Our next church is St. Godard, whose ancient glories have been so restored and replaced by modern trash that we find it hard to believe that, when it possessed its original glass, no church in all Normandy could vie with it. To-day it is far less attractive than St. Vincent and St. Patrice, the latter of which, by the way, now contains several of the original windows of St. Godard. The second in the chapel named after St. Romain, depicting scenes from his life, is one of the few in the church which is not either restored or renewed. It is so good in every way that one is surprised the other windows do not seem more out of place by contrast. We sigh for the days when there was justified the phrase used by the Norman peasant in describing good wine, "As red as the windows of St. Godard."
Near the railway station is St. Romain, which, though less ancient than those which we have just visited, is the fortunate possessor of glass brought from several of the churches swept away by the Revolution.
Particularly notice the spirited scene of St. Romain slaying the Gargouille, the fabled dragon of early Rouen. On the left, in what seems to be a transept, is a pretty window at the bottom of which appear such a sensibly modest row of small kneeling donors that we could wish that all sixteenth century glaziers might have seen them, and had been thereby restrained from their customary exaggeration in this particular.
Unfortunately, the ancient panels were not large enough to fill the embrasures here provided, so this extra space was filled by wide borders of light modern glass. The result is that these borders admit such a flood of light as to drown the beauties of the older panels.
Now we have arrived at the Cathedral. Before we enter, let us feast our eyes upon the delicate Gothic detail which softens and decorates its sturdy west front. At the southwest corner rises the Tour du Beurre, built (as was the same named tower at Bourges) from the moneys received out of the sale of indulgences to eat butter during Lent. The modern iron spire is so well designed as to seem hardly out of place among its older sisters. We should enter by the north portal. Just outside it is an enclosure formerly devoted to exhibiting the wares of booksellers, which is shut off from the street by a light Gothic screen. Viewed through it the wonderful carvings on the north portal become doubly effective. The interior of the cathedral is as full of interest as the best style of Gothic can make it. On the right is a very attractive zigzag stairway which leads up to the library. In the Lady Chapel are two especially fine tombs, one of the Duc de Breze, husband of the famous Diane de Poitiers, and the other of Louis XII's great Minister, Cardinal d'Amboise. The fourteenth century glass of this chapel has already been described (see page 144). The 130 windows which light the cathedral's interior are mostly glazed in colour, but they are the product of various centuries and are of varying excellence. We find here but eight thirteenth century medallion windows, but they are delightful.
Two of them are in the nave, the third and fourth on the left. The others are in the choir ambulatory and are so placed as to be singularly effective. If one stands in either the north or the south aisle of the nave and looks directly east, the only glass which meets his eye is that of windows brilliant with these early medallions, far off at the other end of the great cathedral. Just at this time the western rose window chiefly concerns us because it is of the sixteenth century. Its concentric circles of white angels, red seraphim, green palm branches, etc., provide a strong contrast between the reds and yellows (filling the centre third of it) and the dark greens and dark blues of the outer two-thirds. In the southeasterly corner of the south transept, the window on the east, as well as that on the south, are worthy of our attention. The latter is by Jean Cousin, and its six panels show six virtues, each entitled in Latin. Those of us who are subject to fits of depression should especially observe "Fortitudo," for there the bishop has slain the Blue Devil, and is pursuing its lilac and its green brothers!
Although St. Ouen has already been visited for its magnificently complete fourteenth century glazing (see page 144), the rose windows of its transepts are such noteworthy examples of the Renaissance that we must not omit a comment upon them at this point. That in the north transept has its diverging figures arranged like herrings in a barrel, but while those at the sides and around the lower part are light in tone, those in the upper part are red seraphim and blue cherubim: this is very unusual. The south rose is peopled by a multitude of small personages, each occupying a pane by itself. Careful examination reveals that we have here a Tree of Jesse. He is in the middle, but it is only with some difficulty that we distinguish the branches of the vine radiating from him.
Before leaving Rouen the traveller should see the interesting carvings on the House of Bourgetheroulde, depicting the Field of the Cloth of Gold, nor will he fail to admire the magnificent apartments which Norman love of equity constructed for it in the Palais de Justice.
Besides the towns already visited, there are three others near Rouen which contain interesting glass, Grand-Andely, Elbeuf and Pont de l'Arche, distant, respectively, 33, 20 and 18 kilometres from Rouen.
