Let us leave this moot point to be conclusively decided by others, and
turn to observing and enjoying the glass. The shape of the church is
unusual and requires a brief word of description in order to understand
the placing of the windows. The westerly half consists of the regulation
nave with a broad aisle on each side. Above the nave runs a glazed
clerestory, which, of course, does not extend over the aisles. There are
no transepts. At the middle of the church just where the nave ends there
rises the tower, of the same width as the nave. The clerestory stops on
the nave side of this tower; there is no clerestory above the eastern
half of the church. This easterly half is the same width as that to the
west, but it is all open and not separated into aisles like the other
part. In the southerly wall of the building are six windows and a door,
and in the northerly, seven windows. The clerestory has four lights of
three lancets on each side. Canopies containing figures standing upon
pedestals and with gracefully written scrolls about them are to be found
in all the clerestory windows, and also below in the four most westerly
aisle windows on each side. The figures on the north of the clerestory
represent Roman emperors, and above in the traceries are little devils
on a red ground. Opposite them on the south appear Martyrs and Prophets
of the Faith, appropriately attended in the traceries above by angels on
a blue ground. All the windows thus far described are clearly fifteenth
century; the workmanship is good but not of such marked excellence as is
shown in the eastern part of the church. These latter evidence
remarkably skilful designing, and, furthermore, demonstrate that the
artist understood the medium in which he had to work out his cartoons.
They lean strongly towards the Renaissance type: the colours used are
very good, especially some of the greens. Most of the subjects on the
north are taken from the life of the Virgin, while opposite, across the
choir, appear scenes from the life of Christ, such as the Last Supper,
the Miraculous Draught of Fishes, &c. The sexton delights to tell the
visitor that the towers in the background of the last-named scene are
faithful counterfeits of the towers of Nuremburg, thus proving
conclusively (except to hypercritical cavillers) that Albrecht Dürer
designed them. The story is picturesque, but it is fortunate that the
good man never saw Nuremburg, or his conscience might force the
suppression of this agreeable fiction. It must be admitted, however,
that some of this glass is sufficiently excellent to have been designed
by that great master. The five-lanceted window that fills the end of the
little eastern extension behind the altar has five scenes across its
lower half, while above them, occupying the entire width of the
embrasure, is a fine Crucifixion. The original background has been
replaced by white glass, which enables us to appreciate all the more
readily how well the picture is composed. The flowing garments and
certain other details are very German in character, while some of the
implements displayed are purely Teutonic--_e.g._, the swinging mace,
showing the spiked ball hanging from the handle by a chain. The
perspective displayed in all these scenes is noticeably good. We
must pass to the other end of the church in order to see its most
entertaining window, at least to all those not deeply interested in the
intricacies of technique. It fills the western end of the nave just
above the portal, and is one of the rare sort known as "doom windows."
There is here set forth a most edifying demonstration in glowing
colours of what will some day happen to those who are not wise
enough to be good! Even Foxe's "Book of Martyrs" cannot provide the
exhilarating horrors that the numerous ingeniously minded devils here
afford. Most delightful is the enthusiasm and earnestness with which
they are carrying on their presumably daily toil of keeping Hades up to
its unpleasant reputation.


If the account of this town is not to be read aloud, everything will
pass off peacefully, but if sound is going to be given to written words,
then our trouble will begin at once, for the methods of pronouncing its
name have led to unlimited discussion. All the disputants may be divided
into two camps, in one the educated and refined citizens of the town,
who pronounce the word as it is spelt, and are aided and abetted therein
by all non-residents, while in the other camp we shall find an agreeable
company, headed by the late William Shakespeare, and consisting of all
the humbler townspeople and the country folk residing near by. This
latter group prefer the sound, which, reduced to spelling, approximates
"Cisseter." Notwithstanding this centuries-long dispute, the town has
declined in importance since the days of the Romans! Then it was the
cross-roads of three great highways, and when one reflects that the
Roman road was even more potential in its developing effect upon
territory than the modern railway, it is easy to see the advantages that
Cirencester enjoyed over towns not so favoured. While considering this
practical feature there must not be forgotten the romantic glamour lent
by the legend that King Arthur was crowned here. The parish church is
particularly delightful, not only because of its characteristically
Perpendicular Gothic exterior, but also because of the logical way in
which that same style has been carried out within, especially in the
charming fan tracery of the vaults. The stained glass must be studied in
detail in order to yield a full appreciation of its beauty, for we must
not expect to find here the splendid _ensemble_ often seen elsewhere.
There are few places in the land where Perpendicular glass shows so
clearly the delicacy of both design and colour which the art achieved in
England during that epoch. This fact is borne home with marked emphasis
because we are viewing it immediately after an examination of the much
better designed but less delicately painted windows of Fairford. As a
result of this careful treatment of tint and drawing there is derived an
unexpectedly satisfactory result from the collection of figures in
canopies assembled in the five tall lancets of the east window. Seen
from the nave this collection is quite cool and silvery, and does not
betray its composite nature. Where the ancient heads have been lost or
destroyed, their space has been frankly filled with white glass. Toward
the bottom are eight small panels containing kneeling donors. The large
west window is also a composite one, but here honesty proves to have
been the worst possible policy, because the original background having
been lost, they filled in between the canopies with splotches of hideous
modern blue! Of course this kills any chance for the softly toned effect
which we have often observed as the chief charm of the perfected canopy
style. In this instance it is peculiarly unfortunate, because the
canopies are carefully worked out in detail, showing as many little
spires above them as we shall find later at Great Malvern. The figures
which they enclose repay study. The centre three in the lower row are
almost enveloped by broad written scrolls, which lend a most decorative
effect. In the pedestals below the figures are little open galleries
containing diminutive kneeling donors, very modestly and appropriately
displayed. The colours here are noteworthy, especially the rich deep red
in the robe of the cardinal at the top of the second lancet from the
north; in the second to the south notice the combination of the mulberry
gown, blue cape, and golden halo. The use of the leads to delineate
folds in the cloth is as good as the colouring. It is evident that no
mean artist produced these satisfactory results, but it is fortunate for
him that he cannot see the atrocious blue that now strives to off-set
his delightful work. In the chapel to the right of the chancel, the
most easterly embrasure on the north has its three lancets filled with
agreeably arranged figures and fragments. Being on a level with the eye
of the observer, this glazing can be examined closely. Note the careful
adjustment of the leads to suit the drawing of the hands in the
right-hand lower corner. It is so evident that this glazier thoroughly
understood his art that we are not surprised at the richness of the reds
and the blues, or the mellow strength of his yellow stain. It is easy to
deduce from the Cirencester windows the lesson that design is not so
important as colour, and that, while excellent effects can be produced
by a collection of well-toned fragments, the best design done in bad
colouring is sure to be unsatisfactory.


In our wanderings to see glass we have observed how many and varied were
the reasons for the presentation of those splendid offerings to
religious edifices, and also that these reasons are often storied upon
the windows themselves. Wide as is the range of such causes it is
reserved for Gloucester Cathedral to show us an ancient window erected
to commemorate the winning of a great battle. Thanks to the painstaking
studies of Charles Winston (1863), backed by his exhaustive knowledge of
heraldry, it is now known that the great expanse of coloured glass at
the eastern end of the Gloucester chancel is a thank-offering for the
epoch-making victory at Crécy of the little army of English over the
French hosts. How incongruous it seems that such a feat of arms should
be commemorated in this mild manner! The mind wanders off from this
glorious wall of colour back to a certain cloudy afternoon in August
1346. Edward III. and his young son the Black Prince, with a force of
only eight thousand Englishmen, had swept triumphantly through Normandy
up to the very gates of Paris. There the presence of a huge army of
French and mercenaries forced them to turn northward toward the Flemish
border. Fatigued by their dashing campaign, they were overtaken and
brought to bay by the French at Crécy, about fifteen miles east of
Abbeville. In the very front of the French hosts was stationed a body of
15,000 Genoese crossbowmen who, by their discharge of arrows, were to
disconcert the English, and disorder their ranks preparatory to the
onslaught of the French knights. Suddenly a great storm breaks upon the
embattled armies, terrifying the Genoese unaccustomed to the thunder,
lightning and driving rainbursts of a northern tempest. Nor is this all,
for when the storm passes and the sun darts out from behind the clouds,
the Genoese, ordered to discharge their crossbows, find to their dismay
that the bowstrings are rain-soaked and cannot be drawn. Just at this
juncture the English archers, taking their bows from water-tight cases,
loose such a pestilential shower of arrows upon the already harassed
Genoese that they break and flee, throwing into the wildest confusion
the ranks of the Frenchmen behind them. Effective as were the bows of
the English archers, the long knives of the Welshmen prove equally so,
stabbing the horses of the French and thus placing the riders _hors de
combat_. Together these two bands of yeomen reverse the verdict of
centuries of warfare;--they show the armoured knight to be an
anachronism, and thus in one day feudalism begins to totter to its fall.
The moment has come for the charge of the English chivalry. On they
dash, led by the sixteen-year-old Black Prince. They fall upon the
already panic-stricken French and what has been a battle becomes a rout.
The king witnessed the conflict from a windmill on a ridge, being
desirous that his son alone might have the glory of the victory. It is
doubtful if the annals of chivalry record a finer scene than the meeting
of the king and the Black Prince after the battle. In the blaze of the
great camp-fires, and before the whole army, the father embraced his
son, and would have given him alone the praise, but the Prince "bowed to
the ground and gave all the honour to the king his father." Ten years
later we find him of the same generous nature, for, in the evening after
the great victory at Poitiers, he caused the captured King John of
France and his son to be seated, and standing behind, served them
himself, modestly refusing to join in their repast. Long since hushed is
the din of that ancient strife, unless perhaps an harmonious echo
thereof comes to us from the great east window. Along its lower panes
are displayed the shields of the Black Prince and the Earls of Warwick
and Oxford, who were with him in the 1st Division on that glorious day,
and of the Earls of Arundel and Northampton who led the 2nd Division
(the 3rd being in command of King Edward III. himself). In this brave
array we also find the shields of Thomas Lord de Berkeley, his brother
Sir Maurice de Berkeley, Richard Lord Talbot, and Thomas Lord Bradeston,
who all served in this expedition. Here, also, are the arms of the Earls
of Lancaster and Pembroke, who, although at that time fighting in the
south at Aiguillon in Guienne, were included as companions-in-arms of
the same war. In this beautiful manner the glory and gallant memory of
these knights are preserved within this stately cathedral, far removed
from the din and carnage, the hissing flight of arrows, the clang of the
forward dash of knights, the clash of steel on steel, the battle-cries,
and the mingled roar of retreating hosts hotly pursued by exultant
victors. Here they dwell for ever in the midst of a great peace: around
the grey walls and sturdy tower are the quiet walks, the green swards,
the leafy foliage of a peaceful England--an England preserved inviolate
from foreign invasion by the splendid deeds of these gallant warriors,
and many another like them. So modestly are their blazons set out along
the lower part of the great window that the story of their gift and its
giving was forgotten, and lay hidden for centuries until rediscovered by
Mr. Winston. Much as our windows have hitherto revealed to us of quaint
episode and romantic story, never have we happened upon so portentous a
memory, nor one which so richly deserved this magnificent tribute. Its
huge expanse of 72 by 38 feet is only rivalled by that of the east
window of York (78 by 33 feet). Well did Winston say, "I know of no
window so likely as this to improve by a long contemplation the taste of
modern glass-painters and their patrons."