They are worth a visit if one can spare the time, but we risk an anti-climax in recommending our traveller to see them after the glories of the Norman capital. The nearness of these towns and also of Pont-Audemer (48 kilometres), Caudebec (35 kilometres), and Conches (51 kilometres), suggests a way in which one can change the whole itinerary just outlined. This can be done by using Rouen as a centre from which to run out and back, and thus visit all this group of six without cutting oneself off from one's base. To one at all encumbered with luggage, this suggestion will probably appeal.
GRAND-ANDELY
Of the trio just mentioned, Grand-Andely is much the most interesting, in fact it deserves greater renown for its glass than it at present enjoys. Unfortunately only one side of the church retains its original glazing, but we find ample compensation for this, because the entire southern half is filled with brilliant sixteenth century subjects, not only along the chapels below, but also in the clerestory. After a delightful hour spent here one readily credits the tale that a youth of the neighbourhood, by constantly contemplating their glories, so developed his love of colour that he determined to devote his life to painting. This youth was Nicolas Poussin. The great width of the embrasures, as well as their number (six in the nave and four in the choir, on each side, both above and below), provide ample scope for the display of the glazier's skill. Among so many of such excellence it is difficult to select which to praise the most, but the third on the right in the nave clerestory (dated 1560), because of Abraham's gorgeous yellow robe, as well as the blue canopy with red draperies above the aged Isaac, will linger longest in the writer's memory. Even when viewed on a dull, grey day, one cannot escape from the impression that a bright sun is shining outside, because of the brilliancy of this window's hues. It is one of the few examples of this epoch to possess that peculiarity, which, by the way, is so common among the mosaic type of the thirteenth century. This tendency towards the ornate, everywhere apparent throughout this series, finds its ultimate expression in the sixth nave chapel on the right, where the stonework of the Renaissance canopies is heavily overlaid with golden designs. The choir's four southerly clerestory windows each contains a large figure under a canopy of the time, the treatment varying in each case. Below, in the south wall of the choir, the tracery lights of the two easternmost windows are filled with diminutive angels, eleven praying or playing musical instruments in one of them, and in the other, nine, each carrying a symbol of the Passion. The way in which each angel is adjusted to the small pane it occupies is very graceful.
The apse end is square, in the English fashion. Its great east window contains good fourteenth century canopy work, in bands across a grisaille field. The subsequent addition of a Lady Chapel to the east has injured the effect of this glass, not only by an entrance being cut through it below, but also because the second tier of canopies is entirely shut off from the light by the wall of this later chapel built against it outside. There is thus left only the third, or upper tier, for our inspection. If the northern side of this church were as fortunate as the southern in the possession of its original glazing, this would rank among the best French glass shrines, which is high praise.
ELBEUF
Elbeuf has two churches worthy of our attention, St. Etienne and St.
Jean, but the former is very much the better. In St. Jean the first four windows on the right, three of those opposite them, and the first on each side in the Lady Chapel are all of the sixteenth century. There is, however, so much restoration as to greatly diminish our interest, except in the Lady Chapel. There the one to the right displays scenes from the life of the Virgin, with a label below each. The lower right-hand panel, in which appear Joseph and Mary, carries realism to an extraordinary point, while its label prevents any misunderstanding of its meaning.
However unsatisfactory St. Jean may prove, we shall be consoled when we enter St. Etienne. There the whole effect leads up to and culminates in the splendid bay that, with its three lofty windows, each containing three lancets in double tiers, forms the eastern end of the choir. There are no transepts, the nave joining directly on to the choir. Although the nave glass is all modern, it does not affront the glories of its older neighbours in the choir, which is, unfortunately, so often the case elsewhere. One is tempted to confine one's comments to the splendid easterly screen of colour, but that would be discriminating unjustly.
The famous legend of St. Hubert, dated 1500 (the second from the east in the southerly choir aisle), has been too much restored, but this is the only one that can be thus reproached. In the east end of this aisle we find at the bottom of a window two panels with tapestry-makers at work, showing that it was the gift of that guild. Across, in the north aisle, the easternmost window in the north wall is a Tree of Jesse, dated 1523.
Jesse is seated beneath a pavilion; from the tent pole sprouts a vine, out of whose blossoms arise the usual half-length figures. In the topmost pane of the traceries, the Virgin is seen emerging from a great lily.
PONT DE L'ARCHE
Pont de l'Arche, approached from Rouen, is most picturesque. It lies snuggled down by the river, its bridge flung invitingly towards you across the Seine, while behind it the forest comes down the steep slope almost to the town. The church, perched high upon a corner of the old fortifications, seems to be keeping watch over the homes of its parishioners. Its elaborately carved exterior gives rise to expectations that are not realised, for within we find but little glass to arrest our attention, although what there is dates from the sixteenth century. At the eastern end of the north wall there is a Tree of Jesse, but it is clumsily imagined and coarsely drawn. The flowers upon the vine are too large, and from them protrude great half-length figures, so much out of balance with the rest of the design as to render the ensemble lumbering and ungraceful. The reason for our visit is provided by the second window east from the south portal. The upper part shows Christ walking on the sea. Below, reaching across the entire window, is a scene full of the liveliest local interest. A boat is being drawn under an arch of the bridge over the Seine, and pulling upon the two long tow-ropes are groups of the townspeople, fifteen of them and two teams of horses tugging at one rope, and eighteen and one team at the other. These groups are carefully painted in enamel. A second vessel is being similarly assisted under another arch of the bridge, the tow-rope in this instance being made fast to a rowboat. The details of the bridge, of the fortified island in the right foreground, and of the enamelled figures of the citizens, are all most engaging. In the matter of correct perspective, the artist relies heavily upon the indulgence of the spectator, but otherwise the panel is agreeable, full of quaint interest, and absolutely unique.
MONTMORENCY GLASS
The tour which we now propose will prove particularly attractive to the automobilist or bicyclist, although we do not by that statement desire to discourage the traveller by train. He will find the same glass and the same towns, but he will miss the opportunity to enjoy, en route, the forests of Montmorency and Chantilly which during the summer are so alluring. During the first part of the journey we will see glass designed for moderate sized interiors and, therefore, adapted for close inspection. On these windows will be found many careful portraits of the donors, some of which in their perfection of treatment have never been surpassed. It would be unfortunate if this itinerary for any reason should be omitted, because without it our study of sixteenth century glass would not be comprehensively complete. We leave Paris by the road going north through St. Denis: our pilgrim will hardly, upon this occasion, stop to visit the Abbey Church, because nearly all of its glass is modern and glaringly poor. What there is of old glass is twelfth century and either fragmentary or much restored and repaired.
The celebrated window showing the devout figure of its donor, Abbot Suger, excites our reverence, hardly our admiration. Its chief interest lies in the fact that there has come down to us the good abbot's own account of this among other windows which he presented. The tombs of the French kings are, of course, most impressive, and provide one of the great sights of France to one interested however slightly in its history, but to-day we are in pursuit of stained glass, so the Abbey of St. Denis must wait until another occasion. The road straight on to the north leads to Ecouen, but that visit must be deferred a little, so just outside of St. Denis we turn sharply to the left and after eight kilometres arrive at Montmorency, delightfully perched upon a hill with orchards on every side. From the little platform just outside the west front we get a fine view of the forest of the same name which, fortunately for American eyes, has not been so pruned as to no longer resemble a forest. From Montmorency we take the right hand to Ecouen there to rejoin the straight road running north out of St. Denis. We follow this road to Chantilly, where the Montmorency glass ends, then turn northwest to Beauvais, and after enjoying its splendid cathedral, return to Paris. At this point let us remark that although automobiles and trains undoubtedly add to the comfort of the traveller, it would be better for us on this particular trip if we could substitute for them a mediaeval belief in magic. Then our first move would certainly be to seize a fairy wand and summon as our guide that glorious warrior, courtier and patron of the arts, the great constable, Anne de Montmorency. Nothing could be more incongruous than the selection for him of a woman's name, even though borrowed from the Queen of Louis XII.
The reason for summoning him is most obvious: it was he who built the castles of Ecouen and Chantilly, while the church at Montmorency, though founded by his father, William, was completed by the son. Who, then, could better tell us their stories or more delightfully revive by familiar anecdote the originals of their glass portraits? Even after our conjuring had secured for us his company, we might find ourselves in trouble, unless we were willing to discard our automobile or train for a stout horse. The arts by which we secured his presence in the flesh might seem to him quite natural, for magic was much more respected in his time than in these more practical days, but it is greatly to be feared that the puffing engine would overcome that stern courage, tested in many a stricken field, and that it would take the utmost vigilance on our part to prevent him from bolting back into the sixteenth century.