 [Illustration: _J. Valentine, photo._
     Great east window commemorative of knights who fought at Crécy.
     Backgrounds of pink and soft blue. Tracery lights no longer
     differentiated from window below, as during decorated period.
     Note elaborate masking of earlier walls by later Perpendicular

A great deal of really fine glass is so badly placed as to appeal only
to the student, and not to the sightseer, but at Gloucester this
masterpiece exhibits itself to the greatest advantage. One should not
speak of this vast window as being in the eastern wall, for it is so
large that it takes the place of that wall. In fact it is somewhat wider
than the interior of the church at that point, which for this reason has
had its side walls slightly slanted out to receive the window. How great
is this disparity in size may be estimated if one sights along the
inside of either side wall, for you will miss entirely the outermost
tier of glass panels. The superficial area of the glass is also
increased by a slight bowing outward of the window structure. Behind and
to the east of this end of the cathedral was later built a Lady chapel
which, however, opens through into the older church. Of course the
shadow of this later structure could not help but fall upon the east
window, and to that extent obscure it, but what might have proved a
serious defect was avoided by stationing the chapel somewhat to the
east of the older building, and also by not beginning the coloured
canopied figures upon the east window until above the line of shadow
cast by the Lady chapel. The panes below that line are glazed in white
bordered by colour, here and there relieved by the coats of arms already
mentioned. Viewed from the crossing this great window is more than
delightful. Row upon row of canopy-framed personages on red or blue
backgrounds, are stationed one above another in splendid profusion.
Many of the books class it with the Decorated period, although always
explaining that its looks belie that early dating. Our errand is to see
how windows look, and therefore, because its stone framework is so
obviously Perpendicular, as is also the delicacy of the tones of its
glass (particularly in the canopies), it would be unwise for us to
consider it otherwise than as an early manifestation of the later style.
It is very Perpendicular in its lines and its colouring, and absolutely
unlike the deep rich windows at Tewkesbury, Bristol and Wells, which are
so typically Decorated. We must remember that the glazier had to conform
to the styles of the architect, and because it was the latter who
inaugurated the changes he was, perforce, always in advance of the
glazier, which helps to explain why some of the details of the glass
design are more archaic than the stone framework.

Looking eastward from the crossing, we can see through below this great
window and above the altar into the ample Lady chapel beyond. Passing on
into that chapel, we at once observe its most prominent feature, the
east window, constructed during the latter part of the fifteenth
century, a clearly marked example of the Perpendicular. The colouring is
here much richer than we are accustomed to find in English work of this
time, in fact it reminds one of contemporary French windows. The figures
within the canopies are more varied, and occur in groups, thus differing
widely from the almost monotonous similarity of the softer toned
solitary figures upon the choir window. In the north aisle of the nave
the third, fifth and fifteenth embrasures from the west provide us with
marked examples of the Perpendicular. Double sets of pinnacles,
two-storeyed pedestals, jewels separately leaded into the borders of
robes, &c., show a distinct advance upon the earlier and simpler methods
of the great wall of glazing in the choir. One should remark the
Decorated work on the easterly side of both transepts. The clerestory
lights are glazed in quarries with coloured borders, while above them
the tracery embrasures are not only like those at Tewkesbury, but are
also glazed in the same fashion, white lines wound about on a red
ground; we have remarked the same treatment at Bristol and Wells. Even a
brief glance about this great sanctuary reveals that huge sums must
have been spent not only in veiling the older walls with the later
Decorated work, but also in the elaboration which is everywhere
noticeable. Nor is it difficult to understand how sufficient funds for
this purpose were collected when one considers the vast store of gold,
silver, and jewels brought here as offerings by pilgrims to the tomb of
the murdered King Edward II. We must not depart without having a walk
about the charming cloisters, which are by many considered the most
beautiful in England.


Great Malvern lies on the easterly slope of the famous Malvern Hills,
which run nearly north and south, and form the western barrier of the
Severn Valley. Its site provides a pleasant and far-reaching prospect
of smiling country, dotted here and there with the towers of Worcester,
Gloucester, Tewkesbury and many another town and hamlet. So lofty are
these hills that the views from their summits are hardly to be equalled
elsewhere in England; indeed, it is reckoned that on a fine day one can
look into a dozen counties. The three chief heights have long been known
as Worcester Beacon, Hereford Beacon, and Gloucester Beacon, each named
after the county in which it stands. Peaceful as is this delightful
scene, certain of the memories which it awakens are those of warlike
strife, for one can see from this vantage-point six of the great
battlefields of England--Edgehill, Worcester, Evesham, Tewkesbury,
Shrewsbury, and Mortimer's Cross. Nor are these the only reminders of
warlike deeds, for about the top of two of those great eminences run
encircling lines of strong earthworks, known to have existed since
the time of the early Britons, if, indeed, they do not antedate
them--eloquently silent proof of how long men have realised that this
fair land is worth fighting for. Wonderful and inspiring is the view
that unfolds itself before the eye of the traveller when he has reached
the topmost point of the road and pauses before descending to Great
Malvern. No wonder that William Langland selects this site for the
slumber which yielded him that marvellous dream which he describes in
his "Vision of Piers Plowman" (1362). He says:

     "On a May mornege · on Malverne hulles,
       I was wery forwandred · and went me to reste
     Under a brode banke · bi a bornes side,
       And as I lay and lened · and loked in ye wateres
     I slombred in a slepyng."

Tradition tells us that he learned the profession of clerk in Great
Malvern Priory, and there composed his splendid poem. His attempt to
correct the abuses of his times accords more readily with the work of
one contemporary, John Wyclif (who about 1380 gave the people the Bible
in English), than it does with the merry "Canterbury Tales," written in
1387 by that Court favourite Chaucer. We have already encountered that
jovial soul during our visit to the early glass of Canterbury. It is
significant that in a work which produced such a marked effect upon its
time as "Piers Plowman," frequent testimony is given to show the esteem
in which stained glass was then held. Whenever church decoration is
mentioned by any of his characters, they almost invariably dwell longer
on this feature than upon any other. The Franciscan monk speaks of his
church: "With gay glitering glas Glowying as the sunne." In similar
fashion the Dominican brother is made to say: "Wyde wyndowes y-wrought,
y-wryten ful thikke, Shynen with shapen sheldes." A severe rap is given
at those who glaze windows in order "Hevene to have," and vain-glorious
souls are urged not "To writen in wyndowes Of youre wel dedes."

But let us, like Langland, arouse ourselves from the reverie
superinduced by this wondrous outlook, and wend our way down the side of
the great hill to the Priory Church. Although its more famous windows
date from a century later than Langland's day, it may well be that his
eye was gladdened by the older glass in the south aisle of the chancel.
It is certainly fine enough to have attracted his notice, and one may
safely assume that he loved glass, else his lines would not so
frequently refer to it. Before observing the Perpendicular glazing in
which this building abounds, let us consider that of the Decorated epoch
in the three embrasures that light the southerly wall of the aisle
chapel south of the choir, and which were there in Langland's time. The
most westerly of these three is filled with heads and _débris_, formerly
in other parts of the church. We shall have a treat in the two windows
adjoining this to the east. Each contains a dozen small scenes from the
Old Testament, the four lancets of each window subdividing these scenes
into three rows of four each. The backgrounds are diapered red or blue,
and a crude border of architecture surrounds each. The drawing is crisp
and the colours are strong and good. Note particularly the red in the
"Naming of the Fowls"; also observe Noah sending forth the dove, while
various sorts of animals crowd about his feet. The rich tones, the
crudeness of the canopy work, and sundry other signs unmistakably mark
this glazing as Decorated. The corresponding chapel on the north side of
the chancel has lost all its ancient glass, except a little in the
tracery lights.

The chief beauty of the interior is the delightful east window, whose
stout central mullion, two-thirds of the way up, divides and inclines
outward to right and left until it touches the frame. A charmingly
soft colour scheme is here used, quite in the best manner of the
Perpendicular epoch. It is difficult to puzzle out the original order of
the figures and canopies, for the window was greatly damaged during the
prevalence of the playful custom, many years ago, of permitting the
village urchins to throw stones at it! Although the design has been
injured, nothing could spoil the colour effect. Viewed from a proper
distance the whole presents an appearance of tender grey, mellowed by
soft blue, with here and there a note of red. The tracery lights escaped
practically unscathed, and each contains a complete figure and canopy.
This great central embrasure is flanked on both the north and the south
by three large clerestory lights, the glazing of the southerly ones
being much less complete than that of their neighbours across the
chancel, where the figure and canopy work is excellent, and the
combination of tints remarkably good. The side columns of the shrines
are broader than is customary, while at the top are an unusual number of
pinnacles, as many as fifteen being noted in one case. These little
spires are shown to advantage against backgrounds of soft blue and pink.
At the top of the north-west window is the martyrdom of St. Woerstan, in
the background of which appear the Malvern Hills. The next most
important glass occupies the large embrasure at the end of the north
transept, which, however, is somewhat reduced from its original
proportions by having the lower panels in some of the side lancets
walled up. The glass here is not so disarranged as in the east window,
and we are able to decipher portraits of Henry VII., his queen, and
members of his family. Something out of the ordinary is the large blue
corona spread over the central part, serving to tie three of the lancets
into one picture. Interesting details occur in the "Adoration of the
Magi" (third from the right in lower row). In the west wall at the
north-west corner of this transept are single figures in canopy, two
rows of three each, one above the other. The great west window is filled
with fragments brought from the nave clerestory, and is mostly figures
and canopies. Taken as a whole, the glass in this church provides a
delightful experience. It is very typical of the lighter tones that came
in with the Perpendicular style, but its greatest service is in teaching
the lesson that, no matter how much a window's design may have suffered,
it will carry its message of beauty, if only the original colour scheme
be sound.

The fine encaustic tiles, not only in the flooring, but also set in the
walls, are of local make. Some date from the fourteenth century, and
others from the fifteenth, at which latter time Great Malvern enjoyed a
wide reputation for their manufacture. Other examples may be seen at
Little Malvern and at Tewkesbury.


About three miles from the centre of Great Malvern lies the hamlet of
Little Malvern, dominated by its priory, now used as a parish church. Of
the original building, built by the Benedictines, little now remains but
the chancel and a great perpendicular tower, separated from it by an
oakwood screen rich with carved vines. The chief attraction, however, is
the east window, which, on the whole, is well preserved. Its story can
best be told in the words of that ancient writer Nash: "The windows were
curiously painted, rivalling those of Great Mal. In the E. wind. of the
choir are 6 large compartments: in the middle one is represented Edward
IV. in a robe of ermine with an imperial crown on his head; in the next
compartment is his queen with a like diadem; in the pane between them is
painted his oldest son, afterwards Edward V., his surcoat azure and his
robe gules turned down and lined with ermine; and in the next panel is
his brother Richard, Duke of York, his surcoat also gules, and his robe
azure turned down one row to the feet, on his head a Duke's coronet."


Twenty-seven miles below Hereford on the Wye (but only fifteen by road),
there rises a small but steep bluff overlooking the sinuous windings of
the river, and straggling down from its top is built the town of Ross.
Pope, in his "Moral Essays," would give the credit for every one of the
town's agreeable features to a certain John Kyrle, who died in 1724 at
the advanced age of ninety. The elaborately thorough Pope credits him
with all the civic virtues, and appends an inventory of benefits, which
includes the benches disposed along the hill's brow for those wishing to
view the landscape, the causeways, bridges, &c., not omitting minute
charities to the villagers. Some members of the legal and medical
professions may join the writer in esteeming the poet fortunate in that
he did not fall into our clutches after he had penned the following

     "Is any sick? the Man of Ross relieves,
     Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives.
     Is there a variance; enter but his door,
     Balk'd are the Courts, and contest is no more.
     Despairing Quacks with curses fled the place,
     And vile Attorneys, now an useless race."

This public benefactor lies buried in the northern side of the chancel,
and near by there comes through an opening in the wall a large vine,
rooted outside but bearing its leaves within the church. The glass here
is limited in extent but very delicate and charming. It fills the
eastern end of the chancel, which extends a short distance further to
the east than do the two ample additions opening out from each side of
that central portion of the church. These chancel windows are composed
of four lancets each, and the treatment is the same throughout, viz., a
single figure within a canopy. The personages are of good size,
occupying about half of the entire height of the canopy. Because the
windows are near the ground, Ross affords an excellent opportunity to
examine the peculiarly delicate drawing on English glass at this time,
which far excelled any contemporary French work. The architectural
details of the canopies are carefully worked out, and each is surmounted
by seven slender pinnacles standing out clearly against their red
background. Up the sides and into the cusps of each lancet runs a light
border. A very sober use is made of the tints throughout, yielding a
harmonious _ensemble_ of colour, well set off by the soft brownish
shades used in the depicted architecture.