After accompanying him to Montmorency and Ecouen, and after wandering together through the forest, park and chateau of Chantilly, we shall bid him farewell, but we must not be surprised if he stoutly objects to our turning off towards Beauvais, demanding that, having recalled him from the spirit world, we hear his story out, and to that end push on to St.
Quentin. The lusty old warrior would be quite right, for the chronicle of his career would be incomplete if it omitted the delaying and glorious defeat he there received while commanding the French forces, thereby providing time for Henry II to rally the remaining strength of France and save Paris from the victorious Philip II of Spain. The result of that battle proved highly satisfactory to both victor and vanquished, for while its delay saved Paris, on the other hand Philip's victory so elated him that in memory thereof he erected the famous palace of the Escorial near Madrid. Though most of us will conclude to refuse the Constable's request, some few of our company may desert us and follow him to St. Quentin. Once there, they must not fail to view the two splendid sixteenth century windows in the second northern transept of the church already visited on our thirteenth century tour. They are each two and a half metres wide by nine and a quarter high. One is dedicated to Ste. Barbe and is dated 1533, and the other, dated 1541, to Ste.
Catherine, each displaying elaborately gruesome episodes depicting the martyrdom of the heroine. The latter one shows God the Father at the top receiving the saint, who is borne upward by flying angels. In the lowest panel we remark Catherine's headless body sitting bolt upright, while nearby on the floor lies her severed head intently regarding it (see page 107).
MONTMORENCY
Up a steep road that has more turns and branches than a grape-vine, and suddenly we come out on a little platform before the west front of the diminutive church of St. Martin. Off to the west and around on each side there unfolds a panorama of smiling valleys and green hillocks in most enticing succession.
As one enters the western portal, he first observes that the three westerly windows on each side are modern, and of these there can be no higher praise than that they harmonise admirably with their fourteen ancient neighbours to the east of them. These fourteen are chiefly interesting because of the delicacy of their composition, which is really delicious.
[Illustration: CONSTABLE OF MONTMORENCY AND HIS FIVE SONS, MONTMORENCY CHURCH (16TH CENTURY).
_Here the donors are frankly the important feature. So proud were the Constable and his wife (Madeleine de Savoie) of their five sons and seven daughters that we find four pairs of windows portraying them._]
Perhaps the chief interest here is the gallery of family portraits afforded by the donor's figures upon the panes. Among the many admirably drawn faces of distinguished scions of the House of Montmorency, the best is that of the founder of this church, William, the father of our friend the great Constable, which is behind the altar, to the left. It is evidently the work of a great artist. The fourth on the right and the fourth on the left (and, therefore, opposite each other) are two windows containing one, Anne de Montmorency, and the other, his wife, Madeleine de Savoie, each attended by their children. These two were made about 1563, while those to the east of them range from 1523 to 1533. The Constable is supported by his five sons and his wife by her seven daughters. She is looking toward the altar, but he is looking across at her. Each of these domestic groups occupies nearly half of the entire embrasures, but it does so in such a frank manner as to entirely avoid the appearance of intrusion, so generally the result of portraits like these. As we walk around the church we are amazed that so fragile a medium as glass should have preserved through all the centuries these portraits in more perfect condition than many which were consigned to canvas or marble. In fact, one wonders why this was not more often done, and at the same time wishes it had been effected as frankly as in these two just described, and not by the intrusion of donors upon a window devoted to another subject. It is impossible to repress a smile upon noticing that the Crucifixion scene which bears the portrait of its donor, Guy de Laval, shows him kneeling in the central panel, while the crucifix is in a side one! Lest these comments may have seemed severely intended, let us point out a few of the many lovely features. For instance, the second window from the east in the north wall has in its central panel the Virgin holding the Infant Jesus, who reaches out His baby hand to receive a dove. The greensward below is picked out with bright flowers and peopled by small animals, quite as one sees them on the early tapestries. Nothing could be more charming. The tracery lights are excellently treated throughout, sometimes in a most unusual manner.
Above the window just described, we find on a lilac field thirteen golden coins, each bearing a different head. This comment upon the higher panes leads us to speak of a most delicate group of four panels perched up above the north portal. Across them extends what appears to be a long cloister having a rich damasked curtain fastened shoulder-high from column to column, above which is afforded a distant prospect of gardens, etc., while in each of the panels there stands a female saint.
But little height is needed for this picture, so the traceries above come down low, and are filled by a throng of blue eaglets on a golden ground, the heraldic insignia of the Montmorencys. Before the Battle of Bouvines the shield of this house bore but four eaglets, but on that day Mathieu de Montmorency captured twelve of the enemy's standards with his own hand. In recognition of these deeds of prowess King Philip Augustus added twelve more eaglets to his arms, one for each captured standard, thus raising the total to sixteen. These arms we shall see often repeated in the windows at Montmorency, Ecouen and Chantilly. A visit to this little church is a delightful experience and fills us with eager expectation of what its founder's son, the great Constable, can show us in his two castles of Ecouen and Chantilly. We are tempted to stray off into the charming forest which stretches away more than five miles to the northwest and to revel in the natural beauty of its chestnut trees, but the Constable awaits us, so off we must be to Ecouen.
ECOUEN
Ecouen is generally visited because of its fine chateau, built on the crest of a hill and entirely surrounded by a delightful wood except on the side where from a flowered terrace there is disclosed a far-reaching view out over a smiling country. But it is not the chateau which lures us hither, but the parish church down in the town that nestles at the foot of the castle walls. The chateau has lost its old glass, the two panels from its chapel showing the children of Anne de Montmorency being now in the chapel at Chantilly, which place also rejoices in the possession of the famous series of forty-four scenes from the adventures of Cupid and Psyche, which originally decorated the now destroyed Salle des Gardes at Ecouen. For us, therefore, the chateau has lost most of its charm; if you wish to inspect it you must obtain a carte d'entree from the Chancellerie de la Legion d'Honneur in Paris, for it is now a school for daughters of members of that order, and is not open to the public. For those of us who have come here to see the parish church there will be no bother about permits, for none is needed. This church not only contains excellent Renaissance windows, but upon them we shall find a fine array of Montmorency portraits as well. The upper panels of the lofty lancets that flank the high altar are filled with scriptural scenes, but below they contain, that to the left, Anne de Montmorency with his five sons, and that to the right, his wife attended by five daughters. Although we have here the same family portraits as those seen in Montmorency Church, this pair is much older (1544-5), and not only shows the children as much younger than at Montmorency (1563), but also has but five daughters instead of the seven seen on the later glass. Nor are these the only similar pairs of these windows. The Constable was so proud of his children and of their number that he seemed to never tire of having them portrayed on glass. We have just referred to a third pair (dated 1544) made for the chapel of Ecouen chateau, but now at Chantilly, and there is still a fourth pair in the nearby church of Mesnil-Aubry which are the latest of all, for the Constable is there shown with a snow-white beard. At Ecouen we observe that the parents occupy each a separate panel from the children, but at Chantilly the parent panels are both missing. The remaining three windows on the south side of the choir bear as donors still other Montmorencys, but the work is later and not nearly so good. The high altar concealed the lower half of the central eastern windows, so they did the next most sensible thing to lowering the altar back--they transferred to a little northern chapel the panels it obscured. The whole northerly side of the choir opens out into a chapel whose northern and eastern ends are lighted by three large embrasures filled with excellent Renaissance glazing, depicting scenes from the life of the Virgin. Especially fine is the second from the east, showing in the lower half, the death of the Virgin, while above are clouds peopled with angels, all leading up to the Father in the top pane of the tracery. The traceries of the three easternmost choir embrasures are filled with blue eaglets on a golden ground, the insignia of the Montmorencys. This same treatment of the traceries may also be remarked in the chapel of the chateau; in fact, they are all that remains there of the original glazing. We have already admired this same form of decoration over the north portal at the Montmorency Church.
It seems a pity that the Ecouen glass now at Chantilly could not be restored to the embrasures for which it was made; it obviously does not belong where it is now found, and, besides, it loses there the historic significance which it would enjoy in its old home at the chateau of Ecouen.