Warwick Castle should be visited in order to inspect one of the most
perfectly preserved strongholds of the Middle Ages, the many features of
interest which it contains and its picturesque situation on the river
Avon, rather than for the small amount of domestic stained glass (of the
grey and yellow stain type) to be found in the long corridor and large
banquet-room. Although worth seeing if one is there, it is not of
sufficient importance to cause a special visit. There are also some
well-preserved panels showing coats of arms at the Leicester Hospital,
but this is a form of glazing frequent in England, and it is no better
here than in many other places. There is, however, glass of great value
and beauty in the famous Beauchamp Chapel which adjoins, on the south,
the chancel of St. Mary's Church. Much interest is added to this
glazing, because the contract for it (dated June 23, 1447) is so full of
details and specifications as to throw valuable light on the conditions
and requirements of the craft at that time. After one's eyes have become
accustomed to the soft-hued English Perpendicular glass, then in the
height of its favour, it is very difficult to realise that these
windows, with their strong colouring, are of the same period as the
delicately toned ones which we have seen at Great Malvern and elsewhere.
The explanation is provided in the contract. It there appears that the
executors of Richard Earl of Warwick were not satisfied with the then
prevailing English system of soft tints, and also that they were
sufficiently advised of the state of the art on the other side of the
Channel to realise that the richer hues which they demanded could be
obtained in France, even though it was impossible or difficult in
England. We read that they required the glazier, John Prudde of
Westminster, to work "with Glasse beyond the Seas, and with no Glasse of
England." Again and again they insist on richness of hue; not only must
he glaze "in most fine and curious colours," but it is specified just
what he shall use, for they provide him with a selection "of the finest
colours of blew, yellow, red, purpure, sanguine and violet, and all
other colours that shall be most necessary." They require that his
designs be made by another artist, and even those must be "in rich
colouring." The contract contains another criticism of earlier English
methods, for they say "of white Glasse, green Glasse, black Glasse, he
shall put in as little as shall be needful." He complied with his
requirements pretty strictly, and further, he used a glass so hard and
tough that its surface has resisted the disintegration which the weather
so frequently caused in English glass of that period. Unfortunately all
the ancient panes are not in place. The entire east window is filled
with them, although a close scrutiny reveals that several of its panels
are brought from side windows. Along the sides of the chapel the
original glazing is only to be found in the tracery lights and the upper
parts of the embrasures, what little there was left in the lower panes
having been used to eke out the east window. The effect of this latter
is complete and splendid. The richness of its colours is assisted by the
golden rays which are so plentiful in the central part of the picture.
The use of the leads is very elaborated and painstaking, many of the
folds of the garments being delineated in this laborious manner. Two
schemes are used for the backgrounds, one, red with lozenge-shaped
squares enclosed by white and gold strapwork, and the other, blue with
similarly bordered squares.

Note in the traceries the red angels, poised upon golden wheels. The
most striking feature of this tracery glazing is the liberal use
throughout of written music, generally supported by angels. In some
instances psalms are written on the white sheets, but more often it is
staves of notes. Above the most easterly pair of windows on each side
are groups of angels playing musical instruments and walking about on a
blue sky dotted over with white stars, much resembling the apples on the
trees of children's storybooks. One should observe what an agreeable use
is made of these small angels that people the traceries. The glazier has
skilfully avoided the ugly effect which would have been produced had the
white sheets of music or psalms been continued in a horizontal line
around the chapel, and has so waved this white line up and down that it
becomes as decorative as the labels so common in German glazing. This
appearance of music on glass is rare in England and rarer still in
France. The rich colours demanded by the Earl's executors must have
produced a splendid effect in this chapel when all the embrasures were
glazed as sumptuously as is the east window. Enough remains, however, to
make the Beauchamp Chapel an important station in any stained glass

On the other side of the chancel is the vestry, into whose small east
window have been collected six diminutive panels formerly in the
chancel's east window. They date from 1370 and contrast markedly with
some small enamelled scenes in white and yellow stain (dated 1600)
placed in the same embrasure with them. While the contrast is too sharp
to be agreeable, we are afforded a comfortable, near-at-hand opportunity
to observe the great strides which this craft took during that interval
of time.


An English friend of a flippant turn of mind once remarked to the writer
that the three most famous rides in English history were undoubtedly the
Charge of the Light Brigade, John Gilpin's famous infringement of speed
regulations, and Lady Godiva's effort on behalf of the citizens of
Coventry--and that the last was the most praiseworthy, because it had
really accomplished something! Viewed in this light, the episode of Lady
Godiva passes from a matter of local interest to the higher plane of
national pride;--upon the equity of this promotion it is certain that
every citizen of quaint Coventry will agree. If, peradventure, there
shall have intruded into our company any who love not glass, let us
protest with Falstaff, "I'll not march through Coventry with them,
that's flat." The distant prospect of that Warwickshire city is
beautified by the three famous spires that proudly thrust their red
sandstone peaks high above the huddled housetops. The ancient flavour of
the place is preserved for us by the numerous old houses, one of which
has in its topmost window a wooden figure, "Peeping Tom," that wicked
exception who proved the rule that the worthy citizens could be relied
upon to be loyal and true even under the application of that most
searching test, curiosity. One of the three great spires rises from St.
Michael's Church, a building of very great size, about whose spacious
interior are disposed many Perpendicular fragments, some arranged in
bands along the clerestory, and others filling two windows (each of four
lancets) that face each other in the chancel. These panels afford a
useful part of the decoration, even in their present kaleidoscopic
condition, and their colours put to shame those of the modern windows
near them.

     Splendid row of ancient English Kings, and below, a great
     tapestry. In the centre of the window and again on the tapestry
     appears Henry VI, who was a member of the Guild. Handsome
     example of mediæval hall]

Just across the narrow street is one of the finest examples in England
of stained glass used to decorate a municipal building devoted to
secular purposes. It is to be found at the north end of St. Mary's Hall,
and is as admirably placed as it is excellently composed. Across that
entire end of the spacious hall is a great window occupying the whole
upper half of the wall, and broken up into nine wide lancets surmounted
by tracery lights of the usual Perpendicular form. Across the entire
lower half of the wall is suspended a long tapestry, which we shall see
accords with the subjects appearing in the glass above it. Nowhere can
there be found a great window and a large tapestry used with such
harmony of purpose and result. History tells us that Henry VI. took so
pronounced an interest in the Guild of Coventry that he was regularly
inducted into its membership in 1450, and therefore we are not surprised
that his effigy occupies the middle lancet of the window. Inspection
reveals that he is the central figure of a gallery of kings, for he is
flanked on the left by Henry III., Richard Coeur de Lion, William the
Conqueror, and King Arthur; and on the right by Edward III., Henry IV.,
Henry V., and the Emperor Constantine (who was born in Britain). All
these royalties are in full armour, except their crowned heads, and they
all stand firmly poised with their feet well apart. The backgrounds are
unusually interesting, and consist of upright strips of red and blue
separated by narrow lines of yellow, the strips being sprinkled over
with the letter M, because St. Mary is the patron saint of the hall.
These figures all stand beneath canopies, and in the traceries above is
still other canopy work, serving as background for gaily tinctured coats
of arms. One, displaying a black eagle upon a yellow field, is said to
be the blazon of Leofric, Earl of Mercia, Lady Godiva's husband, "that
grim Earl who ruled in Coventry." This hall was finished in 1414, and
the glazier is said to have been the same Thornton to whom we are
indebted for the east window at York Minster. Henry VI. appears again
in the tapestry below, this time attended by his wife, Queen Margaret of
Anjou, who shared his interest in Coventry. Nor were these the only
royalties to feel a kindly interest in this city, for we also read that
Henry VII. and Elizabeth of York were enrolled as members of the Guild
in 1499. Upon this tapestry there is gathered a numerous company of
individuals attending upon Henry VI. and his wife, who are kneeling in
their midst, while between them is a female figure labelled "Justitia."
Local tradition says this label is a later substitute for a religious
name, but whether that be true or not, a tapestry made for a Guild Hall
in which justice was administered might well have originally had
"Justitia" as its central figure. The harmony between the splendid
window and the adjoining tapestry finds an answering note in the ancient
wooden ceiling with its quaintly carved bosses, and also in the fine
wooden gallery at the south end, against which are arranged many suits
of armour. Our visit will not be complete without a peep into the
spacious kitchen below, and also into a small muniment-room above, which
is proved by a carefully preserved letter, bearing Queen Elizabeth's
signature, to have once served as a prison for Mary Queen of Scots.


An account of the Early English glass at York will be found at p. 57,
and of that of the Decorated period at p. 76.

The huge choir of the cathedral abounds in splendid specimens of the
glazier's art during the Perpendicular period. Here is collected all
that the minster possesses of that epoch except a few fragments in the
east and west aisles of the great south transept. So attractive is the
manner in which the illumination of the choir is effected, as to inspire
many poetic descriptions of its windows. One author says that they
"remind one of particles of sunlight on running water"; another speaks
of "the glittering screens of colour and soaring shafts of stone." With
this latter author we are disposed to take issue upon his use of the
word "glittering" in describing glass of this period, for that
description more properly belongs to the earlier brightly hued mosaic
medallions. In fact, so soft and delicate are the colour and design upon
Perpendicular glass that one is apt to neglect the picture which it
bears. Indeed, one might say that the service performed at that time by
the picture was but to lend coherence to the window, or, perhaps better,
to prevent the colours from being unmeaningly kaleidoscopic when viewed
from near at hand. Winston says that the earliest windows in the choir
date from the close of the fourteenth century, and are the third from
the east in the south aisle, the third and fourth from the east in the
north clerestory, and the fourth from the east in the south clerestory.
Note the early Tree of Jesse of this period in the third embrasure from
the west in the south choir aisle. The other windows of these aisles
east of the small easterly transepts, as well as the lancets on the east
side of the great westerly transepts, are from the time of Henry IV.,
while all the others date from Henry V. and VI., chiefly from the
latter. These small easterly transepts rejoice in the possession of two
large windows, one at the north and the other at the south end, the
former dedicated to St. William and the latter to St. Cuthbert. In the
latter, which is seventy-three feet by sixteen feet, appear members of
the House of Lancaster. Beginning at the eastern end of the north aisle,
we shall find that the first window possesses a few fragments, but that
the next three are among the finest here, their combination of greys,
browns and blues being noticeably good. The next three are paler in tone
and not satisfactory. The Crucifixion at the end of this aisle in the
east wall is excellent. Its companion at the east end of the south aisle
is also fine in both colour and design. Observe the drawing of the heads
in the second window from the east in this aisle. The last one of all is
French of about the end of the sixteenth century, and was brought here
from Rouen by Lord Carlisle in 1804. Fine as it undeniably is, its rich
Renaissance hues do not harmonise with the lower tints of its earlier
English neighbours. The examination of these minor possessions of this
part of the edifice now leads us up to its crowning glory, the great
east window. The nine lofty lights are subdivided into three groups of
three each by two mullions thicker than the others. All these mullions
are swerved above and then disposed in accordance with the best
Perpendicular traditions. Like the large windows of the east transepts
there is here a double plane of stonework reaching half-way up the face
of the embrasure. At the point where this double stonework stops there
is carried across its top a gallery right against the face of the glass.
So vast is this great surface (seventy-eight feet by thirty-two feet)
that the gallery would escape notice if it were not pointed out. The two
hundred panels of figures which here appear depict in the upper half Old
Testament scenes from the creation of the world to the death of Absalom;
below are scenes from the Book of Revelations, and lowest of all a
series of kings and archbishops. The contract for the glazing is dated
1405 and calls for the completion of the work in three years. Even if
the rest of its great wealth of windows be disregarded, York Cathedral,
by virtue of this vast screen of colour and of the exquisite group of
the "Five Sisters," would rank as one of the most notable points of
interest in the world for the lover of stained glass.