CHANTILLY
At one time or another during our glass pilgrimages we have happened upon examples of other mediaeval arts and crafts which all combine to make France so absorbingly interesting. It has been reserved for our visit to Chantilly to show us one of the formal gardens of Old France in which nature has been made to yield to the whim and fancy of the landscape artist. Most travellers have seen the famous gardens of Versailles and have heard that they were designed and arranged by Le Notre, but those at Chantilly were designed by this same master before he was called by the King to do his greatest work at Versailles. There are many who prefer his earlier effort, and we must be grateful to our glass for having brought us to this delightful spot. The forest of Chantilly, which covers over six thousand acres, forms an excellent foil for the formal stateliness of the gardens. One is not allowed to visit the chateau except on Thursdays and Sundays and not then if it happens to be a day when there is racing at the Chantilly track. This regulation is to prevent race crowds from overrunning the chateau and grounds. The beautiful building with its priceless collections was the private property of the Duc d'Aumale and was by him presented to the Institut de France. In a long low gallery especially constructed for them, and which receives all its light through them, is a much travelled and widely discussed series of forty-four panels narrating episodes from the adventures of Cupid and Psyche. They are of the yellow stain and grey type which we have noticed at Troyes and Chalons, but here the workmanship is far superior. Note that the grey is in places almost brown, and that the yellow is used but sparingly. The high state of perfection to which the design and drawing are carried, combined with the fact that their subjects are non-religious, make them delightfully unique. It is easy to observe the strong influence of Italian art, not only in their general style but also in the very liberal borrowing of designs from well-known Italian paintings. Until recently they were attributed to that versatile master of many arts, Bernard Palissy, but that has been definitely disproved. They are now generally acknowledged to be the work of Cocxyen, a Flemish student of Van Orley (who made the windows of Ste. Gudule in Brussels), and the Italian influence is explained by the fact that he studied in Rome. These panels are dated 1542-4 and were originally made for the windows of the Salle des Gardes at the Chateau of Ecouen upon the order of Constable Anne de Montmorency. The Revolution dislodged them and they found their way into a museum arranged by Lenoir. This collection was dispersed in 1818. It is narrated that the Prince de Conde, when visiting the museum, admired this set of glass. Hearing someone remark that they had formerly adorned a castle belonging to his family (meaning Ecouen), he had them bundled up and packed off to his chateau at Chantilly, where they have since remained. This picturesque tale serves to show that stained glass panels were not then regarded as necessarily stationary. We have seen several other instances of this lack of respect for their stout iron bars. They were beautiful and valuable, and therefore, when the occasion arose, they were removed! Excellent as is the work upon these panels and graceful as are the figures, we cannot but notice that our art is taking rapid strides towards its decadence. They are no longer windows where the full value of colour and leading are appreciated and used. In this set they are careful colourless paintings on glass in which the artistic value of the leads is so disregarded that they no longer provide or even assist the drawing--they only mar it as they run across the panes wherever their supporting strength is necessary. We have arrived at a time when the windows are becoming painted pictures done in the manner of paintings on canvas. The artist no longer remembers that stained glass is a separate art and that he has certain advantages in technique over the oil painter, just as the latter has over him.
The small ante-chapel has on each side a tall window. In the middle of each is set a large panel of sixteenth century glass, the one on the right showing five Montmorency daughters kneeling in a row, attended by Ste. Agathe, and the one on the left their five brothers, also kneeling, and similarly attended by St. John. The remainder of the embrasure is, in each case, filled with modern glass done in the Renaissance manner and intended to harmonise with the older panel in its midst. The artist devoted more care to the faces of the boys than to those of their sisters, for although the latter are monotonously alike in drawing and posture, the former differ markedly. The face of the smallest boy is most diverting. His hands are clasped in prayer, but unlike his more devout brothers and sisters, his eyes are not turned toward the altar, but he is gazing out into the chapel with childish curiosity. In these two panels the leads are not so cumbrously intrusive, but there is a lesson which every glass artist should learn from an inspection of the carefully painted windows at Ecouen, Montmorency and Chantilly. He cannot fail to notice how the misuse of the leads has been accentuated by the careful painting, and he should carry away with him a firm conviction that the more delicate the design the less it can afford to quarrel with the leading.
BEAUVAIS
The average tourist looks forwards with keen interest to his first visit to Beauvais. He has, of course, heard of the ancient glories of its tapestry, which industry is still kept up by the French Government. He has also read that the perfect French cathedral would be composed of the choir of Beauvais, the nave of Amiens, the west front of Rheims and the towers of Chartres: so of the choir of Beauvais he expects great things.
Nor will he be disappointed, especially if he first views it from the Amiens road. This approach reveals the town to him in the most picturesque way imaginable. On reaching the brow of a short hill he becomes suddenly aware of Beauvais, lying below him in the valley beside a lazy river. One could more properly say that he first saw not the town, but the amazing uplift of the cathedral, and next the town about it. The great height of this edifice is accentuated by the fact that only the choir and the transepts are now standing. Long ago the nave succumbed to the great strain which its unnatural height put upon the materials of which it was constructed, and collapsed. The architect's vaulting ambition o'erleapt itself. In fact it is only by means of constant shoring and repairing that this choir, the loftiest in France, is preserved in a safe and solid condition. When the pilgrim descends into the town he comes upon many interesting timber-framed houses, some of them with second stories projecting over the arcaded footway below and exhibiting quaintly attractive carvings on their heavy beams. We find an intelligent attempt to preserve the best traditions of the older Beauvais tapestry in the modern factory. Just as formerly, it bears floral designs and very rarely personages, being of the sort called "basse lice," and woven on a horizontal frame, thereby differing from the "haute lice" of the Gobelins factory, where the frames are perpendicular. Not only in the Cathedral, but also in the church of St.
Etienne, do we find excellent glass of the sixteenth century. The latter's fine Gothic choir, adorned with graceful flying buttresses, provides a strong contrast to its sturdier Romanesque nave. The glass is only to be found around the choir, and is well deserving of its high repute. One should notice the tone of the blues, especially in the background of the church's finest window, a Tree of Jesse, the first on the left from the Lady Chapel. It is the work of Engrand le Prince, and is one of the best known examples of the irrelevant use of portraits of high dignitaries. Their half-length figures appear as blossoms on the vine. Among the fourteen, almost all contemporary likenesses, the most recognisable are Francis I and Henry II. At the back of the choir clerestory there is a fine window, blue with golden rays of the sun spreading out over it. The legend of St. Hubert is very agreeably set out just to the east of the small south portal, the green used therein being seldom surpassed.
[Illustration: "TREE OF JESSE" ST. ETIENNE, BEAUVAIS (16TH CENTURY).
_Popular subject in stained glass; the vine springing from the loins of Jesse generally bears his descendants as blossoms, and culminates above in a great lily from which emerge the Virgin and Child. Here occurs an interesting 16th century variation--among the descendants of Jesse appear contemporary portraits, Francis I, Henry II, etc._]
It is difficult to express in words the effect of extreme loftiness which strikes one as he enters the south door of the Cathedral. It seems almost impossible to shake off this impression; in fact, one is constantly being surprised that he does not grow accustomed to the great sweep of the upward lines. In the two great rose windows which decorate the transept ends, and in the double row of lancets below each, there is excellent glass of this period. The northern rose shows the golden rays of the sun spreading out over a blue background, reminding us of its prototype at St. Etienne. Below, the ten figures of women are attributed to Le Pot. The southern rose contains the history of the Creation with such interesting detail as to well repay the trouble to decipher it caused by its great height above us. Below are two handsome rows of lancets dated 1551, the upper containing prophets, and the lower, saints. The western wall, rising abruptly at the point where the nave should commence, has in its north and south corners two chapels. Each of these chapels has large sixteenth century windows, the northerly one in the west wall, the Descent from the Cross, being very fine; in fact, it is by some considered the best in the cathedral. The choir also has fine Renaissance glass, although in several of the choir chapels (especially in the Lady Chapel) and around the clerestory at the east end, there are some very interesting thirteenth century windows, one, in particular, a Tree of Jesse, rendered attractive by the halo of flying birds about the head of the Saviour. So tall are the clerestory embrasures that generally only the middle portion of them contains personages, the upper and lower parts being filled with grisaille. Most of these upper embrasures were glazed in the fourteenth century, and show to a marked degree the revulsion from the sombre mosaic, and the demand for greater illumination. All this glass would be much more effective if nearer the eye of the observer, the great height at which it is placed not only spoiling the perspective, but resulting in a jumble of colours. The City Hall contains the flag which the gallant townswoman, Jeanne Hachette, captured with her own hands upon the occasion of the attack on the city made by Charles the Bold and his army. Although this gallant deed was performed in 1472, it has never been forgotten by the people of Beauvais, and its anniversary is reverently commemorated upon the 29th of every June.