     Tremendous sheet of colour, 78 by 32 feet. Lower half of stone
     frame built in a double plane, and carries a gallery across face
     of the glass]

Several churches of this city also contain Perpendicular windows of
great interest. We have already visited most of these to inspect their
Decorated remains (_see_ p. 78), and, for the sake of regularity, will
now take them up in the same order when viewing their Perpendicular
glazing. All Saints' in North Street, tucked snugly away among its
surrounding buildings and only accessible by means of a narrow alley, is
the most interesting of all the smaller churches. It is, fortunately, in
the possession of a rector (Rev. P. J. Shaw) so keenly alive to its
store of beauties that he has preserved them in a handsome volume, and
thus made their enjoyment possible for those who live far away. Fine as
are the Decorated windows already described, the Perpendicular ones are
finer still. They fill almost all the embrasures not occupied by the
earlier glass. Most of them are in the usual figure-and-canopy style,
although here groups generally replace the figures, and the details of
the architecture are worked out in a painstaking way. A very fine one
is the east window with its three lancets containing respectively St.
Christopher carrying Christ, St. Ann instructing the youthful Mary, and
John the Baptist, while below and in the side compartments are the
donors, and in the central one a composition representing the Trinity.
Still more interesting is the embrasure containing the "Six Corporal
Acts of Mercy" with its engaging little groups, of which, perhaps, the
quaintest is the upper central one, "Giving Drink to the Thirsty." But
the most interesting of all, indeed a famous window, is the eastmost in
the north aisle. It is of the kind called "Bede" window from its showing
a bede or prayer for the donors. The fifteen small scenes under their
squatty canopies are a most interesting representation of the last
fifteen days of the world as recounted in the "Prick of Conscience" by
Richard Rolle, a learned and pious writer who died 1349. The story
begins at the lower left-hand corner and goes to the right. Notice the
careful realism of the timid worthies in the scene whose label describes
it as "ye XI day sal men come owt Of their holes and wende abowt."

In St. Dennis (Walmgate) the chief remnants of Perpendicular glass are
gathered in the central east window, but they are not to be compared
for excellence with their earlier neighbours. So, too, in St.
Martin-cum-Gregory the Perpendicular remains cannot vie with the
Decorated specimens. There is, however, a fine picture of St. George
killing the dragon in the central lancet of the westmost embrasure in
the south aisle.

Holy Trinity (Goodram Gate) has a large east window dating from about
1470, whose five roomy lancets contain single figures in the upper
canopies and groups within the lower ones. Especially note the central
lowest panel, for there appear three men intended to represent the
Trinity. This is said to be the only instance in English glass where the
Trinity is thus symbolised. On either side of this large window are
smaller two-lanceted ones containing figures in canopy. All this glass
is supposed to date from the reign of Henry VI., as does also that at
St. Martin's (Coney Street). St. Martin's is not only valuable as
affording an example of the general arrangement of designs throughout an
interior, but it specially rejoices in a great west window that is a
real delight. Its five lights set forth the life of St. Martin, and from
the records we learn that it was erected with funds received from a
bequest dated 1447. Three splendid tiers of canopies rise one above the
other across the five lights, while below, where the shadow of an
adjoining building might have robbed figures of their brilliancy or
interest, the space is filled with elaborate quarry work. Along the
clerestory are four-lanceted lights with large saintly figures upon
white quarries and blazons above them, each lancet bordered in colour.
Kneeling donors reveal whose piety contributed to these windows. St.
Michael's (Spurrier's Gate) has quite an amount of Perpendicular glass
which is in good condition owing to having been recently releaded.
The windows along the south aisle beginning at the east are each
four-lanceted; in the first appear the nine choirs of angels, and in the
next two the genealogy of Christ. In the south-west window are Biblical
scenes, while in the north-west one there has been collected heads,
armorial bearings and conventional designs. Fragments have also been
gathered into the south-east window, including heads of three kings and
a bishop.


At p. 30 will be found an account of the Early English glass at

As one reads history, the kings and nobles are apt to stand out in such
sharp relief against the background of less illustrious folk that one
often neglects to inquire into the nature of that background, if,
indeed, it be not entirely ignored. Nevertheless, the foreign campaigns
of the English kings could never have been carried on without the
"sinews of war," which brings us abruptly to the unromantic necessity of
considering that very large portion of the community who stayed at home
and paid the taxes and did other unattractive but necessary background
work. Chief among these useful people were the great merchants of
England, and of these none were more important than those who dealt in
wool. Men of their significance in the financial world naturally lived
in fine houses, so we are not surprised to find such edifices as Crosby
Hall in London or the hall of John Halle at Salisbury. We read that this
Halle and one other "merchant of the staple" bought all the wool that
came from Salisbury Plain, which fact helps to explain how he came to
be four times chosen Mayor of Salisbury, and also sent to represent the
Burgesses when the king had occasion to summon Parliament in London. His
handsome hall is lighted by numerous windows, retaining to this day most
of their original glazing. Upon them appear sundry heraldic blazons, and
also the merchant's mark of John Halle, which is repeated again on the
stone transom of the great fireplace. If we are to venture a date for
the building, we may select the year 1471, and for the following
reasons: the records show that John Halle bought the land in 1467; the
window above the fireplace displays that honest worthy in brave attire
with motley hose supporting a banner whereon appear the arms of Edward
IV., but surcharged with the plain label of three points, indicating
that they belong to his son the Prince of Wales (murdered in the Tower);
on the other window appear the arms of Warwick, the "kingmaker." Now a
glance into history reveals that the Prince was born November 4, 1470,
during the time that his mother was obtaining sanctuary in Westminster
Abbey, his father having fled the country. Further, we know that his
father returned and defeated Warwick at the battle of Barnet, April 12,
1471, which defeat cost the great Earl his life. It is fair to
conjecture that the Warwick arms would not have been put upon these
windows after his death, nor those of the Prince of Wales before young
Edward was born, so there remains to us only the period between his
birth and Warwick's death (viz., November 4, 1470 to April 12, 1471) as
the probable time of the hall's erection. The embrasures were glazed in
uniform manner (except the one over the fireplace already described),
and they repay close examination. Within coloured borders are quarry
lights across which are drawn bands slanting downward from left to right
which bear the word "Drede" often repeated. Up and down the lancets are
placed gaily tinted shields of arms. These slanting bands, marked with
motto or single words, were not uncommon at that time; interesting
examples are to be seen at Ockwell's Manor (Berks), Gatton Chapel
(Surrey), and Benedict's Chapel (Peterborough), &c. It has been
suggested that the word "Drede" used here is a rebus composed of the
initials of the words "dominus rex Edwardus domina Elizabeth," referring
to Edward IV. and his Queen. The handsome pointed roof assists the
windows and the fireplace in completing a most pleasing interior, giving
one a high opinion of the style in which once lived John Halle, the
great wool merchant of Salisbury.


The oldest known road in all England is the "Pilgrim's Way" which used
to run along the southern coast from the neighbourhood of Salisbury to
Canterbury. In very early times it started from Stonehenge, but when
that place yielded in importance to the newer settlement of Sarum, and
it in turn to Salisbury, the section from Stonehenge to Alton was
abandoned because of the new demands of traffic from Salisbury to Alton.
Many parts of it are still easily traceable and are worth study by those
interested in historic national highways. Maurice Hewlett, in that
charming book in the mediæval manner, "New Canterbury Tales," has his
pilgrims proceed not from London, as did Chaucer's people, but along
this very road from Salisbury to Winchester and thence to Canterbury.
Nothing is known of Stonehenge, the earliest starting-point of this
road--it lies hidden behind the veil on the hither side of which history
begins. Likewise, very ancient are the traditions which we shall find at
Winchester. As we wend our way along this time-worn highway toward the
latter town, we are (in the words of Le Gallienne) "now entering on a
region where the names of Saxon kings are still on the lips of peasants,
where the battlefields have been green for a thousand years, and the
Norman Conquest is spoken of as elsewhere we speak of the French
Revolution--a comparatively recent convulsion of politics." To us,
pondering upon these ancient thoughts, there comes forth to meet us from
Royal Winchester a strange array of

     "Visions, like Alcestis,
     Brought from underlands of memory."

We seem to see Alfred the Great and his tutor St. Swithin; King Canute,
whose imperious sway stopped only at controlling the tide; William of
Wykeham, the great builder of cathedrals, churches and colleges; Jane
Austen, friend of us all; the gentle Isaac Walton, and many another.
Shades and visions of shades! Nay, even the lovely New Forest through
which we are travelling seems peopled with ghosts from homes destroyed
to provide space for it by the ruthless Norman conqueror William--ghosts
that old legends say winged the arrow that here slew his son William
Rufus. And is not Winchester itself the ghost of the kingly capitals it
has been--the Saxon capital of Alfred, who here wrote the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle; the Danish capital of Canute, whose sway extended far out
over Scandinavia; the Norman capital of William ruling both sides of the
Channel? In harmony with this weird ghostliness is a strange story that
has to do with the building of the cathedral. William's Bishop,
Walkelin, received a grant from his royal master of all the wood that he
could cut from the forest of Hannepings during the space of four days.
When William rode forth to see how much had been removed for the
purposes of the new building, he at first thought magic had been
invoked, for lo! the entire forest was gone! The only magic used proved
to be the great energy shown by the Bishop in collecting such a horde of
workmen as to perform this tremendous feat in so short a time.

Stately and impressive as is the long grey cathedral, and pregnant as
are its memories, there are others in Winchester equally potent to
conjure up the distant past, for in the County Hall we shall see
suspended against the wall the Table Round of King Arthur and his
knights. Tennyson, in his description of King Arthur's Hall, shows
himself a stout advocate of how glorious a part stained glass can play
in a scheme of decoration. He says:

     "And, brother, had you known our hall within,
     Broader and higher than any in all the lands!
     Where twelve great windows blazon Arthur's wars
     And all the light that falls upon the board
     Streams thro' the twelve great battles of our King.
     Nay, one there is, and at the eastern end,
     Wealthy with wandering lines of mount and mere
     Where Arthur finds the brand Excalibur."

The cathedral, although giving the impression of spaciousness, does not
receive full credit for its size--as a matter of fact it is the largest
in England. According to the delightful English custom, it lies within a
charming Close of green lawn and trees, while on one side a narrow
passage called the Slype, quaintly inscribed, gives access to the
Deanery, Library, &c., close by, which buildings add so much to the
picturesque effect of the whole. Within the portal we shall find the
remains of many ancient great ones, some in mortuary chests placed high
aloft, and others interred in the customary manner beneath slabs of the
pavement. Walpole justly says, "How much power and ambition under half a
dozen stones!"

The remains of old glass in this church are more interesting than
numerous. Cromwell's ruffians here outdid themselves. Not content with
their usual method of smashing the windows as high up as they could
thrust their pikes, they broke open the ancient mortuary chests
containing the remains of early kings and ecclesiastics, and hurled
through the upper window panes the bones of Canute, William Rufus, and
many another long dead ruler--a gruesome destruction indeed! The most
important examples of stained glass date from just after the death of
William of Wykeham (1404). So interested was this great man in our
gentle art that he placed in his will minute instructions covering the
glazing of the windows of his beloved cathedral. He ordains that it be
commenced in the nave at the first embrasure west of the new work done
by him and then proceed "bene et honeste et decenter" easterly along the
south aisle and south clerestory, then, provided any money remains
unexpended, the north aisle and the north clerestory. There are more
remains of his beneficence on the north side than on the south. Four of
his canopied figures have been moved to the first embrasure from the
east in the choir clerestory. All of this glass is quite similar to that
which he installed in the antechapel of New College at Oxford. There are
earlier Perpendicular remains in the great west window, in those at the
west end of the nave aisles, and in the first of the south aisle. If it
were not for the west window with its deliciously mellow effect,
Winchester would hardly have been included in this tour, for the
remainder of the glass, though of interest, is not important. One should
proceed eastward as far as the transept before turning to look at the
west window, for thus he will be able to enjoy its effect without having
first learned that it is really only a jumble of old glass put together
every which way, another example of colour outlasting design. Strangely
enough, its soft grey-greenish tones remind one of the Five Sisters at
York, earlier by two centuries. A nearer approach not only reveals the
disordered array of fragments but also permits one to remark a few of
the original figures and canopies in the upper left-hand corner. The
nine lofty lights are subdivided into three groups of three each by
means of two of the mullions which are thicker than the others; these
two swerve off to the left and right when nearing the top in the usual
Perpendicular manner. An unusual feature is the fact that the mullions
of the window have been carried down over the face of the stone wall
below, thus agreeably tying together the wall of glass and the
supporting one of stone. In this window there are two circles of
geometric patterns, made up of early Decorated fragments. Glass dating
from the end of the reign of Henry VI. is to be seen in the three most
westerly embrasures of the clerestory on the north, and the two most
easterly on the south. These latter are from six to ten inches too short
for the embrasures, thus indicating that they have been transferred from

     The excellent effect produced by the Fifteenth Century fragments
     with which this window is glazed proves that colour is more
     important than design in glass. Note swerving to right and left
     of two principal mullions, thus relieving a monotony of upright

Our first glance toward the east makes one inclined to quarrel with what
seems to be the excessive height of the gracefully carved reredos,
which appears to encroach upon the east window and to leave only so much
of it visible as to make it too wide for its height. A closer view
exculpates the reredos, for it turns out that the window is placed so
unusually high in the wall that none of it is concealed by the great
altar. Its seven lights separate into a central group of three and two
side ones of two each. The original glazing has been replaced by some
given about 1525 by Bishop Fox, which, however, is now much restored;
there appear upon it his arms and motto, "Est deo Gracia." The top
central light has some of the earlier Wykeham glass. The manufacture of
glass had much improved by the time of Bishop Fox, but the effect of
this window cannot be compared with the larger one to the west. From
fragments observable in some side windows, and also in the traceries of
both the north and south aisles of the choir, it seems that the Fox
glass was also used there. It is to be regretted that there is not on
view the contents of two boxes in the cloisters of Winchester School,
where are stored the Wykeham panels taken from the west embrasures of
New College antechapel to make room for Sir Joshua Reynolds' "Virtues."

Before leaving Winchester one should take time to see the ancient church
of St. Cross. In 1136 Henry de Blois commanded that every one who
demanded a piece of bread and a draught of beer at the gate of this
church should receive it, a quaint echo of mediæval hospitality.


The earliest appreciation by the outside world of the great natural
wealth of England was evidenced by those perilous voyages out into the
unknown sea beyond the Pillars of Hercules, undertaken by the early
Phoenicians in order to trade for tin with the inhabitants of what we
now call Cornwall. By one of the odd philological quirks of slang, the
word "tin" is now endowed with a meaning inclusive of every form of
wealth--a strange modern acknowledgment of the earliest form of English
value. Many of these ancient mines are still worked, as we shall see for
ourselves when we visit St. Neot. This centuries-old continuance of
tin-mining is strongly in accord with all things Cornish, for in that
westernmost corner of England change does not intrude, and as things
have been so they continue to be. We will assume that the pilgrim has
reached Plymouth, that western outpost of Devon, seated beside her ample
harbour, whose many bays and estuaries running up into the land seem to
symbolise Father Neptune laying his mighty hand upon the smiling
country. Ferrying across to the Cornish side, we proceed by pleasant
woody roads giving glimpses of Plymouth Harbour, and on to solid
stone-built Liskeard. Pushing past along the high road that leads to
Bodmin and the Land's End, we shall be at some pains to notice a little
road that, four miles beyond Liskeard, turns off to the right up a
narrow valley. A mile of pretty windings past several ancient but still
active tin mines, brings us to St. Neot, snugly stowed away among the
hills. Here, in this small community, which shows no trace of ever
having been any larger, nor any indication of becoming so in the future,
stands one of the most interesting glass shrines in England. The church
has the appearance of many another of the Perpendicular school--a type
so common throughout the land. One notices that it is lighted by an
ample number of large windows, each of four lancets. Once inside the
door, however, and the change from the usual to the extraordinary
is immediate. The roomy interior is practically unbroken by the
usual divisions of chancel, nave, &c., and this very appearance of
spaciousness assists admirably in showing off the windows to the
greatest advantage. The oldest ones are at diagonally opposite ends of
the church from each other, and are found in the north-westerly and
south-easterly corners. The many small groups or scenes (each installed
in a canopy) into which these are subdivided render their legends all
the more attractive, because they depict so many different points in the
story's development. The architecture of their canopy frames shows that
they date from rather early in the fifteenth century. In addition to
this more common style of glazing there is another type, which has a
number of examples here--a saint standing upon a bracket and displayed
against a quarry background, but lacking a canopy. These date from a
little later in the Perpendicular period. This bracket feature is very
English, and may also be seen at Nettlestead and West Wickham in Kent.
So pleased were the parishioners with these two types that, when some
new windows were presented in 1528-29-30 (now seen along the north
wall), the glazier did not work in the then prevailing Renaissance
method, but designed his story of St. Neot's life after the earlier
many-scened type, as well as copying some of them after that of the
bracketed saints. One of these sixteenth century windows was presented
by the young men of the parish, another by the young women, a third by
the married women, and the rest by private individuals or families.
Below the two given by the married and the unmarried women are a row of
kneeling donors which afford an interesting study of female costume. In
the south wall is a window given by the Mutton family. Here the glazier
did not copy earlier types, but struck out along a new line, making a
very graceful use of winding scrolls. Extremely pleasing as is the
effect of all these windows, the result would have been even more
gratifying had it not been for a restoration which befell the church in
1820, and which, when it subsided, left behind it not only three
unsatisfactory new windows, but also certain misguided retouchings of
the old ones. Even this gentle criticism must not be allowed to affect
the fact that the _ensemble_ of the interior here is delightful and one
of the most complete in England. Nor is this general effect one whit
less engaging than the host of quaint details revealed by a close
investigation of the glass, especially in the case of the Noah window
(most easterly of the south wall), and that devoted to St. Neot (most
westerly of the north wall). The mediæval idea of Noah's Ark is very
diverting, as is also the artist's idea of how most of his wild animals
must have looked. Then, too, the attention paid by good St. Neot to the
sacred fish which his over-zealous servant had wickedly roasted and
broiled is most entertaining. For beauty, and for interest as well,
this noteworthy set of windows in far-off Cornwall amply repay the
length of the trip necessary to seek them out.


In England there is not to be found the same awakening and change in art
at the opening of the sixteenth century which is encountered in France,
and is known to us as the Renaissance. This revival of art reached the
English at second hand, having been transmitted to them through the
French. The soldiers of Louis XII. and Francis I., who fought in Italy
at the close of the fifteenth century, could not help but see and feel
the new movement in matters artistic then bursting into bloom, and they
carried home with them not only memories of what they had seen, but also
many fine examples in their spoils of war. The tales and trophies of
these soldiers proved a great force in starting the French Renaissance.
One of its first fruits was the change from the then flamboyant Gothic
to the classical style in architecture. In glass it was first evidenced
by substituting canopies of classic form for the Gothic ones which had
been so much in vogue. The pictures they enclosed were gradually widened
until it soon became necessary to discard altogether the canopy frame,
which, on the passing of the narrow Gothic embrasures, was seen to have
outlived its usefulness. While this awakening in art ultimately reached
England, it came slowly and never gained the influence it attained in
France. The English ear and eye were not surprised and delighted as were
the French by the return of soldiery laden with artistic spoils and
enthusiastic over the new beauties which they had seen in Italy. Art in
England developed quietly, steadily, as was but natural, lacking, as it
did, this sudden impetus from the outside. There is another, and for us,
a far more regrettable difference between those two countries during the
sixteenth century, in that very little good glass was then made in
England, while France was constantly adding to her wealth of windows
during all of this, her great period of artistic revival. Just as the
golden age of glass seemed to die in France at the end of the sixteenth
century, so, in England, it perished at the end of the fifteenth, a
whole century earlier. There are, however, some fine examples of the
sixteenth century in England even though much of it (as at Lichfield)
will prove to have come from abroad. What we shall find at Cambridge is
delightful, in fact so fine is it that one must deeply regret that there
are so few towns on the roster of this epoch. A modest amount of glass
was made in England during the seventeenth century (as, for example,
the work of the Crabeth Brothers and Von Linge in certain Oxford
colleges), but as this is only fairly good and was, moreover, made by
foreigners, we will not take our pilgrim to see it because its lesser
interest might detract from his delightful memories of the glorious
Decorated and Perpendicular windows. In English sixteenth century glass
it is not easy to trace the transition from the Perpendicular canopies
to the large brilliant pictures, which can be so readily studied in
France. The English glazier would almost seem to have realised abruptly
the beauty of the large picture windows, and to have transferred his
allegiance suddenly to this new method. Delightful examples are to be
seen at Shrewsbury, but most satisfying of all is the very complete
series around the chapel of King's College, Cambridge, that gem of
English architecture. Lichfield must also be visited to view its Flemish
windows about the Lady chapel, and St. Margaret's Church (close to
Westminster Abbey) for its east window of the same provenance.
Concerning English glass of this period it may be said that it possesses
all the rich colour treatment of its French contemporaries, and,
moreover, that it has the added advantage of a more careful use of the
leads in providing outlines for the designs. Almost insignificant as are
these sixteenth century remains when compared with the innumerable ones
across the Channel, their great beauty goes far towards compensating us
for their lack of numbers.


The seven towns containing noteworthy Renaissance glass fall naturally
into two groups, one to the north and the other to the south.
Supposing we begin with the one of greater distances, the first stage,
after viewing the London windows, will be Cambridge. Thence we go
north-westerly to Lichfield, and, lastly, due west to Shrewsbury. If
the pilgrim has not already visited Shrewsbury on our Decorated tour,
he will find an account of its sixteenth century glazing at p. 85. The
second tour is to the south, and not only are all the points near
London, but close to each other as well. The first will be Guildford,
which lies in Surrey, as does also Gatton Park, the next in order.
Twenty miles to the east, over the Kentish border, is Knole, which
concludes the tour.


If a stay of any length is made in Cambridge, occasion may be taken
to use it as a centre for side-trips to Margaretting, Levrington and
Lowick. So, too, proximity may serve as an excuse for seeing Nettlestead
and West Wickham on our way back to London from Knole.


London, that capital of the world, contains no examples of early glass
_in situ_, and it is not until we have arrived at the study of
Renaissance windows that she provides something to engage our attention.
It must not be overlooked that there is an excellent collection of early
glass at the Victoria and Albert Museum which, by the way, is most
advantageously displayed, thanks to the manner in which all light is cut
off save that coming through the coloured panes: it is unfortunate that
the same good taste and judgment is not in evidence at the Louvre and
other great museums. Some of the original mosaic medallions from the
Sainte Chapelle, Paris, are here preserved. After all, though this South
Kensington exhibit is undeniably good, glass appeals to one less in a
museum than when seen in its natural home, a church. Two London churches
have interesting examples of Renaissance glass, which, however, came
from abroad, the east window in St. Margaret's, Westminster, and three
in the east wall of St. George's, Hanover Square.

Westminster Abbey is generally entered by the north transept door, and
almost every one of its visitors overlooks the modest little parish
church of St. Margaret, standing only a few paces off, so completely
dwarfed and rendered almost insignificant is it by the imposing
proportions of its impressive neighbour. Nevertheless, small as is this
interior, it possesses a window which the Abbey would be proud to have,
one of such pre-eminent excellence as to draw from Winston the statement
that "the harmonious arrangement of the colouring is worthy of
attention. It is the most beautiful work in this respect that I am
acquainted with." It completely fills the large eastern embrasure, and
one needs but a glance to recognise it as a Renaissance work of an
excellent type. The three central lancets show Christ between the
thieves, and below, the Holy Women, and soldiers. The drops of blood
from His wounded side fall into chalices held by three angels. The
repentant thief has his soul carried away by an angel to heaven, while a
devil is mocking the other one. On the north side is St. George, and
below him a kneeling figure which provides the only authentic portrait
of Arthur Prince of Wales. On the left is Katharine of Aragon, the
_fiancée_ of Prince Arthur, and later the first wife of Henry VIII.
Above her head appears her badge, the pomegranate. As no stranger tale
could be related of the vicissitudes to which a glass window could be
subjected than the adventures of this window during the 300 years that
elapsed between its making and its installation at St. Margaret's, the
writer is moved to set it out in full in the words of the historian of
that church, Mrs. J. E. Sinclair:

"The window was ordered in 1499, and took five years to be executed at
Dordrecht (or, as some authorities state, at Gouda) in Holland. It was
intended as a gift from King Ferdinand the Catholic and his wife, Queen
Isabella, to Henry VII. to commemorate the marriage of their children,
and was originally purposed to be erected in the Lady chapel of
Westminster Abbey, then in course of construction by Henry VII., and now
generally designated by his name. As Prince Arthur died in 1502, before
the arrival of the window in England, and as it was the policy of Henry
VII. to avoid the repayment of the widow's dowry by her marriage to his
younger son, for obvious reasons, the window was never erected in the
Lady chapel of the Abbey of St. Peter. After the vicissitudes of three
centuries, it has been eventually put up in St. Margaret's Church,
within a very short distance of its original destination. Henry VIII.,
after marrying his brother's widow, naturally disliked the window, and
presented it to the Abbey of Waltham, where it remained till the
Dissolution of Religious Houses in 1540. Then the Abbot, with a view to
its preservation, transferred it to his private chapel at New Hall in
Essex. This property, strange to relate, fell at the Reformation into
the hands of Sir Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire, father of Queen
Katharine's rival, Anne Boleyn. On the death of Sir Thomas without a
male heir, Henry VIII. seized New Hall with the rest of the Boleyn
patrimony, in right of his murdered wife, on behalf of her daughter
Elizabeth. He then wished to alter the name of New Hall into Beaulieu,
but the old nomenclature survived. Queen Elizabeth bestowed the estate
on Ratcliffe, Earl of Essex, who sold it to Villiers, Duke of
Buckingham. His son, in turn, sold it to General Monk, Duke of
Albemarle, who caused the window to be taken down and buried in chests,
thus preserving it from the iconoclastic zeal of the Puritans during the
Civil War. The next owner of New Hall, John Olmius, offered the window,
in a letter dated July 30, 1738, preserved in the British Museum, to the
authorities of Wadham College, Oxford, for their chapel; he terms it
'one of the finest large windows of painted glass in England.' The
negotiation apparently fell through, for it was bought from him by Mr.
John Conyers of Copt Hall, Essex, for fifty guineas. The son of this
gentleman, on February 8, 1759, sold the 'window with its stone frame,
ironwork, and other appurtenances' to the Churchwardens of St.
Margaret's, Westminster, for £420. This sum formed part of the
Parliamentary Grant of £4500 then voted for the repair of the Parish
Church of the House of Commons." The parishioners of that small
sanctuary possess in this much-travelled window as inspiring and
beautiful a treasure as any of those which attract so great an
attendance to its mighty neighbour Westminster Abbey.

     A Renaissance Tree of Jesse from Belgium, readjusted to fit its
     new embrasures. Figures unusually large for this subject. Fine
     colours and drawing]

Certainly one would not visit the Abbey because of its stained glass,
but equally certain is it that no one who happens into its neighbourhood
can resist its spell and must enter the portal, if only for a moment of
old-world inspiration. Let us yield gracefully, and when we have entered
look about us for what little ancient glazing remains after the visit of
the Roundhead despoilers. There are fragments in the two small windows
of the nave's west end, but the most important remains are those in the
east window above the altar. Here are assembled pieces dating from the
thirteenth to the eighteenth centuries, which serve as a background for
Edward the Confessor and his patron saint--these figures are of the
fifteenth century. Passing on to the east through the maze of kingly
remains, a few steps lead us up into the magnificent Henry VII. Chapel,
whose noble proportions seem to mock the modesty of its name. The
ancient glory of its glass has departed, but those who interest
themselves in the light which heraldry throws upon history should
repair to the easternmost chapel and examine the coats of arms set out
upon its panes. Here are blazoned all the Tudor badges, picturing the
claims upon which that new house based its right to occupy the throne of
England. The red rose of Lancaster and the white one of York are there
alone and in combination. The portcullis of the Beauforts, the family
of Henry VII.'s mother; the Countess of Richmond's root of daisies; the
English lions; the fleur-de-lis of France; the Cadwalader dragon, a
reminder of Henry's descent from the last of the British kings; the
greyhound of the Nevilles, from whom Elizabeth of York descended through
her grandmother, and also the badge of her father, Edward IV.--a falcon
within the open fetterlock; and last, but most significant of all, the
green bush with its golden crown, emblematic of Henry's hasty coronation
on Bosworth Field with the diadem of Richard III. picked from off a
hawthorn bush. In those strenuous days the proof of a legal title was
not infrequently deferred until after the mailed fist had laid hold upon
its prey!

St. George's, Hanover Square, has long been famed far and wide for
the great number of weddings there solemnised. It is perhaps not
inappropriate that the old glass to be seen here once constituted a
Tree of Jesse. The spacious window at the back of the chancel, and
also those which flank it on either side, are filled with it. So large
are the figures (the largest the writer has ever seen in this favourite
glass design) that two of them suffice to fill each of these side
windows, although their embrasures are by no means small. The glass was
originally made for a church at Mechlin, Belgium, and though its figures
have been necessarily readjusted to suit their new home, there remain so
many sections of the vine as well as of the familiar name-labels as to
make it obvious that the panels as originally combined made up a Tree of
Jesse. The glazing as a whole is rich in tone, unmistakably Renaissance,
and, best of all, so agreeably disposed in its present abiding-place as
to make it seem as if it had always belonged there.


In the mind of most Americans the names of Oxford and Cambridge are
firmly locked together--a sort of Siamese twins of University education.
As a matter of fact, they are strangely different--very much more so,
indeed, than any two American universities. While Oxford has her
charming quadrangles with their delightful gardens, Cambridge not only
has them also, but further rejoices in a very special beauty, her
"Backs," those admirable contrivances for preventing overstudy on
the part of too zealous students. A "Back" is that portion of a
college's territory through which meanders the narrow Cam, the scenic
opportunities of that slender stream being developed to the uttermost
with green banks, graceful bridges, and shaded walks. The writer never
pursued a course of study at Cambridge, and, therefore, is not competent
to judge of the charms of her undergraduate life, but he has spent
sundry happy hours canoeing on the gentle Cam, which same hours have
yielded him the impression that, fascinating as the undergraduates
doubtless find the lecture halls, there is much to be said in favour of
idling along the delightful "Backs." Hints of the joys of Cambridge
college life pervade the clever verses of Calverley, and also those of
his lineal successor, the unfortunate J. K. Stephen. Chief among the
many victories of the wearers of the "light blue" are those won by the
oarsmen, and these victories become doubly praiseworthy when we visit
the miserable little stream on which the crews have to train. That
a long line of successes have been achieved in the face of such
disheartening obstacles adds all the more to the credit and glory of men
like the brothers Close, the giant Muttlebury, Dudley Ward, and many
another. Most of the colleges follow the quadrangle system like their
Oxford cousins, but there is an exception in the case of King's College.
Here a handsome openwork screen of stone shuts off the street, but not
the view. Through it we are able to see, standing haughtily apart from
the neighbouring buildings, the beautiful chapel of the college, one of
the few perfect buildings in existence. Goldwin Smith says, "Cambridge,
in the Chapel of King's College, has a single glory which Oxford cannot
match." It is a long, tall edifice, of the same width throughout,
lighted by high windows of even size, and ceiled by graceful groups of
fan vaultings of the most exquisite type. The only division of the
interior is that effected by a wooden screen which runs across the
middle, but, fortunately, stops before reaching a height which would
interfere with an uninterrupted view of the sweep of the fan vaultings
above. A full two-thirds of the wall-height is given over to lighting
apertures. The records show that the two contracts for glazing the
windows were dated 1527 and 1528. They require that the "wyndows be
well, suerly, workmanly, substantyally, curyously, and sufficiently
glase and sette up." It is said that Holbein drew the cartoons from
which they were made. The excellence and charm of this complete series
makes one regret that there are so few examples of their epoch in this
country; this strikes with peculiar force one coming from France, so
prodigally rich in sixteenth century windows. At King's College the
large picture treatment is seen at its best. Not only is the composition
of the groups of figures carefully studied, but so also is the adroit
opposing of one colour by another. Particularly daring is the use of
large masses of the same tint. So little was the artist willing to be
hampered in the development of his colour scheme that he even made his
foliage red when he happened to need that hue in a certain part of his
design. Although the pictures here display careful drawing and elaborate
composition, the excellence of the general result is certainly due to
the fact that the artist thought fully as much of colour values as he
did of his designs, something his contemporaries were prone to forget.
These windows come as a delightful relief to one accustomed to the
ill-considered use of Renaissance architecture that so overloads and
encumbers the sixteenth century stained glass pictures on the Continent.

An exquisite sense of balance seems to prevail throughout the interior,
and in no feature of the decoration is it so noticeable as in the
windows. The large expanse of each is broken into two parts by a
horizontal transom, and both the upper and lower divisions are again
subdivided, since the central lancet of each contains a figure in
Renaissance canopy over a similar figure below in the pedestal. This
leaves a space two lancets wide on either side both above and below, and
each of these spaces contains a large subject. This method of avoiding
the monotony which would have been caused by the singlet-lancet
treatment is carried out along both of the long sides. The nine lancets
in the large east window permit the introduction of three pictures
above, each spreading over three lancets, and the same number below.
The three in the upper row set forth the Crucifixion, the central one
displaying the usual subject of Christ crucified between the two
thieves, while to the left is the preparation of the crosses, and to the
right the taking down from the cross. The blues in these pictures are
particularly fine. Above in the traceries are red Lancastrian roses, as
well as some Tudor ones of red and white combined. These roses are
frequently repeated in the carvings of both stone and wood, as is also
the portcullis badge of the Tudors. The beautifully carved wooden
panelling about the walls of the choir is rivalled by the rich stone
screens that shut off the lateral chapels from the nave.

There is some seventeenth century glass in the chapel of Peterhouse
College which should be seen, if only to learn how windows should not be
coloured, for the thick application of blues and other tints have
rendered the glass here and there almost opaque. There was in England
about that time a good deal of thickly coloured, and therefore
unsatisfactory, glass. One does not have to see many examples of it
before the conclusion becomes inevitable that the English glaziers would
better have followed the example of the Frenchmen, who, when their art
became moribund at the end of the sixteenth century, let it die and gave
it decent burial!

       *       *       *       *       *

Most visitors find it difficult to escape speedily from the fascinations
of Cambridge, and if some of our pilgrims be minded to make a short stay
in these erudite surroundings, we will remind them that there are, not
far away, three pleasing bits of glass, and all of them Trees of
Jesse--one of the Perpendicular period at Margaretting, about fifty
miles south-east in Essex, another one of the same period at Levrington,
thirty-three miles north in Cambridgeshire, and a Decorated example of
the same subject at Lowick, thirty-six miles west in Cambridgeshire. The
Margaretting window is of three lancets and displays twenty-two figures,
each with its own label, and together affording a peculiarly interesting
study of costume. Don't fail to notice how deftly the glazier has
concealed the fact that the same cartoon is made to serve for several
figures by facing them about, or varying the colour in the costumes. The
handling of the whitish vine and the use of leaves is very artistic.

The Levrington window has five lancets, and its Tree of Jesse is larger
and has more figures than the one at Margaretting; it shows the marks of
careful restoration. Including the figures in the tracery lights, there
are sixty in all--an unusually large number. Each figure is placed
within a loop of the deep orange-coloured vine, these enclosures being
about 12 by 8 inches. This great company of personages, and the
agreeable harmony of colour, make this window well worth a visit.

Lowick Church does not have to rely alone upon its stained glass, but
has many other attractions, such as its fine tombs, elaborately carved
pew-heads, wooden ceiling, and last, but not least pleasing, the
venerable prayer-books, dated 1724 and still in their original bindings,
ornamented by coloured coats of arms on the covers. There are some
heraldic panes along the south side of the chancel, but the chief
interest for us is in the very fine series of sixteen personages
originally forming a Decorated Tree of Jesse, but now stationed along
the upper lights on the north side of the nave. The drawing is good and
the colouring strong, with as yet no trace of stain, the frequent
touches of yellow being of pot-metal glass. The four most westerly
figures are kings, and the eastmost is a knight in full armour, his
head, arms and legs being covered with chain-mail. In his hands he holds
a model of the church, upon which can be distinctly seen these windows,
thus clearly indicating that he was the donor.


There are few cathedrals in the world which, as one approaches, reveal
themselves more charmingly than does Lichfield; here one feels an almost
studied coquetry, disclosing new beauties at each stage of our advance.
When viewed from a distance the three graceful spires, "The Ladies of
the Vale," seem to beckon one on to a nearer view of the sanctuary over
which they preside. On entering the town it is temporarily lost from
view, only promptly to appear again, this time across the little pools
which lie along the south side of the Close and which, aided by the
green of the trees, provide so lovely a foreground and setting for the
full-length picture of the great edifice. Again we lose it, and then the
last revelation of all comes when one rounds the corner into the green
Close and there bursts upon you the final and complete aspect of the
glorious west front, brilliant in its red sandstone, adorned by its army
of over 150 stone figures of prophets, saints, and English kings, a
splendid façade, impressively culminated by the towering spires that
first signalled to us where we should find this lovely picture.
Unfortunately for the cathedral, Bishop de Langdon, Treasurer of England
under Edward I., by surrounding the Close with a wall and a fosse, made
of it a stout fortress. Centuries after this very feature resulted most
disastrously, for, during the Civil Wars, the military strength of its
position caused it to sustain three successive sieges. Of these the
first was the most disastrous, for, when the Roundheads broke in after a
three days' assault, they revenged the death of their leader, Lord
Brooke, first upon the Royalist defenders, and next upon the cathedral
itself, wrecking and destroying ancient tombs, stalls, &c., and, of
course, the old glass. In addition to their work of destruction they
carried off all that had been left by Henry VIII.'s Commissioners of the
rich offerings brought by devout pilgrims to the shrine of St. Chad. To
this same Lord Brooke Sir Walter Scott pays his respects in the lines
telling how Lord Marmion's body was brought

     "To moated Lichfield's lofty pile;
     And there, beneath the southern aisle,
     A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair,
     Did long Lord Marmion's image bear,
     (Now vainly for its sight you look;
     'Twas levelled when fanatic Brook
     The fair cathedral stormed and took;
     But thanks to Heaven and good St. Chad,
     A guerdon meet the spoilers had!)"

The interior is of modest dimensions, and is elaborately decorated, the
richly carved capitals, &c., giving us indications of how gorgeous it
must all have been before it was looted. An interesting feature is the
slight inclination of the choir northward from the axis of the nave,
which is said to be symbolic of the inclination of Christ's head on the
cross after death. At Troyes and at Quimper in France there is the same
deviation in orientation and the same poetic explanation, but
investigation reveals that it was caused by a change in the street line
in the first instance, and in the other by the annexation of an existing
chapel standing slightly north of the true axis.

     Excellent example of Renaissance colouring, freer from applied
     paint than then customary. This glass was brought from Belgium]

Practically all of the ancient glass which originally adorned the
embrasures has been destroyed; the north window of the north transept
has some Early English work much restored, and on the east of the south
portal of the south transept is a short lower window, in the central
lancet of which is a richly dressed female figure with arms thrown about
a cross. Just before entering the Lady chapel we remark two small
three-lanceted windows, one on each hand, the one to the left having
donors on each side, and in the middle St. Christopher carrying the
infant Jesus. But it is to the seven most easterly windows of the Lady
chapel that we must repair to see the famous Flemish glass, brought
here in 1803, which is the cause of our visit. The dates which appear
upon them run from 1534 to 1539, and they were originally made for the
Abbey of Herckenrode, near Liége, Belgium, by Lambert Lombard--the
earliest and best of those glaziers of the Low Countries who show the
Italian influence. All are of three lancets, except the most westerly
pair, which have six. The traceries above them are grouped in pyramids
of trefoil openings, similar to some in the Lady chapel at Wells.
The scenes are taken from the life of Christ, and there are as well
portraits of certain benefactors of the Abbey. The composition as well
as the grouping of the figures is not so crowded as in the slightly
earlier (1527) glazing of King's College Chapel, Cambridge, or St.
Margaret's, Westminster. The artist drew his personages on such a large
scale that it is evident his work was planned for a more spacious
interior--this chapel is so narrow that one cannot stand far enough
away to get the full effect of the pictures. Although now in the fully
developed picture epoch and passed beyond the conventional trammels of
the canopy with its imitation stonework, the glazier is not forgetful of
what his craft had learned during that period, for he has made agreeable
use of architecture, notably as the background for the Last Supper in
the east window. Even if the dates were not displayed in the usual
sixteenth century continental fashion, we would have no difficulty in
fixing them, not only because of the obviously Renaissance style of the
architecture depicted, but also by reason of the general breadth and
style of the treatment. Nor is it difficult to note the effect upon the
artist of the Italian influence, coming as it did from a land where
abundant sunshine makes it desirable that the illumination of the
windows be somewhat reduced by the use of paint. Still, it is only
fair to say that these particular windows contain much more than was
then customary of glass coloured during the making and not painted
afterwards. An excellent impression of the colour effect as a whole can
be got if we retire to the central aisle of the nave and look east. Now
the sides of the choir become a graceful frame for the three easterly
windows. The upper part and the centre show an almost solid expanse of
blue, while all the rest of the glass yields a golden grey, forming an
excellent _ensemble_.

Before leaving the town, admirers of English literature will do well
to visit the house in which Dr. Samuel Johnson was born. It now
appropriately serves as a museum wherein are exposed a number of
manuscripts, pictures, and familiar objects in some way related to that
great scholar. Although the worthy Doctor said that his fellow townsmen
were "more orthodox in their religion, purer in their language, and
politer in their manners than any other town in the Kingdom," one must
be pardoned for taking _his_ opinion upon manners with a pinch of salt!


In England one is constantly coming upon manifestations only to be
observed in a land whose civilisation and habits of life were long ago
settled and have continued stable. One of the most interesting of these
is the different methods adopted for perpetuating one's memory by a
benevolent act toward the public--making it worth the public's while to
act as trustee for the preservation of the said memory, so to speak! A
very charming instance thereof is afforded by the buildings erected in
Guildford by Archbishop Abbott in 1619 as a permanent home for ten
elderly men and eight elderly women, all presided over by a Master:
according to the fashion of the times it was styled Bishop Abbott's
Hospital. Built on North Street in the quadrangular form so reminiscent
of an Oxford or Cambridge college, the rich plum-colour which age has
lent to the brick needs only the primly demure assistance of the formal
flower beds to make the altogether charming enclosure which we see
to-day. Entering this tranquil and ancient quadrangle one seems suddenly
whisked by some magic wand far from the twentieth century world
outside. The elderly resident of the establishment who escorts one about
the premises descants upon each admirable detail in measured phrase that
is pleasantly appropriate to the ancient flavour of the scene. One is
shown the old dining-room below and the library above, both of which
retain their Elizabethan panelling on the walls and the carved
overmantels, together with much of the original furniture. The large
table in the library is an interesting piece, the lumpy adornment of its
legs reminding one of the puffed sleeves and trunk hose then affected by
gentlemen, while the rail running along the floor and connecting the
legs prevents us from forgetting that rushes then strewed the floor, and
that these rails were used to provide a convenient place to put the
feet. The most interesting part of the building is the small square
chapel which forms the north-east corner of the quadrangle. It is
lighted by two large windows dating from the end of the Renaissance
period (1621) and contemporary with the chapel they adorn. They are
unusually agreeable examples of the day when colour was applied to glass
by enamelled painting. The serious technical defect of that method (the
tendency of the enamel to peel off) is here noticeable in several spots,
but not to such an extent as to impair seriously their decorative value.
Of these two ample embrasures, the easterly one is the larger, having
five lancets surmounted by elaborate tracery lights, while its neighbour
in the north wall has but four lancets with traceries of more modest
design. All these lancets contain scenes taken from the life of Jacob,
the four to the north show Rachel's subterfuge to obtain for Jacob the
parental blessing that should have been Esau's, while the five easterly
ones set forth Jacob's dream, and the trick played upon him by Laban in
substituting Leah for Rebecca, together with Jacob's retaliation by
marking the cattle. Remark Esau shaking his fist at Jacob for stealing
his blessing; the solidity of the stairway in Jacob's dream; the unusual
number of animals shown in all the scenes. There should also be observed
the very elaborate treatment of the eastern traceries. An examination of
the outside of these windows indicates that they were probably brought
from some other edifice, for the wall seems to have been cut away to
provide sufficient room for them.

     Charming and complete glazing of a small chapel. Renaissance
     glass coloured by the process of enamelling, often
     unsatisfactory because bits are apt to peel off]


It is not uncommon in England to find the chapel attached to the manor
house of an estate used as a parish church for the neighbourhood. This
is true of the family chapel at Gatton Park, Surrey, just north of
Redhill, off the road leading to London. This chapel stands close to the
mansion, and is connected with it by a passage. Finer carved wood than
the wainscotting of this small interior is far to seek. The wooden
pulpit, too, is of skilful workmanship, and together with the panelling,
is said to have come from Germany, and to be the work of Albrecht Dürer;
its beauty is certainly due to some great craftsman, if not to this very
man. The principal illumination of the narrow edifice is derived from
two large windows, one over the altar at the east end and the other of
similar size in the south wall; there is none in the north one. Both
these embrasures are glazed with Renaissance work of considerable
excellence; the one to the east dates from about 1500, and the southerly
one from about eighty years later. This latter, as is to be expected,
shows a liberal use of enamel painting, something entirely absent in
the earlier one, and each of its three lancets contains a different
subject, against elaborate landscape backgrounds. The delicately
outlined trees in the extreme distance are drawn upon a white field
instead of upon the light blue then used in France. Such architecture as
appears in the design is, of course, Renaissance. Across the whole of
the easterly window is stretched one large picture, the "Eating of the
Passover," which is pleasantly brightened by the golden staves held by
the figures who, with their raiment girded up and their feet shod by
sandals, carry out to the full the Mosaic law, "And thus shall ye eat
it; with your loins girded, with shoes on your feet and your staff in
your hand; and ye shall eat it in haste; it is the Lord's Passover"
(Exodus xii. 2).

When about to leave this beautifully panelled charmingly glazed
interior, note the small window in the west wall of the entrance
vestibule. It is of a domestic type familiar during the Perpendicular
epoch. In the centre are the arms of Henry VII. between two supporters.
Across the quarry background are bands slanting from the left down to
the right bearing the motto, "Honi soit qui mal y pense." Some of the
quarries show small leaves, and others an H surmounted by a crown. This
window is similar in style to those already remarked at Salisbury, in
John Halle's hall, and others maybe seen in many private houses dating
from that time.

Although of modest size and possessing but two windows, Gatton Chapel is
as delightful a bit of complete Renaissance glazing as one will see in


East and west across almost the whole width of Kent run three parallel
lines of low hills affording many charming views which, however, are
only part of the many beauties of that picturesque county. Upon the
easterly end of one of these ridges lies Sevenoaks. Although the present
town is by no means an ancient one, it possesses great interest in that
just below its edge lies the large estate of Knole Park which, if we may
play upon words, is a series of knolls that together with their
intersecting glades are shaded by groves of great beeches whose soft
green foliage has for many a long day sheltered the herds of deer
wandering to and fro beneath them. Upon an eminence of greater size than
its fellows stands the ancient dwelling known as "Knole," a great series
of courts and quadrangles combined into an abode of such size that it is
said to contain, in addition to its superb state apartments, no fewer
than 365 bedrooms. Enclosed within a wide sweeping battlemented wall are
charming old-world gardens that nestle about the ancient grey mansion,
and soften by their dainty setting of variegated flowers, green lawns
and trees, the fortress-like appearance of its towers and long stretches
of stone enclosure. Thanks to a fine combination of patriotism and
hospitality so often seen in England, a large portion of this house is
(upon payment of a trifling fee) thrown open to the study and
appreciation of the public on the afternoons of Thursday and Saturday
(2-5), as well as all day Friday (10-5). It is because it can be so
conveniently seen by our glass-hunting pilgrim (owing to the generosity
of the owners and the fact that it is under an hour by train from
Charing Cross, London) that Knole has been selected to illustrate in how
decorative a fashion the sixteenth century glazier could spread the gay
tints of heraldic story upon his windows. Here can also be remarked one
or two other minor manifestations of stained glass at that time. One of
these is to be seen in the first stairway up which visitors are
conducted. Upon some of its diminutive diamond-shaped panes are
enamelled armorial crests, much in vogue at the end of the sixteenth
century and the beginning of the following one. On one of these little
panes in the chapel of Lullingstone Castle near here appears the date
1612: these on the Knole staircase are of about the same date. This
house was long the property of the See of Canterbury; perhaps the
pilgrim may have one of the rare opportunities to visit the bedroom so
long occupied by Archbishop Cranmer and observe in the upper lights of
the bay window the six large ovals containing coats of arms in enamel,
bits of which have peeled off, as is so often the case with this method
of applying colour. How mystified that worthy ecclesiastic would be to
see the modern bathroom which now opens into his old bedroom! While
speaking of Canterbury, it is of interest that we are enabled to date
one of the Knole towers by the fact that a morsel of glazing high up in
the traceries of one window (all that is left of the original equipment)
bears a double knot, the insignia of Archbishop Bourchier, thus proving
that it is at least as old as his tenancy here (1456-86). But let us
come to the main reason for our visit--the Cartoon Gallery. Named after
the set of Raphael's cartoons especially copied for Charles I., and by
him presented to the Earl of Dorset to decorate these walls, this long
room is brilliantly lighted by a series of windows giving off upon the
delightful gardens. This is no place to dwell upon the sumptuous silver
furnishings of King James' bedroom that opens out to the south, nor of
the treasures of English portraiture in the rooms through which we have
come to this gallery. We are here to enjoy the work of the glazier who
set upon the windows the arms of the great houses allied to this one by
marriage. One after another they unfold themselves all along the upper
lights of this series of embrasures, and tell their story in a far more
brilliant manner than can ever be attained by any musty tome on
genealogy. This estate was more than once the property of the Crown, and
an evidence of one of these periods is provided by the appearance on
some of the westerly windows of the arms of certain Law Officers of the
Crown, such as the Lord Chief Justice, Attorney-General, Chief Baron of
the Exchequer, Master of the Requests, Judge of Admiralty, &c. These are
somewhat earlier than those first mentioned and are freer from the
unfortunate enamel painting.

Taking into consideration the dimensions of this superb apartment, and
the paintings and glass that adorn it, together with the pleasing
outlook upon the gardens below, it is doubtful if a more impressive
gallery is to be found in any of the stately homes of England.

The chapel, which was built by Archbishop Cranmer, has an unpleasantly
smeared east window, but upon its surface high up are a series of
Apostles done in grey and stain which, if brought down to the level for
which they were originally intended, would show themselves to be very
attractive. At the south end of the little gallery used as the "Family
Pew" are a group of about a dozen scenes in grey and stain of excellent
execution, and so placed as to permit of a satisfactory examination of
this agreeable form of Renaissance glass-painting.

       *       *       *       *       *

If one be travelling by bicycle or automobile, a pleasant addition to
this trip may be made, on the way back to London, by taking one small
_détour_ of about ten miles to visit Nettlestead, and another of about
three to West Wickham Church. The glass at both these places is
Perpendicular, but not of sufficient importance to have made them
stations on that tour. However, they can be so conveniently seen at this
stage of our rambles that they are here duly mentioned. It is only
recently that, thanks to the skilful heraldic researches of W. E. Ball,
LL.D., the date of the Nettlestead windows has been discovered, as well
as the significance of the many coats of arms scattered over them.
Recent restoration has made complete the glazing of the entire north
side and also of the east window. Note the narrow one at the north of
the small chancel--quarry background with a large figure standing on a
bracket, very reminiscent of sundry prototypes at St. Neot in Cornwall.
The other windows on this side (except the westmost) are rich, almost
florid examples of the elaborated canopy style. Indeed, so deep are the
tones that one is tempted to suspect that some Frenchman had a hand in
their manufacture. The smaller chancel light just noted is much lower
in colour and therefore more typical of the then prevailing English
taste. This is also true of the westmost or "Becket window," as it is
called, because it shows scenes from that martyr's life. The south
windows retain their original glass only in the tracery lights, but it
is planned to reglaze them as nearly as possible like those on the north
side. Nettlestead Church is not easily noticed from the road because of
some farm buildings and an orchard which mask it.

If, when we resume our journey Londonward, it be decided to take a peep
at the West Wickham glass, one should be careful not to overshoot the
church, for it lies at least a half-mile nearer the London road than
does the village whose name it bears. The embrasures on the north and
east of a chapel opening off the chancel contain examples of a saint
standing on a bracket against a quarry background, which we have just
observed in the Nettlestead chancel light and also on a former tour at
St. Neot. The quarries here each bear the monogram "I.H.S." in stain.
The supports below the brackets are shorter than is customary. What
painstaking care was used in the manufacture of these windows is
revealed by an examination of the central one on the north side, bearing
the familiar figure of St. Christopher carrying the infant Jesus.
Notice that the little pool of water in which he stands contains small
golden fishes; also remark the careful leading of the three tiny red
trees in the background. This very attention to detail noticeable in all
the panels has much to do with the satisfactory effect of these windows.




(84 miles from London) Salisbury--125--Canterbury--180--Lincoln--135
--York (197 miles to London)


(197 miles from London) York--84--Norbury--62--Shrewsbury--29--Ludlow
--63--Exeter--130--Dorchester--12--Oxford (54 miles to London)


(54 miles from London) Oxford--27--Fairford--8--Cirencester--17--
Gloucester--27--Great Malvern--2--Little Malvern--20--Ross--60--
Warwick--10--Coventry--128--York (197 miles to London)

Salisbury (84 miles from London)

Winchester (68 miles from London)

St. Neot (257 miles from London)


London--53--Cambridge--103--Lichfield--41--Shrewsbury (154 miles to

(28 miles from London) Guildford--23--Gatton--20--Knole (24 miles to



 LONDON                                                PAGE

 119 Bristol             Decorated                     107
  53 Cambridge           Renaissance                   223
  56 Canterbury          Early English                  36
  52 Chartham            Decorated                      49
  90 Cirencester         Perpendicular                 154
  91 Coventry            Perpendicular                 181
 100 Deerhurst           Decorated                     104
  42 Dorchester          Decorated                     124
 169 Exeter              Decorated                     120
  83 Fairford           {Perpendicular                 148
                        {Renaissance                   148
  18 Gatton              Renaissance                   239
 102 Gloucester          Perpendicular                 158
 117 Great Malvern      {Perpendicular                 166
                        {Decorated                     166
  28 Guildford           Renaissance                   236
 131 Hereford            Decorated                      96
  24 Knole               Renaissance                   242
  91 Levrington          Perpendicular                 228
 117 Lichfield           Renaissance                   230
 135 Lincoln             Early English                  51
 120 Little Malvern      Perpendicular                 172
  -- London              Renaissance                   216
  75 Lowick              Decorated                     228
 150 Ludlow             {Decorated                      92
                        {Perpendicular                  92
  30 Margaretting        Perpendicular                 228
  32 Nettlestead         Perpendicular                 246
 136 Norbury             Decorated                      82
  54 Oxford              Decorated                     129
  54 Oxford              Perpendicular                 142
 118 Ross                Perpendicular                 174
 257 St. Neot            Perpendicular                 203
  84 Salisbury           Early English                  30
  84 Salisbury           Perpendicular                 192
                        {Decorated                      85
 154 Shrewsbury         {Perpendicular                  85
                        {Renaissance                    85
 103 Tewkesbury          Decorated                     100
  92 Warwick             Perpendicular                 177
 121 Wells               Decorated                     114
  17 West Wickham        Perpendicular                 247
  32 Willesborough       Decorated                      49
  68 Winchester          Perpendicular                 195
 197 York                Early English                  57
 197 York                Decorated                      76
 197 York                Perpendicular                  58


 _With 16 Full-page Illustrations_
 Demy 8vo. (9 × 5-3/4 ins.)
 Price 7s. 6d. net. Postage 6d. extra

_Spectator_: "Mr. Sherrill has written a book which not only proves him
to be a true lover of mediæval glass, but proves also his enlightened
comprehension of its evolution and its changing style.... A pleasant and
entertaining instructor."

_Sunday Times_: "The illustrations are delightful, and successfully
capture the blended notes of opulence and beauty which the mediæval
designers threw into their work."

_Daily Telegraph_: "Mr. Sherrill leads his fellow-travellers by
delightful paths.... He is a model guide, and all his illustrations are
to the point. It is difficult to imagine how any instructor could pack
more fruitful information into a smaller or more attractive parcel."

_Morning Post_: "Is well written, and in a style which shows that the
author really feels the attraction of the art he describes."

_Daily Chronicle_: "A distinct triumph to write a book of 250 pages on a
restricted though very beautiful subject, and never become monotonous;
this is the triumph Mr. Sherrill has achieved. A really delightful

_Literary World_: "All who care for beautiful handiwork, and all
interested visitors to our old cathedrals, colleges, and churches,
should possess themselves of this charming book.... The illustrations
are extremely good."

_Western Morning News_: "The author describes the beauties he has seen
in a most interesting style, and with exceedingly good taste. This
volume deserves unstinted praise."



 _With Illustrations_
 Crown 8vo. 6s. net

_The Builder_: "A very well-written book, with a very good æsthetic
perception as to what is best and most to be admired in ancient stained

_The Antiquary_: "A well-qualified guide for all who can appreciate the
loveliness of the old glass in which France is still so rich."

ROGER FRY in _The Burlington Magazine_: "He has really looked, and
looked lovingly, at the windows he describes. His knowledge is evidently
adequate, and he rearranges it in a form which he who automobiles may

_Westminster Gazette_: "Useful and interesting. Mr. Sherrill gives
just enough information to enable the lay reader to understand the
difficulties with which the artist in coloured glass had to contend.
Moreover, he has the eloquence of a true enthusiast, and is able to
communicate to others his own delight."

_Pall Mall Gazette_: "Exceedingly useful. A work showing much industry,
enthusiasm, and good taste, it is a really valuable supplementary volume
to one's Murray or Baedeker. The author has excellent taste."

_Morning Post_: "Mr. Sherrill does feel very sincerely the beauty of
stained glass, and is able to communicate his feeling in writing. Mr.
Sherrill pilots us on a pleasant cruise among some of the greatest of
the French examples of the style."

_British Architect_: "The writer manages to say a good many interesting
things. Mr. Sherrill's book is written in a most interesting style."

_Architectural Review_: "A useful book. Mr. Sherrill has an acute
appreciation of the important relationship between the glass and the
surrounding architecture, and he has brought the fresh mind of the
amateur to his subject."



Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and

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