BOURG
In addition to the glass seen during these three trips, there are three isolated churches whose windows are so interesting as well as important that one should not be contented to conclude his sixteenth century studies without visiting them. Not only is each one of them distant from other contemporary glass, but it would seem as though the Imp of the Perverse had taken a hand in placing them as far away from each other as possible. Bourg is down south in Savoy; Auch is near Toulouse in the southwest; and Champigny-sur-Veude is off in the western part of Touraine, near the lower reaches of the river Loire. Each of these three not only was completely glazed during this epoch, but has also retained its glass in good condition. In each case the special interest which causes our visit is quite peculiar and very different from that which attracts us to the others. When we concluded our trips of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries we were confronted with the advisability of a separate journey to Quimper, and in like manner we should now decide to visit Bourg, Auch and Champigny-sur-Veude. It must be confessed that it is inconvenient, but it will prove well worth while.
First in importance is the church of Brou at Bourg. Although Savoy now forms part of France, we shall, upon this excursion, find proof that it was not always French, and shall furthermore encounter much interesting history wrapped up in the tale of the building and glazing of the church of Brou. Up in the north, at St. Quentin, we found the high-water mark (on French soil) of that splendid empire which the Spaniard, Charles V, agglomerated under his banner and which he resigned to his son, Philip II, the victor of the Battle of St. Quentin. So vast and important was his empire that he lacked only France to have all the continent of Europe beneath his sway. It was the aunt of this Emperor Charles V, Marguerite d'Autriche, who built the exquisite church of Brou in memory of her husband, Philibert le Beau, Duke of Savoy, killed in a hunting accident. After this glance at history, it is not difficult to understand why Marguerite sent to Flanders for her architect and for her glass designers, for as Flanders was part of her nephew's empire, none was more fully advised than she of the high reputation then enjoyed by the artists of the Low Countries. Apropos of the way in which her husband Philibert died, it is related that when his father had been at the point of death from a similar hunting accident, Philibert's mother, Marguerite de Bourbon, had vowed to erect a chapel to St. Hubert, patron saint of huntsmen, if he recovered. Her failure to comply with this vow was by many firmly believed to be the reason why her son Philibert was killed upon the hunting field, and that his untimely end was a solemn warning that a vow to St. Hubert must be strictly kept. In any event, St. Hubert must have been fully satisfied with the manner in which the oath was finally carried out, for the chapel so built has remained to amaze and delight many generations. The wonderful marble tombs, the graceful rood screen, the splendid glass, all go to prove that there was here lavished everything that wealth, power and intelligence could command.
It is bewildering to decide with which of the eighteen windows we shall begin our inspection. Because of our interest in the foundress and her husband, let us commence with that in the choir, which is at the left of the most easterly window. Upon this one and its neighbour to the left we shall see spread out much concerning the life, family and habits of Philibert. The first window shows the Duke himself attended by his patron saint, St. Philibert, while in the background there looms up his favourite ducal palace of Pont d'Ain, where he lived and died. As indicating the importance of his duchy there are arranged above him thirteen shields displaying the arms of provinces at one time part of Savoy. The next window to the left bears a splendid array of thirty-five shields whose heraldry serves to complete our information about Duke Philibert by showing the individuals composing his family tree. Those on the right are of the paternal line of Savoy, and on the left we follow his mother's line (the House of Bourbon) as far up as Louis IX, whose arms appear at the very top of the embrasure. It is most fitting that the arms of our old friend, the royal patron of stained glass, should preside over the most brilliant window in this famously glazed sanctuary. It is to be noticed that this church is very rich in heraldic blazons; in fact, upon five of its windows we find seventy-one shields. The Chapelle des Sept Joies contains a gorgeous work, the Crowning of the Virgin, in which every effort of the glassmaker's skill seems to have been exerted. Above the principal subject runs a panel-like frieze showing in allegory the Triumph of Christ. This frieze is done in grey and yellow stain. The whole window would leave nothing to be desired in either technique or colour if it were not made the victim of an exaggerated outbreak of the curse of donors' figures. The foundress and her husband are not only allowed to intrude upon the drawing of the general subject, but each of them is actually larger than the figure of the Virgin. The records show that this church (begun in 1511) had all its glass installed at the time of its completion in 1536, thus showing that the windows were made during the most vigorous part of the century, a fact thoroughly borne out by internal evidence. We may consider ourselves fortunate that the use of this glorious building for a store-house during the Revolution damaged the glass so little. In this connection it is surprising to read that its beauty was so much appreciated that the people voted to preserve it as a public monument, thus staying the hand of the ever-ready vandalism which then raged through so many French churches.
A sketch of Bourg would not be complete without a reference to the noble poem of Matthew Arnold. The following lines are particularly appropriate to the moving cause for our visit to this lovely shrine: