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Investigations in Medieval Stained Glass
Reading Medieval Sources volume 3
The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/rms
Investigations in Medieval Stained Glass Materials, Methods, and Expressions Edited by
Elizabeth Carson Pastan Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz
LEIDEN | BOSTON
Cover illustration: The Entombment from Saint-Martin in Chenu (c.1160–70), now in the east window of the church of Mary and All Saints, Rivenhall, 3b. ©Photo courtesy of Christopher Parkinson. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Kurmann-Schwarz, Brigitte, editor. | Pastan, Elizabeth Carson, 1955- editor. Title: Investigations in medieval stained glass : materials, methods, and expressions / edited by Elizabeth Carson Pastan, Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2019. | Series: Reading medieval sources, ISSN 2589-2509 ; Volume 3 | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2019016605 (print) | LCCN 2019017530 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004395718 (E-book) | ISBN 9789004395725 (hardback : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Glass painting and staining, Medieval. Classification: LCC NK5308 (ebook) | LCC NK5308 .I58 2019 (print) | DDC 748.5028/20902–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019016605
Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 2589-2 509 isbn 978-9 0-0 4-3 9572-5 (hardback) isbn 978-9 0-0 4-3 9571-8 (e-book) Copyright 2019 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.
Contents
List of Figures ix Glossary xvii Notes on Contributors xviii
Introduction 1 Elizabeth Carson Pastan and Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz
Part 1 Visual and Documentary Testimonies 1
The Medieval Glazier at Work 9 Sarah Brown
2
Early History of Stained Glass 23 Francesca Dell’Acqua
3
Longing for the Heavens: Romanesque Stained Glass in the Plantagenet Domain 36 Anne Granboulan
4
Chartres: Glazing the Cathedral 49 Claudine Lautier
5
Design and Execution in Southern German Stained Glass of the Late Middle Ages and the Age of Dürer 61 Hartmut Scholz
Figures for Part 1, Chapters 1–5 75–106
Part 2 Light and the Aperture 6
A Matter of Matter: Transparent –Translucent –Diaphanum in the Medium of Stained Glass 109 Wojciech Bałus
7
Stained Glass and the Gothic Interior in the 12th and 13th Centuries 119 Ellen M. Shortell
8
Windows in Domestic Settings in France in the Late Middle Ages: Enclosure and Decoration in the Social Living Space 132 Michel Hérold
9
“Consider the Glass, It Can Teach You”: the Medium’s Lesson 143 Herbert L. Kessler
Figures for Part 2, Chapters 6–9 157–172
vi Contents
Part 3 Approaches to Glass 10
Performative Interaction of Liturgy and Light through the Medium of Painted Glass 175 Madeline H. Caviness
11
Stories in Windows: the Architectonics of Narrative 189 Alyce A. Jordan
12
The Reception of Stained Glass 202 Anne F. Harris
13
Using Style to Interpret Medieval Stained Glass: a Case Study at Beauvais 215 Michael W. Cothren
14
Saints’ Lives and Stained Glass 227 Ashley J. Laverock
15
Female Donors of Medieval Stained-Glass Windows 239 Christine Hediger
Figures for Part 3, Chapters 10–15 251–266
Part 4 Types of Glass 16
Regarding the Early Rose Window 269 Elizabeth Carson Pastan
17
French Grisaille Glass 282 Meredith Parsons Lillich
18
Architecture, Liturgical Space, and Glazed Decoration: the Example of the Upper Windows of Bourges Cathedral 295 Karine Boulanger
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The Silver-Stained Roundel in Northern Europe 307 Timothy B. Husband
Figures for Part 4, Chapters 16–19 319–334
Part 5 Workshopping the Window 20 Medieval Textual Sources on Stained Glass: from Theophilus to the Monk of Zagan 337 Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz 21
The Creation of Stained Glass in Central Italy, 1250–1400 350 Nancy M. Thompson
Contents
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Medieval Glaziers’ Workshops in Norwich 362 David King
23
French 14th-Century Stained Glass and Other Arts 374 Françoise Gatouillat
Figures for Part 5, Chapters 20–23 387–402
Part 6 Post-Medieval Reflections 24 The Beginnings of Stained-Glass Collecting in Germany 405 Uwe Gast 25
Out of Context: Portraits of Private Collectors and Their Medieval Stained Glass 418 Mary B. Shepard
26 Stained Glass: Heritage and Creation, Materiality in All Its States 431 Isabelle Pallot-Frossard
Figures for Part 6, Chapters 24–26 445–459
Index 461 Compiled by Marilyn M. Beaven
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Sir Thomas Froxmere and his wife, a rare example of an amateur sketch for a window design? (c.1484–98). London, British Library, Ms Lansdowne 874, fol. 191 (©British Library Board). 75 Ecce Homo stained-glass panel (c.1529), based on Dürer’s engraved Passion of 1507–13. Oxford, Balliol College, East Window (N. Teed, The York Glazier’s Trust). 75 Design for a window project, probably for Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, with annotation attributed to the glazier James Nicolson (c.1525–30). Edinburgh, National Galleries of Scotland, D959A (photo National Galleries of Scotland). 76 Girona Table A, a detail of the canopy design on a wooden panel (c.1340). Girona, Museu d’Art (© Centre de Restauració de Béns Mobles de Catalunya, photo C. Aymerich, 2013). 77 A heated dividing iron causes a crack to form (University of York). 77 A chamfered, ‘nibbled’ edge typical of a medieval grozing iron (N. Teed, The York Glaziers Trust). 77 Workshop of John Thornton of Coventry, A grozing iron used as a heraldic device (1405–08). York Minster, Great East Window, panel 8j (The York Glaziers Trust, reproduced by kind permission of the Chapter of York). 77 Workshop of John Thornton of Coventry, Detail of a head painted in multiple layers and fired in a single firing (1405–08). York Minster, Great East Window, 10a (The York Glaziers Trust, reproduced by kind permission of the Chapter of York). 78 Workshop of John Thornton of Coventry, Silver stain used to decorate the hair and nimbus of St John (1405–08). York Minster, Great East Window, detail of 10g (The York Glaziers Trust, reproduced by kind permission of the Chapter of York). 78 Green, red, blue and purple ‘jewels’ annealed with a thick layer of glass paint to the edges of St. Cuthbert’s chasuble (1406). York Minster, St. Cuthbert window, s 7, 3/4c (York Glaziers Trust, reproduced by kind permission of the Chapter of York). 78 Detail of ‘jewels’ of coloured glass inserted into holes drilled in the roof of the Shrine of St Laurence (c.1450). Ludlow, St Laurence, east window (N. Teed, The York Glaziers Trust). 79 Strasbourg workshop, The Virgin and Child from the Jesse Tree, an extravagant early example of acid-etching of a flashed ruby glass (c.1480–81). Ulm Minster choir, the Kramer window, n ii, 3b (©Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/Freiburg, Photo A. Goessel). 79 Workshop of John Thornton of Coventry, The arms of St William of York, the only section of medieval window
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lead to survive in the Great East Window, with two sizes of cast lead (1405–08). York Minster, detail of 1f (York Glaziers Trust, reproduced by kind permission of the Chapter of York). 79 Geometrical window panes from Baume-les-Messieurs (8th century). Abbey of Saint Peter, Baume-les- Messieurs (Jura), (Photo from Bully et al., Le ‘Monastère des Reculées’ au haut Moyen Âge, Turnhout, 2016). 80 Painted glass head from the Merovingian basilica of Sainte-Reine (8th century). Alise-Sainte-Reine (Côte- d’Or) (Photo P. Wahlen). 80 Bust of Christ in glass with lead cames from San Vincenzo al Volturno (c.830). Venafro (IS) (Photo F. Dell’Acqua). 80 Wissembourg Head (c.1032–74 or last third of the 12th century?). Strasbourg, Musée de l’Oeuvre Notre-Dame (Photo F. Dell’Acqua). 81 Prophets David, Hosea, Daniel, and Jonas windows from Augsburg Cathedral (after 1132). Augsburg Cathedral, southern clerestory (Photo B. Kurmann-Schwarz). 81 Stained-glass fragments from the church of the Holy Saviour in Chora (12th century). Istanbul, Archaeological Museum (Photo F. Dell’Acqua). 81 The Ascension from Le Mans Cathedral, Romanesque stained glass with modern replacements in the top and the bottom registers of the window (c.1120). Le Mans Cathedral (Sarthe), window xvi (Wikimedia Commons-Selbymay). 82 Calvary window from Les Essards (c.1125). Church of Notre-Dame, Les Essards (Indre-et-Loire), bay 1 (Photo A. Granboulan). 83 The Virgin and Child in Majesty window from Vendôme (c.1130). Abbey church of La Trinité, Vendôme, bay 0 (Wikimedia Commons: Mossot). 84 The Crucifixion window from Poitiers Cathedral, commissioned by Eleanor of Aquitaine and King Henry ii Plantagenet (c.1165). Poitiers Cathedral, bay 100 (sri Nouvelle-Aquitaine, photo C. Rome). 84 The Entombment, stained-glass panel from Chemillé- sur-Indrois (third quarter of the 12th century). Church of Saint-Vincent, Chemillé-sur-Indrois (Indre-et-Loire), bay 0 (Photo A. Granboulan). 85 The Virgin and Child stained-glass panel from Saint- Martin in Chenu (c.1160–70). Now in the church of Mary and All Saints, Rivenhall (Courtesy of Christopher Parkinson, 2011, digital image, cvma Britain inv. no. 025852). 85 Romanesque stained-glass from the church of Saint- Martin in Chenu (c.1160–70). Now at the church of
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Mary and All Saints in Rivenhall (England), remounted ensemble of 1839 (Courtesy of Christopher Parkinson, 2011, digital image, cvma Britain inv. no. 025847). 86 Martyrdom of St. Catherine window (c.1190–1210). Angers Cathedral, bay 125 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Gumiel). 87 Entombment of the Virgin from the Glorification of the Virgin window (c.1190–1210). Angers Cathedral, bay 123 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Gumiel). 87 Plan of Chartres Cathedral with numbering of windows (Paris, Centre André Chastel, Design Chantal Drouard). 88 View of the north-eastern bays of the nave of Chartres Cathedral, following the conservation of the building fabric in 2015 (Courtesy of J. O’Connor). 89 Nicolas de Larmessin ii, engraving of The Sainte Châsse carried by two angels (1697). Chartres, Archives diocésaines (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Lemzaouda). 90 Charlemagne offers relics to Aachen, detail of the Charlemagne window (1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, window 7 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Gumiel). 90 The Belle-Verrière, Romanesque and Gothic stained- glass window (before 1147, angels from c.1210). Chartres Cathedral, window 30b (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Gumiel). 91 Lubin is ordained bishop, scene from the Legend of St. Lubin window (1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, window 45 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Lemzaouda). 92 St. Matthew, window from the northern clerestory (1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, window 135 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, photo K. Boulanger). 93 Eustache thrown from the ship, scene from the Legend of St. Eustache window (1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, window 43 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Lemzaouda). 94 Creation of Eve, scene from the Good Samaritan Window (1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, window 44 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Lautier). 94 Cheron preaches, scene from the St. Cheron Window (1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, window 15 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Lemzaouda). 95 Demons before James, scene from the Legend of St. James window (1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, window 5 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Lemzaouda). 96 St. Julien and his wife mourn over the bodies of his parents, scene from the Legend of St. Julien
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l’Hospitalier window (1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, window 21 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Gumiel). 96 Albrecht Dürer, Design for the St. George window (c. 1496–98). Frankfurt am Main, Städel-Museum, Graphische Sammlung, inv. no. 6952 (Städel Museum – U. Edelmann – Artothek). 97 Workshop of Veit Hirsvogel after a design by Albrecht Dürer, Moses and the Ten Commandments window from Strubing (c.1500.) The parish church of St James, Straubing, north transept window N vii (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/Freiburg, photo R. Tonojan). 98 Albrecht Dürer (?), Cartoon of St. Peter for the Bamberg Bishops’ window in St. Sebald’s in Nuremberg (c.1501). London, British Museum, inv. no. 1882-3-11-60 (Photo London, The British Museum). 99 Albrecht Dürer, Death on horseback and Provost Sixtus Tucher at an open grave, designs for two trefoil stained-glass panels (1502). Hannover, Landesmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, inv. no. Z. 5 (photo: Landesmuseum Hannover), and Frankfurt am Main, Städel-Museum, Graphische Sammlung, inv. no. 15667 (Städel Museum –U. Edelmann – Artothek). 100 Design and execution by Hans Baldung Grien in the Veit Hirsvogel workshop, Adoration of the Magi from the Löffelholz Window (c.1506). St. Lawrence, Nuremberg, south transept window s xiii (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/Freiburg, photo A. Gössel). 100 Hans von Kulmbach, Design for the Window of the Margraves of Brandenburg-Ansbach in St. Sebald’s in Nuremberg (1514). Dresden, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Kupferstich-kabinett, inv. nos. C 2255 and C 2256 (photo Museum). 101 Workshop of Veit Hirsvogel after a design by Hans von Kulmbach, The Margraves’ Window (1515). Nuremberg, St Sebald’s, choir window s ii (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/Freiburg, photo R. Wohlrabe). 101 Augustin Hirsvogel, design for a roundel, A wild boar- hunting scene (c.1530–36.) Budapest, Szépmüvészeti Múzeum, inv. no. 107 (photo Museum). 102 Workshop of Gumpolt Giltlinger after a design by Hans Holbein the Elder, Last Judgement Window (c.1505). Eichstätt Cathedral, mortuary chapel, bay iv (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/Freiburg, photo A. Gössel). 103 Hans Holbein the Elder (workshop), Design for a window in the mortuary chapel of Eichstätt Cathedral, with the Patron saints of the diocese of Eichstätt: Willibald, Richard, Wunibald and Walburga
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(c.1500). Basel, Öffentliche Kunstsammlung, Kupferstich-kabinett, inv. no. U.iii.51 (photo Museum). 104 Jörg Breu the Elder, and Gumpolt Giltlinger(?), design and roundel of the Battle of Emperor Maximilian i at Hennegau (c. 1516). Munich, Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, inv. no. 28 (photo Staatliche Graphische Sammlung München), and Eisenach, Wartburg-Stiftung, inv. no. KG 113 (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/Potsdam, photo H. Kupfer). 104 Unknown glass-painter and Hans Baldung Grien, design for an heraldic panel of the Eberstein/ Sonnenberg Alliance Arms with a deer-hunting scene above (c.1515). Coburg, Kunstsammlungen der Veste, inv. no. Z 27 (photo Museum). 105 Christoph Stimmer, Stained-glass panel of the arms of the artist, with his inscription as donor, which reads: “I myself, Christoph Stimmer, made these glass paintings by my own hand, although they cannot by far bear comparison with the artworks of one Parrhasius or Apelles. Goodbye my reader, a.d. 1525”. Pfullendorf, town hall chamber (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/ Freiburg, photo A. Gössel). 106 Albrecht Dürer, Engraving of Saint Jerome in his Cell (1514). Krakow, Scientific Library of the Polish Academy of Arts and Sciences and Polish Academy of Sciences (source: http://www.pauart.pl/app/artwork?id=BGR_ 037257). 157 Marcel Duchamps, Fresh Widow (1920). Painted wood frame and panes of glass covered with black leather. New York, Museum of Modern Art (photo Valéry Hugotte, licence https://creativecommons.org/ licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/legalcode). 158 John Everett Millais, Mariana (1850–51). Painting. London, Tate Britain (photo J. Louis Mazieres, licence https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/ legalcode). 158 View into the choir of Soissons Cathedral (consecrated in 1212). Cathedral of Saint-Gervais-Saint-Protais, Soissons (photo: Stephen Murray © Mapping Gothic France, The Trustees of Columbia University, Media Center for Art History, Department of Art History and Archaeology). 159 View into the choir of Saint-Urbain (c.1266). Troyes, former collegiate church of Saint-Urbain (photo: Stephen Murray © Mapping Gothic France, The Trustees of Columbia University, Media Center for Art History, Department of Art History and Archaeology). 159 View into the ambulatory and the axial chapel of Saint- Quentin (c.1197). Saint-Quentin, former collegiate church (photo: Stephen Murray © Mapping Gothic
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France, The Trustees of Columbia University, Media Center for Art History, Department of Art History and Archaeology). 160 Interior view east, towards the choir of Saint- Quentin. Saint-Quentin, former collegiate church (photo: Stephen Murray © Mapping Gothic France, The Trustees of Columbia University, Media Center for Art History, Department of Art History and Archaeology). 160 View toward the chevet of Saint-Remi of Reims, with Crucifixion window in the tribune (c.1180). Reims, Saint- Remi, former abbey church (photo: Stephen Murray © Mapping Gothic France, The Trustees of Columbia University, Media Center for Art History, Department of Art History and Archaeology). 161 Laurent Marchant, Detail of a house on the Rue du Roi de Sicile in Paris from the window of the Offering of the Relic of St. John the Baptist (c.1550). Nemours, France, church of Saint-Jean-Baptiste (Photo credit J.-L. Godard). 161 Window closures and their component parts, early 16th century (Photo Centre de recherche sur les monuments historiques). 162 The Master of Flémalle, Annunciation, detail of the Mérode Triptych (c.1430). New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art (Photo M. Hérold). 162 Heraldry within the medallion of a quarried window, panel from the so-called House of the Viguier (mid-16th century). Meyrueis, France (Photo X. Poupard). 162 Boucicaut Master, King Charles VI in conversation with Pierre Salmon from the Dialogues de Pierre Salmon (c.1411–13). Geneva, Bibliothèque publique et universitaire, Ms. fr. 165, fol. 4r, Pierre Salmon (Wikimedia Commons: Mazarine Master). 163 Stained-glass panel of St. Francis infirm, tended by Angels (c.1510). Paris, Saint-Merry, window 122 (Photo M. Hérold). 163 Jean Fouquet, Roundel with the Monogram of Laurent Girard (c.1450–60). Paris, Musée National du Moyen Âge-Thermes de Cluny, inv. Cl.1037 (Photo M. Walter). 164 Roundel of the fox preaching to the farmyard (beginning of the 16th century). Limoges, Musée des Beaux-Arts (Photo after F. de Lasteyrie, Histoire de la peinture sur verre d’après ses monuments en France, Paris, 1853, pl. lxxxix). 164 Linard Gontier, Stained-Glass panel of King Henri iv arriving at Notre-Dame of Paris, (c.1622–24). Troyes, Musée des Beaux-Arts, originally from the Hôtel de l’Arquebuse in Troyes (Photo P. Jacquinot). 165 The Chess Players (c.1430–40). Stained-glass panel now in Paris, Musée national du Moyen Âge-Thermes
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de Cluny, inv. Cl. 23422, probably from the Hôtel de la Bessée in Villefranche-sur-Saône, France (Photo M. Walter). 165 Master of Jacques Coeur, Galley ship with the arms of Jacques Cœur (c.1450). Window in the Palais Jacques Coeur, Chambre des Galées, Bourges (Photo M. Hérold). 166 Eastern rose window from Laon Cathedral (c.1200). Exterior view of the choir façade of Laon Cathedral (© Courtauld Institute of Art). 167 Rose window of Christ surrounded by the 24 Elders of the Apocalypse, over lancets of the Prophets carrying the Evangelists (c.1230), south transept façade of Chartres Cathedral (Wikimedia Commons: Oliver Mitchell) 168 Typological Crucifixion window from Orbais (c.1200). Orbais, former abbey church of St. Peter, bay 0 (Photo B. Kurmann-Schwarz). 169 Robert Campin (attributed), Annunciation (c.1440). Panel painting now in Madrid, Museo del Prado (Museo Nacional del Prado). 170 Typological windows from Arnstein (c.1179–80). From the choir of the church of the former Premonstratensian abbey in Arnstein. Now in Münster, Westfälisches Landesmuseum (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/Freiburg, montage D. Parello, photo A. Gössel). 171 Christ with the gifts of the Holy Spirit, panel from the Tree of Jesse window (c. 1179–80). From the choir of the church of the former Premonstratensian abbey in Arnstein, now in Münster, Westfälisches Landesmuseum (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/ Freiburg, montage D. Parello, photo A. Gössel). 171 Detail of the Typological Crucifixion from Orbais (c.1200). Upper part of the axial window from the former abbey church of St. Peter, Orbain, bay 0 (Photo B. Kurmann-Schwarz). 172 Moses and the Burning Bush from Arnstein (c.1179–80). From the church of the former Premonstratensian abbey in Arnstein, now in Münster, Westfälisches Landesmuseum (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/ Freiburg, montage D. Parello, photo A. Gössel). 172 St. Margaret’s window (early 13th century). Stained- glass window behind a Baroque Crucifixion altarpiece in the collegiate church of St. Margaret, Ardagger, Lower Austria, bay i (photo A. Laverock). 251 Miracle of the host, stained-glass panel from the Life of St. Edward the Confessor window (c.1310). Fécamp (Seine-Maritime, France), former abbey church, window 1 (Région Normandie, Inventaire du patrimoine culturel, photo P. Fortin). 251 Crucifixion and entombment with Old Testament types, lower part of the Redemption window. (c.1215–20).
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Canterbury, Christ Church Cathedral, Corona Window, i (Photo Tilman 2007/CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons). 252 The Baptism of Christ, stained-glass panel from the central west window (c.1145–55). Chartres Cathedral, window 50 (photo H. De Feraudy). 252 Window of John the Baptist baptizing Christ and other scenes from his life (1500–10). Conches-en-Ouche (Eure, Normandy, France), Church of Saint-Foy, bay 20 (Inventaire général Région Normandie, photo Thierry Leroy © 1991). 253 The Seven Sacraments, panel of a window in the nave (c.1466–75). Melbury Bubb, St. Mary’s Parish Church, North Window (Photo ©The Revd. Gordon Plumb). 253 The Seven Sacraments with Christ window from Doddiscombsleigh (late 15th century). Stained-glass window with restored figure of Christ in St. Michael’s church, Doddiscombsleigh (Devon), East Window (Photo © Painton Cowen). 254 John Thornton of Coventry, Angels singing sanctus, sanctus, sanctus from Revelation 4, 2–5, 8 (1405–08). York Minster, East Window, 11h (Photo by the York Glaziers Trust, reproduced by kind permission of the Chapter of York). 254 Cure of Roger of Valognes(?) and Godwin of Boxgrove, large medallion from St. Thomas Becket Miracle Window (c.1215). Canterbury Cathedral, Trinity Chapel, Bay N. iii (Photo: © Genevra Kornbluth). 255 St. Nicholas iconia legend, detail of the Saints Eloi and Nicholas Window (c.1230–50). Auxerre Cathedral, bay 18 (Photo after W. Kemp, The Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, Cambridge, 1987, p. 29). 255 Shoemakers offering a stained-glass window, detail of the Good Samaritan window (c.1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, bay 44 (Photo: © Dr. Stuart Whatling). 255 Legend of St. Lubin window (c.1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, bay 45 (Photo: © Dr. Stuart Whatling). 256 Legend of Charlemagne window (c.1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, bay 7 (Photo: © Dr. Stuart Whatling). 256 Sculptors at work, two stained-glass panels from the St. Cheron window (c.1220). Chartres Cathedral, bay 15 (Photo reproduced by kind permission of Henry Feraudy). 257 Shoemakers presenting a window on an altar, panel of a window with the Life and Relics of St. Stephen (c.1220). Chartres Cathedral, bay 13 (Photo reproduced by kind permission of Henry Feraudy). 257 Portions of lancets from the three windows in the Virgin Chapel: a) Bishop Saint Window; b) Infancy Window; c) Theophilus Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, bays 0, 1 and 2 (photomontages by author). 258
Figures 13.2 Presentation in the Temple, detail from the Infancy Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, Virgin Chapel, bay 0 (photo by author). 258 13.3 Bishop Saint Giving or Receiving a Sheaf of Grain, detail from the Bishop Saint Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, Virgin Chapel, bay 1 (photo by author). 259 13.4 Theophilus entering the Virgin’s Chapel, detail from the Theophilus Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, Virgin Chapel, bay 2 (photo by author). 259 13.5 Four Jesse Tree Prophets, from the Infancy Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, Virgin Chapel: a) and c) painted by the “Hard Hand”; b) and d) painted by the “Trough Hand” (photomontage by author). 259 13.6 Two clerestory figures: a) Saint John from the choir (1340s); b) Saint Paul from the hemicycle (c.1255–65). Beauvais Cathedral (photomontage by author). 259 14.1 Legend of St. Margaret window (1230–35). Auxerre Cathedral, bay 15 (Photo S. Whatling). 260 14.2 Reconstruction of the original program of the stained- glass window of St. Margaret (1230–40). Ardagger (Lower Austria), former collegiate church of St. Margaret, bay i (Photo A. Laverock). 260 14.3 St. Margaret from the Procession of the Relics window (c.1228–35). Troyes Cathedral, detail of bay 210 (Photo P. Cowen). 261 14.4 Martyrdom and death of St. Margaret, detail of the Legend of St. Margaret window (1280–1300). Clermont- Ferrand Cathedral, bay 16 (Photo P. Cowen). 261 14.5 Four scenes of the life of St. Margaret, detail of the St. Margaret and St. Catherine window (c.1220–27). Chartres Cathedral, bay 16 (Photo A. Laverock). 261 14.6 St. Margaret, detail from the window with eight female saints (1265–75 and 1891). Strasbourg Cathedral, bay 210 (Photo P. Cowen). 262 15.1 Female Donor offering a window, panel of a stained- glass window (last quarter of the 13th century). Doberan (Mecklenburg-West Pomerania, Germany), church of the former Cistercian abbey, bay n xiv (Schwerin, Landesamt für Kultur und Denkmalpflege Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, photo T. Helms). 262 15.2 Yolande, daughter of Pierre Mauclerc, detail of the left light under the south rose (c.1230). Chartres Cathedral, bay 122 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Gumiel). 262 15.3 Virgin and Child with Abbess Elizabeth von Stöffeln, detail of two stained-glass panels (c.1320–30). Heiligkreuztal, church of the former Cistercian convent, choir window i (Photo B. Kurmann- Schwarz). 263 15.4 Saint Barbara representing the nun Barbara von Ringoltingen from the stained-glass window with the legend of the Magi (c.1451–55). Bern Minster, choir window n iii, 2a (Photo B. Kurmann-Schwarz). 263
xiii 15.5 Anonymous donor couple before a statue of the Virgin, panel from the Life of St. Germain d’Auxerre window (c.1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, bay 29b (Paris, Centre André Chastel umr 8150). 264 15.6 Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry ii of England as window donors, panel from the Crucifixion Window (c.1165). Poitiers Cathedral, bay 0 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo K. Boulanger). 264 15.7 Marguerite of Lèves praying in front of the image of the Virgin, panel from the Saints Margaret and Catherine window (c.1220). Chartres Cathedral, bay 16 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Lemzaouda). 265 15.8 Donor image of Queen Elizabeth (d.1313), miniature after a lost window from the nave of the double monastery of Königsfelden in the Ehrenspiegel des Hauses Habsburg (c.1555). Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 8614*, fol. 233r (Photo Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek). 265 15.9 Sophia Overstolz and her husband Gobelinus von der Schafportzen, stained-glass panels probably from the St. Agnes Hospital on the Neumarkt in Cologne (c.1313–35). Darmstadt, the Hessen State Museum, Inv. no. Kg 34: 10a, b (Photo Darmstadt, Hessisches Landesmuseum). 266 15.10 Countess Mathilde offering a window, from the St. William window (c.1223–26). Bourges Cathedral, bay 102 (Ministère de la Culture, Médiathèque de l’architecture et du patrimoine). 266 16.1 View of the west façade of Chartres Cathedral, with its rose window (c.1200–10). (Wikimedia Commons: Tony Hisgett). 319 16.2 Nicolas de Son, View of the west façade of Saint-Nicaise of Reims (mid-13th century) from his engraving of 1625. Reims, Bibliothèque municipale (Wikimedia Commons: Nicolas_de_Son – Bibliothèque municipale de Reims). 320 16.3 Interior view of the so-called Dean’s Eye rose window (c.1220). Lincoln Cathedral, north transept, nxxxi (Creative Commons: Julian P. Guffogg). 321 16.4 Interior view of the western rose window with scenes of the Last Judgment (c.1200–10) Chartres Cathedral, bay 143 (Snapageno). 321 16.5 The Dead Rising from their Tombs, one of four rosettes of that theme in the western rose window (c.1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, bay 143 (Snapageno). 322 16.6 Interior view of the rose windows of the Old and the New Alliance (c.1228–35). Strasbourg Cathedral, south transept arm, bays 106 (Trans SE) and 108 (Trans SO) (Photo courtesy of Jacqueline Jung). 322 16.7 Rose window of the Imago Mundi from the south transept of Lausanne Cathedral (c.1200–10). (Wikimedia Commons: Florian Pépellin). 323
xiv Figures 16.8 Seer and the Trinity, opening from the Rothschild Canticles (early 14th century). New Haven, Beineke Library, MS 404, fols. 104v-105r (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University). 323 16.9 Master Brioloto (attributed), Exterior view of the western rose window (12th century). Abbey church of San Zeno in Verona (Wikimedia Commons: Mcarm). 324 16.10 Andrea Mantegna, Detail of the central panel of the Triptych for San Zeno (c.1457). Verona, San Zeno, Retable of the High Altar (Wikimedia Commons: The Yorck Project). 324 17.1 Interior view of the grisailles, composite glazing and full color stained glass in the triforium and clerestory of the choir (c.1255–65). Tours Cathedral, choir, bays 205, 203, 201, 200 (clerestory); bays 105, 103, 101, 100 (triforium) (Photo R. Branner) 325 17.2 Detail from a grisaille window with decorative blankglazing (c.1200–10). Pontigny, church of the former Cistercian abbey (photo T.N. Kinder). 326 17.3 Grisaille with colored border and decorative elements (c.1230–35). Chartres Cathedral, bay 19 (photo after Y. Delaporte, Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres, Chartres, 1926, vol. 2, pl. cxxxi). 326 17.4 Grisaille with centralized panel design and strapwork, consisting entirely of white glass (c.1240–45). Auxerre Cathedral, Lady Chapel, bay 3 (photo H. de Feraudy). 327 17.5 Grisaille panel with colored border and strapwork (c.1280). Troyes, Saint-Urbain, former collegiate church, bay 7 (photo P. Cowen). 327 17.6 Grisaille with colored latticework and curling vines painted with silver stain (c.1310–15). Rouen Cathedral, axial chapel, bay 5 (photo after G. Ritter, Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Rouen, Cognac, 1926, pl. xlvi). 328 18.1 Plan of Bourges Cathedral, with window numbering (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, design C. Drouard). 328 18.2 Stained-glass window of the apostle St. Thaddeus (c.1220–25). The body and dais on which the saint stands were executed using the same cartoons as for those used for St. James the Less in the same window; the body and head of St. Thaddeus were painted by two different artists. Bourges Cathedral, choir clerestory, bay 210 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Gumiel). 329 18.3 View of the ambulatory and radiating chapels, from the southern side (1195–1214). Bourges Cathedral, bays 6, 14, 18 and 24 (photo M. Walter). 330 18.4 View of the choir (1195–1225). Bourges Cathedral (Photo Wikimedia Commons, KoS). 330
18.5 View of Bourges Cathedral showing the change from grisaille into colored windows (first half and the middle of the 13th century). Bourges Cathedral, northern clerestory (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo K. Boulanger). 330 19.1 Grisaille panel with bulged quarries centered on a drollery, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain probably from Saint-Denis, chapel of Saint Louis (1320–24). Now in Paris, Musée de Cluny –Musée national du Moyen Âge, Inv. No. Cl 11473 (© rmn- Grand Palais, musée de Cluny –musée national du Moyen-Âge, photo F. Raux). 331 19.2 Christ as Man of Sorrows (?), colorless glass fragments with vitreous paint and silver stain from the Dominican monastery of Ghent (“Pand”), (early 14th century). University of Ghent (irpa, courtesy of Yvette vandem Benden). 332 19.3 Sorgheloos in Poverty, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain, North Lowlands (1510–20). New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, 1999.243 (©The Metropolitan Museum of Art). 332 19.4 Artist from Antwerp or Brussels, after the Pseudo- Ortkens, Susanna and the Elders, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain (c.1520). New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, 1990.119.1 (©The Metropolitan Museum of Art). 333 19.5 Cologne artist, The New and Old Dispensations, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain from Cologne, Germany (1538). New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 27.224.1 (©The Metropolitan Museum of Art). 333 19.6 Dirk Crabeth (1501–74), The Banquet of Samuel and Saul, The Annointing of Saul, The Preaching of Saint Paul after his Conversion, and Paul on the Aeropagus, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain from the house at Pieterskerkgracht 9, Leiden (1543). Paris, Musée des arts décoratifs, 46517 d, b; 46518 c, a (Photo T.B. Husband). 334 19.7 Dirk Vellert signed D★V, The Judgment of Cambyses, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain, Antwerp. (dated 1542). Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, BK-14517 (Courtesy of Dr. Matthias Ubl, The Rijksmuseum). 334 20.1 Jost Amman (1539–91), The Glass Painter, woodcut from Hans Sachs, The Book of Trades (Eygentliche Beschreybung Aller Stände auff Erden) (1568). Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Res/4 P. o. germ. 176, p. 59, urn:nbn:bvb:12-bsb00105474-3 (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc- sa/4.0/). 387 20.2 Antonio da Pisa and Agnolo Gaddi, St. Anne and St. Benedict, lower part of a stained-glass window
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(c.1395–96). Florence Cathedral, bay nI (Photo C. Lautier). 388 Leonardo di Simone and Agnolo Gaddi, St. Stephen and St. Gregory the Great (top row); St. Sebastian and a Female Martyr Saint (bottom row), detail of a stained- glass window (c.1395–96). Florence Cathedral, nave, bay nII (Photo Shutterstock). 389 Duccio, Glazed oculus window from the east end of the choir of Siena Cathedral (c.1287–88). Original window now in Siena, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo (Photo Shutterstock). 389 Giovanni di Bonino, Stories of the life of the Virgin and Hebrew prophets, detail of the stained-glass window in the high altar chapel of Orvieto Cathedral (1330–34). (Photo by author). 390 Giovanni di Bonino (?), St. Francis and St. Clare, detail of a stained-glass window (1320–25). Assisi, Basilica of San Francesco, Lower Church, chapel of St. Catherine of Alexandria, window ii (© Archivio fotografico del Sacro Convento di S. Francesco in Assisi, Italia, photo G. Ruf, Assisi –1999). 390 Master of Figline (?), Window with Franciscan saints and Popes (1320s). Florence, Basilica of Santa Croce, transept, window sII sup above the Bardi chapel (Photo M. Buehler). 391 Unknown glazier and Taddeo Gaddi, Window of St. Francis receiving the stigmata and six standing saints (c.1328–32). Florence, Basilica of Santa Croce, Baroncelli chapel, bay sviii (Photo K.A. Clark). 391 Unknown glazier and Taddeo or Agnolo Gaddi, View of stained-glass window with standing saints (mid to late 14th century). Florence, Basilica of Santa Croce, high altar chapel, bays nII and i (Photo B. Carpenter). 392 Curteys Workshop (attributed), St. Barnabas, detail of a stained-glass window (c.1290–1310). Downham Market, parish church of St. Edmund (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 392 Norwich workshop linked to Ormesby Master (attributed), Seraph from a stained-glass window (c.1325–30). Norton Subcourse, parish church of St. Mary (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 393 Norwich glaziers under the influence of Simon de Lenne (attributed), Musical angel tracery panel (c.1340– 58/59). Attleborough, parish church of St. Mary (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 393 Norwich glaziers under court influence (attributed), Two tracery quatrefoils with the Coronation of the Virgin (c.1330). Great Walsingham, parish church of St. Peter (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 393 St. Catherine (c.1340–45). Mileham, parish church of St. John the Baptist (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 394
xv 22.6 Conesford glaziers (attributed), St. John the Evangelist disguised as a beggar, detail from a window (c.1340– 60). Kimberley, parish church of St. Peter (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 394 22.7 Head of bearded figure, excavated glass from King Street, Norwich (c.1370–90). Now in a private collection (Photo by author). 394 22.8 John Mundford (attributed), Visitation (c.1445–55). Norwich, parish church of St. Peter Mancroft (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 395 22.9 John Mundford (attributed), Visitation, detail of a stained-glass window (c.1461–67). East Harling, parish church of St. Peter and St. Paul (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 396 22.10 William Mundford (attributed), The Crowning with Thorns and the Second Mocking of Christ, detail of a stained-glass window (c.1449–55). Norwich, parish church of St. Peter Mancroft (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 397 22.11 William Heyward Workshop (attributed), Fragments from a Te Deum window (c.1491–98). East Harling, parish church of St. Peter and St. Paul, bay I, 3a. (Photo Mike Dixon, by permission). 398 22.12 William Heyward Workshop (attributed), Detail of St. Michael, from a panel painting on wood (c.1470–80). Filby, parish church of All Saints (Photo University of East Anglia, by permission). 399 23.1 Portrait of Louis of France, count of Évreux, detail from a stained-glass window (c.1310). Évreux Cathedral, choir chapel, bay 14 (© Service inventaire et patrimoine Région Normandie, photo T. Leroy, 1993). 399 23.2 Canon Raoul de Ferrières, two stained-glass panels (c.1317–20). Évreux Cathedral, depot (Photo M. Hérold). 400 23.3 St. Martin Dividing his Cloak, detail of a stained-glass window (c.1325–27). Évreux Cathedral, chapel of Geoffroy Du Plessis, bay 23 (© Service inventaire et patrimoine Région Normandie, photo T. Leroy, 1993). 401 23.4 Axial window of the Virgin and Child, St. John the Baptist, and portrait of Bishop Jean du Prat (c.1335–40). Évreux Cathedral, choir clerestory, bay 200 (Photo J.-Y. Cordier). 402 23.5 King Charles vi, lower part of stained -glass window formerly in the nave (c.1388). Évreux Cathedral, choir clerestory, bay 210 (© Service inventaire et patrimoine Région Normandie, photo T. Leroy, 1993). 402 24.1a Interior view of the rotunda to the south-west (1772– 83). Abbey church of St. Blasien (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/Freiburg, photo A. Gössel). 445 24.1b Reconstruction of the glazing of the left south-west window of St. Blasien with panels from the Freiburg charterhouse (1772–83). (Photo montage after Gut, “Die
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Farbfenster der frühklassizistischen Klosterkirche St. Blasien” Jahrbuch der Staatlichen Kunstsammlungen in Baden-Württemberg, 1988). 446 L. Sommer, View of the Stuttgart Kunstkammer in the “Altes Lusthaus”, engraving (17th century) (photo Dr B. Gross). 447 Catalogue of stained-glass panels in the collection of Balthasar L. Künast (1668). Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek (photo Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek). 447 “Kriegerisches Kabinett”, view of a window (1785–86). Wörlitz, Gothic House, window xxiii (Corpus Vitrearum Deutschland/Freiburg, photo A. Gössel). 448 V.W.P. Heideloff, View of the interior of the church in the Hohenheim garden, colored etching (c.1785–95). Hohenheim (Stuttgart), Universitätsarchiv (photo Universitätsarchiv, Hohenheim). 449 J.W. Wendt, View of the east side windows in the “Rittersaal” in the castle of Erbach, watercolor (c.1805– 07). Erbach, Gräfliche Rentkammer, Katalog Nr. 1 (photo Verwaltung der Staatlichen Schlösser und Gärten, Bad Homburg). 449 Sir John Soane (designer), Monk’s Parlour window, roundels and springline panels originally in contemporary glass (c.1823). London, Sir John Soane’s Museum (© Sir John Soane’s Museum, London. Photo G. Butler). 450 Fernand Desmoulin, Drawing of Zola in his Study at Médan (1887). Médan, Maison Zola (Wikipedia Commons). 450 A, B Photographs of Henry C. Lawrence’s home in New York City, illustrating his installation techniques using light boxes and natural light (c.1919). (New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Watson Library, “The Lawrence Collection”). 451 The Gothic Chapel, Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston. (Photo © Randall Armor). 452
25.5 Fold-out Map of Victoria and Albert Museum, London, second floor showing the stained-glass installation on the “Bridge” (1930). Karl Baedeker, London and its Environs, London, 1930 (Collection: M.B. Shepard). 452 26.1 Jerusalem, detail of the scene of the Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, panel before cleaning in 1974 (c.1150). Chartres Cathedral, the Infancy window, bay 50 (© lrmh). 453 26.2 Jerusalem, detail of the scene of the Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, panel after cleaning in 1974 (c.1150). Chartres Cathedral, the Infancy window, bay 50 (© lrmh). 453 26.3 Analysis of the glass composition of a 12th-century panel from the abbey of Saint-Denis (c.1145) by pixe (particle induced X-ray emission) on aglae accelerator, at the C2RMF (©C2RMF-photo V. Fournier). 454 26.4 Jean Courtois, The Meal at the House of Simon, detail of manganese browning on a head (1534). La Ferté- Bernard (France), parish church of Notre-Dame-des- Marais, bay 5 (© lrmh). 455 26.5 Gentle cleaning of a panel with cotton swabs (© lrmh). 456 26.6 Isothermal protective glazing using heat-formed transparent panes (St. Thomas window). Chartres Cathedral, bay 23 (© Patrice Calvel). 456 26.7 The Annunciation, detail of the head of the Archangel Gabriel, before restoration (c.1210–1220), Chartres Cathedral, bay 100 (© Isabelle Baudoin-Louw). 457 26.8 The Annunciation, detail of the head of the Archangel Gabriel, after restoration (c.1210–1220), Chartres Cathedral, choir clerestory, bay 100 (© Isabelle Baudoin-Louw). 457 26.9 Marie-Christophe Lambert, La Salette, window created in collaboration with Saint-Gobain Company, printing technique on glass (2017). Latour, Belgium, parish church of Saint-Martin (©Isabelle Lecocq). 458 26.10 Marc Mulders, New window created in honor of Erasmus (2016). Gouda, The Netherlands, Sint Jans Kerk (© Taco Hermans). 459
Glossary band windows a horizontal band of colored panels in a wall of lancets which are bordered top and bottom by panels of grisaille bar tracery vs plate tracery masonry known as bar tracery forms intricate patterns at the tops of lancets and in rose windows by means of segmented stone bars, grooved to support stained glass masonry known as plate tracery employs solid stone masonry which has been cut and grooved to accommodate stained glass blank glazing an unpainted decorative design, usually uncolored, formed by lead lines alone cames an alloy of lead and copper molded to form H-shaped strips, which when wrapped around the edges of individual pieces of glass, can join pieces to form a composition. When soldered together, they form a panel. chapeau de triomphe a border of garlands around a heraldic shield chef-d’0euvre a small piece of glass inserted into a hole abraded through a piece of glass of a different color diaphanum something that, although invisible and formless in itself, provides the means for the visible to materialize épures artistic drafts, that may include scale models, often located close to the site of construction flashed glass colorless glass with a colored layer(s) of glass fused on to the outside. This technique was often used to color glass red, which would be too opaque otherwise flux materials such as soda or potash added to the pot of silicate mixture to hasten the melting of the sand “glassmakers soap” a decolorizing agent, such as manganese dioxide, added to the glass to improve the clarity of colorless glass grisaille glass a window or panel of ornamental (geometric or floral) designs, composed almost exclusively of uncolored glass, in which the designs are created by the leads alone or with the addition of paint and silver stain grisaille paint a vitreous paint composed of finely ground glass mixed with iron or copper shavings and a flux, which was applied to individual pieces of glass and fired grozing iron a stained-glass tool with notches used to shape individual pieces of glass by nibbling at the edges of the glass imago mundi an artistic composition depicting images of the cosmos, which may include the zodiac, labors of the months, seasons, rivers of Paradise, etc. jubé the French term for the choir screen that serves to divide the nave from the choir in medieval churches lmrh a French research laboratory dedicated to the study of historical monuments, with a division devoted to stained glass metallic feramenta the supporting iron and lead framework for a stained-glass window muldenfaltenstil in medieval art, a classicizing style of rendering drapery folds, c.1200 pot-metal glass glass which has been made by combining sand and metallic oxides together in the melting pot so that the color is distributed throughout. See flashed glass rota the Latin name for a circular diagram in the Middle Ages vidimus meaning “we have seen”, a preparatory drawing which could be shown to a customer in order to approve a stained-glass project weathering crust a corrosion layer which forms on the outside of glass due to the detrimental effects of pollutants in the environment
Notes on Contributors Wojciech Bałus is a professor at the Institute of Art History of the Jagiellonian University in Krakow. He specializes in the theory and history of art from the nineteenth century until the present, as well as the relations between art on the one hand, and philosophy, cultural anthropology and literary studies on the other. His recent publications include Gotik ohne Gott? Zur Symbolik der Kirchengebäude im 19. Jahrhundert (Frankfurt am Main, 2016). Karine Boulanger is a specialist on French 13th-century stained glass, and works at the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, cnrs, where she is an “ingénieur d’études”. She has published a book on the glazing of Angers Cathedral (2010) and numerous articles on glass at Bourges, Vendôme, Clermont-Ferrand, and Le Mans. She contributed to the anthology Le vitrail en France, Ve–X XIe siècle (2015), and to the French Recensement volume on the stained glass of the Auverge and the Limousin (2011). She is currently preparing the Corpus volume on the 13th-century stained glass of Bourges Cathedral. Sarah Brown is senior lecturer in History of Art and course director of the University of York’s MA program in Stained Glass Conservation and Heritage Management. She combines this with her role as Director of The York Glaziers Trust, where she leads a team responsible for the care and conservation of the glass of York Minster. She has published extensively on English stained glass and specialises in the history of the Minster and its windows. She is chairman of the British Corpus Vitrearum and General Secretary of the International Scientific Committee for the Conservation of Stained Glass. Madeline H. Caviness is Mary Richardson Professor Emeritus of Tufts University, where she taught courses in Art History, Gender Studies, and Comparative Religion. Caviness was born and educated in England, and earned a doctorate in art history at Harvard. She is a Fellow of the Medieval Academy of America and of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Recent publications include: “Angels, Gems, and Shields of the Valiant,” in Licht(t)räume. Festschrift für Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz (Petersburg, 2016). Her most recent book, co-authored with Charles G. Nelson, is Women and Jews in the Sachsenspiegel Picturebooks (Turnhout, 2019).
Michael W. Cothren is Scheuer Family Professor Emeritus of Humanities at Swarthmore College, and Consultative Curator of Medieval Stained Glass at Glencairn Museum. His research and publications have focused on French medieval stained glass, with an emphasis on the glazing programs of the abbey church of Saint-Denis and the cathedrals of Beauvais and Rouen. He is currently the author of two introductory art history textbooks first written by Marilyn Stokstad during the 1990s: Art History, and Art: A Brief History. Francesca Dell’Acqua holds a PhD in the History of Art from the Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa (2001). Her thesis focused on the use of glass in late antique and early medieval architecture. Since 2005, she has been an Assistant Professor of Medieval Art at the University of Salerno, and in 2014 received the habilitation to Associate Professor. Between 2015–17 she was the Marie Skłodowska-Curie Research Fellow at the University of Birmingham, and is currently is affiliated with the project, “Mobility, Microstructures and Personal Agency in Byzantium” at the Austrian Academy of Sciences. She publishes widely on early medieval western and Byzantine art and culture, focusing especially on the relationship between texts, objects, and images. Uwe Gast has been a scholar for the German Corpus Vitrearum at the Research Institute in Freiburg since 2001. He wrote his thesis about medieval panel painting in the Middle Rhine region (1998) and the Corpus Vitrearum volume Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Oppenheim, Rhein- und Südhessen (2011), with a focus on stained glass collections (Darmstadt, Erbach, Worms). His most recent publication was an essay about Franz Hubert Müller (“Darmstadt in Oppenheim”, in Kunst in Hessen und am Mittelrhein N.F. 11, 2018). Currently he is preparing a Corpus volume on medieval stained glass in Upper and Lower Franconia. Françoise Gatouillat is an honorary member of the Centre André Chastel (Laboratoire de recherche en histoire de l’art, cnrs/ Paris-Sorbonne/m cc). As “ingénieur de recherche” at the Ministry of Culture since 1975, she has worked on the Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, including contributions to volumes ii, iii, v, vi, vii, ix, and
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xi (1981–2019). In addition, she has written nearly one hundred articles in scholarly journals, acts of colloquia, and exhibition catalogues, and in addition, she has contributed to collective enterprises such as specialized dictionaries and works on single monuments, including Évreux.
of his research on stained glass include: the history of the ateliers of glass painters; domestic glass; the vitreous material of stained glass; and Jacques Gruber, the modern decorative artist. In 2014, he co-directed with Véronique David an anthology of stained glass entitled Vitrail, Ve-X XIe siècle (Paris, Éditions du patrimoine).
Anne Granboulan received her doctorate in 1991 from Paris iv-Sorbonne. She has participated in the Recensement des vitraux de la France (Corpus Vitrearum), in the creation of the Centre International du Vitrail in Chartres, and has taught at Paris iv and Paris i. She has published on the art of stained glass, principally on glass from western France in the 12th century.
Timothy B. Husband is Curator Emeritus, Department of Medieval Art and The Cloisters, The Metropolitan Museum of Art. He has specialized in stained glass –particularly silver-stained roundels –as well as sculpture, manuscript illumination, and decorative arts of the 15th and early 16th centuries. His most recent titles include: The World in Play: Luxury Cards 1430–1560, New York and New Haven, 2016; The Art of Illumination: The Belles Heures of Jean de France, Duc de Berry, London and New Haven, 2008.
Anne F. Harris holds a bachelor’s degree in art history and classical languages from Agnes Scott College, where she earned Phi Beta Kappa honors. She received her master’s and doctoral degrees in art history from the University of Chicago. A prolific researcher and author, she has published numerous articles. In addition, she is a co-author of three articles, and is co-authoring a textbook of medieval art history with Nancy Thompson (St. Olaf College), due to be published in 2019–20. In the Fall of 2019, she will become the Vice President for Academic Affairs and Dean of the College at Grinnell College. Christine Hediger studied Art History and German Literature at the University of Geneva and at the Centre d’Étude Supérieure de Civilisation Médiévale at Poitiers. She served as a Academic Assistant at the University of Geneva, and received her doctorate in 2005 with a study of Gothic sculpture in Spain. She has also worked at the Vitrocentre in Romont, in conjunction with the University of Zurich, investigating the particular function of medieval stained glass within forms of communication, transfer, and perception in the context of of the National Center of Competence in Research (of the Swiss National Science Foundation) project “Mediality –Historical Perspectives”. Michel Hérold works as Conservateur Général of the Patrimoine at the Centre André Chastel, and is Docteur habilité for directing research. He serves as the Director of the French Committee of the Corpus Vitrearum, and as President of the Conseil scientifique of the Cité du Vitrail, in Troyes- en-Champagne. Hérold is committed to the completion of the Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, the inventory of all medieval glass in France. The themes
Alyce A. Jordan is Professor of Art History in the Department of Comparative Cultural Studies at Northern Arizona University and a member of the Corpus Vitrearum of the United States. Her publications explore aspects of visual rhetoric and narration in stained glass. She is the author of Visualizing Kingship in the Windows of the Sainte-Chapelle (2002), and co-editor of Medieval Art and Architecture after the Middle Ages (2009; 2011). Her current research focuses on St. Thomas Becket in medieval and modern visual culture. Herbert L. Kessler is Professor Emeritus of the History of Art at Johns Hopkins University and Invited Professor of the Masaryk University (Brno). An elected Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and of the Medieval Academy of America, (of which he was President in 2009–10) he has published some 200 articles and reviews and is author or editor of twenty-four books, including most recently: with Francesca Dell’Acqua, Anthony Cutler, Avinoam Shalem, and Gerhard Wolf, The Salerno Ivories. Objects, Histories, Contexts (2016); with Amanda Murphy, Eamon Duffy, Guido Milanese, and Marco Petoletti, The European Fortune of the Roman Veronica in the Middle Ages (2017); and with Richard Newhauser, Optics, Ethics, and Art in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries: Looking into Peter of Limoges’s Moral Treatise on the Eye (2018). David King is a retired academic specialising in medieval art with an accent on stained glass. He is a member of the committee of the British cvma and has published a volume on the glass of St Peter Mancroft, Norwich (2006) and many
xx articles and contributions to books, mainly on medieval glass, but also on panel painting, monumental brasses and Holbein. He has also written frequently for the on- line stained-glass journal Vidimus. He is preparing the cvma Summary Catalogue for Norfolk and is researching links between medieval drama and stained glass in East Anglia. Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz was Professor of Art History at the University of Zürich and a research fellow at the Vitrocentre in Romont. 2004–2012, and served as President of the International Committee of the Corpus Vitrearum. Since 1990, she has been a member of the Swiss National Committee of the Corpus Vitrearum. She is the author of two volumes of the Swiss cvma Series (vol. 2, Königsfelden, and vol. 4 Berne Minster). She is the author of numerous books and articles dealing with French and Swiss stained glass, Gothic sculpture, and more general problems such as gender and art, courtly art, visual culture, restoration and conservation. Claudine Lautier is an honorary member of the cnrs in Paris. She is a specialist in medieval stained glass, particularly the glass of Chartres Cathedral. Since 1986, she has been able to analyze all the stained glass of the cathedral undergoing restoration, which has allowed her to make observations about the restorations of this glass over the centuries, and to offer new hypotheses about their iconography and style. She also directed a collective research project on the treatise and work of Antonio da Pisa, the Italian master glass painter from the end of the fourteenth century. Ashley J. Laverock is a professor of Art History at Savannah College of Art and Design-Atlanta. She specializes in hagiographic stained glass from the thirteenth century. Her work examines the intersections between visual and textual hagiographies and the cult of saints, with a focus on St. Margaret of Antioch. Meredith Parsons Lillich is Professor Emerita at Syracuse University. Her research concerns French Gothic monuments and their glazing. Autobiographical sketches appear in Women Medievalists in the Academy, ed. J. Chance, 2005; a Fulbright video www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZZUWnYERbQ; and https://www.gf.org/fellows/all-fellows/meredith- parsons-lillich/. A volume of her collected papers has been published: Studies in Medieval Stained Glass and
Notes on Contributors
Monasticism (London, 2001). She is the author of Stained Glass Before 1700 in Upstate New York, Corpus Vitrearum United States ii/1 (2004). Her most recent book is The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims Cathedral (2011). In 2007– 2008 she was a Guggenheim Fellow. Isabelle Pallot-Frossard is an art historian, who joined the Ministry of Culture in 1980, and served as an inspector of Monuments historiques for Champagne-Ardennes, Picardy and Lorraine regions. In 1988 she became the director in charge of studies at the École du Patrimoine and the director of the Laboratoire de recherche des Monuments historiques. Since 2015, she has been the Director of the Centre de recherche et de restauration des musées de France. She is also President of the International Scientific Committee for the Conservation of Stained Glass (icomos –Corpus Vitrearum) and author of many articles and books in the field. Elizabeth Carson Pastan is Professor of Art History at Emory University in Atlanta, and President of the American Committee of the Corpus Vitrearum. She has written numerous articles dealing with the interpretation of monumental art and patronage, including most recently, the western rose window of Saint-Denis. She is the co-author of Les vitraux du choeur de la cathédrale de Troyes (XIIIe siècle) (Paris, 2006); and of The Bayeux Tapestry and its Contexts: A Reassessment (Boydell, 2014); and a co-editor of The Four Modes of Seeing: Approaches to Medieval Art in honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness (Oxford, 2009). She is currently preparing a book on early rose windows. Hartmut Scholz is the Director of the Research Institute of the German Corpus Vitrearum in Freiburg, and the President of the International Committtee of the Corpus Vitrearum. He specializes in stained glass and graphic arts from the 13th through 16th centuries, focusing on the art of the age of Dürer. In addition to his numerous articles, he is the author of several Corpus Vitrearum volumes: the stained glass of Ulm Minster (1994), the Middle Franconian region (2002), and Nuremberg (2013). He is currently finishing the third and final volume on Nuremberg: Die Glasmalereien des Mittelalters und der frühen Neuzeit in Nürnberg: Lorenzer Stadtseite (forthcoming 2019). Mary B. Shepard is Associate Professor of Art History and the Humanities at the University of Arkansas-Fort Smith. She specializes
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Notes on Contributors
in medieval stained glass, particularly in France and England. Her work also focuses on how later eras reemployed medieval art into new systems of meaning. Ellen M. Shortell is Professor of the History of Art at Massachusetts College of Art and Design and a member of the Corpus Vitrearum of the United States. Her publications have investigated the stained glass and architecture of religious foundations, focusing particularly on the former collegiate church of Saint-Quentin in northern France in the 12th and 13th centuries, and on the 17th-century glazed cloister of Park Abbey near Leuven in Flanders. She is co- editor of The Four Modes of Seeing: Essays on Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness (2009).
xxi Nancy M. Thompson is Professor of Art History at St. Olaf College, where she teaches introductory and upper level courses in Art History and Women’s and Gender Studies. She has published several essays on medieval, Renaissance, and 19th-century stained glass, and is currently completing, with co-author Anne F. Harris, a textbook on Medieval Art History forthcoming on Oxford University Press. She is a founding member of the Material Collective, an organization dedicated to fostering respectful intellectual exchange and innovativescholarship in the study of the visual arts in the academy, and in the broader, public sphere. (www.thematerialcollective.org).
Introduction Elizabeth Carson Pastan and Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz
With many excellent books on medieval stained glass available, the reader of this anthology may well ask: “What is the contribution of this collection?” Indeed, there are fine studies by country,1 helpful overviews of the medium and its development over time.2 Corpus Vitrearum publications offer distillations of the chronology, state of preservation, iconography, and style of glass at a given site or region,3 and in addition there are also Corpus Vitrearum thematic publications,4 and conference proceedings.5 In this book, however, we have chosen to step away from national, chronological, and regional models. Instead, we started with scholars doing interesting work in stained glass, and called upon colleagues to contribute studies that represent the diversity of approaches to the medium. Admittedly, we could have filled two more volumes with the work of scholars whose studies consider medieval and Early Modern stained glass in significant ways, and many of them are cited throughout the bibliographies that accompany each chapter. In assembling the representative and interesting approaches for this anthology, our goals 1 A partial list of recent publications in the field includes: for England: Marks, Stained Glass in England; for France: Grodecki, Vitrail roman; Grodecki and Brisac, Vitrail gothique; Hérold and David (eds.), Vitrail Ve au XXIe siècle; for Germany, Wentzel, Meisterwerke; Becksmann, Voraussetzungen; and for Italy, Marchini, Le vertrate. 2 Representative recent examples: Caviness and Staudinger, Stained Glass; Brown and O’Connor, Glass-painters; Raguin, The History; Pastan, “Glazing medieval buildings”; Castelnuovo, Vetrate medievali; Kurmann-Schwarz and Lautier, “Le vitrail médiéval”; ead., “Recherches récentes”; Cothren, “The recollection of the past”. 3 The checklists, summary catalogues, and recensement volumes focus on a monument or regional groups of churches with stained glass. See the websites of the International Committee of the Corpus Vitrearum: http://www.corpusvitrearum.org, and of the International Scientific Committee for the Conservation of Stained Glass: http://sgc.lrmh.fr/, with references to new research and bibliography. In addition, the British National Committee publishes Vidimus, the only electronic journal on stained glass: http:// vidimus.org. In 2019 and 2020 the French Committee will publish the two last volumes in their series Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France (Boulanger, Les vitraux de Poitou-Charentes et d’Aquitaine; and Blin, David, Gatouillat, and Hérold, Les vitraux du Midi de la France, forthcoming), thus making available the full richness of their patrimoine vitré. Here and throughout, the Corpus Vitrearum or Corpus Vitrearum Medii Aevi will be referred to by its characteristic intials, CV or CVMA.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_002
are threefold: to encourage exchanges among scholars working in different aspects of the field of stained glass; to communicate to scholars whose work has concerned glass only peripherally to date; and to offer interesting and up-to-date views of work in stained glass for students wishing to learn about the field. To that end, our structuring of the volume is intended to underscore the diverse approaches of the essays. 1
Stained Glass as a Source
This volume is published in Brill’s Reading Medieval Sources series. But a word must be said at the outset about the term “sources”, which is often construed to refer to textual evidence. Primary textual sources are listed in the bibliographies of each chapter within this anthology and attest to the many important ways that medieval texts inform our understanding of stained glass, and intersect with the themes and emphases of the windows. Nonetheless, authors in this volume present texts and stained glass as equally vital sources of information. This is true even in those chapters devoted to medieval texts, liturgy, and patronage, which would seem to have the greatest recourse to written evidence.6 Conversely, chapters on making the window, different types of windows, and workshop practices, which might naturally be anchored in visual material, use medieval texts to complement the visual evidence to a substantial degree.7 Moreover, foundational publications in the field of glass studies have long contended that medieval works of art did not necessarily have an a priori textual source for their pictorial narratives; and, even if such a source could be identified, the narrative would be transformed by its translation into a window 4 Representative thematic CV volumes include: Scholz, Entwurf und Ausführung; Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs; and Grodecki, Études sur les vitraux de Suger. 5 Recent CV conferences include: Ayers, Kurmann-Schwarz, Lautier, and Scholz (eds.), Collections of Stained Glass; Boulanger and Hérold (eds.), Le vitrail et les traités; Shepard, Pilosi, and Strobl (eds.), The Art of Collaboration; and Tollet (ed.), Représentations architecturales. 6 See the chapters by Kessler, Kurmann-Schwarz, Caviness, Gast, and Shepard, respectively, within this volume. 7 See the chapters by Brown, Pastan, Hérold, King, and Boulanger, respectively, in this volume.
2
Pastan and Kurmann-Schwarz
composition.8 In presenting their cases, therefore, authors in this volume take a balanced approach to source materials, which, besides the evidence of the windows themselves and relevant contemporaneous texts, also include oral sources, customary practices, and local factors. 2 Translatio Issues of translation inform this enterprise on many levels, as has already been alluded to in the discussion above about translating written narratives into luminous pictorial compositions. Practically speaking, translation in this volume also involved turning several chapter texts from the languages in which they were written into the English language adopted throughout this volume.9 The process of translation requires dexterity in finding true equivalent terms and phrases, which can be a challenging endeavor, particularly since the editors are a native- English speaker and a native-German speaker. How this Tower of Babel scenario played out is well demonstrated by Wojciech Bałus’ chapter, originally written in Polish, in which issues of translation feature prominently, as Bałus looks at the various terms used by medieval authors to convey the unique properties of stained glass.10 Translation is also an issue in Michel Hérold’s chapter on “vitrail civil”, a term that does not have an exact English equivalent.11 As Hérold’s nuanced argument demonstrates, the rise of glazed windows in non-ecclesiastical settings involves issues of social status, the symbolic value of glass as a medium transposed from the religious sphere, and perhaps most surprising, the use of modular dimensions for mass production and for ease of installation, both of which contributed to the broad diffusion of glazed windows in the later Middle Ages. While Hérold’s contribution concerns the understudied realm of the domestic context and its glazing, other authors in this volume also evince a keen awareness of the importance of the architectural environment. This is set out in Ellen Shortell’s chapter dealing with 8
9
10
11
Caviness, “Biblical stories in windows”; Kemp, The Narratives; Pastan, “Saint Charlemagne”; Lautier, “Les vitraux”; Manhes- Deremble, Vitraux narratifs. Contributions originally written in French, German, Italian, and Polish have footnotes referencing the author’s work in their native language. See Bałus, Ch. 6 in this volume; the title in Polish is “Kłopotliwa materia materii: transparentność –przepuszczalność światła – diaphanum w medium witrażowym”. See the contribution by Michel Hérold, originally submitted as “Le vitrail dans la demeure à la fin du Moyen Âge en France: une clôture, un décor dans l’espace de la vie sociale.”
the historiography of glass and architecture, and developed by Karine Boulanger through her site-specific chapter focusing on the glazing of Bourges Cathedral. Boulanger demonstrates how the sustained study of its approximately 100 window openings can reveal the internal logic of its iconographic and aesthetic program, and highlight relationships between its architecture and its decorative program.12 Indeed, it is noteworthy how often studies of medieval architecture, while routinely observing that light held important symbolic and metaphysical associations, stop short of discussing the actual medieval windows through which the light passes.13 Conceptually, translation also entails providing explanations in terms that can be easily understood, which can be challenging because the study of stained glass involves specialized language and technical terms. Sarah Brown’s essay on making a window and Isabelle Pallot-Frossard’s on scientific testing of glass are positioned at the intersection of archeology, science, and visual deduction. Yet, each is able to convey their highly-specialized research in cogent “lay” explanations. Because she describes the process of creating a stained-glass composition from conception to window covering, Brown’s essay is essential for all the other essays in this volume. Although many authors refer to both the artisanal and artistic procedures of making stained glass, and expand on aspects of it according to the nature of their topics, Brown’s essay is comprehensive in offering the latest expertise on medieval glazing practices. For her part, Pallot-Frossard, taking her cue from Cesare Brandi’s statement: “We can only restore the material of a work of art”, rejects well-meaning attempts to discover lost images or hidden messages which restorers might claim to recover. Her discussion of scientific investigations of glass dispels long-cherished myths about the medium and analyzes the ethical and technical bases for restoration and other kinds of interventions. It is important reading for anyone in the field, and reflects Pallot-Frossard’s unique perspective, as the former director of the Laboratoire de recherche des monu ments historiques (lrmh) at Champs-sur-Marne, and, since 2015, as the director of the Centre de recherche et de restauration des Musées de France. Finally, our efforts in creating this anthology also involve translatio, in the medieval physical sense defined by Mary Carruthers, of carrying from one place to another.14 Such a translatio is reflected in our cover image, a stained- glass panel originally made for the church of Saint-Martin 12
13 14
Submitted as “Architecture, espace liturgique et décor vitré. L’exemple des vitraux des parties hautes de la cathédrale de Bourges”. See further bibliography in Shortell, Ch. 7 in this volume. See Carruthers, The Craft of Thought, pp. 39–40.
3
Introduction
in Chenu, in western France, but which since 1839 has been remounted in the church of Mary and All Saints in Rivenhall, England.15 We seek to bring together scholarship that is known in one language and perhaps more widely available in one country, with others from different languages and scholarly traditions, into a single accessible volume. In the process, we have been able to put scholars in contact with bibliography and with one another from quite disparate fields within the study of stained glass. This is evident in chapters focusing on English, French, German, and Italian workshop traditions,16 and in the discussions about the German 12th-century author Theophilus, who is referred to by several authors in this volume. Traditionally, his De diversis artibus had been known as one of the key recipe books for making glass. A new scholarly consensus is emerging from the study of the prologues to his chapters, and the analysis of his partial descriptions of techniques of glass making, which imply that his reader already had a grasp of the material and context in which glass would be used. This new consensus has led to a significant reappraisal of the purpose of his text, as readers will discover in this volume.17 3
Stained-Glass Research in the 21st Century
From these kinds of broad considerations involving the rationale and methodology of the volume, we offer several observations about the field of glass studies that have struck us in the course of preparing this anthology. A first concerns the “critique d’authenticité”, the initial stage of investigation of a work in the fragile medium of glass, which establishes the state of preservation of the panes within a stained-glass composition. Determining the authenticity of the glass under consideration is an essential analytical tool; it is routinely drawn upon and referred to by authors throughout the volume, but it is not the goal of their analyses. It only makes sense, for example, that, in discussing the significance of the depiction of the royal donors Henry ii Plantagenet and Eleanor of Aquitaine –who appear at the bottom of the great Crucifixion Window of c.1165 in the cathedral of Saint-Pierre of Poitiers (Figure 15.6) – that Anne Granboulan, Christine Hediger, and Anne Harris in their separate allusions to it, would first consider the authenticity of the glass making up the scene.18 15 16 17
Perrot and Granboulan, “The French 12th, 13th and 16th Century Glass”, p. 1; and see Granboulan, Ch. 3 in this volume. See the chapters by King, Gatouillat, Scholz, and Thompson, respectively. See the chapters by Kurmann-Schwarz, Brown, and Thompson within. Their work both dovetails with, and further enriches, the study by Gearhart, Theophilus and the Theory and Practice of Medieval Art.
For Granboulan, the image offers an instance of western French Romanesque glazing; for Harris it reflects the trope of a donor presenting a window, as an offering to God; while Hediger uses the image to consider the circumstances surrounding women’s roles in donating and commissioning windows. A second observation for the field of glass studies concerns how important the older literature remains, including oft-cited works by Rüdiger Becksmann, Ellen J. Beer, Yves Delaporte, Paul Frankl, Gottfried Frenzel, Eva Frodl-Kraft, Louis Grodecki, Jane Hayward, Jean Lafond, Emile Mâle, Heinrich Oidtmann, Erwin Panofsky, L.F. Salzman, Viollet-le-Duc, and Charles Winston, to name only a few. However, the work of these foundational scholars is frequently brought into discussions of questions these scholars may never have entertained, such as the reception of the windows by their medieval contemporaries, the role of gender, or the materiality of windows.19 Among other developments in the field, is the growing importance of liturgical considerations; the guidelines for Corpus Vitrearum monographs do not mandate discussion of the liturgy, although recent Corpus authors have begun to include it.20 Within this volume, new ways of thinking about windows, building on the legacy of earlier scholars, may be seen in Herbert Kessler’s reflections on what stained glass as a medium conveyed to the exegetically-astute medieval beholder. We can also see this in Mary Shepard’s discussion of the personal motivations of collectors, and in Uwe Gast’s chapter reflecting on the beginning of the very notion of collecting. Further complementing the continued relevance of the older literature is the advent of new scholarly websites, which have become invaluable resources in the study of stained glass, making high-quality color images widely available.21 Along with the kinds of 18
19
20 21
See chapters by Granboulan, Harris and Hediger. Granboulan, Ch. 3, draws on reports and photographs taken at the time of its restoration in the 1880s. See chapters by Harris, Pastan, Hediger, Bałus, Kessler, and Pallot-Frossard. Nonetheless, Louis Grodecki’s early study of the materiality of glass, “Fonctions spirituelles”, is not as well known by scholars outside of the field as it should be. The guidelines, created and revised over 60 years, are posted at http://www.corpusvitrearum.org/. A partial list of websites referred to by authors in this volume includes: the Corpus Vitrearum Medii Aevi (cvma) of Great Britain: http://www.cvma.ac.uk/index.html; the Italian Stained Glass Windows Database: http://www.icvbc.cnr.it/bivi/; the Corpus Vitrearum of Poland: http://cvp.baza-witrazy.uj.edu .pl; Mapping Gothic France: http://mappinggothic.org; Painton Cowen’s Rose Window: www.therosewindow.com/; Stuart Whatling’s Corpus of Medieval Narrative Art: http://www.medievalart.org.uk; window enclosures: http://www.chassis-fenetres .info/; and the Vitrocentre Romont: http://vitrosearch.ch.
4 questions glass scholars are now posing, these websites, as well as the 136 Corpus Vitrearum volumes, provide such rich materials for further study that it is unfortunate that so few researchers outside of the field of glass painting consult them. Perhaps the most significant methodological development of note is the fact that ours is a field that once took style as the chief tool of analysis, like many other disciplines within art history, but this is no longer the case. Yet, style remains important throughout the contributions here, notably in the chapter by Hartmut Scholz, whose dissertation of 1989 undertook a comprehensive analysis of the collaboration between painters and glaziers at the end of the late Middle Ages.22 For his contribution focusing on Nuremberg, he evaluates written and graphic sources as well as extant glass paintings to articulate the interaction of design and execution, in order to understand the division of labor in the process of making stained glass. The issue of style as an analytical tool is met head on in Michael Cothren’s chapter, where he characterizes it as a “springboard” for further considerations.23 As he articulates, in a large, well- funded architectural project: “the magnitude of work in stained glass would have supported –may actually have mandated –the simultaneous activity of several workshops, distinguishable by the stylistic differences apparent in the windows each produced”.24 He thus complicates any interpretive model that would seek to link style and date too narrowly on a developmental timeline. Other chapters, both implicitly and explicitly according to the nature of their topic, include a problematizing of how far stylistic analysis can take us.25 In a contribution anchored in questions of reception, Elizabeth Pastan finds evidence that glass painters made modifications to accommodate the scale and steep angle of elevation over which many rose windows would be viewed. Yet she also asks how legible rose windows were, and suggests strategies involving the topography of the church, the kinds of subject matter, and other associations by which they conveyed meaning to medieval beholders. Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz’s analyses of texts about windows from the 12th to the 16th centuries complement other kinds of evidence in demonstrating that windows were often created collaboratively, through cartoons devised by painters of the day, but carried out by glass artisans and artists with varying degrees of autonomy. Her analyses call into question universalizing explanations about how workshops operated. Her work on the collaborative nature of glass workshops complements Claudine Lautier’s chapter on the glazing of Chartres Cathedral, which draws on her many significant contributions to the field.26
Pastan and Kurmann-Schwarz
Though not explicitly addressing style, Alyce Jordan and Madeline Caviness examine other kinds of important considerations that impact the look of a window. Through her examination of the extensive historiography of the stained glass of Chartres Cathedral, Jordan reflects on how window narratives have been understood in the larger historical, material, and spatial contexts of the buildings they decorate. As she argues, there is a discernible but flexible correlation between narrative subjects and their location, with a recurrence of Incarnation and Passion narratives in axial windows, Old Testament narratives on northern walls, and New Testament and/or hagiographic narratives on the south, but little evidence of overarching programs.27 She also shows how scholars’ assertions of programmatic intent are intimately linked to their interpretation of issues of patronage. In parallel to Jordan’s work on other issues at play in how windows take the form they do, Madeline Caviness demonstrates that interrelated developments in church architecture and decoration “reflect a consistent concern to assert the reality of the intersection of the past and future of ongoing church time and the present liturgical moment of the celebration of Mass”.28 Nonetheless Caviness argues that the liturgy did not determine all the choices made in producing windows, and that sometimes windows and liturgies worked “in tandem rather than symbiotically”.29 4
The Organizational Armature
In grouping the various studies in this anthology, we have put chapters into natural conversations with one another. Thus, in the section Visual and Documentary Testimonies, the chapters collectively offer a strong visual framework for understanding the range of possibilities within the medium over time, in contributions by: Sarah Brown on making the window; Francesca Dell’Acqua on the earliest evidence of stained-glass windows; Anne 22 Published in 1991 as Scholz, Entwurf und Ausführung. 23 Cothren, Ch. 13 in this volume. 24 Ibid. 25 Those of Lillich, Granboulan, Scholz, and Cothren. 26 Lautier, Ch. 4 in this volume. 27 As one finds in spaces where a single entity oversees the complete decoration of the space, such as at Sainte-Chapelle. This is discussed in a series of exemplary publications including Aubert et al., Les Vitraux de Notre-Dame et de la Sainte- Chapelle de Paris; Leniaud and Perrot, La Sainte Chapelle; Jordan, Visualizing Kingship; and Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle. 28 Caviness, Ch. 10 in this volume, quoting Parker, “Architecture”, p. 245. 29 Caviness, Ch. 10.
5
Introduction
Granboulan on the category of stained glass that received early acclaim for its expressive values, the Romanesque window; Claudine Lautier on Gothic glazing at Chartres Cathedral; and Hartmut Scholz on 15th-century German glass in the age of Dürer. In the section Light and the Aperture, chapters by Wojciech Bałus, Ellen Shortell, Michel Hérold, and Herbert L. Kessler consider the nature of light, the coordination of architecture and glass, the nature of the apertures that frame light, and medieval exegetical engagements with light. They are perhaps less strictly vitreous than the third group of chapters, in the section Approaches to Glass, which begins with Madeline Caviness on liturgical considerations in the placement of windows, and continues with Alyce Jordan on narrative, Anne Harris on the reception of stained-glass windows, Michael Cothren on style as a tool of analysis, Ashley Laverock on hagiographical windows, and Christine Hediger on the depictions of female donors of windows. The section Types of Glass includes chapters by Elizabeth Pastan on the phenomenon of the early rose window, Meredith Lillich on the uncolored glass known as grisaille, Karine Boulanger on clerestory windows, the uppermost apertures in a setting, and Timothy Husband on northern European roundels. In Workshopping the Window, Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz examines closely texts that discuss stained glass, Nancy Thompson looks to Italian examples, David King probes the evidence for English workshops in Norwich, and Françoise Gatouillat considers French 14th-century examples. Finally, the section Post-Medieval Reflections turns to more recent evidence, with Uwe Gast’s chapter on the origins of collecting stained glass in German countries, Mary Shepard on the motivations of modern stained-glass collectors in France, England, and America, and Isabelle Pallot- Frossard on scientific methods of analysis, in an exploration that leads her to consider how contemporary glass pushes traditional materials to their limits. As we hope to show, the essays as a group attest to the many rich paths of approach in the study of stained glass. We have many to thank for their assistance in putting together this volume, beginning with Kate Hammond, who invited us to participate in this Brill series, and Madeline Caviness for her early encouragement. We also acknowledge with gratitude the work of translators Claire-Lise Chavalley, Ellen Shortell, Joseph Spooner, and Margret Powell-Joss. In addition, Karine Boulanger, Michel Hérold, Hartmut Scholz, Daniel Parello, and Christopher Parkinson –who took the photograph for the cover –went out of their way to assist with images. We owe a special debt of gratitude to Drew Anderson and Mary Shepard, who read drafts of material for us, helping to ensure the accuracy and fluidity of the contents. Finally, Marilyn M. Beaven compiled the index
and in the process made many invaluable suggestions and undertook helpful cross-checking. A last word of appreciation goes to our authors for their patience in working through many drafts with us, and in accepting our bibliographical suggestions both graciously and enthusiastically. We hope that the result will be as informative as it is stimulating, in offering readers a series of diverse but interlocking investigations in medieval stained glass. Bibliography Secondary Sources
Aubert, M. et al., Les Vitraux de Notre-Dame et de la Sainte- Chapelle de Paris, (CVMA France, 1), Paris, 1959. Ayers, T., Kurmann-Schwarz, B., Lautier, C., and Scholz, H. (eds.), Collections of Stained Glass and their Histories (Transactions of the 25th International Colloquium of the CV in Saint Petersburg), Bern, 2012. Becksmann, R., Voraussetzungen – Entwicklungen – Zusammenhänge (Deutsche Glasmalerei des Mittelalters, 1), Berlin, 1995. Boulanger, K. and Hérold, M. (eds.), Le vitrail et les traités du Moyen Âge à nos jours (Transactions of the 23rd International Colloquium of the CV in Tours), Bern, 2008. Brown, S. and O’Connor, D., Glass-Painters (Medieval Craftsmen), London, 1991. Carruthers, M., The Craft of Thought: Meditation, Rhetoric and the Making of Images, 400–1200, Cambridge, 1998. Castelnuovo, E., Vetrate medievali. Officine –tecniche –maestri, Turin, 1994, 2nd ed., Turin, 2007. Caviness, M.H., “Biblical stories in windows: were they bibles for the poor?”, in B.S. Levy (ed.), The Bible in the Middle Ages: its Influence on Literature and Art (Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 89), Binghamton, 1992, pp. 103–47. Caviness, M.H. and Staudinger-Lane, E., Stained Glass Before 1540: an Annotated Bibliography, Boston, 1983. Cohen, M., The Sainte-Chapelle and the Construction of Sacral Monarchy: Royal Architecture in Thirteenth-Century Paris, New York, 2015. Hérold, M. and David V., (eds.), Vitrail Ve au XXIe siècle, Paris, 2014. Gearhart, H.B., Theophilus and the Theory and Practice of Medieval Art, University Park, PA, 2017. Geary, P.J., “Saint Helen of Athyra and the cathedral of Troyes in the thirteenth century,” in id. (ed.), Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages, Ithaca, 1994, pp. 221–42. Grodecki, L., “Fonctions spirituelles”, in M. Aubert et al. (eds.), Le vitrail français, Paris, 1958, pp. 39–54. Grodecki, L., Études sur les vitraux de Suger à Saint-Denis, vol. 2 (CV France, Études, 3), Paris, 1995.
6 Grodecki, L., Brisac, C., and Lautier, C. Le vitrail roman, Fribourg, 1977. Grodecki, L. and Brisac, C., Le vitrail gothique au XIIIe siècle, Fribourg, 1984; trans. B. Boehm, Gothic Stained Glass, Ithaca, 1985. Jordan, A.A., Visualizing Kingship in the Windows of the Sainte- Chapelle (Publications of the International Center of Medieval Art, 5), Turnhout, 2002. Kemp, W., The Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, trans. C.D. Saltzwedel, Cambridge, 1997. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “La pierre peinte et le verre coloré: le rôle du vitrail dans la perception de l’espace intérieur gothique”, in Y. Gallet (ed.), Ex quadris lapidibus. La pierre dans l’art médiéval, Mélanges à l’honneur d’Éliane Vergnolle, Turnhout, 2012, pp. 427–42. Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Lautier, C., “Le vitrail médiéval en Europe: dix ans d’une recherche foisonnante”, Perspective 1 (2009), 99–130. Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Lautier, C., “Recherches récentes sur le vitrail médiéval 1998–2009”, Kunstchronik 63 (2010), 261– 84 and 313–38. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres: reliques et image”, special issue of Bulletin monumental 161 (2003), 3–96. Leniaud, J.-M. and Perrot, F., La Sainte Chapelle, Paris, 1991. Manhes-Deremble, C., Les vitraux narratifs de la cathédrale de Chartres (CV France, Études, 2), Paris, 1993. Marchini, G., Le vetrate italiane, Milan, 1957. Marner, D., St Cuthbert. His Life and Cult in Medieval Durham, London, 2000. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England during the Middle Ages, London, 1993.
Pastan and Kurmann-Schwarz Oberhaidacher-Herzig, E. (ed.), Dynastische Repräsentation in der Glasmalerei, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Kunst und Denkmalpflege 66-3/4 (Transactions of the 26th International Colloquium of the CV), Vienna, 2012. Pastan, E.C., “Glazing Medieval Buildings”, in C. Rudolph (ed.), A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, Malden, 2006, pp. 443–65. Pastan, E.C., “Charlemagne as Saint? Relics and the choice of window subjects at Chartres Cathedral”, in M. Gabriele and J. Stuckey (eds.), The Legend of Charlemagne in the Middle Ages: Power, Faith, and Crusade (The New Middle Ages Series), New York, 2008, pp. 97–135. Perrot, F. and Granboulan, A., “The French 12th, 13th and 16th Century Glass at Rivenhall, Essex”, The Journal of Stained Glass 18 (1983–1984), 1–14. Raguin, V.C., The History of Stained Glass. The Art of Light. Medieval to Contemporary, London, 2003. Rogers, N., “A pattern for princes: the Royal Window at the Greenwich Greyfriars”, in S. Powell (ed.), Saints and Cults in Medieval England, Donington, 2017, pp. 318–38. Scholz, H., Entwurf und Ausführung. Werkstattpraxis in der Nürnberger Glasmalerei der Dürerzeit (CVMA Deutschland, Studien, 1), Berlin, 1991. Shepard, M., Pilosi, L., and Strobl, S. (eds.), The Art of Collaboration. Stained-Glass Conservation in the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of the 2009 CV Forum on the Restoration and Conservation of Stained Glass (CV USA, Occasional Papers, 2), London, 2010. Tollet, R. (ed.), Représentations architecturales dans les vitraux. Colloque international du CV, Bruxelles (Dossier de la commission royale des monuments, sites et fouilles, 9), Liège, 2002. Wentzel, H., Meisterwerke der Glasmalerei, Berlin, 1951.
pa rt 1 Visual and Documentary Testimonies
∵
c hapter 1
The Medieval Glazier at Work Sarah Brown The (re)discovery in the mid-19th century of the complete 12th-century text now widely known as De Diversis Artibus, by the pseudonymous author, priest and monk “Theophilus”, triggered scholarly interest in the manufacturing techniques of the medieval glazier in exactly the period in which the Gothic Revival in stained glass was reaching its height.1 All subsequent art-historical perceptions of the technical aspects of the medium have been dominated by the most coherent medieval description of glass making and glazing practice in the medieval period, contained in Book 2 of Theophilus’s text. Until very recently, the numerous modern descriptions of how a medieval window was made were augmented by assumptions derived from craft practice of the later 19th century. Recent scholarship, much of it under the aegis of the international Corpus Vitrearum, founded in 1952, has encouraged revisionary studies of medieval glazing technologies. Scholars have now revisited the seminal texts on which our understanding of medieval glazing technique has been founded, while conservators have observed and documented the physical evidence of glaziers and glass-painters at work.2 This paper will revisit the evidence for medieval glazing practice from these new perspectives. 1 Theophilus and the Historiography of the Medieval Craft For the English-language readership, Theophilus’s treatise first became accessible through Robert Hendrie’s 1847 parallel Latin and English texts of all three books. However, the most important edition was that published as part of Charles Winston’s seminal history of the stylistic development of medieval stained glass in England, a two-volume work with meticulous, archaeologically correct illustrations, in which Book Two of Theophilus’s text was translated, with extensive notes.3 The full title of Winston’s book, An Inquiry into the Difference of Style Observable in Ancient Glass Painting, especially 1 See Raguin, “The reception of Theophilus”, pp. 11–28. 2 See Kurmann-Schwarz, Ch. 20 in this volume. 3 Winston, An Inquiry, pp. 311–41. Although aware of earlier G erman scholarship, Winston worked from l’Escalopier’s 1843 French edition.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 03
in England with Hints on Glass Painting, makes it clear that Winston’s intention was not only to provide a classified typology of medieval stained-glass design, but also to influence contemporary glazing practices. Hendrie’s critical notes are those of an historian and literary scholar. Winston’s are those of a man who had examined medieval glass at close quarters, who knew the workings of a glass-house and the practices of a glazing workshop. Winston considered his text to be an important source book for those engaged, like himself, in the promotion of a revival of manufacture of “antique” glasses and authentic medieval painting styles. For this reason, he provided parallel extracts from other authors, ancient and modern, including Heraclius (10th century) and Bontemps (19th century). Frustrated by what he recognised as inconsistencies and omissions in Theophilus’s text, Winston was the first writer to test his reading of Theophilus against both his own experience of medieval windows and a reading of medieval glazing accounts and contracts.4 The dichotomy between an emphasis on literary and linguistic scholarship and the implications of the text for an understanding of practical application, can still be seen in the contrasting approaches of the two modern editions of Theophilus in English translation: C.R. Dodwell’s scrupulous 1961 edition of parallel Latin and English texts; and Hawthorne and Smith’s 1963 English translation with its many modern technical drawings.5 Despite the critical examination of other significant textual sources (notably that of Italian glazier Antonio da Pisa), the 12th-century treatise has continued to dominate the discourse, even though Theophilus was writing before the development of complex stone tracery (in the 13th century), before the age of silver stain (introduced in the early 14th century), before the widespread adoption of abrasion and etching techniques (predominantly in the 15th and 16th centuries), and before the use of paper in the preparation of designs (from the second quarter of the 15th century); all processes relevant to window production in the later Middle Ages. From the middle of the 20th century a new generation of scholars began to redress this balance by enquiring into glazing practice beyond 4 Winston, An Inquiry, pp. 342–50. 5 All citations here will refer to the Dodwell translation, The Various Arts.
10 Brown Theophilus. Glimpses can be gleaned from examining the full gamut of texts and treatises, but also from wills, contracts and medieval glazing accounts, and from the windows themselves, all of which provide a pragmatic and material counterpoint to the literary sources, although not without their own challenges of interpretation. Thanks to the indefatigable archival research of L.F. Salzman, a scholarly overview of the documentary evidence for medieval glazing practice in England became accessible.6 In the last decade of the 20th century the fruits of documentary and archival research began to make their mark on a rising tide of studies of medieval glazing practice, while the Corpus Vitrearum promoted international collaborations involving art historians, glaziers, scientists and conservators.7 Strobl’s doctoral research, published in 1990, carried particular authority because of the author’s dual training in history of art and craft and conservation practice.8 In 1991, Brown and O’Connor contributed a book on medieval glass painters to a British Museum series of nine titles on medieval craftsmen, and in the same year Marks contributed on window glass in one of 15 chapters of a study of English medieval industries.9 The Antonio da Pisa project, published in 2008, not only provided a new scholarly edition and commentary of Antonio’s rather overlooked technical treatise (juxtaposed with invaluable translations of all other relevant texts), but brought together a team of craftsmen, conservators and scholars who not only subjected the texts to rigorous scrutiny, but also tested and reflected upon the processes described by Antonio, known to have been a practising glazier.10 In Belgium technical research has focused, among other things, on the production techniques involved in the manufacture of roundels and unipartite panels.11 Corpus Vitrearum researchers in Germany and the usa have reassessed the historical evidence for the use of acids to etch the surfaces of coloured flashed glasses.12 Conservators and scholars working in the usa, Britain, and Switzerland have observed evidence of sophisticated methods for the transfer of designs from the cartoon to the glass, discussed more fully below. Interdisciplinary collaboration 6 Salzman, Building in England Down to 1540, published in 1952. Also see id., “The glazing of St Stephen’s Chapel”; and id., “Medieval glazing accounts”. Now see Brooks and Evans, The Great East Window, pp. 11–16 and 33–36. 7 Signaled in Boulanger and Hérold (eds.), Le vitrail et les traités; Pilosi, Shepard, and Strobl (eds.), The Art of Collaboration. 8 Strobl, Glastechnik des Mittelalters. 9 Brown and O’Connor, Glass-Painters; Marks, “Window glass”. 10 Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise. 11 Caen, Production of Stained Glass. 12 Scholz et al., “Beobachtungen zur Ätztechnik”; Pilosi et al., “Early acid-etching”.
between art historians and materials scientists is providing the social and historical context for observation on the chemical composition of medieval bulk glasses, with exciting implications for our understanding of networks of stained-glass manufacture and distribution.13 2
Building the Walls of the Heavenly Jerusalem
While Theophilus opens his discussion of window- making processes with a description of the medieval glass-house, it is clear that glass-making and window- making were quite distinct and separate processes.14 The glazier was thus always once removed from the manufacture of his most important raw material, and in some ways in thrall to his supplier for the qualities and colours of his palette of materials. Antonio da Pisa’s discussion of the making of pot-metal coloured glasses is thus, perhaps understandably, flawed, as he is describing the expertise of others. Modern research into the composition and manufacture of medieval window glass has shown that a remarkable array of glass colours were made from a very limited range of compositional elements. The only metallic oxide described as having been added deliberately in order to colour glass, is copper. The other key colouring agents were manganese and iron, both of which were present coincidentally, as part of the composition of the sand and the wood ash (especially in the ash of beech wood advocated by Theophilus) of which typical medieval potash-lime-silica glasses were made. While the medieval glass-maker had no control over the presence of these compositional elements, it has been suggested that he may have had some empirical control over the degree of oxidation of the materials during the melting process.15 Recent research has demonstrated that this may have been particularly critical in the manufacture of translucent ruby glasses, challenging the assumption that they were always manufactured through the lamination process commonly known as “flashing”.16 It is clear that glaziers and their patrons were sensitive to the properties and qualities of glass from different sources, and may have sought them out for these very reasons; Antonio singles out the flashed ruby glasses of Germany as being particularly good for the application of acid etching.17 The fabric accounts of English projects are especially helpful in this regard, as no coloured glasses 13 Freestone et al., “Multi-disciplinary investigation”. 14 Theophilus, The Various Arts, pp. 37–43. 15 Royce-Roll, “The colors of Romanesque stained glass”. 16 Kunicki- Goldfinger et al., “Technology, production and chronology”. 17 Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, p. 73.
The Medieval Glazier at Work
were manufactured in England until the late 15th century, meaning that the glaziers needed to be specific about their sources of supply. References to coloured glass from Burgundy, Hesse, Lorraine, Normandy, and even Venice are found in English accounts.18 The executors of Richard Beauchamp specified a wide range of coloured glasses that were to be used for glazing the Beauchamp Chapel: blue, yellow, red, purple, sanguine, violet, green, and white, of the finest quality and foreign manufacture. The use of English glass was expressly forbidden!19 3
Patrons and Patterns
Frustratingly, the first, and in some respects the most intriguing, stage in the creation of a window, the negotiation between the patrons and their craftsmen, is omitted from Theophilus’ instructions. We are not told how glaziers were instructed to fill their windows, nor are the few surviving medieval contracts especially helpful in this regard, referring only obliquely to a design process that had already been determined. John Thornton, commissioned to make the Great East Window of York Minster between 1405 and 1408, was instructed merely to fill the window “with historical images and other painted work”, a rather impoverished description of one of Europe’s largest and most ambitious windows.20 The accounts for the glazing of the collegiate church of the Holy Trinity at Tatteshall in Lincolnshire do describe the subjects of the windows, albeit briefly: the Legend of the Holy Cross, St. James, the Creed, the Magnificat, and the Seven Sacraments. But this seems to have been intended to distinguish the windows assigned to each of the five teams of glaziers entrusted with the work, rather than to invoke the appearance of the windows themselves.21 Reference to other prestigious and well-known projects underpinned the discourse. At Westminster glaziers had other useful drawings to inform their understanding of their patron’s requirement, for in 1509 “pictures” of “Stores, Ymagies, Armes, Bagies and Cognissaunts” had been delivered to the master of the royal works at Westminster, in accordance with Henry vii’s will.22 Executors charged with the commissioning of memorial windows were sometimes provided with testamentary instructions and even drawings that reflected the wishes of the deceased.23 18 19
Brown and O’Connor, Glass-Painters, pp. 47–48. Myers, “The contracts for the making of the tomb of Richard Beauchamp”. 20 French, The Great East Window, pp. 153–54. 21 Marks, Holy Trinity, Tattershall, pp. 30–58. 22 Marks, “Henry VII’s chapel”, p. 190. 23 Marks, “Wills and windows”, pp. 248, 250.
11 In France in the same period, there is plentiful documentary evidence for the existence of small scale “patterns” (variously called poutraict, patron au petit pied and gect) provided by the patron for the use of the glaziers. These sketches carried legal weight and were appended to the contract, which was thereby free to define costs, specification of materials, timescales, and penalties.24 A small number of sketch designs for late-medieval windows have survived, shedding light on the process of negotiation between the patron and the glazier. Sometimes called a “vidimus” (“we have seen”), these preliminary drawings are remarkable for the variety and diversity of information they convey.25 One late 15th-century example preserved in the British Library (Figure 1.1), was probably drawn by the donor himself and concerns the appearance of the donor images of Sir Thomas Froxmere and his wife, which were to be positioned at the base of an unidentified window then under discussion.26 However, most sketches are actually the work of extremely competent professional artists. Some have a grid superimposed to assist in scaling up the design to full size, and some are marked with the position of structural window bars. Few are fully coloured and none indicate the internal leading pattern essential in the actual construction of a stained- glass panel. The small-scale sketch had serious shortcomings in conveying complex heraldic information for monumental glazing schemes. While patrons could probably expect experienced glaziers to be familiar with all but the most unusual or novel iconographic formulae, they seem to have been less confident in leaving details of heraldic display to chance. Thomas Froxmere’s vidimus is almost exclusively concerned with heraldic detail, perhaps understandably, as the heraldry of a minor country gentlemen is unlikely to have been well-known. In 1505 Lady Margaret Beaufort, mother of King Henry vii, paid the London artist William Hollmer 20 pence for a drawing of a heraldic yale, to be sent to the Peterborough glazier John Delyon, who had depicted the beast incorrectly as “a common antelope” in the glazing of the great hall of her manor house at Collyweston. Delyon received 7s to correct his mistake.27 This may explain why a number of designs for monumental stained-glass projects –for example Hans von Kulmbach’s design for a window (c.1522) for Jacob Welser and Ehrentraud Thumer in the Mariakirche in Nuremburg –leave the coats 24 Leproux, Recherches sur les peintres-verriers parisiens, p. 35. 25 Wayment, “The great windows”. 26 London, British Library, Ms Lansdowne 874, fol. 191; Goodall, “Two medieval drawings”, pp. 160–62. 27 Salzman, Building in England, p. 178.
12 Brown of arms of the kneeling donors blank.28 The drawing is a highly finished clean copy that was very little altered in translation into stained glass, but additional heraldic drawings would have been required in order to complete the commission. In summary, we are forced to conclude that sketch designs served different purposes, represent different stages in a process, and above all reflect the wishes of different kinds of patrons whose personal priorities and budgets varied a great deal. Only rarely do we glimpse the research that had preceded the commissioning of the preliminary design. A late 12th-century illuminated Life of St. Cuthbert from the monastic library of Durham Cathedral priory was loaned to Archbishop Richard Scrope of York (1398– 1405), presumably to inform the devising of the version of the saint’s life destined to fill the south-east transept of York Minster (SV7).29 In the early 16th century the newly-built chapel of the Observant Friars at Greenwich (consecrated c.1494) also served as the chapel for Henry vii’s Greenwich Palace. Two rolls preserved in the British Library record the results of preparatory research undertaken in anticipation of the instruction of glaziers soon to be entrusted with the creation of a new five-light east window.30 The window was to include half-length figures of Henry vii and Queen Elizabeth, the princess Margaret and the king’s mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort. The saints to be depicted flattered the newly established Tudor dynasty by reflecting the devotional interests and political preoccupations of the royal family, but were also appropriate for a Franciscan community. The coats of arms of the saints to be included in the window, carefully chosen to underline the King’s lineage, required particularly careful research, as many of the shields were rare and unknown in London. The compiler of the roll intended to provide small sketches of all of the coats of arms, and while the more familiar English royal arms are all carefully described and drawn, many of the other shields remained blank. The rise of print and the wider availability of affordable paper had a significant impact on stained-glass design, introducing patrons to new images and ideas that could be lifted directly from new graphic sources with little mediation through other designers. At the collegiate church of Holy Trinity, Tatteshall in the last quarter of the 15th century and in the west wall of St. Mary’s, 28 Scholz, Entwurf und Ausführung, p. 181, figs. 258–62; Butts, Hendrix, et al. (eds.), Painting on Light, p. 172. 29 Now London, British Library, Yates Thompson, MS 26; Marner, St Cuthbert, pp. 36–37. The window was eventually given by Thomas Langley, Bishop of Durham (1406–37). 30 London, British Library, Ms. Egerton 4631, rolls A and B; Rogers, “A pattern for princes”, pp. 318–38.
Fairford, c.1500, for example, the block-book Biblia Pauperum, devised in the Netherlands c.1464–65, was used as a source for stained-glass design, presumably at the behest of the patron.31 A remarkable interpretation of 1502 of the Tuscan poet Petrarch’s Triumphs in stained glass, for the church of Saint-Pierre at Evry-le-Châtel (Aube), has been shown to be indebted to both early printed books of hours and to even more cheaply printed tarot cards, used in a popular game originally known as Ludus Triumphorum.32 Perhaps the most remarkable evidence of the power of print to transform stained-glass design is the speed and degree to which designs by Nuremberg artist Albrecht Dürer circulated throughout Europe. The Apocalypse window in the church of Saint-Georges at Chavanges (Aube) of 1526 is clearly indebted to Dürer’s Large Passion of 1498, one of several windows copying this same source in the Champagne region.33 Three scenes in the east window of Balliol College, Oxford, including the Ecce Homo (Figure 1.2), dated only three years later, are also based on Dürer’s engraved Passion (1507–13), while the Carrying of the Cross is indebted to the Great Passion. The window was given by Laurence Stubbs, almoner and buildings administrator in the household of Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, whose brother Richard was master of Balliol College.34 Wolsey is known to have owned an engraved copy of Dürer’s Passion. Perhaps not surprisingly, some of the closest interpretations in glass of sources circulating in engravings were in the form of small-scale roundels, often destined for secular and domestic settings. A single sheet of clear glass could very easily be placed over an engraving in order to paint a direct copy. Glaziers collected these engravings to copy, adapt and share with their clients, and probably made several sets of the most popular series in anticipation of easy sales, as, unlike monumental stained-glass panels, roundels could easily be accommodated into plain glazed surrounds.35 Armed with these preliminary drawings, or engraved sources, the patron could enter into negotiations for the actual making of the window with his or her chosen glazing workshop. A shared experience of other glazing schemes provided a bedrock on which these discussions were undoubtedly founded. This is implied in the 31 Marks, Holy Trinity, Tattershall, pp. 191– 200; Brown and McDonald, Fairford Church, pp. 64–66. 32 Riviale, “Le vitrail et le jeu des Triomphes”. 33 For other Dürer-inspired Apocalypse windows in the region, see Vitraux de Champagne-Ardenne, pp. 24, 70–72, 80–85, 111–13, 247–57, 262–70. 34 Jones, Balliol College, pp. 48– 49; Wayment, “Wolsey and stained glass”, pp. 126–27. 35 Husband, Silver Stained Roundels, pp. 17–21.
13
The Medieval Glazier at Work
contracts for the windows at Kings’ College, Cambridge, where the glaziers are directed to the earlier royal glazing scheme in Westminster Abbey’s Lady Chapel.36 Such experience is nowhere better illustrated than in the extraordinary correspondence of Birgittine nun Katerina Lemmel, widowed member of the wealthy and influential Imhoff clan of Nuremberg, who entered the cloister of Maria Mai at Maihingen in 1516.37 Through her spirited correspondence with her cousin Hans Imhoff V, she exhorted her family to assist financially in the provision of windows for the newly extended cloister of her nunnery. In order to engage their enthusiasm and allay their anxieties about cost, she invoked a shared experience of other glazing schemes in the city and vicinity of Nuremberg, and assures them that the windows will be, above all, spiritually compelling rather than showy and costly. Hers is the only contemporary account of a meeting between a patron and a glazier, in this case Veit Hirsvogel, glazier of the city of Nuremberg, for a meeting that took place in her monastery in May 1518. While the glazier may have brought samples of the subjects favoured by Sister Katerina to the meeting, it is also possible that she had already researched the subjects she wanted, probably in the engravings and devotional woodcuts in the nunnery’s library. She was also very demanding concerning the use of abraded ruby glass and metal, rather than wooden window frames, to ensure the longevity of her windows. Sadly, none of them have survived. Some surviving drawings actually reveal the dialogue between patron and glaziers. Sketch designs believed to have been prepared for Cardinal Thomas Wolsey –a drawing of a 13-light window depicting the Crucifixion and Resurrection now in Edinburgh (Figure 1.3), and 24 drawings outlining a narrative cycle from the Annunciation to the Coronation of the Virgin, accompanied by standing saints (now in Brussels) –all bear annotations that suggest a discussion concerning alternative arrangements of subject matter.38 The annotations have been attributed to the hand of glazier James Nicholson, the glazier employed on all of Wolsey’s building projects, and the drawings have been assigned to the chapel of York Place in London and the chapel of Hampton Court respectively. For the Hampton Court east window, Wolsey was even offered two versions of the Crucifixion. By the end of the Middle Ages there is strong evidence of an increasing separation of the role of the designer from that of the craftsman entrusted with the 36 Wayment, King’s College Chapel, pp. 123–24. 37 Schleif and Schier, Katerina’s Windows, pp. 277–84. 38 Wayment, “Twenty-four vidimuses”; id., “Wolsey and stained glass”, pp. 117–18.
execution of the design in glass, a process undoubtedly facilitated by the greater availability and affordability of paper. In the Kunstbuch, composed in the second half of the 15th century in the Dominican nunnery of St. Katherine in Nuremberg, it is recommended that a preliminary sketch “auf papir” be sought from a painter.39 In 16th-century Paris, Jean Chastellain was instructed to execute stained glass after “portraicts et patrons” made by master painter Noel Bellemare.40 The rise of the “celebrity” artist undoubtedly encouraged this process, while the increasing affordability of paper, mentioned in the Kunstbuch, meant that even full-size cartoons could be commissioned from artists rather than specialized glaziers. The Tuscan artist Cennino Cennini implies that by the late 14th century it was already common practice for Italian glaziers to commission full-scale paper cartoons from well-known artists.41 Paper cartoons could also be stored more easily, meaning that a monumental design could be far more easily preserved across generations. In 1503, York glazier Robert Preston bequeathed “all my scrowles” to Thomas English, while in 1508 glazier and lord mayor of the city John Petty left his “scroes” to his younger brother Robert.42 Outside Italy most of the evidence points to the creation of the full-scale cartoons within the orbit of the glazing workshop, and it is to this process that we turn next. 4
Making the Window
4.1 The Glazier’s Table As discussed above, none of the preparatory drawings of monumental windows to have survived would have been suitable for immediate translation into a window. It is clear that this process was entrusted to the glazier. This is made explicit in the contract of 1447 for the glazing of the chantry chapel of Richard Beauchamp at St. Mary’s church in Warwick. Patterns on paper detailing “the matters, images and stories” required in the windows were to be delivered by Beauchamp’s executors to the King’s Glazier, John Prudde in his workshop within the royal palace of Westminster. Prudde was required to see to it that they were “newly traced and pictured by another painter”. The Beauchamp Chapel vidimuses do not survive, but a comparison of those prepared for King’s College chapel and the windows as made, reveal that the glaziers did not slavishly copy them, but made 39 Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, p. 332. 40 Leproux, Vitraux parisiens de la Renaissance, p. 124. 41 See discussion in Thompson, Ch. 21 in this volume. 42 Brown and O’Connor, Glass Painters, p. 55; Knowles, “Medieval methods of employing cartoons”.
14 Brown adjustments to the original designs as they translated them into a monumental cartoon.43 For much of the Middle Ages the main vehicle for the full-size working drawing was the glazier’s whitened table, as described in some detail by Theophilus. The table was a multi-functional component in the process of design and manufacture, for it served successively as a cartoon, a cut-line drawing and a work-bench on which to lead-up and solder the finished window. In a 1443 inventory of the materials stored at the royal residences at Westminster and Sheen, for example, two “portreying tables of oak, two tables of poplar and 11 trestles used for glazing works” are listed.44 They were valuable commodities, and in 1458 York glazier Robert Shirley’s father bequeathed to him his “tables and trestles [that] belong in any way to my craft”.45 Even in the 18th century, Pierre le Vieil, a member of a glazing dynasty, placed the glazier’s table at the top of his list of essential equipment for a glazier’s workshop.46 The glazing accounts for St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, make explicit the value placed on the preparation of the glazier’s table and the status accorded to those who fulfilled the role. Master glazier John de Chestre consistently received the highest wages of all the glaziers. He worked with five others, also termed master, all of them defined by their role in “designing and painting on white tables”, which were washed with ale at regular intervals throughout the project, allowing new designs to be drawn up on their whitened surfaces. 47 In the hierarchy of payments made to the glazing team employed at Westminster, the designing on the white tables was always entrusted to those termed “master” and was most generously rewarded, at 12d per day. Glass-painters were paid only 7d per day, while those engaged in “breaking and fitting glass” were paid 6d. Just over 50 years later, in 1405, master glazier John Thornton of Coventry was obliged entirely “with his own hands to portrature [portreiabit] the said window”, although he was allowed to delegate glass-painting tasks to others. It is not hard to see why this process was so highly prized, as it was the glazier’s table that determined the relationship of the window as made to the sketch designs authorized by the patron. It also controlled all the other technical processes leading to the creation of a satisfactory monumental window, a sequence of processes that would involve several workshop members. 43
44 45 46 47
Boon, “Two designs for windows by Dierick Vellert”, pp. 153– 56, 204–05; Wayment, King’s College Chapel, plates 129, 135, 137. Salzman, “Medieval glazing accounts”, p. 27. Knowles, “The Chamber family”, pp. 127–28. Le Vieil, L’Art de la peinture sur verre, p. 137. Salzman, “St Stephen’s Chapel”.
Only two medieval glazing tables have been found and both display some of the characteristics described by Theophilus. One, made of walnut and now cut into two lengths (Figure 1.4), was used to make panels of c.1340 that survive in the choir clerestory of Girona Cathedral (Catalonia), and are preserved in the Museu d’Art de Girona; here, it is the fact that the tables and the windows both survive that makes this a unique phenomenon. The other example, preserved in Brandenburg Cathedral, is of late 14th century date and originated in Bohemia. It is by comparison very poorly preserved, having been used to reinforce the predella of a medieval altarpiece. Both had escaped international notice until 1986.48 In 2013 the Girona table was reexamined, using UV light, digital infrared reflexography, and X-ray imaging.49 The whitened upper surface described by Theophilus as being made of chalk and water was found at Girona to have been made of a surprisingly resilient mixture of chalk and a proteinaceous binder (perhaps egg or casein). The darkened area immediately below the canopy drawn out on table A was known from earlier UV examination to have originally borne the cartoon of a figure of the Virgin Annunciate.50 The most clearly visible outline is of a geometric design used in several panels in the choir clerestory. Contrary to some assumptions, the table was found not to have been resurfaced between designs but has only a single layer of its chalky coating, meaning that the earlier figure of the Virgin had simply been washed off, allowing another design to be marked in its place, the process alluded to in the Westminster accounts.51 The mapping of the patterns of square holes, which were left by the glazing nails used to hold glass in place during the leading-up of the painted and fired glass pieces, confirm that the tables had been used for making several different panels; while some nail holes closely followed the lines of the most visible drawings, others followed earlier patterns that had been washed away. The orientation of the drawings and the nail holes, especially on table B, suggest that more than one person had worked on the table at the same time, an observation with interesting implications for working practices in the medieval workshop. The reexamination of the table also challenges earlier assumptions derived from Theophilus’s description, which implies that all details required to make the stained-glass panel were supplied on the table. The 48
Vila Grau, “La table de peintre-verrier”, pp. 32–34; Maercker, “Überlegungen zu drei Scheibenrissen”. 49 Santolaria Tura, Glazing on White-Washed Tables. 50 Ainaud de Lasarte et al., Catedral de Girona, pp. 74–79. 51 Caviness, Stained Glass Windows, p. 50.
The Medieval Glazier at Work
evidence of the Girona table shows that a significant degree of autonomy was afforded the individual glazier, even after the skeleton of the window design has been determined by the master. While the table is marked with letters that might refer to the colours of glass to be used, these do not readily correlate with the wide array of glass colours found across the six canopies that derived from the design on table A, while the only painted element to have been drawn in detail is the vine leaf motif that decorates the gable of only two of the six canopies. This suggests either that detailed instructions on glass colour and exact positioning of the painted line were available to the glazing team in another form, or more likely, that in a close-knit experienced team, a level of decision-making was delegated to individual craftsmen and painters. The designs on the table do not actually indicate all the lead lines at all, and, indeed, leave out some lines that would be critical to the cutting of glass for a viable stained-glass panel. The master therefore allowed the individual glazier to judge where to place subsidiary lead lines and thus how best to cut a piece of glass, ensuring that sheets could be cut economically and without waste. This realization has important implications for our understanding of working relationships within the team, but also for the status of individual components within the whole glazing scheme. While based on a single design “template”, the Girona canopies are anything but a mass-produced product. Each one is, in effect, unique, a version of the master’s cartoon rather than a replica of it, and this is borne out by close comparison of the glazier’s table with the surviving stained glass presumed to have been made on it. The superimposition of the actual cutline of the glass of several of the canopies onto the lead lines indicated on table A shows that glass was cut and leaded in a variety of different combinations. Hérold arrived at similar conclusions based on close examination of panels of the same design, apparently indebted to the same cartoons, in a number of churches in the Champagne region.52 This adaptive approach to manufacture goes a long way to explain the ambiguous “glaziers marks”: discreet and barely visible marks usually painted on or wiped off a fired paint layer, and predominantly found in the more “anonymous” areas of a panel, including architectural frames and backgrounds.53 While some glaziers’ marks may have indicated the order of assembly, this cannot explain the large numbers of the same mark scattered 52 53
Hérold, “ ‘Cartons’ et pratiques d’atelier”. Armitage Robinson et al., “Marks on the glass at Wells”; Wayment, “The glaziers’ sorting marks at Fairford”; Vila Delclòs, “Les marques d’assemblages”.
15 widely across a single panel, usually all orientated in the same direction. Once the bespoke nature of the cutting of the glass for each panel is appreciated, it can be seen that after firing the glaziers needed to reassemble the pieces belonging to each specific “jigsaw puzzle” of painted and fired glass with speed and precision. While large, distinctive pieces belonging to unique figures or narrative compositions could probably be recognized easily, repeated elements within a scheme could be less quickly distinguished from one another, and although there were superficial similarities, glass pieces were not readily interchangeable from one panel to another, even if prepared on the same glazier’s table.54 4.2 Cutting the Glass Both Theophilus and Antonio da Pisa provide descriptions of glass-cutting techniques, and yet only recently have these been subjected to critical examination. Both writers assume that the cutting of glass is done directly on the glazier’s table without the intermediary of a template. Light-coloured glass could be laid directly over the dark lines drawn on the table, but for cutting dark glass, marks were first outlined on a piece of white glass, which could then be held up together with the dark in order to allow the necessary outlines to be seen against the light. Theophilus outlines two processes, the cutting of glass with a heavy, hot iron (“thin throughout but thicker at one end”) and the shaping of glass with a flat, notched grozing iron (“a hand’s-breadth in length and curved back at each end”),55 a tool that crops up in the St. Stephen’s chapel accounts on numerous occasions, and was apparently supplied to the glaziers from a common store of tools.56 The hot iron (known in German as the “dividing iron”) was very similar to the tool used for soldering: were these tools used interchangeably? The dividing iron or soldering iron is represented arranged in saltire (with the more distinctive grozing iron) in the borders of the 16th-century ordinances of the Guild of St. Luke in Antwerp.57 Before the advent of the diamond cutter, only the dividing iron could be used to cut glass into two or more pieces without any great loss of material, for the grozing iron shapes glass by reducing it in size. It was long assumed that its apparently cumbersome size and shape meant the dividing iron could be used for cutting glass only to very approximate shapes, but experimentation conducted during the Antonio da Pisa project 54 Cothren, “Production practices”. 55 Theophilus, The Various Arts, pp. 48–49. 56 Salzman, “St Stephen’s Chapel”, (1926), p. 32; (1927), pp. 38, 40. 57 Caen, Production of Stained Glass, pp. 301–03.
16 Brown revealed the sophistication of this tool when wielded correctly, allowing glass to be cut at angles impossible to achieve with the diamond.58 The large size of the iron’s head is required in order for it to be heated to a red-hot temperature (750°C) and then to retain this heat for the duration of the cutting process. The glass is not cut so much as divided, by a crack generated by thermal stress (Figure 1.5), and the skill lies in encouraging the crack to flow across the sheet in pursuit of the head of the hot iron. The resulting cut edge is far softer and more congenial to work with than the sharp edge cut by the diamond or modern cutting wheel. The same can also be said of the edge produced by the grozing iron, which nibbles back the glass in a series of small shales that results in a scalloped and slightly chamfered edge that is far less sharp that a modern cut (Figure 1.6). The grozing iron can be used with great speed and precision, and one of the hall-marks of a medieval stained-glass panel is the closeness of the fit of its complex and tightly interlocking pieces. The visually distinctive grozing iron was widely used as a heraldic device in the armorials adopted by glaziers and their guilds (Figure 1.7), and yet despite the numerous contemporary images of them, they had little intrinsic value and very few have survived.59 Antonio additionally describes the use of a range of hard stones, including the diamond, which had been widely adopted as the main tool for cutting glass by the early 17th century.60 The diamond glass-cutter was a more costly tool than the grozing iron and, as it responds to the pressure of the hand of the individual, it became a far more prized and personal tool than the grozing iron, and consequently less likely to appear in a general workshop inventory. It may therefore have been in use at an earlier date than the surviving inventories suggest. However, it is also clear from the illustrations published by Diderot (1751–77) and Le Vieil (1774) that the grozing iron continued in use alongside the diamond glass- cutter well into the 18th century. 4.3 Painting the Glass As we have seen, the painting of the glass, that process that distinguishes stained glass from a purely mosaic process, was not ranked as highly within the workshop hierarchy as the process of design. It remains, however, the aspect that most enchants and engages the viewer. The extraordinary monumental windows with figures of 58 59
60
Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 97–104. One is preserved in the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg. Azzola, “Das historische Handwerkszeichen eines Glasers”. Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 91–96.
prophets painted after 1132 for the clerestory of Augsburg Cathedral (see Figure 2.5), reveal a glass-painting craft already fully mature and perfectly mastered.61 By 1140, Abbot Suger of Saint-Denis was able to call on glass painters from several countries to work at his abbey church.62 The materials used in 12th-century Germany for painting the glass are described by Theophilus as a finely ground mixture of burnt copper filings and a flux of green and blue glasses. In late 14th-century Italy, Antonio da Pisa also recommends copper-filings but advocates the use of yellow glass rosary beads for the glass flux. In both the 12th- century text and the late 14th-century one, the proportion of the paint mix is specified as one-third copper to two- thirds glass, and produced a brown or black paint.63 Glass paint can be diluted but not dissolved, and the choice of binder determines the consistency, flow, and workability of the painting medium. The paint remains slightly granular, even after thorough grinding. Theophilus advises the use of wine or urine as a binder for the powdered glass-paint, while Antonio recommends a tempera binder mixed with sap from the fig.64 The St. Stephen’s Chapel accounts refer to glass paint as “geet” and “arnement”, and also include payments for the gum arabic that helps the paint to adhere to the glass before it can be fired.65 The organic binders necessary to carry the fusible pigment are burnt away in the firing process (stained glass is usually fired at 600–50°C), and so do not survive to be subjected to modern analysis. Nonetheless, the development of glass-painting techniques in the later Middle Ages, resulting in a complex and multi- layered approach to the application of paint, means that more than one binder must have been used to avoid one layer running into and dissolving another. One layer can be applied with a watery binder –wine, water, or vinegar –and another with an oily binder, such as lavender or clove oil. Close examination of multi-layered paint applications confirm that medieval glass-paint was fired only once, as highlights can be seen to have been cut through all the layers of paint to the underlying base glass, impossible to achieve once a paint layer has been fired (Figure 1.8). Throughout the Middle Ages the predominant painting technique was to begin by laying down a thin overall 61
Becksmann, “Die Augsburger Propheten”, pp. 84–110. Also see Dell’Acqua, Ch. 2 in this volume. For even earlier archaeological evidence see Balcon-Berry et al. (eds.), Vitrail, verre et archéologie. 62 Abbot Suger, On the Abbey Church, p. 73. 63 Theophilus, The Various Arts, p. 49; Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 107–09, 307–38. 64 Theophilus, The Various Arts, p. 49; Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, p. 112. 65 Salzman, “St Stephen’s Chapel”, (1926), p. 14.
The Medieval Glazier at Work
glaze or wash of paint, to which subsequent layers were applied in order to modify the passage of light through the glass. Glass paint dries quickly and so needs to be applied with spontaneity and confidence. It can be matted, stippled, and textured with a variety of brushes and tools. The layered painting technique means that error cannot easily be corrected, as glass painting is both an additive and a reductive process. Glass paint applied with a brush can also be etched and scratched out to create piercing highlights. Nuremberg glass-painters of the 16th century could buy brushes made of silver wire for this purpose, although more mundane objects such as quills, needles, and the sharpened ends of brush handles were also used.66 The semi-opaque contour lines (trace lines) are applied last of all, in a process that seems to be counterintuitive and is extremely difficult to achieve. Its great advantage lay in the fact that this technique required only a single firing. Only in recent years, and through the close observations made by conservators and art historians, have the ways in which the medieval glass painters worked become clearer. On the exterior surfaces of painted glass dating from the late 13th to the early 16th century, faint and sometimes partially expunged lines, coinciding with the outlines painted on the interior surfaces of the glass, have been observed.67 These represent temporary guidelines, traced off the glazier’s table or cartoon, allowing the glass painter to remove the individual glass piece from the table so that the painting could be carried out against the light, working with an exterior outline of a design that would only take its final form on the interior surface of the glass with the final application of the trace line. The glass painter would normally erase these temporary guidelines before firing the glass, but in some cases failed to remove them adequately so that, having also been created using fusible glass paint, they were inadvertently fired onto the finished piece.68 Glass painters also deliberately took advantage of the fact that glass can be painted on both of its surfaces, allowing a play of optical effects to be achieved. From the years around 1300 it was also possible to add a yellow colouring to glass through the application to the exterior surface of a window of a silver nitrate or oxide compound derived from ground silver filings (Figure 1.9).69 Given the alacrity and enthusiasm with which it 66 67 68 69
Butts, Hendrix et al. (eds.), Painting on Light, pp. 57–65. Trümpler, “Rückseitige Vorzeichnungen auf Glasgemälden”; Ayers, Merton College, pp. lxxv, 25. Cothren, “Production practices”, pp. 122–27. Salzman, “St Stephen’s Chapel”, (1926), pp. 32, 33, 34; Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 109–12; Also see Husband, Ch. 19 in this volume.
17 was adopted in the course of the 14th century, becoming ubiquitous and even dominant in the 15th century, the late adoption of silver stain by stained-glass artists is rather surprising. It is mixed with an ochre binder, and so was usually applied to the exterior of the glass to avoid damaging the painted details on the interior surface. By the end of the Middle Ages coloured vitreous enamels –transparent pigments created from a finely ground, low-melting coloured glass –provided a new range of colours that could be applied with the brush.70 These were popularly used to colour the increasingly intricate charges of heraldic shields and to enliven small- scale panels and roundels designed to be seen at close quarters, freeing the glazier of the need to cut and lead- in small pieces of glass of different colours. Guild prohibitions suggest that glass painters also used cold, unfired paint to augment their fired decoration, perhaps when they had omitted a fired detail, or had underfired their conventional paint or stain. Antonio provides a recipe for cold paint made of verdigris mixed with a liquid varnish, which when allowed to dry in the sun took on the appearance of a fired paint.71 A 15th-century English manuscript mentions an oil- based recipe for a paint suitable “To make curyus worke on glasse wyndowes after the be aneled”.72 The inherently poorer durability of unfired cold paint and the failure of careless restorers to recognise its antiquity, means that its use has been overlooked. However, prohibitions against its use demonstrate that it must have been recognised as a common enough technique, attested by significant survival in windows in Nuremberg and Berne.73 4.4 Further Embellishments: Applied and Inserted Jewels, Abrasion A small but technically demanding range of further embellishing techniques were available to the medieval glazier. Theophilus mentions one of these, the use of a thick application of glass-paint to the surface of a piece of glass of one colour as a means of fixing through firing a small piece of another colour to its surface.74 This “appliqué” approach was used over a very long period, and is most frequently used to imitate the application of jewels to the hems of vestments and rich garments or to the brim of a crown or mitre (Figure 1.10). Examples dating 70 Caen, Production of Stained Glass, p. 139. The enamel layer can be as little as 5–100 microns thick. 71 Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 114–16. 72 Brown and O’Connor, Glass Painters, p. 61. 73 Marks, Stained Glass in England, p. 39; Hör, “Kaltmalerei auf Glasgemälden aus Nürnberg um 1500”; Trümpler and Wolf, “Cold paint on the late medieval choir windows of Berne Minster”. 74 Dodwell, Theophilus, pp. 57–58.
18 Brown from the 12th to the 15th centuries have been identified with their jewels still attached.75 A more permanent but even more demanding technique involved the introduction of small glass insertions, held in lead, introduced into holes drilled into the base glass, a highly risky procedure that, not surprisingly, became one of the tests of mastery of the glazier’s craft, and is found in glass from the mid-15th century onwards. The treatises are almost entirely silent on this technique, in part because of its late adoption, but perhaps also because it was one of the “mysteries” of the profession. The 15th-century Nuremburg Rezeptsammlung implies the use of a lead drill of some sort, used with an emery grinding powder, and recent unpublished research has shown this to be a viable technique.76 While these insertions are most commonly small and circular (Figure 1.11), once the base glass was breached, a small grozing iron could be introduced to enlarge and shape the hole ready to take a larger insertion of a more complex shape.77 From the late 13th century onwards grinding or abrasion was also a technique widely employed to modify the upper coloured surface of ruby glass. No technical treatise addresses this technique, but the tiny scratches on the surface of ruby glass treated in this way show that a grinding tool was used to scratch away the thin surface layer of flashed red glass in order to create a decorative pattern or heraldic device. The white base glass revealed thereby could also be enlivened with silver stain. Antonio da Pisa describes a far less labourious method, involving a wax resist and the application of “water for separating gold and silver, some of the water that goldsmiths sell” with which the red coloured surface of a flashed ruby could be removed after 2 or 3 hours.78 Recent research has not only uncovered a surprisingly large number of examples of early acid-etched pieces of stained glass (Figure 1.12), but has shown that 75
76 77 78
The 12th-century examples are said to survive in Regensburg Cathedral (personal communication, Sebastian Strobl). Early 13th-century examples were identified in the glazing at Heimersheim an der Ahr in Germany: Kowolik, “Choir windows of St Mauritius in Heimersheim”. Unpublished examples can be found in the choir aisles of York Minster of c.1370 and c.1440 (windows siv and svii), while heraldic panels of the mid to late 16th century from Fawlsey Hall, in Northamptonshire, now in the Burrell Collection in Glasgow, employ a variation of this technique. Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, p. 338; Stacey, “Artistic and technical dexterity”. At Fairford, both circular and quatrefoil insertions are found. See Brown and MacDonald, Fairford Church, plates 30 and 31. Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 119–22. The 15th- century Bolognese manuscript seems to be referring to the same material: Merrifield, Original Treatises, pp. 494–95.
nitric acid will etch glass with a high lime content and that hydrofluoric acid may have been in use far earlier than hitherto supposed.79 4.5 Firing the Glass Only with the firing of the glass could the delicate painted detail be secured to the surface. This was the stage at which all the hard work of the glazing team could be lost, as the medieval kiln could not be easily controlled and poor firing could result in under-fired paint and/ or broken pieces. The treatises, not surprisingly, devote a considerable amount of space to the construction of the small firing kilns and to the firing process.80 While no temperature or firing duration is specified, it is clear that the glaziers understood the performance of different glass types and glass sizes inside the kiln. The careful preparation of the fuel, the management of the ventilation of the kiln interior, and the placement of glass on a kiln pan well-lined with an insulating layer of chalk and ash, would ensure efficient firing of the glass. Antonio advises “never put any red or yellow at the bottom, and don’t put them too near the edges of the pan as both colours are very fearful of the fire; nor should you put large pieces at the bottom or near the edges of the pan”.81 Both Theophilus and Antonio suggest that the glazier recognised a successful firing from the colour of the kiln interior and the pan on which the glass was laid out. For reasons of economy, glass was often stacked in layers in the kiln, and traces of paint and silver stain inadvertently transferred from one layer to another are often observed.82 The use of uneven and kiln-deformed pieces in some medieval windows, normally in subsidiary openings, underlines the glaziers’ reluctance to dispose of expensive materials, but also suggests that accidents in loading the kiln did happen.83 4.6 Reassembling and Glazing the Panels: Lead and Solder After the firing and annealing of the glass, all the pieces were reassembled on top of the original glazier’s table. It is now clear why Theophilus advocated a table large enough to hold two panels of glass, as the pieces could be laid out on one part of the table and then transferred 79 Pilosi et al., “Early acid-etching”. 80 Theophilus, The Various Arts, pp. 51–52; Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 135–41. 81 Theophilus, The Various Arts, pp. 52–53; Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 142–51. 82 Cothren, “Production practices”, p. 123; Ayers, Merton College, p. lxxv. 83 In the tracery lights of n6 in the Chapel of New College, Oxford, for example. Observed 2009 by conservators of the York Glaziers Trust.
The Medieval Glazier at Work
19
to the “cartoon” as the leading-up proceeded. In the efficient sorting of the glass pieces from the kiln pans back into their specific panels, the discreet sorting marks discussed above would have been invaluable. The glazier would then begin the process of leading the pieces together using H-profiled lead strips (usually called cames) to hold adjoining pieces together. Lead is the perfect material for this job, being malleable and capable of being cast into sections of different thickness, depending on whether a wider outer lead or thinner internal lead was required. Medieval window lead was cast in moulds, a process described by both Theophilus and Antonio.84 While a variety of materials for mould-making are mentioned, including an iron and copper alloy, wood, and a variety of stones, Antonio suggests that they should be procured from a master in the craft. He personally favoured those made of an alloy of copper and lead, describing them as both more durable and more responsive to thermal expansion. Wooden moulds would not have survived for long, while hard stones were prone to break when subjected to repeated heating during the casting process. In excavations at Saint-Denis and Reims in France, moulds made of chalk for casting window leads have been found, with associated lead strips.85 The leads found in association with these moulds retain the vestiges of the casting flashes that would be planed off before use. Stone or chalk moulds could have been prepared by the glaziers themselves, while a metal mould would have to be forged by a blacksmith. Surviving medieval window lead, now relatively rare as a consequence of subsequent restorations (Figure 1.13), often displays a faceted edge to the “leaf” (or flange) of the lead, where it has been scraped clean of any casting flashes left from the mould. Pin-prick holes in the lead’s heart are evidence that air had been trapped during casting; Antonio proposed reducing this risk by greasing the mould interior prior to use. After centuries of neglect and destruction, medieval window leads are now increasingly studied and prized.86 Compared to modern milled and extruded lead, their strength and resilience is remarkable. Those in the windows of the choir clerestory of Cologne Cathedral are now over 600 years old.87 They were usually far thinner
and finer than modern leads, often only 4 mm-6 mm across the flange, meaning that they could easily be bent around the most intricate and tightly-fitting of shaped glass pieces, an essential and symbiotic relationship in the most sophisticated stained-glass designs. Indeed, the glass and lead fitted together so closely that windows were watertight without the need for any waterproofing putty, which only became ubiquitous following the adoption of lead milling techniques from the later 16th century onwards. The Cologne lead nets are particularly interesting because their hearts have been packed with “withies”, which act as spacers when leads were doubled to give greater strength or greater visual emphasis to aspects of the design, but also served to give the panels greater resistance to wind pressure.88 The glazier used “closing nails”, described by Theophilus, with which glass and lead is held in place during the assembly process.89 Each intersection in the leading pattern was made firm by the application of solder on both sides of the panel, an alloy of tin and lead, cast into thin rods for ease of application. This low-melting material, for which Antonio provided several recipes, flows across and into the joints between leads, although care was required in moderating the temperature of the soldering iron so as not to melt the lead cames.90 The application of a flux to the joint helped the solder to flow, and in the St. Stephen’s Chapel accounts, tallow (rendered beef or mutton fat) was purchased for this purpose.91 The lead matrix was given extra strength by the glazier’s skill in integrating the lead and the glass. Well- designed panels avoid too many vertical and horizontal straight lines, which provide weak “hinge” points in the lead matrix. Glass-painters frequently edged their glass pieces with a dense back trace-line. This registered the permissible limits that could be occupied by the lead flange, perhaps allowing the glaziers some leeway in grozing the painted pieces after firing to ensure a better fit. In unpainted geometric glazing, of a kind often associated with Cistercian patronage, the design relies entirely on the subtle relationship between glass and lead-line, and reveals the extraordinary precision in cutting and leading that the best glaziers could achieve.92
84 Theophilus, The Various Arts, pp. 53–56; Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 123–28. 85 Deneux, “Un moule à plomb”, pp. 149–54; Meyer and Wyss, “Des moules à plomb”, pp.105–06. For stone moulds, see Baker, Excavations at Selborne Priory, pp.105–08. 86 Knight, “Researches on medieval window lead”; Cuzange and Texier, “Caractérisation des plombs anciens de vitraux”. 87 Brinkmann, “Die Verbleiung und Befestigung der mittlealterlichen Farbverglasung”.
88 Similar spacers have also been noted at Altenberg and Haina: Cortes Pizano, “Medieval window leads”, p. 27, n. 10. 89 Theophilus, The Various Arts, pp. 56–57. The Girona table bears the nail holes from the process of panel assembly. 90 Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 129–34. 91 Purchased from the appropriately named Peter Bocher: Salzman, “St Stephen’s Chapel” (1926), p. 35. 92 Zakin, French Cistercian Grisaille Glass; Brown, York Minster, pp. 18–19.
20 Brown 4.7 Fixing the Windows: Stone and Iron, Masons and Blacksmiths In fixing a medieval window the glaziers, by necessity, worked closely with masons and blacksmiths. While this collaboration is largely passed over in the treatises, it is far more apparent in the glazing accounts. In the 12th and 13th centuries, before the advent of subdivided stone tracery, stained-glass panels were held in position in the window opening in a wrought-iron armature set into a wooded frame rebated into the stone.93 Panels were held in place by projecting lugs through which wedges or curved pins were threaded. The Canterbury armatures are extraordinarily complex in their shape, and would have required close liaison between glaziers and blacksmiths to ensure a close fit.94 Once window openings were subdivided by stone tracery, new fixing systems developed. Masons provided glazing grooves around the jambs and heads of their window mullions into which the stained-glass panels, made slightly wider than the visible opening, could be slotted directly, then mortared in place for a watertight finish. Horizontal iron support bars –lug bars or T-bars –were introduced at intervals in order to support the weight of the glazed panels. Additional vertical and horizontal bars were not load-bearing but provided additional strengthening. Lead ties, soldered at appropriate intervals across the stained-glass panels, allowed them to be tied to these bars, increasing their resistance to wind pressure. While the ferramenta could be set into sockets cut into the masonry, the window bars sometimes run through all the mullions of the window opening and so must have been introduced during the initial construction of the window, with implications for early project planning and the interactions between glaziers and masons. The relationship of the stained-glass panel to its fixing system could never be treated as an afterthought, but required careful planning to ensure that the ferramenta did not interfere with major design features. Some surviving medieval designs indicate the location of the ferramenta, and Antonio offers advice about the placing of the bars and ties.95 There is even reason to believe that in some cases the masonry was designed to reflect the iconography of the stained glass it was to support, although this must have been at the stipulation of the patron.96 93
This sort of fixing system continues in use in Canterbury, Lincoln, and Salisbury cathedrals. 94 Marks, Stained Glass in England, p. 38, fig. 29. 95 Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 49, 71. 96 The masonry of York Minster’s Great East Window, for example, appears to have been adjusted deliberately to reflect the numerological significance of the window’s stained- glass imagery: Norton, “Sacred space and sacred history”.
5
“Walls Like Unto Clear Glass”
Stained glass is now one of the most important surviving manifestations of medieval monumental painting. Its status in the Middle Ages relied in no small measure on its capacity to turn the medieval church building into a foretaste of the heavenly Jerusalem described in John’s vision (Revelation 21:18). While those who practised this craft remain elusive, collaborations between art historians, textual and documentary scholars, materials scientists, craftsmen, and conservators have transformed our understanding of medieval stained glass making, shedding new light on the role of the master, the autonomy of the craftsman and the relationship between patronage, design and execution. Bibliography Primary Sources
Abbot Suger, De administratione, de consecratione, ordinatio, ed. and trans. E. Panofsky, On the Abbey Church of Saint-Denis and its Art Treasures, 2nd edn. by G. Panofsky-Soergel, Princeton, New Jersey, 1979. Anonymous Author, Kunstbuch de Nuremberg, transcription after E.E. Ploss, “Ein Buch von alten Farben”, trans. B. Kurmann-Schwarz and C. Lautier, in C. Lautier and D. Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise. L’art du vitrail vers 1400 (CV France, Études, 8), Paris, 2008, pp. 331–35. Anonymous Author, Rezeptsammlung of Nuremberg, ed. S. Matter, transl. B. Kurmann-Schwarz and C. Lautier, in C. Lautier and D. Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, pp. 337–38. Antonio da Pisa, Secreti per lavorar li vetri, eds. D. Gallo and D. Sandron, trans. K. Bienvenu and C. Lautier, in C. Lautier and D. Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, pp. 41–78. Le Vieil, P., L’Art de la peinture sur verre et de la vitrerie, Paris, 1774. Merrifield, M.P., Original Treatises on the Arts of Painting, 2 vols., New York, 1967. Myers, A.R. (ed.), The Contracts for the Making of the Tomb of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick 1447–54 (English Historical Documents 4 (1327–1485)) London, 1969, part 4, document 686. Theophilus, Theophili, qui est Rugerus, prespyteri et monachi, libri III, De diversis artibus seu Diversarum artibus schedula, ed. and trans. R. Hendrie, An Essay Upon Various Arts in Three Books by Theophilus called also Rugerus, Priest and Monk, London, 1847. Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, ed. and trans. C.R. Dodwell, Theophilus, The Various Arts, London, 1961. Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, trans. J.G. Hawthorne and C.S. Smith, On Divers Arts: the Foremost Medieval Treatise on Painting, Glassmaking and Metalwork, New York, 1963.
The Medieval Glazier at Work
Secondary Sources
Ainaud de Lasarte, J.A et al., Els Vitralls de la Catedral de Girona (CVMA Catalunya, 2), Barcelona, 1987. Armitage Robinson, J., Horne, E., and Knowles, J.A., “Marks on the glass at Wells: a discussion”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass Painters 4 (1932), 71–80. Ayers, T., The Medieval Stained Glass of Merton College, Oxford (CVMA Great Britain, 6), 2 vols., Oxford, 2013. Azzola, F.K., “Das historische Handwerkszeichen eines Glasers am Haus Merianstrasse 4 in Oppenheim. Zugleich ein Beitrag zu den historischen Werkzeugen des Glasers und zur Ikonographie dieser Werkzeuge”, Das Kleindenkmal. Wissenschaftliche Schriftenreihe der Arbetitsgemeinschaft Denkmalforschung 19 (1995), 69–115. Baker, D., Excavations at Selborne Priory 1953–71 (Hampshire Field Club and Archaeological Society, Monograph, 12), Hampshire, 2015. Balcon-Berry, S., Perrot, F., and Sapin, C. (eds.), Vitrail, verre et archéologie entre le Ve et le XIIe siècle (Archéologie et histoire de l’art, 31), Paris, 2009. Becksmann, R., “Die Augsburger Propheten und die Anfänge des monumentalen Stils in der Glasmalerei”, Zeitschrift des Deutschen Vereins für Kunstwissenschaft 59/60 (2005–06), 84–110. Boon, K.G., “Two designs for windows by Dierick Vellert”, Master Drawings 2 (1964), 153–56, 204–05. Boulanger, K. and Hérold, M. (eds.), Le vitrail et les traités du Moyen Âge à nos jours (Transactions of the 23rd International Colloquium of the CV at Tours 2006), Bern, 2008. Brinkmann, U., “Die Verbleiung und Befestigung der mittelalterlichen Farbverglasung im Hochchor des Kölner Domes”, CV Newsletter 47 (2000), 21–24. Brooks, C. and Evans, D., The Great East Window of Exeter Cathedral, a Glazing History, Exeter, 1988. Brown, S., Apocalypse: The Great East Window of York Minster, London, 2014. Brown, S., Stained Glass at York Minster, London, 2017. Brown, S. and MacDonald, L. (eds.), Fairford Parish Church: a Medieval Church and its Glass, Stroud, 2007. Brown, S. and O’Connor, D., Medieval Craftsmen: Glass- Painters, London, 1991. Brown, S., Loisel, C., Rambaut, A., Rauch, I., Strobl, S., and Wolf S., (eds.), Stained Glass: Art at the Surface –Creation, Recognition, Conservation (Transactions of the 10th Forum for the Conservation and Technology of Stained Glass), York, 2017. Butts, B., Hendrix, L., et al. (eds.), Painting on Light. Drawings and Stained Glass in the Age of Dürer and Holbein (Exhibition catalogue: Los Angeles, J. Paul Getty Museum), Los Angeles, 2000. Caviness, M.H., Stained Glass Windows (Typologie des Sources du Moyen Âge Occidental, 76), Turnhout, 1996. Caen, J.M.A., The Production of Stained Glass in the County of Flanders and the Duchy of Brabant from the XVth to the XVIIIth Centuries: Materials and Techniques, Turnhout, 2008.
21 Cortes Pizano, F., “Medieval window leads from Padralbes (Catalonia) and Altenberg (Germany): a comparative study”, CV Newsletter 47 (2000), 25–31. Cothren, M., “Production practices in medieval stained glass workshops: some evidence in the Glencairn Museum”, Journal of Glass Studies 41 (1999), 117–34. Cuzange, L. and Texier, A., “Caractérisation des plombs anciens de vitraux”, CV Newsletter 47 (2000), 43–49. Deneux, H., “Un moule à plomb de vitraux du XIIIe siècle”, Bulletin Monumental 87 (1928), 149–54. Freestone, I., Kunicki-Goldfinger, J., Gilderdale-Scott, H., and Ayers, T., “Multi-disciplinary investigation of the windows of John Thornton, focusing on the Great East Window of York Minster”, in MB. Shepard, L. Pilosi, and S. Strobl (eds.) The Art of Collaboration: Stained Glass Conservation in the Twenty-First Century. Proceedings of the 2009 CV Forum on the Restoration and Conservation of Stained Glass Windows (CV USA, Occasional Papers, 2), London, 2010, pp. 151–58. French, T., York Minster: the Great East Window (CVMA Great Britain, Summary Catalogue, 2), Oxford, 1995. Goodall, J.A., “Two medieval drawings”, Antiquaries Journal 58 (1978), 160–62. Hérold, M., “ ‘Cartons’ et practiques d’atelier en Champagne méridionale dans le premier quart du XVIe siècle”, in H. Zerner et al. (eds.), Memoire de verre: vitraux cham penois de la Renaissance (Cahiers de l’Inventaire, 22), Châlons-sur-Marne, 1990, pp. 61–84. Hör, M., “Kaltmalerei auf Glasgemälden aus Nürnberg um 1500: Patina –Firnis –Lasuren”, in Brown, Loisel, Rambaut, Rauch, Strobl, and Wolf (eds.), Stained Glass: Art at the Surface, pp. 25–41. Husband, T.B., Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collections: Silver-Stained Roundels and Unipartite Panels (CV US, Checklist, 4, Studies in the History of Art, 39), Washington, 1991. Jones, J., Balliol College: a History 1263–1939, Oxford, 1988. Knight, B., “Researches on medieval window lead”, Journal of Stained Glass 18 (1983–84), 49–51. Knowles, J.A., “Glass painters of York 1: the Chamber family”, Notes and Queries, 12th series, 8 (1921), 127–28. Knowles, J.A., “Medieval methods of employing cartoon for stained glass”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass Painters 1 (1925), 35–44. Kowolik, K., The Thirteenth and Nineteenth-Century Choir Windows of St Mauritius in Heimersheim an der Ahr, Germany, MA thesis, University of York, 2010. Kunicki-Goldfinger, J.J., Freestone, I.C., McDonald, I., Hobot, J.A., Gilderdale-Scott, H., and Ayers, T., “Technology, production and chronology of red window glass in the medieval period: rediscovery of a lost technology”, The Journal of Archaeological Science 41 (2014), 89–105. Leproux, G.-M., Recherches sur les peintres-verriers parisiens de la Renaissance (1540–1620), Geneva, 1988.
22 Brown Leproux, G.-M., (ed.), Vitraux parisiens de la Renaissance, Paris, 1993. Maercker, K.J., “Überlegungen zu drei Scheibenrissen auf dem ‘Böhmischen Altar’ im Dom zu Brandenburg”, Öster reichische Zeitschrift für Kunst und Denkmalpflege 40 (1986), 183–89. Marks, R., The Stained Glass of the Collegiate Church of the Holy Trinity, Tattershall (Lincs.), New York, 1984. Marks, R., “Window glass”, in J. Blair and N. Ramsay (eds.), English Medieval Industries, London, 1991, pp. 265–94. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England during the Middle Ages, London, 1993. Marks, R., “The glazing of Henry VII’s Chapel, Westminster”, in B. Thompson (ed.), The Reign of Henry VII, Stamford, 1995, pp. 157–74. Marks, R. “Wills and windows: documentary evidence for the commissioning of stained glass windows in late medieval England”, in H. Scholz, I. Rauch, and D. Hess (eds.), Glas. Malerei. Forschung, Internationale Studien zu Ehren von Rüdiger Becksmann, Berlin, 2004, pp. 245–52. Marner, D., St Cuthbert. His Life and Cult in Medieval Durham, London, 2000. Meyer, N. and Wyss, M., “Des moules à plomb découverte à Saint-Denis”, Bulletin monumental 149-1 (1991), 105–06. Norton, C., “Sacred space and sacred history, the glazing of the eastern arm of York Minster”, in R. Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext-Bildprogramme und Raumfunktionen (Transactions of the 22nd International Colloquium of the CV in Nuremberg and Regensburg), Nuremberg, 2005, pp. 167–81. Pilosi, L., Barack, S., and Wypyski, M.T., “Early acid-etching of stained glass”, in Boulanger and Hérold (eds.), Le vitrail et les traités, pp. 97–110. Raguin, V., “The reception of Theophilus’s De Diversis Artibus”, in Boulanger and Hérold (eds.), Le vitrail et les traités, pp. 1–28. Riviale, L., “Le vitrail et le Jeu des Triomphes. Pétraque à Evry- le-Châtel: livres d’heures, dévotion mariale et cartes à jouer”, Revue de l’art 179 (2013), 23–33. Rogers, N., “A pattern for princes: the Royal Window at the Greenwich Greyfriars”, in S. Powell (ed.), Saints and Cults in Medieval England, Donington, 2017, pp. 318–38. Royce-Roll, D., “The colors of Romanesque stained glass”, Journal of Glass Studies 36 (1994), 71–80. Salzman, L.F., “The glazing of St Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, 1351–2”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass- Painters 1 (1926), 14–16, 31–35. Salzman, L.F., “The glazing of St Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, 1351–2”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass- Painters 2 (1927), 38–41. Salzman, L.F., “Medieval glazing accounts”, Journal of the British Society of Master-Glass-Painters 3 (1929–30), 25–30. Salzman, L.F., Building in England Down to 1540: a Documentary History, Oxford, 1952 (repr. Oxford, 1992).
Santolaria Tura, A., Glazing on White-Washed Tables – vitralls sobre taules de vitraller: la taula de Girona, Girona, 2014. Schleif, C. and Schier, V., Katerina’s Windows. Donation and Devotion, Art and Music, as Heard and Seen Through the Writings of a Birgittine Nun, University Park, 2009. Scholz, H., Entwurf und Ausführung: Werkstattpraxis in der Nürnberger Glasmalerei der Dürerzeit (CVMA Deutschland, Studien, 1), Berlin, 1991. Scholz, H., Hess, D., Rauch, I., Kölzer, N., and Windelen, B., “Beobachtungen zur Ätztechnik an Überfanggläsern des 15. Jahrhunderts”, CV Newsletter 46 (1999), 19–23. Shepard, M.B., Pilosi, L., and Strobl S., (eds.) The Art of Collaboration: Stained Glass Conservation in the Twenty-First Century: Papers Presented at the Forum for the Conservation of Stained Glass (CV USA, Occasional Papers, 2), London, 2010. Stacey, M., “Artistic and technical dexterity: an investigation of medieval jewel techniques in stained glass”, in Brown, Loisel, Rambaut, Rauch, Strobl, and Wolf (eds.), Stained Glass: Art at the Surface, pp. 42–58. Strobl, S., Glastechnik des Mittelalters, Stuttgart, 1990. Trümpler, S., “Rückseitige Vorzeichnungen auf Glasgemälden”, CVMA Newsletter 45 (1994), 36–39. Trümpler, S. and Wolf, S., “Cold paint on the late medieval choir windows of Berne Minster”, in Brown, Loisel, Rambaut, Rauch, Strobl, and Wolf (eds.), Stained Glass: Art at the Surface, pp. 75–88. Vila Delclòs, A., “Les marques d’assemblages du vitrail ‘reial’ du monastère de Santes Creus”, in E.J. Beer (ed.), Corpus Vitrearum: Tagung für Glasmalereiforschung (Akten des 16. Internationalen Kolloquiums in Bern 1991), Bern, 1991, pp. 145–46. Vila Grau, J., “La table de peintre-verrier de Gérone”, Revue de l’Art 72 (1986), 32–34. Les Vitraux de Champagne-Ardenne (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 4), Paris, 1992. Wayment, H., The Windows of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge (cvma Great Britain, 1), Oxford, 1972. Wayment, H., “The great windows of King’s College Chapel and the meaning of the word ‘vidimus’ ”, Proceedings of the Cambridge Antiquarian Society 69 (1979), 53–69. Wayment, H., “ ‘The glaziers’ sorting marks at Fairford”, in P. Moore (ed.), Crown in Glory: a Celebration of Craftsmanship, Norwich, 1982, pp. 23–28. Wayment, H., “Twenty-four vidimuses for Cardinal Wolsey”, Master Drawings 23/24 (1988), 503–16. Wayment, H., “Wolsey and stained glass”, in S.J. Gunn and P. Lindley (eds.), Cardinal Wolsey. Church, State and Art, Cambridge, 1991, pp. 116–30. Winston, C., An Inquiry into the Difference of Style Observable in Ancient Glass Painting, Especially in England with Hints on Glass Painting, London, 1847. Zakin, H., French Cistercian Grisaille Glass, New York, 1979.
c hapter 2
Early History of Stained Glass Francesca Dell’Acqua The destruction of a large number of medieval glazed windows in the 18th century can be attributed both to the desire for more light in buildings, reflecting the intellectual and political desire to overcome the obscurantism of past ages, and to the turmoil of the French Revolution. This destruction generated reflections, museum displays, and scholarship on the history of stained glass. According to the early histories of western stained glass, written between the late 18th and 19th centuries, the origins of the technique remained unknown, thus it was hard to explain how the medium developed before culminating in the masterpieces of the Gothic period.1 French, English, and German scholars collected written and material evidence to demonstrate that medieval stained glass had been invented in their own countries. Despite having divergent opinions, they actually provided converging evidence, which demonstrated that the origins of stained glass were to be situated in an area across present-day France and Germany.2 So, why, when, how, and what was used to screen the windows in buildings before the 11th century? Archaeological finds made in the last few decades have confirmed what was hinted by textual sources and by occasional finds: glass was indeed employed in windows well before the High Middle Ages, although it was cut in geometrical shapes and was not decorated with any painting.3 Light, natural or artificial, is essential in shaping inner spaces and in determining their perception. Sensations such as warm, cold, spacious, gloomy, airy, oppressive, and so on, are indeed largely determined by natural and artificial illumination. This was well understood already in Classical Antiquity, when builders seem to have taken into account the direction and variability of sunlight, the number and shape of the openings, the type of window screens affecting or favouring the penetration of natural 1 For more on this topic Kurmann-Schwarz, Ch. 20 in this volume. 2 Éméric-David, Discours historiques sur la peinture moderne; id., Histoire de la peinture au Moyen Âge, pp. 38–39, 79–8 0; Didron, “Histoire de la peinture sur verre”; Lübke, Über die alten Glasgemälde der Schweiz; Nordhoff, “Die ältere Glasmalerei”; Westlake, A History of Design in Painted Glass; Oidtmann, Die Glasmalerei, vol. 2, pp. 33–44; see also Dell’Acqua, “Entre fantaisie et archéologie”. 3 For an overview, see Whitehouse, “Window-glass between the first and the eighth centuries”.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 04
light, and the interaction between natural and artificial light. An emphasis on materiality, combined with the study of past building practices, as well as specific aesthetic and cultural ambitions, currently informs the research on the origins and later developments of stained glass.4 1 Roman Glass In his famous treatise written between 30–15 b.c. under the first Roman emperor Augustus, Vitruvius suggests methods to increase the quantity and quality of natural light when planning a room, especially in densely populated cities.5 Windows had the combined functions of letting in natural light (lumen), allowing ventilation (aer), and possibly opening up to a view (prospectus), especially in the triclinia, i.e. the dining-rooms of suburban or rustic villas.6 A few centuries later, in the Late Empire, public Roman buildings and especially basilicas would be characterised by larger windows placed in orderly series, which allowed in plenty of natural light.7 The adoption of glass panes in the window grilles and their setting as close as possible to the surface of the interior walls produced the effect of diffused light, which enhanced the lavish marble and mosaic revetment of the walls.8 Glass, though, does not appear in Vitruvius’s treatise as a window screening device. In fact, glazed windows have not been found in private and public buildings of the Roman Empire before the 1st century a.d. The well- dated evidence offered by Pompeii is indicative of the fact that glazed windows did not become common before the second half of the 1st century a.d. The necessity of having well-lit public spaces such as baths, as well 4 For a critique of the theoretical approaches of earlier studies on the use of stained glass in buildings of the past, see Hediger and Schiffhauer, “Werkstoff Glas”. 5 Vitruvius, On Architecture, 6.6.6-7, The Loeb Classical Library 280, vol. 2, pp. 42–45. 6 Vitruvius, De architectura, 6.3.10, trans. Granger, The Loeb Classical Library 280, vol. 2, pp. 32–33; ibid., 6.4.1, pp. 34–35. 7 Günter, Wand, Fenster und Licht, pp. 66–76 presents a catalogue of late Roman buildings with the measurements of their windows. For recent work based on his, see Eder, Licht und Raumform, and Köhler, Basilika und Thermenfenster. 8 Günter, Wand, Fenster und Licht, p. 7ff.
24 Dell’Acqua as the desire of having a lavish dining-room with a vista over a pleasing landscape, or peristylia (i.e. inner courtyards, screened by glass in winter), is attested by Roman authors. There are few remains of Roman glazed windows, because glass fragments were normally discarded if found during the investigation of archaeological sites. Only recently has the adoption of different investigation and cataloguing procedures produced new information on these objects from every corner of the Roman Empire between the 1st and the 5th centuries.9 In this period, the glass industry had a cross-Mediterranean span. In his Naturalis Historia, Pliny mentions the glass at the mouth of the river Belus in Palestine, and the river Volturno in Campania as the best for producing glass;10 however, scientific analyses have confirmed that the Syro-Palestinian coast was the major glass-production area. From there, glass was exported as ingots or cullet to the West where it would be modelled into objects.11 But what determined the wide adoption of window glass in the Roman Empire? Flat glass had been produced earlier by pouring molten glass onto rectangular trays and distributing it with a spatula towards the edges, although the result was thick and opaque panes. In Palestine during the 1st century b.c. glassmakers started experimenting with a new technique. This involved the use of clay rods (later substituted with iron) or blowpipes, through which they would collect a bulb of molten glass from a vessel, blow air into it, and manipulate it into a cylindrical shape, which was then pierced and widened.12 This method was still in use in the West in the 12th century, as it is attested by a treatise on The Various Arts, written by a monk who calls himself Theophilus, active in northern Germany between Cologne and Paderborn.13 He says that the cylinder was cut when cold and then reheated in order to be flattened on a polished surface.14 This cooling phase produced a different appearance between the recto and the verso of the cylinder: the former looks like rippled skin because of cooling more quickly in contact with the air, and the latter appears smooth 9 10
Dell’Acqua, “Le finestre invetriate nell’antichità romana”. Pliny the Elder, Naturalis Historia, 36.65, trans. Eicholz, The Loeb Classical Library 419, vol.10, pp. 148–51; Freestone, “Pliny on Roman glassmaking”. 11 Freestone, Gorin-Rosen, and Hughes, “Primary glass from Israel”; Freestone, “Glass production”. 12 Israeli, “The invention of blowing”; Stern, “Roman glassblowing”. 13 On the debate about the identity of Theophilus, also in light of the manuscript tradition, see the recent study by Gearhart, Theophilus, and discussion by Brigitte Kurmann- Schwarz, Ch.20 in this volume. 14 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, ii, 6, ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 54–55. For more on the making of the window, see Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume.
and shiny. Normally cylinder glass can also be recognised because it contains elongated air bubbles, revealing the direction in which the glass bulb was blown. The blowing technique, which was also employed to fashion vessels by blowing them into moulds, accelerated the production of window glass and made it popular all over the Mediterranean. In the eastern regions of the Roman Empire another glass-blowing technique for producing window panes was invented and disseminated. It consisted of piercing, opening, and twirling the blown bulb of glass to shape it as a disk (“crown-blown disk”). As the centre of the disk remained attached to the blowing-pipe during the modelling, it was considerably thicker than the rest of the disk, and is called a “bull’s eye” or omphalos, i.e. navel. The centre of the disk, considered less valuable because of its irregular aspect, allowing less light in and blurring the vision, became the standard glass pane used in windows of northern Europe during the Late Middle Ages and the Early Modern period.15 It is very rare, however, in early medieval contexts. 2
Early Medieval Evidence
One of the earliest written sources about glazed windows is the series of verses praising the interior decor of the basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls in Rome, promoted by the Emperor Theodosius and his family between the late 4th and early 5th century. In a collection of poems dedicated to Spanish and Roman martyrs, the court poet Prudentius describes the colours of the windows of St. Paul’s as like flowery meadows in spring.16 It is not possible to infer from the passage if the windows had any figural pattern. Absence of specific evidence suggests that they were non-figural, allowing in natural light as a symbol of God. The apostles and prophets painted on the segments of wall between the windows in the main paleochristian basilicas of Rome, flanking and introducing the Light of God, made the most appropriate complement to the non-figural –albeit wonderfully coloured –glazed windows.17 The appreciation of polychromy expressed by Prudentius is in keeping with the contemporary aesthetics, as expressed by poetry and visual arts.18 Floral tropes, 15
See the bull’s eye glass shutters in the Hours of Mary of Burgundy, illuminated before 1482 in Stokstad and Cothren, Art History, p. 568, fig. 18-6. 16 Prudentius, Peristephanon Liber, Hymn 12: Passio Apostolorum Petri et Pauli, vv. 53–54 (pp. 420–23); Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 101–02. 17 Kessler, Old St Peter’s, p. 76. 18 See Roberts, The Jeweled Style.
25
Early History of Stained Glass
especially that of the flowering meadow, were used already in ancient poetry, especially in Pindar (6th-5th century b.c.), with reference to the flourishing style and the figural richness of the literary genre, but also to suggest a pleasing and enticing setting (locus amoenus), with which physical pleasure was often associated.19 In Late Antiquity the topos of the flowering meadow came to be used to evoke and extoll multi-coloured surfaces, as in Paul the Silentiary’s description of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople, dating to 562.20 As in the case of Prudentius and Paul the Silentiary, other early written testimonies which offer glimpses of contemporary glazed windows are essentially embedded in poems. In fact, since the 5th century, in Latin and Greek encomiastic poetry and narrative the munificence and political glory of dedicatees is often evoked through a parallelism with the material splendour and brightness of the buildings they had promoted. A number of Christian poets and authors use the literary topos of sunrays entering a building and being captured within it, endlessly reflected by the shining surfaces of mosaic and marble revetments, and conjuring up an impression of the intrinsic luminosity of the building. They alluded to the almost blinding light in the nave and sanctuary of religious buildings, in contrast with dimly lit aisles. In the second half of the 5th century, Sidonius Apollinaris offers to a correspondent an enticing versified description of a church in Lyon, manifestly evoking a sensory experience:
v. 752), Venantius alludes to the windows screened with glass, which, like eyes in a body, connect the exterior with the interior.22 In glorifying the church of Saint Peter and Paul in Nantes, restored by bishop Felix (d. 582), and the basilica of Saint-Martin in Tours, renovated by the famous archbishop and author Gregory of Tours (d. 594), Venantius adopts the same image of glazed windows as physical eyes, which allow natural light to penetrate inside and to be retained.23 To extoll the unusual phenomenon of natural light being trapped by the lavish interiors of a church of Nantes, he intentionally coins a highly evocative verse: “may I be allowed to say that while the world has the night, the church keeps the day”.24 But how colourful, in reality, were late antique glazed windows? In the Roman and early medieval period, the colours of glass panes were normally shades of green derived from the high percentage of metallic oxides present in sand, which was the main ingredient. Various shades were produced by a number of other factors, among which were the varying furnace temperature and atmosphere, and the purity of ingredients. More intense colours such as emerald-green, dark-olive green, amber, blue, violet, purple, and dark red, were obtained by adding specific metallic oxides to the molten glass, such as copper for green, cobalt for blue, manganese for pink, violet, and purple, and cuprite for red. Alternatively, and more simply, coloured glass mosaic tesserae were added. The practice of collecting and using old mosaic tesserae as colourants is attested not only by archaeological “… within it the light flashes and the sunshine is so finds, such as crucibles with tesserae half-molten at their tempted to the gilded ceiling that it travels over the taw- bottom, but by Theophilus as well. He also suggests to ny metal matching its hue. Marble diversified by various simply pick up glass from the crucible to verify its colour shining tints pervades the vaulting, the floor, the win- after the exposure to the heat of the oven, and reheat dows; forming designs of diverse colour, a verdant grass- it until it is turned into another colour more suitable green encrustation brings winding lines of sapphire- to one’s needs; in this he reveals that in the past glass- hued stones over the leek-green glass.”21 workers had to make do with the available ingredients and resources.25 Later, in exquisitely crafted elegiac couplets, Venantius Recent archaeological finds and scientific analyses Fortunatus (d. 609) extolls the clarity of the church of have demonstrated that between the 3rd and the 5th Saint-Vincent in Paris (later Saint-Germain-des-Prés) centuries in the northern regions of Gaul and the Rhinebuilt by the Merovingian King Childebert (d. 558), who land, climate change made the land less profitable for was buried there. Recalling Ovid (Metamorphoses, agriculture, which allowed forests to regenerate and offered fuel to the expanding glass industry. Both in rural and urban settlements, workshops not only worked 19 Worman, Landscape and the Spaces of Metaphor, pp. 71, 20
21
93–103. Paul the Silentiary, Descriptio Ecclesiae Sanctae Sophiae, vv. 286–95 (PG 86.2, cols. 2130–31), translated in Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire 312–1453, pp. 80–96; Whitby, “The occasion of Paul the Silentiary’s ekphrasis of S. Sophia”; Macrides and Magdalino, “The architecture of ekphrasis”; Webb, “The aesthetics of sacred space”. Sidonius Apollinaris, Epistula 2.10.4 (p. 34), trans. Anderson, pp. 465– 67; see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 103–04.
22
Venantius Fortunatus, De Ecclesia Parisiaca, carmen 2.10, vv. 13–16 (p. 40); Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 108–10. 23 Venantius Fortunatus, Versus ad ecclesiam Toronicam quae per Gregorium episcopum renovata est, Carm. 10.6, vv. 89–90 (p. 237). 24 Venantius Fortunatus, In honore eorum, quorum ibi reliquiae continentur, Carm. 3.7, vv. 47–50 (p. 57). 25 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, ii, 7–8, ed. Dodwell, pp. 55–57.
26 Dell’Acqua glass imported from the eastern Mediterranean, but apparently also produced new glass. Glass became a common feature, at least in the most important ecclesiastical buildings of Gaul, as attested incidentally in the 6th-century historical and hagiographical writings of Gregory of Tours,26 as well as in later sources, such as the Vita of Philibert of Jumièges, which recalls that under his abbotship, around 655, the dormitory of his monastery was illuminated by glazed windows.27 Recent archaeological explorations of remote, formerly Romanised areas in the Alpine region have revealed continuity in the production and use of window glass in the 5th and 6th centuries, apparently recycling old Levantine glass, and offering clues about where and how Roman technology was handed down to the Middle Ages. The shape of the panes was still geometrical, but became more varied, and their size was smaller than in the Roman imperial period, perhaps responding to the need to screen smaller openings.28 3
Merovingian and Anglo-Saxon Evidence
By the mid-8th century the number of active workshops had declined, and the glass industry became increasingly localised when compared to the vast geographical span it had in the Roman world.29 In the same period, however, glass workshops in Merovingian Gaul engaged in some of the most innovative experiments in window glazing. This has been revealed by comparing written sources, the majority of which were collated during the 19th century, with archaeological finds emerging in the past 50 years, and their scientific analyses. In fact, while Roman and late Roman buildings contained remains of geometrical panes, Merovingian Gaul and Anglo-Saxon Britain have produced the earliest instances of figural stained-glass windows made with panels cut like sectilia.30 One of the latest and most important finds of window glass, in terms of both the quantity and variety 26
Gregory of Tours, Historia Francorum, 6.10 (pp. 279–80); id., Liber in gloria martyrum, 58; id., Liber de passione et de virtutibus S. Juliani martyris, 13 and 27 (pp. 119–20 and 125–26); see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 29–30, 106–08. 27 Vita S. Filiberti Abb. Gemeticensis et Heriensis, 8 (p. 590). 28 Wolf, Kessler, Stern, and Gerber, “The composition and manufacture”; Kessler, Wolf, and Trümpler, “Die frühesten Zeugen ornamentaler Glasmalerei”. 29 Grünewald and Hartmann, “Glass workshops in northern Gaul and the Rhineland”. 30 See the various articles in Balcon-Berry, Perrot, and Sapin (eds.), Vitrail, verre et archéologie, and the splendidly illustrated article by Balcon- Berry, “Origines et évolution du vitrail”.
of geometrical shapes into which it was originally cut, is from the monastery of Baume-les-Messieurs (Jura) in eastern France (Figure 2.1). A legend connected its foundation in the remote and scenic valleys to the Irish missionary Columbanus (d. 615). Through an archaeological and archaeometrical assessment, the glass has been related to an 8th-century building in the monastic settlement.31 Finds from Merovingian and Carolingian Gaul present small glass panes cut into a variety of shapes, not simply geometrical. These finds suggest that late antique opus sectile –made by juxtaposing stone, glass, and marble veneers of different shapes and materials to create figural or abstract compositions on walls or floors –inspired the composition of the earliest figural window screens, made with coloured window panes of various shapes held together by lead cames. Upon their discovery, the opus sectile panels depicting standing figures of consuls, philosophers, and deities, found stacked in boxes in a shipwreck in the ancient port of Kenchreai by Corinth, suggested they were the direct predecessors of figural glazed windows.32 But how and when the transition between figural opus sectile and glazed windows might have occurred remains obscure. That Merovingian Gaul was still a repository of ancient knowhow is attested not only by archaeological finds, but also by the fact that it provided skilled craftsmen. When the ambitious Northumbrian nobleman Benedict Biscop (d. 689) intended to build the monasteries of Wearmouth and Jarrow in northern England “according to the Roman customs”, in order to reveal their affinity to the Apostolic See through architectural features, he had recourse to stonemasons and glaziers from Gaul.33 In the small openings of stone-built fabric, which were a novelty in Anglo-Saxon England, glaziers introduced glass screens. These were made with small, intensely coloured panes of geometrical shapes, some with red streaking resembling marble veins. The marbling effect was essentially obtained by adding bits of coloured glass to the crucible of molten glass, and taking out the glass before the colour was fully mixed with the remaining fluid. This technique was used already in the Roman period to give special decorative effects to glass objects, and a number of early medieval examples reveal that such a technique was not lost during the Middle Ages in Gaul, Britain, and Italy. 31
Bully, Bassi, Bully, Fiocchi, and Čaušević-Bully, “Le ‘Monastère des Reculées’ ”, p. 241, fig. 6. 32 Ibrahim, Scranton, and Brill, Kenchreai, p. 228; Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 7 and 166. 33 Bede, Vita Sanctorum Abbatum monasterii in Wiramuth et Girum, cols. 716–17; cf. Cramp, “Excavations”, p. 22.
Early History of Stained Glass
Dark red mosaic tesserae were often reused to create marbling effects in glass objects. Oxblood opaque red, which was one of the most technically demanding colours –produced in Roman Antiquity by using copper or its oxides –seems to have been particularly appreciated in the Early Middle Ages for its shades and the possibility of creating with it marbling effects in the glass mixture. Proper ruby-red translucent window panes would be produced only later in the Middle Ages, by dipping a colourless or weakly coloured glass at the end of the blowing pipe in a crucible with red glass, and then blowing a cylinder which would be characterised by two thin, differently coloured layers.34 The window panes found at Wearmouth and Jarrow, comparable in their small size to those uncovered in contemporary Gaul, normally show geometrical patterns such as lozenges, squares, and triangles. Among the glass screens that have been reconstructed with the aid of modern lead cames, using the size and shape of the small stone window transennae of St. Paul’s church at Jarrow as a guide, one reveals a standing, haloed figure of an Apostle or Christ.35 This reconstruction has been criticised because it was not supported by sufficient material evidence: the glass panes were scattered when found and were not connected by their original leads. Nonetheless, the variety of shapes in the glass panes suggests that, originally, Jarrow did have figural glazed windows, as well as geometrical ones. The Sacred Scriptures, starting with the Gospel of John, as well as later exegetical works, considered natural light as the perfect symbol of Christ. This certainly encouraged the notion of the window as a fitting place to illustrate the Incarnate God.36 Moreover, as mentioned, recent finds from Gaul have demonstrated that between the 7th and the 8th century, if not earlier, attempts were made to create figural glass window screens by connecting small glass panes with lead cames. Moreover, the earliest securely identified figural window screens, as will be discussed below, would represent Christ, his apostles, and prophets. The original window openings in the stone masonry of St. Paul at Jarrow are indicative of how public and private buildings changed in the early medieval period.
27 Far from grand Roman thermal baths or Christian basilicas, the windows at Jarrow were much smaller in order to keep the cold out, and at the same time they admitted less light to the interior. Window glass, which disappeared in Britain after the Roman period, was reintroduced by the glaziers employed by Benedict Biscop. Bede recalls that they disseminated their knowledge, with the result that in a number of other Anglo-Saxon monastic sites coloured window glass has been found, also associated with timber structures. This is the case at the important coastal monastery of Whitby, chosen as a burial place by the local kings. There, in 664, the abbess Hild convened a synod to establish the adoption of the liturgical calendar and customs of Rome, the Apostolic See. This religious intention (and cultural ambition) was also manifested in the choice of building materials such as stone, marble, and glass, which recalled the “Roman” tradition.37 Glazed windows became a common feature in prestigious Anglo-Saxon religious architecture at least. A few years later, in 669, Bishop Wilfrid of York added glass screens to the windows of the stone church he presided over, in order let in more light and also to keep the birds out.38 A century later, Alcuin of York (d. 804), who would become one of the main figures of the Carolingian renaissance in the arts and humanities, celebrated the cathedral of York with images of intrinsic luminosity, following in the footsteps of late antique Latin poets.39 Before Alcuin, the poet and scholar Aldhelm, abbot of Malmesbury (d. c.709), had already adopted the topos of light captured by glazed openings. He praised an otherwise unknown church built by a high-ranking woman by recalling its interior resplendent with serene light conveyed by the sun through glazed windows.40 Between 803–21, the monk Æthelwulf of Lindisfarne describes a church dependent on the main monastery that is brightened by the sun passing through its glass windows.41 He describes this almost as a miracle, in the aftermath of the destructive Viking raids that hit the Northumbrian coast and the monastery of Lindisfarne on the Holy Island itself.
37 Bede, Vita Sanctorum Abbatum monasterii in Wiramuth et Girum, col. 717; Cramp, “Window glass from the British Isles”. 38 Vita Wilfridi episcopi Eboracensis, 16 (pp. 210–11). 39 Alcuin, Versus de patribus regibus et sanctis euboricensis eccle 34 Freestone, “Composition and microstructure”; Kunicki- siae, vv. 1508–16 (p. 203). Goldfinger, Freestone, McDonald, Hobot, Gilderdale-Scott, 40 Aldhelm of Malmesbury, In Ecclesiae Mariae a Bugge exstructa, and Ayers, “Technology, production and chronology”. vv. 66– 68 (pp. 17– 18); see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando 35 Cramp, “Window glass”; Freestone and Hughes, “Origins of the colorat”, p. 113. Jarrow glass”. 41 Æthelwulf, Carmen, De donis patrum et monachorum votis, 20, 36 Ivanovici, “Windows and church space”; id., Manipulating vv. 24–26 (p. 599); see also Marks, Stained Glass in England, Theophany. p. 105.
28 Dell’Acqua 4
Carolingian Examples
becomes more common in the Carolingian domains by the mid to late 9th century, as has been confirmed As for the Continent: in Carolingian Germany and by recent finds from the Merovingian basilica of Alésia France the glass industry expanded again, both in seats (Côte-d’Or), the Carolingian cathedral at Rouen, the abof power, such as Paderborn in the late 8th century, and bey church of Saint-Denis, the church annexed to the in royal and imperial monasteries, such as at Saint-De- Carolingian palace of Mosaburg-Zalavàr (Hungary), and nis and Corvey (Westphalia). A great demand for win- the Carolingian monastery of Farfa.47 This paint was dow glass in important buildings, as well as difficulties obtained by grinding glass, copper or iron oxide, and in importing glass from the Islamic-ruled Levant, led to adding wine, vinegar, or urine, plus gum arabic, and the recycling of Roman glass but also to the production was applied onto the glass panes according to designs of raw glass from local ingredients, substituting Egyp- traced in another medium; the panes were then fired in tian soda with wood ashes as flux to liquefy the sand.42 an annealing kiln, in order to fix the paint on their surA large number of finds from Carolingian France have face. The earliest example known so far is a very small been recorded in archaeological excavations under- light-green pane found associated with the Merovingian taken in the regions of Normandy, Picardy, and Île-de- basilica of Alésia (Côte d’Or), on which schematic facial France. In some instances, the finds have confirmed the features have been traced with fired paint (Figure 2.2). presence of glazed windows described in Carolingian The painted face has been compared to one seen in an written sources. But among all the Carolingian building illuminated manuscript realised in the years between enterprises where glazed windows were installed, the the reigns of Pepin and Charlemagne.48 most prominent case is the royal abbey church of Saint- The earliest extant figural window screen in the West, Denis, outside Paris. Partly rebuilt in memory of Pepin with its original leading fragmentarily preserved, reveals by his sons Charlemagne and Carloman, it was dedicat- no paint on the pieces of intensely coloured glass which ed in 775 and was described shortly after as having 110 form, in the style of an opus sectile decoration, the bust windows.43 A poem written at the court of Charlemagne of Christ. This piece came to light in 2007 during the exby an anonymous Irish author refers to a window in the cavations of San Vincenzo al Volturno, a central-Italian abbey church of Saint-Denis on which the hand of God monastery destroyed in 881 (Figure 2.3). Possibly dating and the symbols of the four Evangelists were depicted to from within the first half of the 9th century, this is the keep out evil.44 While it is not clear from the verses if the earliest extant fragment of a typical medieval stained- images were either painted or realised in specially-cut glass panel, despite its lack of paint. On this example, opus sectile-like glass panes, it is interesting that excava- features such as Christ’s monogram (ΑΩ), hair, and tions of the monastic site have indeed revealed remains pearled halo are rendered by cutting, incising, and piercof glass panes.45 In the Carolingian period, at Saint-De- ing lead strips, which against the light appear dark and nis glass manufacturers were active within the monastic neat, just like carefully traced strokes of glass paint.49 workshops. The fame of the workshops can be judged A Vita of St. Liudger (d. 809) bishop of Münster, written from a letter written in 841 by the Abbot Lupus of Fer- soon after his death, recalls in a very poetic way a mirrières, in which he asked the abbot of Saint-Denis if he acle he performed in healing a blind girl. After a night could send two young monks of his to be instructed in vigil in the church of the monastery of Werden, while goldsmithing there.46 the monks were reading the Gospel before the matins, The appearance of paint applied on glass, with which the girl regained her sight. Rejoicing, she exclaimed that it was possible to achieve detailed figural designs, first she could see the burning candles, and then started to appears in late Merovingian or early Carolingian Fran- point to the figures she saw on the windows, through cia around the mid-8th century. Painted window glass which the reddening light of dawn was gradually coming through.50 However, the majority of Carolingian sources about 42 Grünewald and Hartmann, “Glass workshops,” p. 50. the employment of glass in window openings do not 43 Meyer- Rodrigues and Wyss (eds.), Atlas historique de 44
45
46
Saint-Denis, p. 35. Hibernicus Exul, carmen 6 (Versus ad fenestram), vv. 1–2 (pp. 401– 02); see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 115–16. Meyer and Wyss, “Des moules à plombs de vitraux”; Gatouillat, “Découverte de fragments de vitraux”; Foy and Nenna, Tout feu tout sable, pp. 58, 60. Lupus Ferrariensis, Epistola 22 (p. 30); see also Meyer, Meyer, and Wyss, “Un atelier d’orfèvre-émailleur”.
47
48 49 50
Newby, “The glass from Farfa Abbey”; Le Maho, “Note sur les fragments de vitraux”; Szöke, Wedepohl, and Kronz, “Silver stained windows at Carolingian Zalavar”; Wahlen, “A propos d’un verre peint trouvé à Alésia (Côte-d’Or)”. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, ms. lat. 4404. Dell’Acqua, “The Christ from San Vincenzo al Volturno”. Vita III. S. Liudgeri, 2.31, ed. Diekamp, pp. 127–28.
29
Early History of Stained Glass
normally refer to figural subjects, an absence borne out by the material finds from that period. Even in the largest find of Carolingian window-glass, also from San Vincenzo al Volturno, apart from the extraordinary figural panel with Christ, the remaining fragments of glass belonged to geometrically cut panes supported by wooden transennae in large, rectangular windows with semi- circular tops resembling those of paleochristian basilicas.51 In some instances, in which the dimensions of the pieces are remarkably small but are still cut in geometrical shapes (such as lozenges, semi-circles, etc.), it has been hypothesised that they were part of movable transennae for liturgical use. In 807, Charlemagne issued a capitulary aimed at reinstating the decorum of ecclesiastical buildings in every village of his empire. Among the things he recommended was appropriate illumination.52 The light passing through the windows is again an object of praise in refined metrical verses, often openly quoting topoi of late antique poetry.53 Besides the above-mentioned case of Alcuin’s description of the cathedral of York, later in the 9th century the learned Irishman Sedulius Scotus, living with other scholars at the court of Hartgar, bishop of Liège (840–55), even has recourse to pagan imagery to exalt natural light and glazed windows. He evokes the rays of the pagan god Phoebus (Apollo, the Sun) which, entering through the pale-blue panes of the windows of the episcopal palace, enlighten the learned men (“sophos”) congregated there, who love the light (of knowledge and wisdom).54 Other written sources of the Carolingian period report churches furnished with glazed windows and precious metal lamps, in a clear attempt at improving their natural and artificial illumination, seemingly with the financial aid of the emperor. This can be seen in the case of the monastery of Fulda, to which in 810 Charlemagne granted the use of tax revenues for renovation of its fabric and “luminaria”, that is the lighting of the church.55 Likewise, for churches in Auxerre, the bishop Heribaldus, former chaplain of Louis the Pious, added glazed windows and silver lamps in 839.56 51
Dell’Acqua, “Ninth-century window glass”; ead., “Una vetrata “all’antica” di età carolingia”; Dell’Acqua and James, The Window-Glass, chapter 6. 52 Capitula de causis diversis, 49.4 (pp. 135– 36); see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, p. 118. 53 Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, p. 157, n. 392. 54 Sedulius Scotus, Carmen 4 (Idem ad praefatum praesulem reve rendum Hartgarium), vv. 42–45 (p. 169); see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, p. 124. 55 Urkunden Karls des Grossen, 279 (pp. 414– 16); see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 118. 56 Gesta episcoporum Autisiodorensium, pars prior, 36 (p. 397); see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 123.
A similar situation can be seen in Rome, where, under Leo iii (795–816), the major basilicas, such as St. Paul Outside the Walls and the Lateran, were the object of maintenance works involving the glazing of windows, either with coloured glass, apparently in focal spots, or with lapis specularis (thin crystal sheets of a variety of gypsum).57 Among the ecclesiastical buildings that, after centuries of neglect, were finally refurbished, reroofed, and given new window screens by Pope Leo iii, thanks to Charlemagne’s support, was Sant’Apollinare in Classe, not far from Ravenna.58 On a wall in the narthex is a large wooden transenna with remains of flat glass panels; it is a unique surviving example of those installed in the large windows of late antique basilicas. As no analysis of the wood has been undertaken, its date remains conjectural, oscillating between the 6th century, when the church was erected, and the early 9th century, when Leo iii renovated it.59 To the Late Carolingian period, if not later, should also be dated the painted glass disk found in non- stratigraphical excavations undertaken in the early 20th century outside the apse of San Vitale in Ravenna.60 As it was found associated with crown-blown glass disks, the painted, flat disk cut from a “cylinder-blown” pane, has been long mistaken for a 6th-century example of Byzantine stained glass. Painted with two tones of grisaille, one darker, one lighter –which for the most part have disappeared, leaving only a faint trace on the glass surface –the disk represents Christ, frontally seated on a throne, with the letters “Alpha” and “Omega” surmounted by a cross either side of his haloed head. Christ is shown blessing two saints, of which only the initial letters of their accompanying tituli are still extant because of the fragmentary state of the object, but which are likely to have been Peter and Paul, in a scene of the Traditio Legis. As noted above, not only is fire-tempered grisaille not attested before the mid-8th century, but the painting style of the San Vitale disk cannot be compared to anything before late Carolingian painting and book illumination. Moreover, the use of (unpainted) “crown- blown” glass disks in plaster transennae, which has been hypothesised for the original 6th-century phase of San Vitale,61 is also not clearly attested in Byzantium in the same period. The date of the transennae found in the 57
58 59 60 61
Life of Leo iii, in Liber Pontificalis Romanus 31, 34, 82, ed. Duchesne, pp. 10 and 25; see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 120–22. Life of Leo iii, in Liber Pontificalis Romanus 106, ed. Duchesne, pp. 31–32. Dell’Acqua, “Enhancing luxury,” p. 206, figs. 12–13. Cecchelli, “Vetri da finestra”; Paolucci, cat. entries 700–28. Schöne, Über das Licht, p. 47, fig. 1.
30 Dell’Acqua Justinianic foundation of Saint Catherine on Mount Sinai is disputed, and might be even be as late as the Ottoman period.62 The earliest dated evidence for double plaster transennae in which glass disks were “sandwiched” in circular or lobed holes, comes from the main church in Amorium, the capital of the Byzantine province of Anatolikon, which was rebuilt between 850–950 after a disastrous fire.63 Plaster transennae screened with glass are not known in the West before the unique examples found in San Benedetto in Capua, associated with the patronage of Abbot Desiderius of Montecassino (late 11th century), and mentioned by the chronicle of Montecassino. Since a Benedictine community was installed in the monastery adjacent to San Vitale in the late 9th century, their arrival would explain at least a partial refurbishment of the church. This would account for the addition to an existing window screen of a disk cut from the more common “cylinder-blown” glass, and decorated with the then recent –and in Italy still relatively rare –technique of fire-tempered paint.64 5
Expansion in the 10th–12th Centuries
By the late 10th century, in the heart of the European continent, along the valley of the Rhine, figural stained glass seems to have become the medium for visualising not only iconic, frontal figures, but also hagiographical accounts. A small fragment found in the Benedictine church of Schwarzach (Rheinmünster) shows a beardless man’s head in a three-quarter view, which implies a physical motion of the figure that can only be understood in the context of a depiction of narrative. Stylistically, the small head has been compared with images from the Gospels of Otto iii.65 Another famous stained-glass piece which reveals the transition towards the representation of imposing, life- size figures, is the so-called “Wissembourg Head”, now in Strasbourg in the Musée de l’Œuvre Notre-Dame (Figure 2.4). Although its provenance is far from certain, it was associated, soon after its acquisition in 1922, with the abbey of Wissenbourg (Bas-Rhin), at the border between France and Germany. In fact, the private owner of the abbey had been in charge of restoring the buildings in the late 19th century. The documented rebuilding of the monastery between 1032–74 offers a plausible date for 62 Meyer, “Crown window panes”, pp. 215–16. 63 Dell’Acqua, “Plaster transennae”. 64 Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, p. 27; ead., “Enhancing luxury”, p. 195, fig. 1, pp. 199–200, 207. 65 Becksmann, “Das Schwarzacher Köpfchen”; Crivello, “Vetrate medievali”.
the execution of the head, which had long been considered the earliest piece of evidence for figurative stained glass. While its identification as Christ is ruled out by the absence of any specific identifying features, such as the cruciform halo, it reveals the application of three tones of grisaille painting, as described by the above- mentioned treatise of the monk Theophilus, which codified attested artisanal practices.66 The so-called “Lorsch Head”, meanwhile, has finally been dated to c.1090, after careful consideration and wider comparisons. Associated with a late Carolingian church in the imperial monastery of Lorsch (Hessen), this image had previously been considered the earliest figural stained glass. Made of various small panes of glass painted with grisaille and originally held together with lead cames, it shows a full- frontal head, with a long beard and short hair encircled by a prominent halo. Its diameter, of c.30 cm, allows us to hypothesise that the original height of the stained- glass panel was c.180 cm.67 The earliest stained-glass panels still in-situ are the Five Prophets in the south clerestory windows in the cathedral of Augsburg (Bavaria) (Figure 2.5). These are full-length, imposing figures, c.220 cm tall. Marking the origins of the “monumental style” in high medieval visual arts, the Prophets have finally been dated to after 1132 on the basis of historical circumstances (the destruction of the city by the army of Lothar iii), and technical and stylistic comparison with book illumination and mural painting. For example, they reveal technical similarities with the Wissembourg Head because of their frontal depiction and the use of three tones of grisaille. The Prophets were originally displayed in the north clerestory, and likely paired with Apostles on the south side. This scheme followed a paleochristian tradition of depicting such figures to the sides of window-openings that is still found in the 1130s in the apse of St. Peter and Paul in Niederzell on the Reichenau Island. Following the reconstruction of the original glazing of the cathedral of Strasbourg of c.1170, it has been hypothesised that the cycle also included saints, bishops, popes, and emperors, visualising a heavenly and terrestrial hierarchy.68 From the 12th century onwards, not only did the repertoire of figural subjects depicted on the windows expand, but also the glass colour palette. Notably it now included the intense blues which would become paradigmatic of late Romanesque and Gothic stained glass.69 Fragments of stained glass and lead cames found during archaeological excavations at the Chora and the 66 67 68 69
Borlée, “Fragments de vitraux”, and also for previous literature. Becksmann, “Vor-und frühromanische Glasmalerei”. Becksmann, “Die Augsburger Propheten”. Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “[…] et faciunt”.
31
Early History of Stained Glass
Pantocrator basilicas, two major churches of Byzantine Constantinople, also date to the 12th century, when the churches were under the patronage of the Komnenian emperors.70 Originally belonging to figural, floral, and geometrical patterns, these fragments seemingly decorated the apsidal windows of these buildings, while the remaining windows were screened with plaster transennae (Figure 2.6). This hints at a hierarchical display of the rarer, figural stained glass in more prominent openings, versus the more common plaster transennae with plain, crown-blown disks elsewhere. It has been remarked that the painted fragments from the Chora and the Pantocrator have stylistic affinities only with Western stained glass dated between the late 11th and the 12th century,71 and that the introduction of figural, painted window screens in these Constantinopolitan buildings is unprecedented, highly experimental, and unique in the history of Byzantine architectural decoration.72 This could only be seen as the result of the Komnenian imperial patrons employing western craftsmen, thanks to the many connections they cultivated with the West and with Crusader rulers in the Near East. The latter had indeed taken along western master glaziers to produce stained glass for their churches and fortresses, as archaeological finds have brought to light.73 A combined, hierarchical use of stained glass in the windows of the transept and the nave, and plaster transennae in the aisles, is recorded by Leo Marsicanus in the abbey of Montecassino that was rebuilt and decorated anew by Abbot Desiderius in c.1070, with the cooperation of western and Byzantine craftsmen.74 A reliable reflection of what the Desiderian stained-glass windows looked like has been uncovered at the late 11th-early 12th century monastery of San Vincenzo al Volturno, which was moved by Abbot Gerard (d. 1109) to the opposite side of the river Volturno from the 9th-century site, and whose main church was consecrated by Pope Paschal ii in 1117. Amber, dark blue, and purple glass fragments 70 71 72
73
74
Megaw, “Notes on recent work”; Caviness et. al., Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collections, pp. 32–33. Megaw, “Notes on recent work”, p. 367. Dell’Acqua, “The stained-glass windows from the Chora and the Pantocrator?”; ead., “Enhancing luxury”; ead., “Glass and natural light”. Laiou and Morrisson, The Byzantine Economy, p. 122, have dismissed the hypothesis of western craftsmen manufacturing the Chora and the Pantocrator stained glass because they mix up the question of glass production, indeed attested in Constantinople, with stained-glass production, which is not attested anywhere in the Byzantine Empire. Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, 3.28 and 33 (pp. 397, 405– 06, and 408); see also Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”, pp. 135–38.
were painted with grisaille in geometrical and floral patterns here.75 The appearance of the Montecassino plaster transennae is suggested by those transennae modelled in plaster with interlace patterns whose openings were screened by pale-coloured glass disks, which were found in-situ in the windows of the church of San Benedetto in Capua. Both Montecassino and San Benedetto shared the same Cassinese patron, Abbot Desiderius.76 6 Conclusion It should be clear from the foregoing that the majority of early stained glass from the medieval West and Byzantium shared a common feature: schemes were conceived to beautify interiors with their fragile preciousness, and were realised by highly- skilled craftsmen supported by wealthy patrons. Until the 18th century, when clear glass became the fashion, stained glass would remain the most prestigious pictorial medium, at least in the regions north of the Alps, as it had been when it first appeared there 1000 years earlier.77 Bibliography Primary Sources
Æthelwulf, Carmen, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Poetae Latini aevi Carolini, vol. 1.1, Berlin, 1881, pp. 583–604. Alcuin, Versus de patribus regibus et sanctis euboricensis ecclesiae, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Poetae latini aevi Carolini, vol. 1.1, Berlin, 1881, pp. 169–206. Aldhelm of Malmesbury, In Ecclesiae Mariae a Bugge exstructa, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Auctores Antiquissimi, vol. 15, Berlin, 1919, pp. 14–18. Bede, Vita Sanctorum Abbatum monasterii in Wiramuth et Girum, in Patrologia Latina, vol. 94, cols. 713–30. Capitula de causis diversis, 49.4, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Capitularia Regum Francorum, vol.1, Hannover, 1883, pp. 135–36. Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores, vol. 34, Hannover, 1980. Gesta episcoporum Autisiodorensium, pars prior, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores, vol. 13, Hannover, 1881, pp. 393–400. 75 76
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32 Dell’Acqua Gregory of Tours, Historia Francorum, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, vol.1.1, Hannover, 1951. Gregory of Tours, Liber de passione et de virtutibus S. Juliani martyris, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, vol. 1.2, Hannover, 1885, pp. 112–34. Gregory of Tours, Liber in gloria martyrum, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, vol. 1.2, Hannover, 1885, pp. 34–111. Hibernicus Exul, Carmina, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Poetae Latini aevi Carolini, vol. 1.1, Berlin, 1881, pp. 393– 412. Liber Pontificalis Romanus, ed. L. Duchesne, Le Liber Ponti ficalis. Texte, Introduction et Commentaire, 3 vols., Paris, repr. 1981. Lupus Ferrariensis, Epistolae, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Epistolae, vol. 6, Epistolae Karolini aevi, Berlin, 1925, pp. 1–126. Paul the Silentiary, Descriptio Ecclesiae Sanctae Sophiae, in Patrologia Graeca, vol. 86.2, cols. 2119–58. Pliny the Elder, Natural History, trans. D.E. Eichholz, The Loeb Classical Library 419, 10 vols., London, Cambridge, Mass., 1962, vol. 10, books 36–37. Prudentius, Peristephanon Liber, in Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum, vol. 61, pp. 291–431. Sedulius Scotus, Carmina, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Poetae Latini aevi Carolini, vol. 3, Berlin, 1896, pp. 151–237. Sidonius Apollinaris, Epistulae, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Auctores Antiquissimi, vol. 8, Berlin, 1887, pp. 1–172. Sidonius Apollinaris, Epistulae Books 1– 2, trans. W.B. Anderson, in The Loeb Classical Library 296, Cambridge, Mass., 1936. Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, ed. and trans. C.R. Dodwell, Theophilus. The Various Arts, London, 1961. Urkunden Karls des Grossen, 279, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: die Urkunden der Karolinger, vol. 1, Hannover, 1906, pp. 414–16. Venantius Fortunatus, De Ecclesia Parisiaca, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Auctores Antiquissimi, vol. 4.1, Berlin, 1881, pp. 39–40. Venantius Fortunatus, In honore eorum, quorum ibi reliquiae continentur, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Auctores Antiquissimi, vol. 4.1, Berlin, 1881, pp. 56–58. Venantius Fortunatus, Versus ad ecclesiam Toronicam quae per Gregorium episcopum renovata est, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Auctores Antiquissimi, vol. 4.1, Berlin, 1881, pp. 234–38. Vita S. Filiberti Abb. Gemeticensis et Heriensis, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, vol. 5, Hannover, 1910, pp. 583–606. Vita Wilfridi episcopi Eboracensis, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, vol. 6, Hannover, 1913, pp. 193–263.
Vita III. S. Liudgeri, ed. W. Diekamp, Die Geschichtsquellen des Bistums Münster, vol. 4, Münster, 1881, pp. 85–134. Vitruvius, On Architecture, trans. F.S. Granger, The Loeb Classical Library, 251 and 280, 2 vols., Cambridge, Mass., 1931–1934.
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33 Dell’Acqua, F. and Silva, R. (eds.), La vetrata in Occidente dal IV all’XI secolo. Atti delle giornate di studi, Lucca (Il colore nel Medioevo. Arte Simbolo Tecnica. Collana di studi sul colore, 3), Lucca, 2001. Didron, A., “Histoire de la peinture sur verre”, Annales archéologiques 23 (1863), 45–60. Eder, G., Licht und Raumform in der spätantiken Hallen architektur, in W.-D. Heilmeyer and W. Hoepfner (eds.), Licht und Architektur. Schriften des Seminars für klassische Archäologie der Freien Universität Berlin, Tübingen, 1990, pp. 131–41. Éméric-David, T.B., Discours historiques sur la peinture mo derne: premier discours, renfermant l’histoire abrégé de cet art, depuis Constantin jusqu’au commencement du 13e siècle, Paris, 1812. Éméric-David, T.B., Histoire de la peinture au Moyen Âge, Pa ris, 1852. Foy, D. (ed.), De transparentes spéculations. Vitres de l’Antiquité et du Haut Moyen Âge (Occident-Orient), Bavay, 2005. Foy, D. and Nenna, M.- D., Tout feu tout sable. Mille ans de verre antique dans le Midi de la France (Exhibition catalogue: Musée d’Histoire de Marseille), Aix- en- Provence, 2001. Freestone, I.C., “Composition and microstructure of early opaque red glass”, in M. Bimson and I.C. Freestone, Early Vitreous Materials (British Museum Occasional Papers, 56), London, 1987, pp. 173–91. Freestone, I.C., “Glass production in Late Antiquity and the Early Islamic period: a geochemical perspective”, in M. Maggetti and B. Messiga (eds.), Geomaterials in Cultural Heritage (Geological Society of London Special Publication, 257), London, 2008, pp. 201–16. Freestone, I.C., “Pliny on Roman glassmaking”, in M. Martinón- Torres and Th. Rehren (eds.), Archaeology, History and Science: Integrating Approaches to Ancient Materials (University College London, Institute of Archaeology Publications), Walnut Creek CA, 2008, pp. 77–100. Freestone, I.C., Gorin-Rosen, Y., and Hughes, M., “Primary glass from Israel and the production of glass in Late Antiquity and the Early Islamic period”, in M.-D. Nenna (ed.), La Route du Verre (Travaux de la Maison de l’Orient méditerranéen, 33), Lyon, 2000, pp. 65–84. Freestone, I.C., and Hughes, M.J., “Origins of the Jarrow glass”, in R. Cramp (ed.), Wearmouth and Jarrow Monastic Sites, vol. 2, Swindon, 2006, pp. 147–55. Friedländer, P. (ed.), Johannes von Gaza, Paulus Silentiarius und Prokopios von Gaza: Kunstbeschreibungen, Leipzig, 1912. Gatouillat, F., “Découverte de fragments de vitraux de l’abbatiale de Saint-Denis”, Cahiers de la Rotonde 17 (1996), 151–61. Gearhart, H., Theophilus and the Theory and Practice of Medieval Art, University Park, PA, 2017. Grünewald, M. and Hartmann, S., “Glass workshops in Northern Gaul and the Rhineland in the first Millenium AD as
34 Dell’Acqua hints of a changing land use –including some results of the chemical analyses of glass from Mayen”, in D. Keller, J. Price, and C. Jackson (eds.), Neighbours and Successors of Rome. Traditions of Glass Production and Use in Europe and the Middle East in the Later 1st Millenium AD, Oxford, 2014, pp. 43–57. Günter, R., Wand, Fenster und Licht in der spätantik- frühchristlichen Architektur, inaugural Dissertation, Munich, 1965. Günter, R., Wand, Fenster und Licht in der Trierer Palastaula und in spätantiken Bauten, Herford, 1968. Hediger, C. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “[…] et faciunt inde tabulas saphiri pretiosas ac satis utiles in fenestris. Die Farbe Blau in der ‘Schedula’ und in der Glasmalerei von 1100– 1250”, in A. Speer (ed.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst. Die ‘Schedula Diversarum Artium’ (Miscellanea mediaevalia, 37), Berlin, 2014, pp. 256–73. Hediger, C. and Schiffhauer, A., “Werkstoff Glas. Überlegungen zur Materialität von Glasmalerei in Moderne und Mittelalter”, Kunst und Architektur in der Schweiz 58-4 (2007), 15–23. Ibrahim, L., Scranton, S., and Brill, R., Kenchreai, Eastern Port of Corinth, vol. 2, The Panels of Opus Sectile Glass, Leiden, 1976. Israeli, Y., “The invention of blowing”, in M. Newby and K. Painter (eds.), Roman Glass. Two Centuries of Art and Invention (Occasional Papers from the Society of Antiquaries of London, 1), London, 1991, pp. 46–55. Ivanovici, V., “Windows and church space in early medieval Byzantium and the West”, Opuscula historiae artium 62 (2013), 38–47. Ivanovici, V., Manipulating Theophany. Light and Ritual in North Adriatic Architecture (ca. 400-ca.800) (Ekstasis, 6), Berlin, 2016. Kessler, H.L., Old St Peter’s and Church Decoration in Medieval Italy (Collectanea, Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 17), Spoleto, 2002. Kessler, C.M., Wolf, S., and Trümpler, S., “Die frühesten Zeugen ornamentaler Glasmalerei aus der Schweiz: die frühmittelalterlichen Fensterglasfunde von Sion, Sous-le-Scex”, Zeitschrift für schweizerische Archäologie und Kunstge schichte 62-1 (2005), 1–30. Köhler, J.T., “Basilika und Thermenfenster. Die Verwendung des Lichts in der Architektur der Spätantike”, in W.-D. Heilmeyer and W. Hoepfner (eds.), Licht und Architektur. Schriften des Seminars für klassische Archäologie der Freien Universität Berlin, Tübingen, 1990, pp. 123–30. Kunicki-Goldfinger, J.J., Freestone, I.C., McDonald, I., Hobot, J.A., Gilderdale-Scott, H., and Ayers, T., “Technology, production and chronology of red window glass in the Medieval period –rediscovery of a lost technology”, Journal of Archaeological Science 41 (2014), 89–105. Laiou, A.E. and Morrisson, C., The Byzantine Economy (Cambridge Medieval Textbooks), Cambridge, 2007.
Le Maho, J., “Note sur les fragments de vitraux carolingiens de la cathedrale de Rouen (France)”, Bulletin des Amis des Monuments Rouennais (1992–93), 39–43. Lübke, W., Über die alten Glasgemälde der Schweiz, Zürich, 1866. Macrides, R. and Magdalino, P., “The architecture of Ekphrasis: construction and context of Paul the Silentiary’s poem on Hagia Sophia”, Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 12 (1988), 47–82. Mango, C., The Art of the Byzantine Empire 312–1453, Prentice Hall, 1972. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England During the Middle Ages, London, 1993. Megaw, A.H.S., “Notes on recent work of the Byzantine Institute in Istanbul”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 17 (1963), 333–71. Meyer, C., “Crown window panes: Constantinian or Justinianic?”, in A. Leonard, Jr. and B.B. Williams (eds.), Essays in Ancient Civilization Presented to Helene J. Kantor (Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization (SAOC), 47), Chicago, 1989, pp. 213–19. Meyer, O., Meyer, N., and Wyss, M., “Un atelier d’orfèvre- émailleur recémment découvert à Saint-Denis”, Cahiers Archéologiques 38 (1990), 81–94. Meyer, N. and Wyss, M., “Des moules à plombs de vitraux découvertes à Saint- Denis”, Bulletin monumental 149-1 (1991), 104–06. Meyer-Rodriguez, N. and Wyss, M. (eds.), Atlas historique de Saint-Denis. Des origines au XVIIIe siècle. Archéologie preventive (Documents d’Archéologie française, 59), Paris, 1996. Newby, M., “The glass from Farfa Abbey: an interim report”, Journal of Glass Studies 33 (1991), 32–41. Nordhoff, J.B., “Die ältere Glasmalerei. Notizen”, Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft 3–4 (1880), 459–62. Oidtmann, H., Die Glasmalerei, 2 vols, Cologne, 1892–98. Paolucci, F., Catalogue entries 700–28, in P. Angiolini Martinelli (ed.), La basilica di San Vitale a Ravenna (Collana Mirabilia Italiae, 6), Modena, 1997, pp. 247–50. Roberts, M., The Jeweled Style. Poetry and Poetics in Late Antiquity, Ithaca, 1989. Schöne, W., Über das Licht in der Malerei, Berlin, 1954. Speciale, L. and Torriero Nardone, G., “Sicut nunc cernitus satis pulcherimam construxit: la basilica e gli affreschi desideriani di S. Benedetto a Capua”, Arte Medievale 9-2 (1995), 87–103. Stern, E.M., “Roman glassblowing in a cultural context”, American Journal of Archaeology 103-3 (1999), 441–84. Szöke, B.M., Wedepohl, K.H., and Kronz, A., “Silver stained windows at Carolingian Zalavar, Mosaburg (southwestern Hungary)”, Journal of Glass Studies 46 (2004), 85–104. Wahlen, P., “A propos d’un verre peint trouvé à Alésia (Cote- d’Or)”, in Balcon-Berry, Perrot, and Sapin (eds.), Vitrail, verre et archéologie, pp. 63–64.
Early History of Stained Glass Webb, R., “The aesthetics of sacred space. Narrative, metaphor, and motion in ekphraseis of church buildings”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 53 (1999), 59–74. Westlake, N.H.J., A History of Design in Painted Glass, London, 1881. Whitby, M., “The occasion of Paul the Silentiary’s ekphrasis of S. Sophia”, The Classical Quarterly 35-1 (1985), 215–28. Whitehouse, D., “Window-glass between the first and the eighth centuries”, in Dell’Acqua and Silva (eds.), La vetrata in Occidente, pp. 31–43.
35 Wolf, S., Kessler, C.M., Stern, W.B., and Gerber, Y., “The composition and manufacture of early medieval coloured window glass from Sion (Valais, Switzerland) –a Roman glass- making tradition or innovative craftsmanship?”, Archaeometry 47-2 (2005), 361–80. Worman, N., Landscape and the Spaces of Metaphor in Ancient Literary Theory and Criticism, Cambridge, 2015.
c hapter 3
Longing for the Heavens: Romanesque Stained Glass in the Plantagenet Domain Anne Granboulan 1
Overview of Romanesque Stained Glass
The term “Romanesque” was coined to characterize the arts of the 11th and 12th centuries in Europe, the term appearing first in France and England, in 1818 and 1819 respectively, and then in the German territories in the 1830s. However, the first Romanesque stained-glass windows preserved in situ only date to the first quarter of the 12th century, although they are highly accomplished and thus attest to extensive prior experience in the medium of glass. The extant windows are mainly found in France,1 in the Holy Roman Empire,2 and in England,3 and hail from prestigious buildings such as cathedrals and abbeys, but also from small parish churches.4 The mastery with which these windows were conceived and executed was the result of many centuries of craftsmanship, a lost heritage of glazing only known to us through textual evidence and archeological remains. But thanks to recent scholarship on texts from the 4th to the 11th centuries that discuss glass, and to archeological excavations conducted over the last few decades, we now have more reliable evidence, which affords us substantially greater insight into the types and appearance of lost stained-glass windows.5 The first stained-glass windows with figures probably did not appear before the mid-8th century, replacing simple colored windows, some of which, by the 7th and 8th centuries, depicted “identifiable shapes … without paint.”6 The oldest text describing how to manufacture glass and create stained-glass windows was written towards the late 11th century or early 12th century. The famous treatise entitled De diversis artibus was written by the
1 Grodecki, “Des origines à la fin du XIIe siècle”; id et al.., Le vitrail roman; Mâle, Religious Art in France. 2 Kurmann-Schwarz, “Le vitrail du XIIe siècle dans le Saint-Empire”. 3 Marks, Stained Glass in England, pp. 113–21. 4 Granboulan, “De la paroisse à la cathédrale”; Marks, “Glazing in the Romanesque parish church”; O’Connor, “Twelfth- century stained glass in Easby parish church”. 5 Dell’Acqua, “Illuminando colorat”; see Dell’Acqua, Ch. 2 in this volume; and Balcon-Berry, Perrot, and Sapin (eds.), Vitrail, verre, et archéologie. 6 Dell’Acqua, “Entre fantaisie et archéologie”, p. 17.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 05
German monk Theophilus and described the stages in creating a stained-glass window, according to the techniques still in use today.7 This process began with glass colored in the mass (“pot-metal glass”), was then cut into pieces following a detailed design, and then leaded into panels making up the window.8 It is a work from the end of the 11th century –the famous head from the excavations at the abbey of Lorsch that now survives only in fragments –which begins the series of extant stained-glass panels. These examples may be constituted or reconstituted, preserved in situ, or no longer in context. For a long time this enigmatic head was attributed to the Carolingian era, but was recently redated to a later period, like the equally well- known Wissembourg Head, now dated to the end of the 12th century, but which had previously been attributed to the 11th century.9 The famous Prophets from Augsburg Cathedral had for a long time been thought of as the oldest stained-glass windows in Europe. They were dated to the early 12th century and inaugurated the series of monumental stained-glass windows that remain in situ there. The dating of the five remaining windows – which survive from the original group of 22 and consist of large figures that stand in rigorously frontal poses – has been recently revised by Rüdiger Becksmann. His historical, iconographic, and stylistic studies of the artistic milieu in the Holy Roman Empire enabled him to attribute them to the rebuilding of the cathedral in Augsburg, after its destruction in 1132.10 The Germanic realm offers other important but fragmentary evidence for 12th-century stained-glass windows in the region;11 the most notable coming from the cathedral of Strasbourg,12 from Saint-Patroclus in Soest,13 and also the panels 7
Theophilus, The Various Arts, ed. Dodwell; see also Kurmann- Schwarz, Ch. 20 in this volume. 8 See Brown, Ch. 1 on making a window, in this volume. 9 Becksmann, “Vor und frühromanische Glasmalerei”; Borlée, “Fragments de vitraux”. 10 Becksmann, “Die Augsburger Propheten”. 11 Becksmann, Deutsche Glasmalerei des Mittelalters, pp. 39–56. 12 Kurmann-Schwarz, “Les vitraux du chœur et du transept”, pp. 225–79. 13 Korn, “Das Wurzel-Jesse-Fenster von St. Patrokli in Soest”.
37
Longing for the Heavens
from the Premonstratensian church of Arnstein an der Lahn.14 In England, Romanesque stained-glass windows are known mainly thanks to the series preserved in Canterbury Cathedral. The oldest remains from its glazing program can be dated to 1170 and are related to stained-glass windows in Reims.15 But in England too, archeological evidence has confirmed the existence of a long tradition of glazing.16 The most extensive heritage of stained glass in Europe is found in France. This glass is also the most diverse in its forms of expression. Thus, the study of French glazing cycles enables us to fully grasp both the specifics as well as the extraordinary richness of Romanesque stained-glass windows. The extant works range in date throughout the 12th century, and extend geographically over a large part of French territories. The achievements reflected in these windows were due to highly favorable political, economic, and religious conditions.17 The series, which for a long time was thought to be the origin of all subsequent glazing programs, is the distinctive stained glass from the Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis near Paris. The west facade block at Saint-Denis is precisely dated to 1140, and to 1144 for the choir glazing, as documented by Abbot Suger. The Saint-Denis windows, both those in situ as well as those in collections in Europe and America, have been extensively studied, especially by Louis Grodecki, who devoted a quarter of a century to researching them.18 In overseeing the large reconstruction of the abbey, Suger wrote that he had to call upon master craftsmen from different countries, who sometimes collaborated on the same window, and whose individual hands can be identified.19 The very learned and complex iconographic program of the windows was part of the renovation of the abbey sought by Suger and inspired by the writings of Hugh of Saint- Victor.20 14
Kurmann-Schwarz, “Le vitrail du XIIe siècle dans le Saint- Empire”, pp. 122–26, with further bibliography; Parello, “Fünf Felder eines typologischen Zyklus aus Arnstein”, pp. 23–39. 15 Caviness, The Early Stained Glass of Canterbury Cathedral; ead., The Windows of Christ Church Cathedral, Canterbury; Heslop, “Saint Anselm and the visual arts”. 16 Cramp, “Window glass from the British Isles.” 17 Kurmann-Schwarz and Lautier, “L’essor d’un art: le vitrail roman”, p. 49. 18 Grodecki, Les vitraux de Saint-Denis; id., Étude sur les vitraux de Suger; Lautier, “Les vitraux de Saint-Denis”, with further bibliography; Balcon-Berry, “Nouveau regard sur le Signum Tau”. 19 Cothren, “Suger’s stained glass masters”. 20 Gasparri, “Le programme iconographique”; Rudolph, “Inventing the exegetical stained-glass window”; and Speer, “Lux mirabilis et continua”.
The three great western windows of Chartres Cathedral, glazed c.1150, are considered in many respects to be the direct filiation of the windows from Saint-Denis,21 their daughters, so to speak. In these terms though, the other early window from Chartres, the iconic Virgin, from the window known as the “Belle-Verrière”, made before 1137 and inserted in a 13th-century window, is stylistically something of an orphan.22 In the 12th century the rich and powerful comital territory of Champagne also manifests great vitality in its art, which is closely related to art from the Mosan region, and belongs to an antiquising revival in the North. This is evident at the cathedral in Châlons around 1140,23 at the abbey of Saint-Remi in Reims c.1170–80,24 and in Troyes, the economic and cultural capital of Count Henry the Liberal, with its stained glass, which today is no longer in its original setting but dispersed among collections.25 Further south, the Rhone Valley and the Auvergne region also have ensembles of 12th-century glazing, in which the influence of the art of Cluny may be observed.26 Finally, western France offers for our consideration a collection of Romanesque stained- glass windows, the oldest dating to the first quarter of the 12th century, the most recent to the 1190s. All of these glazing ensembles are located in the Plantagenet domain, in the lands of Geoffrey V le Bel called Plantagenet, count of Anjou from 1129 to 1151 –including Anjou, Maine and the regions around Tours –as well as the Poitou region attached to it, thanks to the marriage of Henry ii Plantagenet to Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1152.27 Most of these western French works are still in situ, some in their original buildings, others displaced or reused in reconstructions. Be they in prestigious monuments (such as the cathedrals in Le Mans, Angers and Poitiers, and the abbey church of Vendôme) or in rural church parishes, such as 21
Lautier, “Les vitraux romans de la cathédrale de Chartres”, with further bibliography; and Fassler, “Mary’s nativity, Fulbert of Chartres, and the Stirps Jesse”. 22 Bouchon, “Le vitrail de Notre-Dame de la Belle-Verrière”, with further bibliography; Lautier, “Le contexte gothique d’une icône romane silhouettée”; and Shepard, “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”. 23 Grodecki, “La restauration des vitraux du XIIe siècle pro venant de la cathédrale de Châlons- sur- Marne”; Lillich, “Remembrance of things past”; and Lecocq, “Verrières, vitreries et vitraux mosans”. 24 Caviness, Sumptuous Arts. 25 Pastan, “Fit for a count”; Boulanger, “Troyes. Découverte d’un panneau”; Balcon- Berry, “De l’église aux collections”; and Pastan, “J. Pierpont Morgan”. 26 Brisac, “The Romanesque window at Le Champs-près-Froges”; and Boulanger, “Clermont-Ferrand, cathédrale Notre-Dame”. 27 Bautier, “Conclusion”, pp. 140–47.
38 Granboulan Les Essards (Indre-et-Loire), Chemillé sur Indrois (Indre- et-Loire), or Chenu (Sarthe; this glass is now to be found in Rivenhall, England), the windows all issue from the same artistic milieu, with only a few exceptions. Their links with mural painting, and above all with manuscript illuminations from the mid-Loire basin of the 11th and 12th centuries, can be seen in their style as well as iconography. All these windows also exhibit outstanding technical characteristics, in their mastery of glass cutting, in their coloration, and in their very graphic style of paint handling. The study of this western group of glass allows us to follow the circulation of models of design, as well as the glass-painting workshops themselves. Further, the subjects depicted and their manner of presentation are instructive as to the function of stained-glass windows within a building and offer evidence for contemporary spirituality. These observations, and the conclusions that one can reach by means of this ensemble, mean that this western French stained glass offers an exceptional “case study” for Romanesque stained glass more generally. This ensemble of stained glass shows the coherence of its artistic milieu, both in the ability to conceive as well as to produce fine works of art, whether intended for prestigious or minor buildings; also, more broadly, this glass shows the links between the pictorial arts at a given time and place. After briefly discussing the present state of knowledge on stained-glass windows in the West before 1100, we will then continue by putting the main preserved series into chronological perspective, before and after 1150. Each series will be analyzed with a view to highlighting the material characteristics associated with their technique and style, but also the spiritual, liturgical and even political functions invoked by the iconography, all elements that enable us to understand the nature and history of Romanesque stained-glass windows. 2 The Weight of the Lost Legacy: Stained- Glass Windows in the West Before 1100 Before 1100, the mid-Loire basin already had a number of religious establishments that contributed to a thriving and especially productive arts community. Abbeys such as Saint-Martin in Tours, Saint-Benoît in Fleury, Saint-Aubin in Angers, La Trinité in Vendôme or Saint- Savin in Saint-Savin sur Gartempe, and the episcopal sees in Tours, Le Mans, Angers, and Poitiers were flourishing architectural and pictorial creative centers, with constant exchanges among them. For this reason, even if nothing survives from before the first quarter of the 12th century, we have to inquire into the earlier glazing of these prestigious buildings.
The oldest extant written source on stained-glass windows in the area was by Gregory of Tours, the bishop of Tours, who died in 594. It relays the story of the thief who smashed the windows and melted them down from the church of Yzeures-sur-Creuse in order to extract the gold he believed to be contained in the stained glass.28 In his Historia Francorum Gregory again mentions broken stained glass in the basilica of Saint-Martin in Tours, another case of a burglary.29 In the 10th century, the leading of the stained-glass windows was melted in a fire at the church of Sainte-Marie in the monastery at Fleury, as relayed in the Miraculi sancti Benedicti.30 There are a few more textual sources from the late 11th century. Hoël, bishop at Le Mans from 1085 to 1096, had the choir and transepts of the cathedral glazed:
“Sed et cancellum, quod ejus antecessor construxerat, pavimento decoravit et celo; vitreas quoque, per ipsum cancellum perque cruces circumquaque, laudabili sed sumptuosa nimium artis varietate disponens”.31
He had the choir built by his predecessor paved; he also had placed around the choir and the transepts, stained- glass windows of tremendous variety, sumptuously made and executed with remarkable skill. Unfortunately, there is no detail about the nature of these windows apart from the reports of their magnificence. Around the same time, c.1100, one S. Wilelmus, vitrarius signed a charter between the monks of the abbey of Saint-Vincent in Le Mans and the canons of the cathedral.32 At the same time, a Lisorius vitrearius is mentioned in the church of La Trinité in Vendôme.33 At Saint- Aubin in Angers, Abbot Gérard (1082–1108) signed an agreement with a layman called Foulque to have mural paintings and stained-glass windows made for his abbey:
“Quidam
homo nomine Fulco, pictoris arte imbutus, venit in capitulum Sancti Albini ante Girardum abbatem et totum conventum, et ibi fecit talem convenentiam: pinget totum monasterium illorum et quicquid ei preceperint et vitreas fenestras faciet.”34 28 29
Gregory of Tours, De Gloria Martyrum, 1.59 (PL 71, col. 759). Gregory of Tours, Historia Francorum, 6.10 (eds. and trans. Guadet and Taranne, p. 398). 30 Miracula sancti Benedicti, ed. de Certain, p. 129. 31 Actus Pontificum Cenomannis, eds. Busson and Ledru, p. 383. 32 Hildebert, Opera omnia, PL 171, col. 321. 33 Cartulaire de l’abbaye cardinale de la Trinité de Vendôme, ed. Métais, vol. 2, no. 338. 34 Cartulaire de Saint-Aubin d’Angers, ed. Bertrand de Broussillon, vol. 2, no. 408.
39
Longing for the Heavens
A man called Foulque, expert in the art of painting, presented himself to Abbot Gerard and the whole community in the chapter room of Saint-Aubin, and committed himself to: painting the whole monastery, performing all the required work he was assigned and making stained- glass windows. In parallel to these literary sources, archeology provides further information as to the use of stained glass in the mid-Loire basin between the 5th and 11th centuries. Excavations conducted on the sites of the Saint-Martin cloister and of the castle in Tours unearthed colored and painted window glass, as well as window leading, in strata from the Middle Ages and from the High Middle Ages. The oldest glass was from the basilica consecrated in 471, and the most recent from the residence of the counts of Anjou, which was built during the second half of the 11th century.35 One can see how the techniques had changed, because the earlier glass used soda as a flux, while after the 8th century it was made with potash. Some panes had traces of paint. Other fragments of Romanesque stained glass were found during the excavations in the nave of the basilica of Saint-Martin.36 These finds offer precious early evidence of the existence of stained-glass windows in the Tours metropolis, even though no stained-glass window prior to the 13th century has survived. Conversely, Maine and Anjou, which conserve numerous remains of 12th-century glass in situ, have very little archeological material. Campaigns of excavations on the sites of the Fontevraud Abbey, Saint-Florent in Saumur, and Saint-Martin in Angers have produced a few rare fragments of the 12th century but nothing before that date.37 In Poitou, elements of colored glass, also from the 12th century, were found in the 19th century under the paving of the axial chapel in the crypt of the abbey of Saint-Savin.38 So little is known of the art of stained glass in the Loire region before 1100. Rather paradoxically, although Tours was a great Carolingian center for book illumination, little is known about the development of other arts there.39 35 36 37 38
39
Motteau, “Le verre dans la construction”; id., “Évolution du verre à vitre en Indre-et-Loire”. Lelong, “La nef de Saint-Martin de Tours”, p. 216. Excavations directed by D. Prigent in the years 1980–90, which have not been published. Fragments of drapery and ornament conserved at the Musée de Poitiers and identified by K. Boulanger. See Longuemar, “Restauration de l’ancienne crypte de l’église de Saint-Savin”. For an idea of how the Carolingian stained glass may have appeared, see: Le Maho and Langlois, “Aux origines de l’art du vitrail”; Dell’Acqua and James, “The window glass.” Meyer- Rodrigues, “Moules à plomb et vitraux carolingiens”; and Kessler, Wolf, and Trümpler, “Leuchtende Fenster”.
3 The Oldest Stained-Glass Windows and their Characteristics The oldest stained-glass windows in the Plantagenet domain date to the first half of the 12th century. These include: the Virgin and apostles, in the lower rows of a fragmentary Ascension window (Figure 3.1), and a panel featuring the Dream of the Magi, probably saved from an Infancy window, both from Le Mans Cathedral c.1120.40 There is also a very small Calvary from the parish church of the Les Essards c.1125 (Figure 3.2);41 and finally there is a Virgin and Child from the abbey of La Trinité in Vendôme c.1130 (Figure 3.3).42 These windows are contemporaneous and preserved in situ, but they were reinstalled following the reconstruction of their original buildings. The Ascension from Le Mans and the Virgin in Vendôme were both heralded for their technical, pictorial, and iconographical qualities in the early days of the study of stained glass in the 19th century, and have been reproduced many times, as they were considered exemplary testimony of the virtuosity of Romanesque stained glass from the first half of the 12th century. As we will see, the history of these windows is also instructive as to the role of stained glass in the collective memory of the communities they were designed for. The small stained-glass window at Les Essards (0.50 × 0.29 m) and the monumental panels of the Ascension in Le Mans (1.68 × 1.16 m) are very closely related in spite of their difference in scale: the figures in the Le Mans window are twice as large as those at Les Essards (see Figs. 3.1 and 3.2). They offer evidence of dazzling expertise in the coloring of glass, as may be seen in the play between the luminous blues and deep reds,43 in their balanced compositions, the elegance and dynamism of 40
41
42
43
Stained glass installed in a window of the southern aisle of the nave: Brisac, “Vitraux du XIIe siècle,” p. 62; Granboulan, “De la paroisse à la cathédrale”, pp. 48–50; Grodecki, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale du Mans”, pp. 65–66; and Grodecki, Le vitrail roman, pp. 57–70. Granboulan, “Aperçus sur le vitrail en Touraine au XIIe siècle”; ead, “De la paroisse à la cathédrale”, pp. 43–49; Hayward, “The Redemption windows of the Loire Valley”; and Raguin, “Two medieval crucifixions in glass”. Stained glass installed in the eastern window of the axial chapel of the choir: Granboulan, “La Vierge de Vendôme et le vitrail au XIIe siècle”; Lautier, “Le vitrail de la première moitié du XIIe siècle”, pp. 35, 248. This blue glass, made of soda and thus unpatinated, is characteristic of Romanesque glass west of the Rhine, with the blues of the western façade of the cathedral of Chartres the best- known example: see Bettembourg, “Problèmes de la conservation”, pp. 8–9.
40 Granboulan the poses, the finesse of the arched silhouettes, and the powerful graphic handling of line. A more technical detail, the delicate cutting within the same pane of glass of the face and hand of the Virgin from Essards (as well as the cut of the tapered edge of her blue gown), is so precise, even in this small scale, that it testifies to an extraordinary mastery of glass making. This same technical mastery is likewise found throughout the glazing at Le Mans. Again, we can see this in the design of draperies and faces rendered only by trace lines, and the ironed aspect of the fan-shaped fall of drapery. There is also the precision of contours with thick opaque outlines doubled by finer and more diluted painted striations, according to a technique that differs from the three different gradations of shading recommended by Theophilus.44 The style is close to that of illuminations in Le Mans during the first quarter of the 12th century, inherited from the pictorial tradition of the second half of the 11th century in the Poitou and the Loire basin.45 Two books dated 1120 from Le Mans are perfect examples of this. In them we see the elegant attitudes of the elongated and arched figures, the linear drawing style without shading, and the volumes suggested by parallel thick and thin linear striations. There is also the same drawing conventions for faces, with the joining of the lips and the notched eyebrows. We see repeated as well the drapery with its graceful curved lines for torso, sleeves and knees, and straight lines, as if ironed, that unfold down the limbs.46 The Ascension in Le Mans and the Calvary for Les Essards were probably realized by the same workshop and produced for the same patron, Hildebert de Lavardin, bishop of Le Mans from 1096 to 1125, and then archbishop of Tours until 1132. It is known that he had stained-glass windows made for the chapter room of the cathedral.47 The Ascension may have been created for the dedication of the cathedral in 1120, and the stained-glass window at Les Essards after c.1125 for the small rural parish in the diocese of Tours at the request of the archbishop. The stained-glass window in Vendôme (Figure 3.3) belongs to the same milieu and the same pictorial 44 Theophilus, The Various Arts, ed. Dodwell, chapter 20 (De coloribus tribus ad lumina in vitro), p. 50; see also Kurmann- Schwarz, Ch. 20 in this volume. 45 Avril, “Les arts de la couleur”, p. 164. 46 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, ms latin 2325, Isidorus hispalensis, Mysticorum expositiones sacramentorum, Le Mans, La Couture, c.1120–1130, f. 96v: http://mandragore .bnf.fr/jsp/rechercheExperte.jsp (last accessed 22 October 2018); Pierpont Morgan Library, ms Glazier 17, Missal, Le Mans, c.1100–1120, f. 24v: http://ica.themorgan.org/manuscript/page/2/76952 (last accessed 22 October 2018). 47 Grodecki, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale du Mans”, p. 60.
tradition, recognizable through the alliance of the luminous blue soda glass and deep red, and the equilibrium of the composition, and technique of applying fine and precise grisaille trace lines without shading. But the grand subject –of the Virgin in majesty, Majestas Mariae, hieratic in a bejeweled mandorla supported by four angels –is more static in presentation. This image was probably made c.1130 for the Romanesque abbey in Abbot Geoffrey’s time (1096–1132); a portrait of the abbot, illuminated in this same period, is very close in style to the stained glass.48 Like the learned theologian and noted writer Hildebert, Geoffrey was also a patron of the arts and had the abbey embellished.49 The Calvary at Les Essards, the Ascension in Le Mans, and the Virgin in Vendôme (Figures. 3.1–3.3) are three older medieval windows which were reintroduced into their surroundings after destruction and rebuilding. Their subjects, their origins, the reputation of their patrons (Hildebert of Lavardin and Geoffrey of Vendôme) and the quality of their execution, lead us to reflect on why they were reused in the later buildings. Reasons for their reuse might include: economics, devotions, liturgy, and the spiritual continuity of the site. The contexts for the reuse of this older glass at each of these three sites are different. In Les Essards, the church was reworked several times: the nave dates to the 11th century, and the choir was built c.1220 in the Gothic style of Angers, probably to replace a cramped choir of the 11th century with small, round-arched windows. The Calvary of Les Essards (Figure 3.2) was probably in the axial window above the altar, where the liturgy of the Mass took place. Since it had been in place for over a hundred years and was given by a high-ranking personage, economy probably joined with devotion in the decision to retain it. In addition, as Mary Shepard has argued for the “belle-verrière” windows in Chartres and Vendôme, the retention of the earlier window demonstrates the continuity between the past and the present.50 Fires devastated the Romanesque choir of Le Mans Cathedral in 1134 and 1137, which was restored and then rebuilt in the 1220s. The Ascension window lacks its upper portion, with Christ taken up into heaven (Figure 3.1), and it is also missing the wide ornamental border characteristic of Romanesque stained-glass windows. Given the importance of the site, the window was undoubtedly 48
49 50
Bibliothèque municipale, ms. 0193, Gaufridus Vindocinensis, Opera, Vendôme, c.1130, f. 2v, dedication page: http://www .enluminures.culture.fr/documentation/enlumine/fr/rechexperte_00.htm (last accessed 22 October 2018). For the frescoes from the chapter room, see: Toubert, “Les fresques de la Trinité de Vendôme”. Shepard, “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”.
41
Longing for the Heavens
preserved more as a testament to the antiquity and prestige of the episcopal seat of Le Mans than for economic reasons. As for the “Belle-Verrière” in Vendôme (Figure 3.3), the venerable icon is displayed in a precious jeweled mandorla as if in a reliquary shrine; it was put aside and preserved when the abbey was rebuilt after 1270. As Shepard has noted, devotion to the cult image, in Vendôme as in Chartres, “fostered a perception of a line unbroken between the old and new phases of their respective churches.”51 The pictorial tradition, which had been deeply rooted in the Plantagenet territories since the 11th century, lasted until the years 1180–90. As we shall see, after the later 12th century both techniques and styles were changing, progressively modifying the appearance of stained-glass windows in western France. 4 After 1150 The three oriental windows of the flat terminal eastern arm in the chevet of the cathedral of Saint-Pierre of Poitiers mark the natural beginning of the study of Plantagenet stained-glass windows in the second half of the 12th century.52 Like the Ascension in Le Mans, the Calvary from Les Essards, and the Virgin in Vendôme, they were commissioned by illustrious donors, which at Poitiers is attested by the images of the kneeling patrons at the bottom of the central window: Henry ii Plantagenet and Eleanor of Aquitaine. Roughly dated c.1165, the stained- glass of the Saint-Pierre windows have been left in their original setting.53 To the windows of the Poitiers region can be added a few works with a common style and iconography, which allows us to designate a group of works, which, after 1150, pursued the tradition of the workshop that produced the Ascension in Le Mans. This group includes the panels from Le Mans Cathedral –mainly St. Peter freed from his chains; the miracle of St. Julien, bishop of Le Mans; and three episodes of the legend of Saints Gervais and Protais –as well as two windows from more modest buildings, namely Chemillé-sur-Indrois and Chenu. An examination of these examples will 51 52
53
Shepard, “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”, p. 296. For the windows at Saint-Pierre of Poitiers, see: http://ndoduc .free.fr/vitraux//htm8/eg_[email protected] (last accessed 22 October 2018). Boulanger, “Poitiers, vitrail de la Crucifixion”; ead, “La verrière de la Crucifixion de la cathédrale de Poitiers”; Granboulan, “Le vitrail au XIIe siècle dans le domaine Plantagenêt,” pp. 251– 55; Grodecki, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Poitiers”; and Raguin, “The architectural and glazing context of Poitiers Cathedral”.
provide us with an overview of stained-glass windows in the Plantagenet domain. 4.1 Poitiers and Le Mans The central Crucifixion window in the chevet of Poitiers evokes the redemption of Christ by means of the Incarnation (Figure 3.4). The window was framed on the south by a window of the history of St. Peter, patron saint of the cathedral, and on the north by St. Lawrence, to whom the altar under the window was dedicated. These two lateral narratives, which are composed of seven registers of medallions superimposed on one another and enclosed in wide decorative borders, are much reworked. However, the central window still retains its original, 12th-century appearance, despite some minor modifications; for example, in the scene of donation at the bottom of the window, while the donors themselves and their gestures are original, the small lancet presented by the donors is not.54 The large composition (8.50 × 3.10 m) of this window is divided into three horizontal registers: in the center on a very large scale, Christ on a red cross is between the Virgin and St. John, Longinus and Stephaton; at the top in a smaller scale, Christ in Glory stands upright in a mandorla carried by two angels, which is borne above the apostles and Virgin, who are divided into two groups separated by the upper arm of the cross, and turn to watch Christ; in this way, the scenes of the Crucifixion and Ascension merge together. In the lower register, on an even smaller scale, a quatrefoil features several subjects: at the top the Visit of the Three Marys to the Sepulcher, which is an image of the Resurrection; in the center the martyrdoms of Saints Peter and Paul; and at the corners the resurrection of the dead as they rise from their tombs; and finally at the bottom the two kneeling royal donors and their children. The whole window is enclosed in a wide decorative border. The Crucifixion window is legible not only because of the strict organization of the scenes around the axis of the cross, but also due to the technique of applying the grisaille paint in firm and thick lines, as well as the color combination of a clear luminous blue with a deep red. Here again is the dynamic linear style we encountered in the workshop that produced the Ascension window in Le Mans, about 40 years earlier. But in comparing the two groups of the apostles around the scenes of the 54
The small, painted lancet presented by the donors is a restoration of Steinheil’s in the 1880s, which replaced a stop-gap of the 16th century; examination of photographs of the scene taken before restoration shows that the leading formed the shape of a window, and in his report, Steinheil affirmed that he had seen the remains of a small painted window offered for donation in this scene before replacing it himself.
42 Granboulan Ascension of Christ (Figures. 3.1 and 3.4, near the apex), there is a softening of tension in the forms and in the elegance of the poses, and even in the conventions for rendering the facial features. Thus, alongside of the characteristic linear paint handling for the heads described above, there is also a second type with rounder faces, a pug nose, a wider mouth with a pursed lower lip, and modeling washes that outline both sides of the nose and the chin. As both head types are combined in the same panel, it is evident that several different painters were working together. The same softening of forms and combination of techniques can be seen in the St. Lawrence window, and also in some panels in Le Mans, such as St. Peter freed from his chains, the miracle of St. Julien, the legend of Saints Gervais and Protais, and Samson holding up the columns of the temple.55 In Le Mans, these painters derived from the Ascension workshop could have been part of the campaign to reglaze the building after the fires for the new cathedral’s dedication in 1158, perhaps during the bishopric of William of Passavant (1145–87).56 Thus, one can apparently follow the teams of glass painters who belonged to a tradition inherited from the artistic communities in Poitiers and the Loire Valley that worked on major buildings of the Plantagenet dynasty, such as the cathedrals of Le Mans and Poitiers.57 If the style of the Crucifixion window in Poitiers is rooted in the tradition of Romanesque painting of the Poitou and lower Loire Valley, its iconography is also a perfect illustration of a Romanesque exposition. The image (Figure 3.4), with its subjects intertwined without any sense of chronology, is not a story but a message with multiple possible levels of reading. The meaning of the window is closely linked to the liturgical celebrations taking place in front of the window. Above the main altar are three themes from the Canon of the Mass: the scenes involving Christ’s Resurrection evoke the death of the carnal body and the resurrection of the Spirit; at center, the Crucifixion as the life-giving sacrifice that gives rise to the Spirit; and finally the Ascension, inviting the contemplation of the Glory of God.58 In the lower part of the window the scenes of the Resurrection refer to the Eucharist, because the upper lobe of the 55 56
57
These are orphaned panels that have been installed in the bays of the nave: Grodecki, Le vitrail roman, pp. 60–70. Other series of stained-glass windows were realized in the same period by workshops coming from different traditions, notably the window of the Life of St. Julien from the western façade, and five scenes from the Life of St. Étienne, which are very close to those of the three lancets in the western façade of Chartres Cathedral: Brisac, “Vitraux du XIIe siècle”; and James, “Échanges et création au temps des Plantagenêts”. Granboulan, “De la paroisse à la cathédrale”, pp. 49–50.
quatrefoil composition highlights an empty sarcophagus surrounded by columns, like an altar lit by lamps. The martyrdom of St. Peter just beneath appears as an extension of Christ’s Crucifixion, and is complemented by the beheading of St. Paul. By its central position, the martyrdom of St. Peter, prince of the apostles and patron of the cathedral, opens the way for the earthly path of the Church after Christ has risen to be at the right side of the Father. The liturgical feast of Saints Peter and Paul is also referred to through their martyrdoms. Monastic spirituality, motivated by the “longing for the heavens and in anticipation of eschatology to be”, is reflected in this window. But the development begun under Gregory vii (c.1015–85), which would see the replacement of a monastic model, devoted to asceticism and contemplation, by a sacerdotal model, which emphasizes the role of the priests in delivering sacraments, especially the Eucharist, is already manifest in the honor paid to Peter, the first to guide the Church “in exile” on earth (ecclesia peregrinans). This became the militant Church (ecclesia militans) after 1160, and was rewarded by the heavens as the triumphant Church (ecclesia triumphans).59 The axial window of Poitiers Cathedral thus reveals itself, through its placement and its themes, in support of contemporary thinking associated with the liturgy. The stained-glass windows in Le Mans, already mentioned, prove that artists traveled between Poitiers and Le Mans, but their fragmentation does not allow us to analyze the iconographic program there further. However, the more modest works made for rural parishes, such as Chemillé- sur-Indrois and Chenu, help to complete the material thus far assembled. The style and iconography of these parish cycles from the third quarter of the 12th century belong to the same milieu, and have the same quality of execution as their great neighbors. 4.2 Chemillé-sur-Indrois One can indeed compare the great Crucifixion window in Poitiers with the axial window in the Romanesque apse of the church of Saint-Vincent at Chemillé-sur- Indrois, which belonged to the treasurer of the church in Tours. The small stained-glass window (1.90 × 0.55 m), still in its original setting, is a reduced version of the one in Poitiers. The Chemillé window consists of three superimposed registers of scenes: in the lower one an Entombment of Christ (Figure 3.5); in the middle a Crucifixion between the Virgin and St. John; and at the top a 58
59
Isaac de l’Étoile, abbot of the Cistercian monastery of l’Étoile, near Poitiers, letter on the Canon of the Mass addressed to Jean de Bellesmains, Bishop of Poitiers, from before 1167, cited by Grinnell, “Iconography and philosophy”, pp. 194–96. Congar, “Modèle monastique et modèle sacerdotal”, p. 154.
43
Longing for the Heavens
Christ in Glory. The two upper panels of Chemillé were restored but their compositions were not altered. They take up the theme of the window at Poitiers, but make it simpler. The Crucifixion, the image of sacrifice, is more spare in presentation, and Christ in Glory is here separated from the story of the Ascension. In the lower register, the differences are even clearer: whereas in the Poitiers window, the Resurrection was represented as the Visit to the Sepulcher, in Chemillé the Entombment is shown following a model that recurs throughout the Loire Valley and the Poitou.60 The reference to the Eucharist, celebrated before the stained-glass window, is explicit: beneath an arcade representing Christ’s sepulcher, which is lit by a lamp, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus set down a nude body suspended over shroud into a sarcophagus. The face of this body takes the form of a Eucharistic wafer marked with a cross.61 The alliance between the naked flesh of the body and the wafer, which forms its head, reflects contemporary thinking on the meaning of the Eucharist.62 The liturgical role of the scenes is clear –in illuminated missals, the Canon of the Mass is accompanied by Christ in Glory in the preface, and the Crucifixion is alongside the Te igitur. In addition, the Entombment scene makes us reflect on the Real Presence of Christ in the bread of the Mass. This highly sophisticated and complex image also commands our attention because of its technical and stylistic qualities (Figure 3.5). The skillful implementation and attention to detail may be demonstrated by the very rare technique used to create the small red flame of the lamp lighting the tomb. A piece of red glass, too small to be leaded, was adhered to the surface of the glass by means of a thick stroke of grisaille paint on the lamp. This procedure, advocated by Theophilus in his treatise on ornamental precious stones, is proof of the meticulous care taken in the fabrication of a modest window; it is also the earliest testimony of the practice.63 As in Le Mans and Les Essards, the composition is balanced and the poses are elegant, but here these qualities are translated into the vigor and power of the silhouettes rather than in their delicacy. The fluency of the lines, the graphism of the linear style –where modeling 60 Granboulan, “Le vitrail au XIIe siècle dans le domaine Plantagenêt”, pp. 260–61. 61 Hayward, “The Redemption windows of the Loire Valley”, p. 135. 62 Granboulan, “Le vitrail au XIIe siècle dans le domaine Plantagenêt,” pp. 257–58. 63 Theophilus, The Various Arts, ed. Dodwell, chapter 28 (De gemmis picto vitro imponendis), pp. 57–58; and Granboulan, “Chemillé- sur- Indrois”, reproduced in Blondel, Le vitrail, p. 317.
is suggested only by parallel lines of different consistencies –remind us of the same artistic milieu and of the precise comparisons with illuminations from the Tours region in the mid-12th century, especially the Moralia in Job, a very beautiful book from the cathedral of Tours.64 The delicacy and preciosity of the paint handling may be seen in the stickwork of the vegetal rinceaux, with the outlines made by removing paint from the layer of grisaille applied to the luminous blue glass of the hanging suspended behind the lamp of the sepulcher. 4.3 Chenu The type of Entombment found at Chemillé can also be found in the nearby ensemble of stained glass that decorated the church of Saint-Martin in Chenu in the diocese of Angers from c.1160, which belonged to the chapter of Saint-Martin in Tours. The windows consist of four superimposed medallions and two large standing figures of bishops (Figure 3.7). However, in 1839 the panels were removed and installed in the church of Mary and All Saints in Rivenhall, which is in Essex, England.65 The four medallions –the Annunciation, Virgin and Child, the Entombment of Christ, and Christ in Glory66 – were once in the axial window of the apse in Chenu, whereas one of the bishop figures was in a neighboring window, and the second bishop was in a 16th-century bay which pierced the south wall of the Romanesque nave. Among these scenes from the Life of Christ, the Crucifixion is absent, but it has been replaced, one might say, by two scenes showing the role of the Virgin in the Incarnation. In the Annunciation the presence of a third person in the form of a maid, serves as an eye witness to the manifestation of God. This female servant is also present in Angers glass around 1160, in a monumental medallion belonging to a very poorly preserved window of the Infancy of Christ.67 The motif of the brilliant red door, which stands out against the luminous blue background, makes reference to the virginity of Mary, and 64
Tours, Bibliothèque municipale, ms. 0321, Gregorius, Moralia in Job, Tours, c.1150, especially f. 106v: http://www.enluminures.culture.fr/documentation/enlumine/fr/rechexperte_ 00.htm (last accessed 22 October 2018). 65 Perrot and Granboulan, “The French 12th, 13th and 16th century glass at Rivenhall”. Good color details are available at http://www.therosewindow.com/pilot/Rivenhall/table.htm (last accessed 22 October 2018). 66 Reading from the bottom of the window up, in the original order of presentation at Chenu. However the scenes were mounted in a different order at Rivenhall, with the Annunciation and the Virgin and Child having been inserted between the Entombment and Christ in Majesty. 67 Boulanger, Les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Angers, pp. 125–26, and 197–99, Figs. 122 and 123.
44 Granboulan attests to the Incarnation of Christ. It illustrates the verse from Ezechiel 44:2: “the door will be closed and shall not be opened because Yahve went through it”, which was often applied to the Virgin, especially by Geoffrey of Vendôme and by Hildebert of Lavardin.68 The next scene brings together several themes. The crowned Virgin sitting on a throne flanked by two angels holding scepters is the Virgin Queen, the image of the Church. She holds the seated Child in profile on her lap, cheek to cheek, and offers her breast as the dove of the Spirit talks to her ear. The gestures refer to the double nature of Christ as man and as God, the place of his mother in the Incarnation, and her role as mediator in redemption (Figure 3.6). The Entombment and Christ in Glory, as in Chemillé and Poitiers, complement the prayers from the Canon of the Mass and the sacrifice unfolding at the altar in front of the window, and insist on the dogma of the Real Presence of Christ. The Eucharist is again evoked by the wafer serving as the face of Christ (see the cover image) –as in the Entombment from Chemillé –and probably also by the nourishing breast of the Virgin with Child. The two figures of bishops who accompanied the complex and synthetic program confirmed the points of doctrine presented in the central window. The signification of the message, the similarity of their models –as seen in the Entombment at Chemillé and the Annunciation from Angers –suggest that the window in Chenu belongs to the above-mentioned series of stained glass. It is the same style as in Poitiers, Le Mans, and Chemillé, a branch of the workshop that undertook the Ascension in Le Mans. As in the Annunciation in Angers and the St. Lawrence window in Poitiers, however, the tonality is colder, with green allied to bright blue at the expense of the red. The technique of applying the grisaille in lines without shading is still as skillful, but the composition is less controlled: there is a disequilibrium of the silhouettes, which have become almost sickly for being so skinny and have lost their elegance and rhythm. Moreover, there is something lacking in the implementation: the flame over the sarcophagus, for example, is only outlined on the uncolored glass. The date when the choir was built in Chenu (c.1160), its stylistic and iconographic characteristics, and the kinship with the second hand in the Moralia in Job mentioned above for Chemillé, combine to date the window between the years 1160–70.69
68 Geoffrey, abbot of Vendôme, Opera omnia, PL 157, col. 248: sermo IV in Nativitate Domini; Hildebert, Opera omnia, PL, vol. 171, cols. 607–608: Sermo in festo Annuntiationis Beatae Mariae.
5
The Final Lights
The stained-glass windows of the next generation, those from the last two decades of the 12th century, while remaining marked by this glorious past, no longer belong to that earlier group. In Angers, in Poitiers, and in Le Mans, new glazing campaigns mark a turning point in the conception and realization of windows. Technical and stylistic changes paved the way for new approaches. The tonalities became progressively darker,70 the compositions diversified, the proportions became more compact, and the paint handling was done more quickly and the lines became less dynamic. In Angers in the years 1190 to 1210, new stained-glass windows were created for the nave of the cathedral.71 These windows, composed of narrative medallions, mark the transition from Romanesque to Gothic. The Martyrdom of St. Catherine window is the most archaic, with a wide border and elongated figures in dancing attitudes, but the lines have softened and the blue background is less luminous, and tends towards a greyish hue (Figure 3.8). The Glorification of the Virgin window, still has a wide Romanesque border, but a more somber and cold tonality, the silhouettes are more thickset, and lines thicker (Figure 3.9). The Catherine and Glorification windows are homogeneous, whereas the others, namely the Martyrdom of St. Vincent and the dismembered scenes of the legends of St. Martin, St. Andrew, and St. John the Evangelist, are attributed to the Master of St. Martin’s workshop with three separate (though aesthetically close) artists; they had worked as a team on the same panels of a stained-glass window, as already mentioned, in Poitiers around 1160.72 This type of collaboration was to become more extensive on large building sites in the 13th century.73 The same workshop can also be seen in Poitiers in the panels of a Noah window, now conserved in the United States.74 It influenced the design of the windows in the first bay of the choir: the Loth and Abraham windows. Its influence is also present in Le Mans Cathedral in a few disparate scenes, such as 69
Tours, Bibliothèque municipale, ms. 0321, Gregorius, Moralia in Job, Tours, c.1150, f. 330v: http://www.enluminures.culture .fr/documentation/enlumine/fr/rechexperte_00.htm (last accessed 22 October 2018). This painter illuminated four books for the abbey of La Trinité in Vendôme and four others of unknown provenance. Granboulan, “De la paroisse à la cathédrale”, p. 52, n. 28. 70 Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, pp. 124–30. 71 Boulanger, Les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Angers, pp. 200–18. 72 Boulanger, Les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Angers, pp. 200–15. 73 Lautier, “Les peintres- verriers des bas- côtés de la nef de Chartres”. 74 Hayward, “The lost Noah Window from Poitiers”.
Longing for the Heavens
the Invention of the Relics of Sts. Gervais and Protais, the Martyrdom of Sts. Vital and Valérie, and the Dream of St. Ambrose.75 Thus, in the 12th century, throughout the Plantagenet domain, the art of stained glass retained close and durable ties to the pictorial traditions of the Loire Valley from the late 11th century. Among the outstanding characteristics of this western French Romanesque glass is the fact that the quality of execution is equally remarkable in prestigious works as well as in more modest examples. The stained glass also attests to the great currents of thought of the day. Nevertheless, towards the end of the century, while retaining some traces of originality, stained glass participated in the larger changes taking place, provoked by the new challenges posed for glass painters by Gothic architecture, where the increase in glazed surfaces impacted both the means of production as well as the role of glass within architecture, as the window increasingly replaced the wall. Bibliography Primary Sources
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46 Granboulan Boulanger, K., “Troyes. Découverte d’un panneau de vitrail dans une collection particulière”, Bulletin monumental 169-1 (2011), 65–68. Brisac, C., “Vitraux du XIIe siècle”, in A. Mussat (ed.), La cathédrale du Mans, Paris, 1981, pp. 61–69. Brisac, C., “The Romanesque window at le Champs-près- Froges”, Journal of Glass Studies 26 (1984), 70–76. Caviness, M.H., The Early Stained Glass of Canterbury Cathedral, ca. 1175–1220, Princeton, 1977. Caviness, M.H., The Windows of Christ Church Cathedral, Canterbury (cvma Great Britain, 2), London, 1981. Caviness, M.H., Sumptuous Arts at the Royal Abbeys in Reims and Braine. Ornatus elegantiae, varietate stupendes, Princeton, 1990. Congar, Y., “Modèle monastique et modèle sacerdotal en Occident de Grégoire VII (1073–1085) à Innocent III (1198)”, in Études de civilisation médiévale (IXe-XIIe s.). Mélanges offerts à Edmond-René Labande à l’occasion de son départ à la retraite et du XXe anniversaire du C.E.S.C.M. par ses amis, ses collègues, ses élèves, Poitiers, 1974, pp. 153–60, repr. id., Études d’ecclésiologie médiévale (Variorum collected studies series, 168–9), London, 1983, Ch. IX. Cothren, M.W., “Suger’s stained glass masters and their workshops at Saint-Denis”, in G. Mauner (ed.), Paris: Center of Artistic Enlightenment, Abington, 1988, pp. 46–75. Cramp, R., “Window glass from the monastic site of Jarrow. Problems in interpretation”, Journal of Glass Studies 17 (1975), 88–96. Cramp, R., “Window glass from the British Isles 7th-10th century”, in Dell’Acqua and Silva (eds.), La vetrata in Occidente, pp. 67–85. Dell’Acqua, F., «Illuminando colorat». La vetrata tra l’età tardo imperiale e l’Alto Medioevo. Le fonti, l’archeologia (Studi e Ricerche di Archeologia e Storia dell’Arte, 4), Spoleto, 2003. Dell’Acqua, F., “Entre fantaisie et archéologie: la connaissance des vitraux médiévaux”, in Balcon-Berry, Perrot, and Sapin (eds.), Vitrail, verre et archéologie, pp. 15–20. Dell’Acqua, F. and James, D., “The window glass”, in J. Mitchell and I.L. Hansen (eds.), San Vincenzo al Volturno (Studi e Ricerche di Archeologia e Storia dell’Arte, 3), Spoleto, vol. 3.1, 2001, pp. 171–201. Dell’Acqua, F. and Silva, R. (eds.), La vetrata in Occidente da IV all’XI secolo. Atti delle giornate di studi, Lucca (Il colore nel Medioevo. Arte Simbolo Tecnica, Collana di studi sul colore, 3), Lucca, 2001. Fassler, M., “Mary’s nativity, Fulbert of Chartres, and the Stirps Jesse: liturgical innovation circa 1000 and its afterlife”, Speculum 75 (2000), 389–434. Gasparri, F., “Le programme iconographique de l’abbaye de Saint-Denis au XIIe siècle”, in M. Lemoine (ed.), La pensée et l’art au Moyen Âge, Actes du colloque organisé à l’Institut de France, le vendredi 2 décembre 2005 (Rencontres médiévales européennes, 6), Turnhout, 2006, pp. 115–34.
Granboulan, A., “Chemillé-sur-Indrois, un exemple méconnu d’un procédé de fabrication du vitrail”, Bulletin monumental 148-1 (1990), 90–91. Granboulan, A., “Aperçus sur le vitrail en Touraine au XIIe siècle. Les églises paroissiales des Essards et de Chemillé-sur- Indrois”, Bulletin de la société nationale des antiquaires de France (1992), 233–44. Granboulan, A., “De la paroisse à la cathédrale: une approche renouvelée du vitrail roman dans l’ouest”, Revue de l’art 103 (1994), 42–52. Granboulan, A., “La Vierge de Vendôme et le vitrail au XIIe siècle”, Bulletin de la société archéologique, scientifique et littéraire du Vendômois (1998), 65–68. Granboulan, A., “Le vitrail au XIIe siècle dans le domaine Plantagenêt”, in D. Gaborit-Chopin and E. Taburet-Delahaye (ed.), L’Oeuvre de Limoges. Art et histoire au temps des Plantagenêts (Transactions of the Colloquium at the Musée du Louvre, 1995), Paris, 1998, pp. 247–74. Grinnell, R., “Iconography and philosophy in the Crucifixion window at Poitiers”, Art Bulletin 28 (1946), 171–96. Grodecki, L., “Le vitrail et l’architecture au XIIe et XIIe siècle”, Gazette des Beaux-arts 36-2 (1949), 6–21. Grodecki, L., “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Poitiers”, Congrès archéologique de France, Poitiers 109 (1951), pp. 138–63. Grodecki, L., “La restauration des vitraux du XIIe siècle pro venant de la cathédrale de Châlons-sur-Marne”, Mémoire de la Société d’Agriculture, Commerce, Science et Arts du département de la Marne 28 (1954), 323–52 (repr. in id., Le Moyen-Âge retrouvé: de l’an mille à l’an 1200, Paris, 1986, pp. 291–338). Grodecki, L., “Des origines à la fin du XIIe siècle”, in M. Aubert et al., Le vitrail français, Paris, 1958, pp. 95–114. Grodecki, L., “Les vitraux de la cathédrale du Mans”, Congrès archéologique de France, Maine 119 (1961), 59–99. Grodecki, L., Les vitraux de Saint-Denis. Étude sur le vitrail du XIIe siècle (CV France, Études, 1), Paris, 1976. Grodecki, L., Études sur les vitraux de Suger à Saint-Denis (XIIe siècle), ed. by C. Grodecki, C. Bouchon, and Y. Zaluska (CV France, Études, 3), Paris, 1995. Grodecki, L., Lautier, C., and Brisac, C., Le vitrail roman, Fribourg,1977. Hayward, J., The Angevine Style of Glass Painting, Ph.D. Dissertation, Yale, 1958. Hayward, J., “The lost Noah Window from Poitiers”, Gesta 20 (1981), 129–39. Hayward, J., “The Redemption windows of the Loire Valley”, in S. McK. Crosby, A. Chastel et al. (eds.), Études d’art médiéval offertes à Louis Grodecki, Paris, 1981, pp. 129–44. Heslop, T.A., “Saint Anselm and the Visual Arts at Canterbury Cathedral, 1093–1109”, in A. Bovey (ed.), Medieval Art, Architecture and Archaeology at Canterbury (British Archaeological Association Conference Transactions, 35), Leeds, 2013, pp. 59–81.
Longing for the Heavens Hediger, C. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “«[…] et faciunt inde tabulas saphiri pretiosas ac satis utiles in fenestris» : die Farbe Blau in der Schedula und in der Glasmalerei von 1100–1250”, in A. Speer, M. Mauriège, and H. Westermann- Angerhausen (eds.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst: Die ‘Schedula Diversarum Artium’ (Miscellanea Mediaevalia, 37), Berlin, 2014, pp. 256–73. James, F.C., “Échanges et création au temps des Plantagenêts: la Cathédrale du Mans”, Revue 303 Arts, recherches et créations (1990), 93–105. Kessler, C.M., Wolf, S., and Trümpler, S., “Leuchtende Fenster. Glas als Werkstoff und seine Herstellung”, in M. Riek, J. Goll, and G. Descœudres (eds.), Die Zeit Karls des Grossen in der Schweiz, Bern, 2013, pp. 224–27. Korn, U.-D., “Das Wurzel-Jesse-Fenster von St. Patrokli in Soest”, Soester Zeitschrift. Zeitschrift des Vereins für Ge schichte und Heimatpflege Soest 114 (2002), 4–17. Kessler, H.L., “The function of vitrum vestitum and the use of materia saphirorum in Suger’s St.-Denis”, in id. (ed.), Spiritual Seeing: Picturing God’s Invisibility in Medieval Art, Philadelphia, 2000, pp. 190–256. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Le vitrail du XIIe siècle dans le Saint- Empire. Recherches et problèmes”, in Luneau (ed.), Le vi trail roman et les arts de la couleur, pp. 117–34. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Les vitraux du chœur et du transept”, in J.P. Meyer and B. Kurmann-Schwarz, La cathédrale de Strasbourg, choeur et transept: de l’art roman au gothique (vers 1180 –1240), Strasbourg, 2010, pp. 225–79. Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Lautier, C., “L’essor d’un art: le vitrail roman”, in M. Hérold and V. David (eds.), Vitrail Ve – XXIe siècle, Paris, 2014, pp. 47–71. Lautier, C., “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés de la nef de Chartres au début du XIIIe siècle”, Bulletin monumental 148-1 (1990), 7–45. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux de Saint-Denis au XIIe siècle. État des recherches”, in Luneau (ed.), Le vitrail roman et les arts de la couleur, pp. 99–116. Lautier, C., “Le vitrail de la première moitié du XIIe siècle”, in D. Gaborit-Chopin (ed.), La France romane au temps des premiers Capétiens, 987–1152 (Exhibition catalogue: Paris, Musée du Louvre), Paris, 2005, pp. 34–37. Lautier, C., “Le contexte gothique d’une icône romane silhouettée. La Vierge de la Belle-Verrière de Chartres”, in V. Sauterel and S. Trümpler (eds.), The Single Stained-Glass Panel (Transactions of the 24th International Colloquium of the CV), Bern, 2010, pp. 29–43. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux romans de la cathédrale de Chartres. Techniques et gestes des peintres-verriers”, in Gestes et techniques de l’artiste à l’époque romane, Les cahiers de Saint-Michel de Cuxa 42 (2012), 171–82. Lecocq, I., “Verrières, vitreries et vitraux mosans”, in B. Van Den Bossche (ed.), L’art mosan: Liège et son pays à l’époque romane du XIe au XIIIe siècle, Alleur, 2007, pp. 207–13.
47 Lelong, C., “La nef de Saint-Martin de Tours”, Bulletin monumental 133-3 (1975), 205–31. Le Maho, J. and Langlois, J.-Y., “Aux origines de l’art du vitrail (VIIe–IXe siècles): les découvertes de Notre- Dame- de- Bondeville et de Rouen (Seine-Maritime)”, in Luneau (ed.), Le vitrail roman et les arts de la couleur, pp. 19–32. Lillich, M.P., “Remembrance of things past: stained glass spolia at Châlons Cathedral”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 59 (1996), 461–97. Longuemar, M. de, “Restauration de l’ancienne crypte de l’église de Saint-Savin par M. l’abbé Lebrun”, Bulletin monumental 32 (1866), 801–11. Luneau, J.-F. (ed.), Le vitrail roman et les arts de la couleur: Nouvelles approches sur le vitrail du XIIe siècle (Transactions of the Colloquium organized Centre Georges Duby in Issoire), Revue d’Auvergne 570, Clermont-Ferrand, 2004. Mâle, E., Religious Art in France, the Twelfth Century: a Study of the Origins of Medieval Iconography, new ed. by H. Bober, trans. M. Matthews (Bollingen Series, 90, 1), Princeton, 1978. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England during the Middle Ages, London, 1993. Marks, R., “Glazing in the Romanesque parish church”, in Dell’Acqua and Silva (eds.), La vetrata in Occidente, 173–81. Meyer-Rodrigues, N., “Moules à plomb et vitraux carolingiens des fouilles de Saint-Denis”, in D. Foy (ed.), De transparentes spéculations. Vitres de l’Antiquité et du haut Moyen Âge (Occident-Orient), Bavay, 2005, pp. 94–95. Motteau, J., “Le verre dans la construction”, in Études sur la verrerie des fouilles de Tours (1973–1982) (Recherches sur Tours, 4), Tours, 1985, pp. 39–49. Motteau, J., “Évolution du verre à vitre en Indre-et-Loire du Ve au XIe siècle”, in Balcon-Berry, Perrot, and Sapin (eds.), Vitrail, verre et archéologie, pp. 121–32. O’Connor, D., “Twelfth-century stained glass in Easby parish church, North Yorkshire”, in G.R. Owen-Crocker (ed.), Medieval Art: Recent Perspectives. A Memorial Tribute to C.R. Dodwell, Manchester, 1998, pp. 104–27. Pastan, E.C., “Fit for a count: the twelfth-century stained glass panels from Troyes”, Speculum 64 (1989), 338–72. Pastan, E.C., “J. Pierpont Morgan and the collecting of the 12th century stained-glass panels from Troyes”, in Ayers, Kurmann-Schwarz, Lautier, and Scholz (eds.), Collections of Stained Glass, pp. 227–38. Parello, D., “Fünf Felder eines typologischen Zyklus aus Arnstein”, in P. Marx (ed.), Die Glasgemälde-Sammlung des Freiherrn von Stein. LWL-Landesmuseum für Kunst und Kulturgeschichte, Münster, Westfälisches Landesmuseum, Münster, 2007, pp. 30–39. Perrot, F. and Granboulan, A., “The French 12th, 13th and 16th century glass at Rivenhall, Essex”, The Journal of Stained Glass 18 (1983–84), 1–14. Raguin, V.C., “Two medieval Crucifixions in Glass”, Stained Glass Magazine (Spring 1983), 24–26.
48 Granboulan Raguin, V.C., “The architectural and glazing context of Poitiers Cathedral: a reassessment of integration”, in V.C. Raguin, K. Brush, and P. Draper (eds.), Artistic Integration in Gothic Buildings, Toronto, 1995, pp. 167–94. Rudolph, C., “Inventing the exegetical stained- glass window: Suger, Hugh, and a new elite art”, Art Bulletin 93 (2011), 399–422. Shepard, M.B., “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), Romanesque Art and Thought in the Twelfth Century. Essays in Honor of Walter Cahn (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 10), Princeton, 2008, pp. 291–302.
Speer, A., “Lux mirabilis et continua. Remarques sur les rapports entre la spéculation médiévale sur la lumière et l’art du vitrail”, in Luneau (ed.), Le vitrail roman et les arts de la couleur, pp. 85–98. Toubert, H., “Les fresques de la Trinité de Vendôme, un témoignage de la réforme grégorienne”, Cahiers de civilisation médiévale 26 (1983), 297–326. Westlake, N.H.J., A History of Design in Painted Glass, vol. 1.1, London, 1881.
c hapter 4
Chartres: Glazing the Cathedral Claudine Lautier The fire that ravaged the Romanesque cathedral of Chartres –built by Bishop Fulbert († 1028) and consecrated in 1037 –began during the night of 10–11 June 1194. This earlier building was immense: it was the length of the current structure and its nave was the same width, as can be seen from the crypt, completed in 1024.1 These crypts constitute a large part of the foundations of the Gothic cathedral, and the preservation and arrangement of these substructures determines in part the plan of the current cathedral. Added it to it were the transept extensions and the double ambulatory, which allowed space for the radiating chapels. The reconstruction began in 1195, immediately after the fire, on the foundations provided by the heavy crypt walls. Chartres Cathedral is thus quite expansive, 130 m long and 64 m wide (Figure 4.1). It has a nave of seven bays with single side aisles, a transept of three bays in each arm with a single aisle on both the east and west sides, a chevet with double aisles in the straight bays, and a double ambulatory with seven chapels encircling the choir. It is a grandiose architectural achievement. Beneath a vault reaching 37 m in height, a uniform elevation extends through all three major spaces of the cathedral: the nave, choir, and transepts. The main arcade rests on piliers cantonnés –pier cores surrounded by four attached shafts –a triforium with arches of equal width, and clerestory windows composed of twin lancets surmounted by a large rosette (Figure 4.2). In addition to the clerestory windows, there are the many single-lancet windows in the side aisles and radiating chapels, and the three vast roses that illuminate the west, south, and north facades. The surface to be glazed was thus immense. Nonetheless, the construction as well as the sculpted and glazed décor were substantially completed in a very short span of time, between 1195 and 1230. The subject of the glazing of all the cathedral is too vast to develop here in all its facets; for this reason I have chosen to privilege two points of the larger question. In order to glaze the innumerable apertures, it was necessary to obtain financing, engage a great number of ateliers, choose an iconographic program, and maintain a formal coherence. Yet this exceptional ensemble of 1 For the form and dates of the lower church, see Sapin and Heber Suffrin, “Les cryptes de Chartres”.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 06
stained-glass windows is not documented by written sources, with the archives remaining silent on the conditions of their creation. Most of the time, it is the windows themselves that must be interrogated regarding all of these questions, thus becoming documentary sources in themselves. Much has been written asserting the financial role of the guilds, depicted at the base of a number of aisle windows as well as in the clerestory.2 The other contributors were the clergy (the bishop and canons) and the nobility, whose donations are found primarily in the clerestory windows. There is a formal coherence to the window openings, despite their great numbers and the time necessary to complete them. In the upper windows, for example, tall figures stand above the narrative scenes of their lives. Among the predominant motives for the organization of the iconographic program, are relics, which held a fundamental place. 1
Stained Glass and Relics
At the time of its reconstruction after the fire of 1194, Chartres Cathedral possessed a considerable treasure of relics, including the veil (or camisa) of the Virgin, an object of pilgrimage and fervent devotion. Already remarkable in the Early Medieval and Romanesque eras, the number of relics increased again in the wake of the Fourth Crusade, which ended with the sack of Constantinople in 1204 and the pillage of the churches of the city and its environs. The cathedral’s treasures almost completely disappeared during the French Revolution, so that all that survives are a part of the Virgin’s veil – preserved in a 19th-century châsse displayed in the Martyrs chapel –and a few fragments of the relics of Saints Piat and Taurin in the Vendôme chapel (window 40; see Figure 4.1).3 It is, though, possible to compile a relatively precise catalogue of the contents of the treasury at the beginning of the 13th century, thanks to sources that include the cathedral’s cartulary, inventories of the 14th through 17th centuries, and pre-modern descriptions, 2 See Williams, Bread, Wine and Money, with further bibliography; and see Jordan, Ch. 11 in this volume. 3 Numbering of the windows follows Les vitraux du Centre et des pays de la Loire, pp. 25–45 (entries by C. Lautier).
50 Lautier especially those of the 17th century.4 The catalogue of relics, the list of altars compiled from descriptions, as well as an analysis of liturgical books –especially the ordinaries that prescribed the progress of the offices –help to define the links between the cathedral’s relics and the iconographic themes of the stained-glass windows.5 Historians have long wondered whether or not an iconographic program guided the arrangement of the windows.6 Canon Yves Delaporte accorded a determining role to the donors, and thought that there was no real program for the ensemble of glass, with the exception of the apse and the ends of the transept.7 Other scholars followed him, including Louis Grodecki, Madeline Caviness, and Wolfgang Kemp, the latter having a completely negative opinion on the question.8 Colette Manhes- Deremble took a radically different position, asserting that the iconographic program was, on the contrary, quite rigorously organized. To demonstrate this, she explored their theological foundations, drawing above all on the writings of the Church Fathers and Christian li terature of the Middle Ages.9 Certain authors, first and foremost Brigitte Kurmann- Schwarz, perceived the importance of relics in the representational choices in the cathedral’s windows and the sculpture.10 But one must ask whether the designers of the iconographic program established it on a purely theological basis, or whether they also considered its material basis, that is, the relics themselves, the cathedral’s most precious treasure. The relics were kept mainly in the liturgical choir, while certain reliquaries might also have been placed on altars in the upper church or in the crypt, at least on certain feast days. The Virgin’s veil was kept in the sainte châsse which was placed on a small tribune adjacent to the high altar, in the third bay of the choir.11 Until the beginning of the 16th century, the châsse was displayed at all times, guarded by church wardens who took day and night shifts. 4
Lépinois and Merlet, Cartulaire. For the inventories of the treasury, see Merlet, Catalogue des reliques, who publishes the inventory of canon Claude Estienne (1682), along with an inventory dating to 1322. For older descriptions of the cathedral, see above all those of Roulliard, Parthénie, Challine, Recherches sur Chartres, and Sablon, Histoire. 5 Lautier, Les vitraux; and Lautier, “Échos et correspondances”. 6 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 6–10. 7 Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 11–15. 8 Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique, pp. 60–62; Caviness, “Biblical stories”; and Kemp, The Narratives. 9 Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs. 10 Kurmann- Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, pp. 139–73; Kurmann-Schwarz, “Récits, programme”; and Kurmann and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Chartres Cathedral”. 11 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 28–36.
Created by a certain Teudon at the end of the 10th century, the châsse was tremendously sumptuous. It consisted of a cedarwood box covered with gold plaques decorated with an astonishing quantity of precious and semi- precious stones, pearls, intaglios, and antique cameos. It was further enriched over the course of the centuries with ex-votos, small reliquaries, and jewels.12 The only reliable representation of it that is known is a detail of a large engraving by Nicolas ii de Larmessin, dated to 1697, which celebrates the “Triomphe de la sainte Vierge dans l’église de Chartres” (Figure 4.3). When the châsse was opened for the first time in 1712,13 it was discovered that the veil of the Virgin was wrapped in a shawl that reportedly belonged to the Byzantine Empress Irene, who died in 803. The container also held other relics, including the beard hairs of Saint Lubin, his belt, and a book that had belonged to him. Two cupboards holding a great number of reliquaries were placed in the first bays of the apse. They were replaced in the 17th century by two “domes” which had the same function, one given by Marie de Medici in 1614 and the other by Anne of Austria in 1661. At the far end of the apse, in the axial bay, stood an imposing reliquary tribune of about 9–11 m in height, called the “tribune des corps saints”, which was built at the same time as the choir.14 A platform was installed in the upper part to support châsses arranged in a pyramid. These were the bodies of four bishops from the Merovingian era and the relics of other saints, as well as several other reliquaries. There is a simplified representation of this tribune in the Charle magne window; the scene that shows the emperor offering relics at Aachen shows a tribune with a platform that supports three châsses in the church at Aachen (Figure 4.4).15 Certain reliquaries were exposed on altars, including the reliquary with the blood of Saint Thomas Becket in the Saint-Denis chapel in the crypt,16 or the head of Saint Lubin on an altar in the south choir aisle.17 Some were permanently displayed, like the head of Saint Anne, on an altar on the south side of the nave; others were only exposed on certain feast days. The Virgin’s veil was among the earliest relics that the cathedral owned. It was said to have been a gift from 12 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 25–28. 13 Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 17. 14 Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 15. 15 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 34–35; see also Pastan, “Charlemagne”. The tribune of the corps saints was destroyed in the 18th century to make way for the marble sculpture of the Assumption of the Virgin, made by Charles A. Bridan. For a useful discussion, see Benoît, “Le conflit des styles dans la cathédrale de Chartres au XVIIIe siècle”. 16 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 44–45. 17 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 39–40.
Chartres: Glazing the Cathedral
Charles the Bald, probably in 876. Certainly, the cathedral is dedicated to the Virgin Mary, but it is the presence of this relic in the treasury that explains the great number of representations of the Virgin in the stained glass and sculpture. The clothing worn by the Virgin in the Belle-Verrière (window 30a, on the south side of the choir; Figure 4.5), which is a very luminous, clear blue, certainly represents the relic itself, Mary’s imperial crown, recalling the donation of Emperor Charles the Bald.18 The same arch-topped crown is also found, for the same reason, on the head of the Virgin enthroned in the axial window of the apse (window 100).19 Other Marian relics were found in the treasury before the reconstruction of the cathedral, including the Virgin’s milk,20 which arrived at Chartres most likely at the beginning of the 11th century; according to legend, it had healed Fulbert of Saint Anthony’s fire. Two windows represent the Virgin nursing the Christ child: one large figure in the nave (window 138b)21 and another, smaller one, in the oculus above the Belle-Verrière.22 One of the major relics was that of the wood of the True Cross, brought from the Holy Land by Hervé de Bullainville when he returned from the First Crusade at the beginning of the 12th century. The people of Chartres considered it especially precious, to the point that they opposed its transportation to Paris, along with the sainte châsse, in 1562 when King Charles ix seized possessions in the diocese during the Wars of Religion. The chapter, which had kept the relics themselves, could only recuperate a part of the treasure; it was forced then to remake reliquaries and châsses, often far more modest than the originals, for the relics that no longer had containers.23 The reliquary of the True Cross was placed, on certain feasts, on the altar of the Crucifix set against the last pier on the north side of the nave. That altar stood under a clerestory window representing the Sacrifice of Abraham (window 131b),24 an event that prefigured the Crucifixion, and close to the typological window of the Passion (window 37).25 18
See on this subject Lautier, “The sacred topography”; Lautier, “Le contexte gothique”; and Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Reliquie und Skulptur”. 19 Lautier, “Le contexte gothique”, fig. 6; Pansard, Chartres, fig. p. 145. Images of all the windows of Chartres Cathedral can be consulted on the website www.therosewindow.com (last accessed 23 October 2018). 20 Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 38. 21 Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 416–17, ill. vol. 3, pl. 186. 22 Lautier, Les vitraux, fig. 18. 23 See Cochet, “Les trésors”; Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 12. 24 Delaporte, Les vitraux, p. 507–08, ill. vol. 3, pl. 265. 25 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 43–44, figs. 6 and 7 (showing the distribution of stained-glass windows in the cathedral); Deremble, “Les vitraux médiévaux”, fig. p. 163.
51 The relics of Merovingian saints, placed in châsses arranged on the platform of the tribune des corps saints, were also among the most venerated, since they brilliantly made manifest the antiquity of the church of Chartres.26 There were châsses of: Saint Solenne, said to have aided in the conversion of Clovis (represented in window 138AB in the nave);27 of Saint Calétric (recognizable in window 134b), successor of Saint Lubin;28 of Saint Béthaire, who defended the town during a siege (window 141AB);29 but above all of Saint Lubin. Despite his brief episcopate in the middle of the 6th century, Lubin was considered the model of a perfect bishop, to the point that his relics were themselves the object of a pilgrimage. If his body was in the tribune des corps saints, his head was in a separate reliquary, and some of his other relics were in the sainte châsse with the Virgin’s veil. His life is recounted in one of the nave aisle windows (window 45; Figure 4.6)30 and his figure is enthroned in one of the upper windows (window 139AB).31 The châsse with the body of Saint Piat was also found on the top of the tribune. Greatly venerated, the saint was reputed to have preached in the region around Chartres before surrendering at Tournai to be martyred. A large, separate chapel at the east end of the chevet is dedicated to him, and a 14th-century window, which probably replaced a historiated window of his life painted in the 13th century, contains his image.32 The early 17th-century historian Sébastien Roulliard also described, on the tribune des corps saints, the head of Saint Theodore, a relic given by Bishop Geoffroy de Lèves in 1120. The canons took an oath on the reliquary when they were received into the c hapter –swearing that they had been born of a legitimate marriage –until the head of Saint Anne arrived in Chartres in 1205 and took over this function. Although one would expect to find a full window dedicated to Saint Theodore, there is only the lower part of a window, the rest comprising the story of Saint Vincent (window 9).33 Other relics are documented before 1194, including the blood of Saint Thomas Becket and a knife that belonged to him, given to the cathedral by John of Salisbury, a friend of Becket and bishop of Chartres from 1176 to 1180; the saint is celebrated in a window in the choir (window 18)34 and a 26 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 14–17, 23. 27 Delaporte, Les vitraux, p. 419, ill. vol. 3, pl. 188. 28 Lautier, Les vitraux, fig. 19. 29 Delaporte, Les vitraux, p. 518, ill. vol. 3, pl. 274. 30 Deremble, “Les vitraux médiévaux”, pp. 156–58. 31 Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 516–17, ill. vol. 3, pl. 274. 32 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 41–42, fig. 38 (St. Piat, window 6). 33 Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 44. 34 Deremble, “Les vitraux médiévaux”, pp. 190–91; Manhes- Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 328–29.
52 Lautier rosette in the nave (window 137AB).35 The written sour ces and the stained glass itself allow us to conclude that there were certain other relics in the treasury before the end of the 12th century. Among them was a tooth of Saint Lawrence represented in one of the upper windows of the nave (window 139b);36 the stones of martyrdom of Saint Stephen, whose life is recounted in the chapel dedicated to him (window 13);37 and the relics of the Holy Innocents, whose story is given an unusual amount of space in the iconography of the sculpture on the Royal Portals as well as in the stained glass.38 The Fourth Crusade brought a considerable increase in the relic collection. Count Louis de Blois-Chartres played a major part in the expedition that ended with the conquest and pillage of Constantinople and its environs.39 No church was spared. The Crusaders searched frenetically for relics of Christ and the Virgin, of the apostles and the major saints venerated in the West. Louis de Blois, who took the Cross in 1199, was accompanied by knights who constituted one of the principal contingents of the army.40 Vassals and relatives of Louis de Blois, as well as the seigneurs who held lands in the diocese of Chartres, are frequently mentioned by the chronicler Villehardouin. On returning from their journey, many Crusaders gave relics to religious establishments, not purely out of piety, but also in compensation, since they had essentially failed to respect their vow by failing to reach Jerusalem. In the process of dividing the lands and booty, Louis received a share in proportion to his rank and the size of his troops. Because of this he was able to send a major relic to Chartres, that is, the head of Saint Anne, mother of the Virgin, which was brought to the cathedral with great pomp in 1205 by Louis’ wife Catherine de Clermont.41 Historians have all agreed on the influence that the arrival of this relic had on the iconography of both the central portal sculpture of the north transept and the 35 Delaporte, Les vitraux, p. 514, ill. vol. 3, pl. 272. 36 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 47–48, fig. 43. 37 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 49–50. 38 Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 51; Fassler, The Virgin, pp. 298–99. 39 Riant, “Des dépouilles religieuses”; Riant, Exuviae sacrae; and Ciggar, “Une description”. See also Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 24–25. 40 On the crusade of Louis of Blois, see: Longnon, Les compagnons, pp. 79–111; Queller, The Fourth Crusade, pp. 3–6; Wolf and Hazard, A History, pp. 158–60; Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 55–56. 41 Riant, Exuviae sacrae, vol. 2, p. 73; Longnon, Les compagnons, pp. 83–84; Lépinois and Merlet, Cartulaire, vol. 3, pp. 89 and 178. The body of Saint Anne arrived in Constantinople during the reign of Justinian ii; see Ebersolt, Sanctuaire de Byzance, p. 108.
stained glass above it.42 One of Louis’ most powerful vassals, Gervais de Châteauneuf, himself gave the cathedral the head of Saint Matthew, who is represented in a clerestory window in the nave (Figure 4.7).43 Other donors remain anonymous, but certain other relics give evidence of Constantinopolitan origin. This is the case with a second relic of the wood of the True Cross, in a rich Byzantine case, or the hand of the apostle Saint Thomas which was divided in two, one part going to Soissons Cathedral and the other to Chartres.44 Thus, the life of Saint Thomas is recounted in window 23, on the north side of the chevet,45 and a standing figure of the saint is represented twice in a clerestory window in the transept (119a et b).46 Many small relics also came from Byzantium. They were gathered into composite reliquaries, sometimes remade in later centuries. For example, the base of a gilded vermillion reliquary of the Virgin and Child, gi ven by Abbess Alaydis in 1256, contained several relics, including a fragment of Moses’ staff, which could only have come from the chapel of Saint Michael in the Boukoleon Palace.47 Moses is depicted twice in the glazing of the cathedral: once in a window of the nave, now almost totally hidden by the great organ (window 134a); and again in the apse in a very beautiful scene of the burning bush (window 102).48 A gold rose planted in the roof of the sainte châsse enclosed in its center miniscule relics of Saints Paul, Cosmas, and Damian, along with some wood from the Cross and a fragment of the Holy Sepulcher, all from Constantinople. These were joined by the relics of Saints Remi and Germain, whether of Paris or Auxerre is unknown.49 Saints Remi, Paul, and Cosmas and Damian are all represented in the stained glass (windows 4, 12, 118b).50 Other reliquaries, such as that of the Three Marys and the crystal reliquary and châsse “of all the saints”, also containing multiple relics of saints who are often depicted in the windows.51 42 Katzenellenbogen, The Sculptural Programs, pp. 62 and 102; Sauerländer, La sculpture gothique, p. 112; and Brenk, “Bildprogrammatik”, p. 82. 43 Lépinois and Merlet, Cartulaire, vol. 3, p. 53; Kurmann- Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, p. 231. 44 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 60–65. 45 Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 334–35. 46 Lautier, Les vitraux, fig. 53. 47 Merlet, Catalogue des reliques, pp. 18–19; Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 61–62. 48 Delaporte, Les vitraux, p. 466, ill. vol. 3, pl. 224. 49 Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 62. 50 See the plan in Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 8, fig. 6; Manhes- Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp 304–05 (St. Paul), 316–17 (St. Remi); for an illustration of Saints Cosmos and Damian, see Lautier, Les vitraux, fig. 20. 51 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 62–65.
53
Chartres: Glazing the Cathedral
The placement of altars, which also contained relics, is equally revealing of the iconographic choices of certain windows.52 The 16 altars, said to be the oldest, which had already been established in the Romanesque church, were reinstalled in the new building. All of these altars, with one exception, can be seen in relation to windows depicting their saintly dedicatees. New altars established in the Gothic cathedral were also accompanied by representations of their titular saints, sometimes directly on the visual axis of officiant. Thus, in the nave, the altar of Saint Eustace was placed close to the window with the life of that saint (window 43; Figure 4.8),53 that of Saint Mary Magdalene in front of two windows showing scenes from her life (windows 46 et 138b),54 and the same is true for the altar of Saint Martin in the choir (window 20).55 The links between altars and iconographic themes are frequent but not systematic. We know of two manuscript ordinaries of the medieval cathedral, one dating from the mid-12th century and the other from the years 1225–35.56 The first is therefore anterior to the destruction of the Romanesque cathedral and the second was composed shortly after the canons took possession of their stalls in the choir, a moment when the rites could be carried out to their full extent. These liturgical books, veritable aide-mémoires for the conduct of the offices, describe the solemnity that was given to annual feasts and to those of the saints in the liturgical calendar, and gave directions for processions inside the cathedral as well as outside. A comparison of these two texts allows us to see how much the chartrain liturgy evolved with the construction and decoration of the cathedral, as well as with the arrival of new relics. All but four of the saints represented in the stained glass are celebrated in the calendar of the Use of Chartres in the 13th century.57 Several saints who were not celebrated in the 12th century appear in the 13th, like Thomas Becket, Saint Anne, or Saint Catherine.58 Since they were represented in the stained-glass windows and since their relics were in the treasury, one 52 Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 19–22; for the distribution of the altars and their links with the stained-glass windows see the plan on p. 20. 53 Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 362–63. 54 Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 368–69 (window 46); image of the window 138b in Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 416–17, ill. vol. 3, pl. 186. 55 Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 330–31. 56 Veridicus, Ordinaire du XIIe siècle, transcription by Delaporte; Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 17–18. 57 These are Saints Margaret and Mary of Egypt, as well as Saints Anthony and Eustace. See Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 47. 58 Lautier, Les vitraux, p. 18.
may put forth the hypothesis of a propaganda of images in their favor.59 The links between the relics mentioned in documentary sources and representations of saints in the windows are quite numerous; the two tiers of saints painted in the windows can be understood in relation to the relics. The true treasure of the cathedral was its relics, and not the châsses, despite the nobility of the materials from which they were made. The reliquaries could be melted down or sold;60 on the other hand, relics were rarely removed from the church. The latter played an important role in the fame of this religious institution and served as an intermediary on the path to Salvation, since relics on earth guaranteed the intercession of the saints in heaven. But the relics were not continually visible, not even those that were carefully safeguarded and watched over. Thus, the saints represented in the stained glass, in a crown of light that girds the whole building on two levels, played a role of authentication in making visible the presence of the relics in the treasury. 2
Creation of the Stained-Glass Windows
But how, one might ask, were these windows being created, so numerous and covering such a vast surface area (Figure 4.1)? Glazing workshops of the 13th century remain poorly understood in the absence of documents on the subject. The oldest treatise on glass painting, the De diversis artibus by Theophilus, composed probably at the beginning of the 12th century, described in detail the steps of the fabrication of a stained-glass panel, but reveals nothing about the workshop itself.61 The treatise of the glass painter Antonio da Pisa, from about 1400, is more precise than Theophilus’s regarding techniques, but tells us no more about the profession, and the same is true of other treatises from the end of the Middle Ages.62 For Chartres Cathedral the archives are silent regarding the artists, artisans, or workers responsible for the construction and decoration of the cathedral during the first half of the 13th century. In the absence of written sources, only careful exa mination of the glass allows us to propose hypotheses regarding the workshops of glass painters. Elements provided by the works themselves touch on the composition 59 60
61 62
For example, Saint Eustache: Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 52–53; Kurmann-Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, p. 148. As was the case in 1562, when the population of Chartres protested the transfer of certain reliquaries to Paris. See Lautier, Les vitraux, pp. 43–44. See Theophilus, De diversis Artibus, ed. Dodwell. Antonio da Pisa, Secreti, eds. Gallo and Sandron. See also Kurmann-Schwarz, Ch. 20 in this volume.
54 Lautier of stained-glass panels, the quality of the glass and their coloration, the style of painting and the “signature” of painters, as well as the ornament, in particular the borders and mosaic backgrounds. At Chartres, the first thing to be ascertained is the number and diversity of ateliers, which is not surprising in the least, given the enormity of the task to be accomplished. Never have glass painters been called upon to glaze so many windows of such great dimensions so rapidly. However, it was probably not necessary for any given atelier to be composed of many members, since what we know of more modern periods cannot be applied to the 13th century. For comparison, at Chartres itself, when a major stained-glass restoration campaign was undertaken in 1415, there were only four glass painters, one of whom, Jehan Perier, was the master of the works.63 And in Paris, in the 16th century, archives show that the stained-glass workshops of the city were usually made up of no more than three or four persons:64 the master, one or two journeymen, and an apprentice. The observations presented here concern only the lower windows, which have been almost completely restored in the past 25 years.65 It becomes apparent that there were two major glazing campaigns, corresponding to those of the architecture. The first was that of the nave, completed between about 1200 and 1210, and the second, begun around 1210–15 in the choir, continued without interruption in the radiating chapels until about 1220–25. It is possible to group windows together by analyzing their formal characteristics, each group corresponding to what we consider, according to convention, the work of a single workshop.66 Each workshop executed bet ween one and three windows, with one exception: the workshop responsible for six windows in the chevet, which Grodecki named the “Master of Saint Chéron” workshop (Figure 4.10).67 Examination of the glass also shows a clear evolution in the working methods of the glass painters between the nave and the chevet, and consequently in the organization of the glazing atelier as a whole. Multiple collaborations between workshops can be seen in the first campaign, that of the nave;68 this 63 Merlet, “Compte de l’œuvre”. 64 Leproux, Recherches, pp. 3–25, 87–99. 65 On the restorations of the stained glass of Chartres, see Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 19–33, 48–70, 88–121; Lautier, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres à la lumière des restaurations”; and Lautier, “Les restaurations de vitraux”. 66 On this subject see also Cothren, Ch. 13 in this volume. 67 Grodecki, “Les problèmes de l’origine”. In fact, this entity, which was defined by Grodecki, regroups several painters working in a very similar manner, but of variable quality. 68 Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”; and Lautier, “Un peintre”.
practice was greatly reduced in the choir aisles and practically nonexistent in the radiating chapels. A brief review of the principal steps of the fabrication of a stained-glass window in the 13th century will help to explain these collaborations. Once an iconographic theme was decided by the clerics of the chapter, the glass painter created a cartoon, perhaps in consultation with the master of the works. Sheets of colored glass were chosen from lots purchased by the cathedral fabric; essentially, leaving aside the Saint-Eustace window in the nave (window 43; Figure 4.8), the glasses at Chartres show the same range of color, the same aspect and nearly the same effects of aging over centuries, which suggests that they were selected from an inventory of glass commonly available to several workshops during the same phase of the work. A table was then prepared, on which were drawn the contours of the leads of the panel to be created, and indicating the colors of the glass to be cut. Then, the glass painters cut and painted the pieces of glass and assembled them with the help of lead cames. Finally, the panels were attached to saddle bars forged by a blacksmith and anchored in the frames of the window.69 A stained-glass window is thus at once a puzzle of painted pieces of glass assembled with leads into panels and an assemblage of panels installed in a window opening. In this way this mode of execution lent itself to the joint intervention of several artists in one window, and this is what took place in the fabrication of all the lower nave windows. In each window, one can recognize the hand of a principal painter –the artist who executed the majority of panels in the window –but also the occasional intervention of one or more secondary painters.70 The workshops of the nave, or at least the primary painters to whom it is customary to attribute a gene ric name, divided the work as follows: the “Saint Eustace Master,” who also worked, as Louis Grodecki has shown,71 on the windows of the collegiate church of Saint-Quentin (Aisne), created only a single window at Chartres (window 43). This is also the case with the two principal painters who were responsible for most of the Mary Magdalene window (window 46).72 The “Good Samaritan Master” (window 44; Figure 4.9), was also responsible for a second window, that of Saint John the Evangelist (window 48).73 Indeed, in 69
For a detailed description of the process of making a window, see Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume. 70 Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”, pp. 14–25. 71 Grodecki, “Le maître de saint Eustache”; and Manhes- Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 362–63. 72 Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”, pp. 16–17, 26– 27; and Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 368–69. 73 Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”, pp. 17–19; and Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 364–65, 372–73.
Chartres: Glazing the Cathedral
these two windows, the use of iron armatures forged in the shape of the figural compartments is comparable, as are the filets that frame the scenes, and the type of sparkling mosaic backgrounds made up of small pieces of glass. Even more, the elongated proportions of the figures, their energetic gestures and their dancing movements, the agitated draperies, and the facial expressions confirm the close relationship between the two works, as one can see in the censing angels at the top of the window of Saint John the Evangelist and in the scene of the Creation of Adam in the Good Samaritan window. Most of the typological Passion window (window 37) is the work of the “Glorification of the Virgin Master” (window 42), as is almost the entirety of the story of the patriarch Joseph (window 41).74 At first glance, the compositions of these three windows seem very different. The structure of rectangular armatures bears no visual relationship to the organization of scenes grouped in large quatrefoils with lateral semicircles in the Passion window. Armatures outline the large canted squares and their division into four scenes, and semicircular frames are set on each diagonal in the story of Joseph; in the Glorification of the Virgin window, the armatures similarly emphasize large circles flanked by half quatrefoils that alternate with quatrefoils and half circles. Nonetheless, in the three windows the decorative backgrounds are composed of vine scrolls or stems of foliage. The compositions of the panels, spacious in the Joseph window (window 41) and dense in the Glorification of the Virgin window (window 42) and the Passion window (window 37), do not prevent us from noticing that the colors used, the figural types, and the calm and “classical” manner of painting are comparable in all three windows. This is evident in a comparison of the Daughters of Jerusalem in the typological Passion window with the weeping women in the Glorification of the Virgin window, or the representation of David in the Passion window with Pharaoh in the story of Joseph. The “Saint Lubin Master” was also highly productive during the course of the first campaign, as he completed nearly all the panels of the life of this saint (window 45), as well as the story of Saint Nicholas (window 39), and what remains of the original window of the Miracles of the Virgin (window 38).75 To this may be added 74
75
For images of this group of windows, see Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 360– 61 (window 42), 352– 53 (window 37), 358–59 (window 41). The typological Passion (window 37) lost seven panels in 1816 from the upper part of the central axis. They were replaced in 1876: see Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 89–90. Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”, pp. 20–22. For images of these windows, see Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 354–55 (window 38), 356–57 (window 39), 366–67 (window 45). The window of the Miracles of the
55 the Noah window (window 47), or at least some of the panels, since several hands can be distinguished in that work.76 The composition of these four windows is quite different: shaped armatures strongly outline the compositional structures in the Miracles of the Virgin and in the story of Saint Nicholas; they do so only partially in the Life of Saint Lubin, and these armatures are divided into a large number of panels in the Noah window. In terms of ornament, the grounds are comparable, but the Saint Lubin window is distinguished by the insertion of small half-medallions in the border, which enclose persons carrying cups. The formal character of the figures is, on the contrary, very close within the group, despite the difference in scale between the Miracles of the Virgin and the story of Noah, which are reduced in size compared to the other two. The pictorial style here is not yet completely distinct from the Romanesque: in composition, in the layout of the scenes, and in the manner of depicting figures enveloped in heavy drapery with multiple, sinuous folds. If one counts five principal workshops in the nave aisles, it becomes clear that each one accepted the collaboration of secondary painters.77 These may have executed one or several complete panels, one or several figures, or even one or several heads, not to mention drapery. In addition, the principal painter of a stained- glass panel might be found as a secondary painter in a different window.78 One example that demonstrates this is the Mary Magdalene window (window 46). Completed by two painters whose styles are very similar, the window has a clear composition of large circles, each divided into four scenes, alternating with two semicircles framing a canted square.79 The scenes use a soft and subtle color palette, with a play of middle tones. The lines are supple, poses flexible, and the ornamental details delicate. Three panels are exceptions, two in the lowest circle, and a third in the uppermost circle. These were painted by a third artist whose style is harder and cruder, whose use of color is less subtle; whose use of line creates drapery that is stiffer and faces that are less pleasant. The hand Virgin (window 38) lost the figural panels of the three top circles in 1816. The missing panels were remade by the atelier Lorin in 1927: Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 189–95. 76 Lautier, “Les peintres- verriers des bas- côtés”, pp. 21– 28; Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 370–71. 77 Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”, pp. 14–25. 78 The phenomenon of collaborations between painters was not restricted to Chartres. It has been observed in other monuments, including Saint-Denis, the nave of Le Mans, and the cathedral of Angers, to mention only 12th-and 13th-century examples. 79 Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”, pp. 25–27.
56 Lautier of this same artist is found in other windows in the nave, where he painted a head here or there, for example in the Noah window (window 48) or in the parable of the Good Samaritan window (window 44). But the majority of his work is found in the south aisle of the choir. He is the author of panels created ten or fifteen years after the Mary Magdalene window to enframe the Romanesque Virgin and Child of the Belle-Verrière (window 30a; Figure 4.5).80 Another type of cooperation among artists is visible in several panels of the typological Passion (window 37). As noted earlier, the principal painter belonged to the workshop responsible for the Glorification of the Virgin (window 42) and the story of Joseph (window 41). Several painters sometimes worked together on the Passion window, most often painting heads. The most distinctive painter completed an entire panel representing two figures carrying a ladder, accompanying the carrying of the Cross and the two executioners in the Flagellation of Christ, although the figure of Christ himself is by the principal painter. His vehement and firm line, almost cartoonish, contrasts with the softness and delicacy of his acolyte’s brush. This secondary artist is also responsible for several heads, including those of Moses in the brazen serpent panel and of Saint John in the Deposition. He is very close to the group known as the “Saint Chéron Master” in the choir, but only worked as the designer of one other window.81 All the lower windows of the nave show more or less the same type of collaborative participation. The principal painter of one window might well have worked as a secondary painter in a nearby window. Thus, one of the two main painters of the Mary Magdalene window executed the panel in the Good Samaritan window (Adam and Eve expelled from Paradise) and assisted in the completion of a second by painting the three heads of God the Father and two angels.82 During the second glazing campaign, which began with the choir aisles, the same phenomena are still visible. Thus, the painter of the Belle-Verrière (window 30a) was the artist responsible for panels in nearby windows, one in the story of Saint Anthony (window 30b) and another in the Life of the Virgin (window 28b).83 Little by little, it seems that this type of collaboration among artists tended to disappear as the work continued, as only 80 81 82 83
Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”, p. 40; for more detail: Lautier, “Un peintre”. Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”, pp. 35-35. Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés”, pp. 14–19. Lautier, “Un peintre”; for images, see Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 338–39 (window 28b), 344–47 (windows 30a et b).
a few scattered heads do not accord with the overriding style of one or another window in the ambulatory. This campaign is equally marked by a renewal of workshops. Aside from the painter of the Gothic surround of the Belle-Verrière, whose presence was already evident in the nave, it was a new group of artists who completed most of the windows of the choir aisles and radiating chapels.84 As in the nave, each workshop seems to have created between one and three windows, with the exception of the “Master of Saint Chéron” workshop described below. The glass painter of the Saint Anthony window (window 30b), responsible for almost the entire window, was also the creator of the window with the life of Saint Julian the Hospitaler (window 21) and, above all, the Life of Saint James, the most iconic window of this group (window 5; Figure 4.11).85 The composition of these three windows is comparable: along the vertical axis the scenes are grouped in fours in canted squares for the stories of Saint James and Saint Julian, with complementary scenes disposed laterally in half- quatrefoils. The motifs and colors of the backgrounds are equally close. But it is above all the figure style that reveals the close relationship among the three windows, as much in the background scenery as in the elongated proportions of the figures, the soft folds of the drapery and the morphological characteristics of the faces, with their long noses and droopy eyes (Figure 4.12). In the same way, it is possible to associate with the Charlemagne window (window 7) the windows of the martyrdom and invention of the relics of St. Stephen (window 13) and the life of the Apostle Thomas window (window 23).86 The overall composition of the first two is similar, with a series of isolated panels in the vertical axis of the window, with the majority of scenes displayed two by two at the sides. By contrast the opposite was chosen for the Saint Thomas window, where the essential scenes of the story are concentrated along the axis in large quatrefoils. As was the case with the three windows of the “Master of Saint James”, it is the characteristics of the figures that associate these windows most closely with one another. The equilibrium of the blue grounds, the scenery and the figures, the elegance of the poses and the calm fullness of the volumes, the 84
Several windows of the chevet have lost their original stained glass, notably windows 3, 6, 10, 22, 24, 26, which were certainly narrative windows. 85 For images, see Manhes- Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 305– 07 (window 5), 332– 33 (window 21), 346– 47 (windows 30b). 86 For images see Manhes- Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 308–09 (window 7), 318–19 (window 13), 334–45 (window 23). For the Charlemagne window, also see Deremble, “Les vitraux médiévaux”, p. 188.
Chartres: Glazing the Cathedral
suppleness of the drapery folds, and the finesse of lines of the oval faces.87 Although related to the work of the “Saint James Master”, the two windows of the story of Saint Thomas Becket (window 18) and of the life of the Virgin (window 28b) are the work of a different workshop.88 This group used square armatures, and the scenes stand out against comparable backgrounds. The thin figures are enveloped in soft drapery, their heads sit on long, thin necks, their eyes pulled toward their temples, their noses pinched and drooping. The panels of the martyrdom of Saint Vincent (window 9) and those of the legend of Saint Paul (window 4), which have some of the same tendencies, were created by a different workshop.89 The composition of these two windows is quite dissimilar; in the first, the narrative panels are framed by armatures forged in the shape of their compositional compartments and the mosaic background has a strong presence, while the numerous scenes from the life of Saint Paul are set within the frames of square armatures, and there is practically no mosaic background. But in these two windows, the figure types are the same, with the same dancing movements, the same small heads, round with almond-shaped eyes, balding at the temples, sharp, thin noses, and narrow mouths. Other workshops can also be defined by their formal characteristics. One among them, again quite attached to the graphic Romanesque style, is responsible for the window dedicated to the Apostles (window 0) and, also in the axial chapel, the legend of Saint Andrew window (window 2). Another workshop completed the window with the legend of Saint Martin (window 20) and that of the life of Saint Apollinaris accompanied by a choir of angels (window 36), originally installed in the south choir aisle and installed in the transept in the 14th century.90 Among these windows, it is worth emphasizing one group, which was identified by Yves Delaporte, and to 87
Grodecki had made the same connections in defining a workshop, grouping together the windows of Charlemagne, St. Étienne, and St. Thomas, and a second that combined the windows of St. James, St. Julien l’Hospitalier, and St. Anthony; cf. Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique, pp. 65–68. 88 For images, see Manhes- Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 328–29 (window 18), 338–39 (window 28b). 89 The lower part of the window of the martyrdom of St. Vincent (window 9) is occupied by several scenes of the life of St. Theodore, panels attributed to another painter. The window of the legend of St. Paul (window 4) formerly lost nearly half of its panels, which were replaced in 1872. For images, see Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 304–05 (window 4), 312–13 (window 9). 90 For images, see Manhes- Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 298–99 (window 0), 302–03 (window 2), 330–31 (window 20), 350–51 (window 36).
57 which Louis Grodecki accorded a particular importance for the formation of a new phase of Gothic painting, characterized by its “hard” style: the workshop of the Saint Chéron Master, who created six windows.91 The scenes from the life of this saint are not encircled by geometric frames, but by trilobed pointed arches (window 15; Figure 4.10), a practice that would be frequently used for several decades thereafter.92 In this group, this window is the only one that is presented with such frames, the others using more traditional forms and more stereotypical mosaic backgrounds. It is above all the hardening of the pictorial style, the monumentality of forms, and the schematic lines that characterize this workshop made up of several painters (perhaps three) who would influence the stylistic evolution of glass painting in the 13th century. The state of affairs proposed here does not take into account all the workshops that worked on the lower windows of the choir, since some of the original windows have disappeared over time, sometimes replaced by ornamental windows of white glass.93 It is possible that the original narrative program itself remained incomplete, since several ornamental grisaille windows that predate the mid-13th century adorn windows on the north side of the chevet.94 At the same time, between about 1200 and 1225, the workshops that worked toward filling the lower windows with narrative stained glass, were numerous. Close observation of the glass reveals changes in the organization of the glazing atelier. The many collaborations visible in the nave prove, on the one hand, that the workshop at the beginning of the 13th century at Chartres did not have a closed structure, the painters working with one another, and, on the other hand, that all of the windows were made at the same time. Artistic collaboration is reduced in the choir and ceases to exist in the radiating chapels. The “Saint Chéron Master” marks the end of this process. Not only is it the most prolific, as evidenced by the number of windows it completed, but it also introduced the standardization of glass cutting –systematically using square armatures that allowed scenes to be set in square frames –and it simplified the mosaic grounds and painting. All of these 91 Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 135–36; Grodecki, “Le problème de l’origine”. The windows concerned are: the life of St. Chéron, window 15; the life of St. Pantaléon, window 11; the life of St. Germain of Auxerre, window 29b; the story of St. Simon and St. Jude, window 1; the life of St. Remi, window 12; the stories of St. Margaret and St. Catherine, window 16. 92 For an image of window 15, see Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 322–23. 93 This is also the case with the lancets of the upper choir (see plan Fig. 1.1): window numbers 107, 108, 111, and 112. 94 Lillich, “A redating”; see also Lillich, Ch. 17 in this volume.
58 Lautier characteristics bear witness to a certain rationalization of working processes. 3 Conclusion This exceptional glazed patrimony of Chartres Cathedral has suffered little destruction over the course of time,95 but also relatively few restorations. The earliest of the latter date to the 14th century and are found in several of the lower windows of the choir and nave; they are rare. Much more numerous are the restorations of the 15th century. By chance, one year of the chapter’s accounts have been preserved, that of June 1415-June 1416. It happens that this year marked the beginning of a major construction campaign that lasted several decades.96 The name of the master who led the team from the beginning, Jehan Perier, is known, and the characteristic glass and type of painting from that time is easily identified. The 16th century left few traces on the stained glass, and in the 18th century work was largely restricted to releading, and sometimes to the removal of windows, as in the choir, in order to increase the interior light it is assumed. The 19th century was more active, with the restoration of panels in the nave and transept that had been removed at the end of the 18th century. It is only in the first half of the 20th century that the decision was made to replace the plate glass windows that had been in eight of the upper windows of the choir since the Baroque era, with pastiches of Gothic grisailles.97 After the restoration in 1974–76 of the three famous Romanesque windows of the west facade,98 work on the Gothic windows was resumed in 1986 for the purpose of cleaning the glass and removing the layers of corrosion on the exterior. This restoration, coupled with that begun in 2008 of the surface coating of the walls, vaults, and supports, painted in pale ochre and white, has returned the building to its original luminosity and sumptuousness.99 Even if the restoration of the windows (and 95
96 97 98 99
Several stained-glass windows in the lower openings of the transept were destroyed in the 18th century to admit more light. The same motivation led to the suppression of panels or entire lancets in the clerestory of the choir, nave, and transept. They were replaced in the second half of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th. Lautier, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres à la lumière des restaurations anciennes”, pp. 413–24. Benoît, “Le conflit des styles dans la cathédrale de Chartres au XVIIIe siècle”. Perrot, “Les verrières du XIIe siècle”. For these restorations, see discussion in Michler, “La cathedral Notre- Dame”; and Calvel, “La restauration du décor polychrome”.
that of the wall covering) remains incomplete, Chartres Cathedral today is seen in a new light, closer to what it was in the 13th century. Bibliography Primary Sources
Antonio da Pisa, Secreti per lavorar li vetri, eds. D. Gallo and D. Sandron, trans. K. Bienvenu and C. Lautier, in Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 41–78. Delaporte, Y., “L’ordinaire chartrain du XIIIe siècle”, Mémoires de la Société archéologique d’Eure-et-Loir 19 (1952–53). Lépinois, E. de and Merlet, L. (eds.), Cartulaire de Notre-Dame de Chartres, 3 vols., Chartres, 1862–65. Merlet, L. (ed.), Catalogue des reliques et joyaux de Notre-Dame de Chartres, Chartres, 1885. Veridicus, Ordinaire du XIIe siècle de la cathédrale de Chartres, transcription by Y. Delaporte, Chartres, Archives diocésaines. (Manuscript conserved at the Archives municipales de Châteaudun, fonds des archives hospitalières, with the cote C13). Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, ed. and trans. C.R. Dodwell, Theophilus, The Various Arts, London, 1961.
Secondary Sources
Benoît, F. “Le conflit des styles dans la cathédrale de Chartres au XVIIIe siècle”, Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine 2 (1900), 45–57. Brenk, B., “Bildprogrammatik und Geschichtsverständnis der Kapetinger im Querhaus der Kathedrale von Chartres”, Arte medievale, 2nd series, 5-2 (1991), 71–96. Calvel, P., “La restauration du décor polychrome du choeur de la cathédrale de Chartres”, in C. Lautier (ed.), La cathédrale de Chartres. Restaurations récentes et nouvelles recherches, special issue of Bulletin monumental 169-1 (2011), 13–21. Caviness, M.H., “Biblical stories in windows: were they Bibles for the poor?”, in B.S. Levy (ed.), The Bible in the Middle Ages: its Influence on Literature and Art (Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 89), Binghampton, 1992, pp. 103–47. Challine, L., Recherches sur Chartres, transcrites et annotées par un arrière-neveu de l’auteur, Chartres, 1918. Ciggaar, K.N., “Une description de Constantinople traduite par un pèlerin anglais”, Revue des Études byzantines 34 (1976), 211–67. Cochet, V., “Les trésors de Notre-Dame de Chartres”, in V. Cochet, F. Jouanneaux, and H. Joubeaux (eds.), Trésors de la cathédrale de Chartres (Exhibition catalogue: Chartres, Musée des Beaux-Arts), Chartres, 2002, pp. 12–47. Delaporte, Y. and Houvet, E., Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres. Histoire et description, 4 vols., Chartres, 1926.
Chartres: Glazing the Cathedral Deremble, C. and Deremble, J.-P., “Les vitraux médiévaux: un patrimoine exceptionnel”, in Pansard (ed.), Chartres, pp. 147–207. Ebersolt, J., Sanctuaires de Byzance. Recherches sur les trésors des églises de Constantinople, Paris, 1921. Fassler, M.E., The Virgin of Chartres. Making History through Liturgy and the Arts, New Haven, 2010. Grodecki, L., “Les problèmes de l’origine de la peinture gothique et le ‘Maître de saint Chéron’ de la cathédrale de Chartres”, Revue de l’art 40–41 (1978), 43–64. Grodecki, L., “Le maître de saint Eustache de la cathédrale de Chartres”, in M. Kühn (ed.), Gedenkschrift Ernst Gall, Munich, 1965, pp. 171–94 (repr. in Grodecki, L., De l’an mille à l’an 1200, Le Moyen Âge retrouvé, vol. 1, Paris, 1986, pp. 520–43). Grodecki, L. and Brisac, C., Le vitrail gothique au XIIIe siècle, Fribourg, 1984. Hediger, C. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Reliquie und Skulptur im Glasfenster. Intermediale Auratisierung am Beispiel von Notre-Dame de la Belle-Verrière”, in U.J. Beil, C. Herberichs, and M. Sandl (eds.), Aura und Auratisierung in medialer Perspektive, (Medienwandel –Medienwechsel –Medienwissen, 27), Zürich, 2014, pp. 136–60. Katzenellenbogen, A., The Sculptural Programs of Chartres Cathedral, Baltimore, 1959. Kemp, W., The Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, trans. C.D. Saltzwedel, Cambridge, 1997. Kurmann, P. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Chartres Cathedral as a work of artistic integration: methodological reflection”, in V.C. Raguin, K. Brush, and P. Draper (eds.), Artistic Integration in Gothic Buildings, Toronto, 1995, pp. 131–52. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Récits, programme, commanditaires, concepteurs, donateurs”: publications récentes sur l’iconographie des vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, Bulletin monumental 154-1 (1996), 55–71. Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Kurmann, P., Chartres, la cathédrale, Saint-Léger-Vauban, 2001. Lautier, C., “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés de la nef de Chartres au début du XIIIe siècle”, Bulletin monumental 148-1 (1990), 7–45. Lautier, C., “Un peintre de la vie de saint Antoine à la cathédrale de Chartres”, in E.J. Beer (ed.), Corpus Vitrearum, Tagung für Glasmalereiforschung (Transactions of the 16th International Colloquium of the CV in Bern 1991), Bern, 1991, pp. 58–61. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres à la lumière des restaurations anciennes”, in T.W. Gaehtgens (ed.), Künstlerischer Austausch –Artistic Exchange (Transactions of the 28th International Congress of the History of Art, Berlin, 15.–20. Juli 1992), Berlin, 1993, vol. 3, pp. 413–24. Lautier, C., “Les restaurations des vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres du Moyen Âge à nos jours”, La Sauvegarde de l’art français 12 (1999), 7–19.
59 Lautier, C., “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres: reliques et images”, special issue of Bulletin monumental 161-1 (2003). Lautier, C., “The sacred topography of Chartres Cathedral: the reliquary chasse of the Virgin in the liturgical choir and stained glass decoration”, in E.S. Lane, E.C. Pastan, and E.M. Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing: Essays on Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Farnham, 2009, pp. 174–96. Lautier, C., “Le contexte gothique d’une icône romane silhouettée: la Vierge de la Belle-Verrière de Chartres”, in V. Sauterel and S. Trümpler (eds.), Les panneaux de vitrail isolés /Die Einzelscheibe /The Single Stained-Glass Panel (Actes du 24e Colloque International du CV, Zurich 2008), Bern, 2010, pp. 29–43. Lautier, C., “Restaurations récentes à la cathédrale de Chartres et nouvelles recherches”, in ead. (ed.), La cathédrale de Chartres. Restaurations récentes et nouvelles recherches, special issue of Bulletin monumental 169-1 (2011), 3–11. Lautier, C., “Échos et correspondances iconographiques. Vi traux et reliques”, in Pansard (ed.), Chartres, pp. 211–15. Lautier, C., “Diversité des ateliers. Les peintres verriers du XIIIe siècle”, in Pansard (ed.), Chartres, pp. 222–27. Lautier, C., “Les restaurations des vitraux du Moyen Âge à nos jours”, in Pansard (ed.), Chartres, pp. 232–35. Lautier, C. and Sandron, D. (eds.), Antoine de Pise. L’art du vi trail vers 1400 (CV France, Études, 8), Paris, 2008. Leproux, G.-M., Recherches sur les peintres-verriers parisiens de la Renaissance (1540–1620), Geneva, 1988. Lillich, M.P., “A redating of the thirteenth-century grisaille windows of Chartres Cathedral”, Gesta 11-1 (1972), 11–18. Lognon, J., Les compagnons de Villehardouin. Recherches sur les croisés de la quatrième croisade, Geneva, 1978. Manhes-Deremble, C., Les vitraux narratifs de la cathédrale de Chartres. Étude iconographique (CV France, Études, 2), Paris, 1993. Merlet, L., “Compte de l’œuvre de la cathédrale de Chartres en 1415–1416”, Bulletin archéologique du Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques 8 (1889), 35–94. Michler, J., “La cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartres: reconstitution de la polychromie originale de l’intérieur”, Bulletin monumental 147 (1989), 117–31. Pansard, M. (ed.), Chartres (La Grâce d’une cathédrale, 7), Strasbourg 2013. Pastan, E.C., “Charlemagne as Saint? Relics and the choice of window subjects at Chartres Cathedral”, in M. Gabriele and J. Stuckey (eds.), The Legend of Charlemagne in the Middle Ages: Power, Faith, and Crusade (The New Middle Ages Series), New York, 2008, pp. 97–135. Perrot, F., “Les verrières du XIIe siècle de la façade occidentale, étude archéologique (esthétique et archéologie des verrières de Chartres)”, Les monuments historiques de la France (1977-1), 37–51.
60 Lautier Queller, D.E., The Fourth Crusade. The Conquest of Constantinople, 1201–1204, Leicester, 1978. Riant, P.-E.-D., Comte de, “Des dépouilles religieuses enlevées à Constantinople au XIIIe siècle par les latins et des docu ments historiques nés de leur transport en Occident”, Mémoires de la Société nationale des Antiquaires de France 36 (1875), 1–214. Riant, P.-E.-D., Exuviae sacrae contantinopolitanae, 2 vols., Geneva, 1877–78. Roulliard, S., Parthénie, ou histoire de la très-auguste et très- dévote Église de Chartres, Paris, 1609. Sablon, V., Histoire de l’auguste et vénérable église de Chartres, dédiée par les anciens druides à une vierge qui devait
enfanter, Chartres, 1683 (2nd revised ed. corrected and enlarged, Chartres, 1864). Sapin, C. and Heber Suffrin, F., “Les cryptes de Chartres”, in M. Rouche (ed.), Fulbert de Chartres. Précurseur de l’Europe médievale?, Paris, 2008, pp. 285–300. Sauerländer, W., La sculpture gothique en France, 1140–1270, Paris, 1972. Les vitraux du Centre et des Pays de la Loire (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 2), Paris, 1981. Williams, J.W., Bread, Wine and Money: the Windows of the Trades at Chartres Cathedral, Chicago, 1993. Wolf, R.L. and Hazard, H.W., A History of the Crusades, vol. 2: the Later Crusades, 1189–1311, Madison, 1969.
c hapter 5
Design and Execution in Southern German Stained Glass of the Late Middle Ages and the Age of Dürer Hartmut Scholz From the late 15th century, a transformation in artistic production may be observed to an increasing degree in the leading artistic centres of the Holy Roman Empire. The phenomenon of division of labour between artists (usually painters) who design, and craftsmen who execute was not in fact new and occurred in the most diverse branches of art, but in the field of glass painting during this period it is particularly richly documented. This is because we have at this time an abundance of drawings –sketches, vidimuses, designs for whole windows, cartoons –as well as sometimes the stained- glass windows executed from them. The imperial cities of Nuremberg and Augsburg offer the best contexts in which to research this perceived paradigm shift, because it was in these places that Albrecht Dürer, Hans Holbein the Elder, and other exceptional artists of the time –the crème de la crème of the German Early Renaissance –furnished a particularly fruitful atmosphere for this artistic awakening. The lion’s share of the extant preliminary designs can be ascribed to the circles and followers of these artists. Casting the net more widely to the circumstances prevailing in Strasbourg, Freiburg, Basel, and the Upper Rhine region brings to light certain commonalities, but also local differences. The third part of a small book dating to the end of the 15th century, and belonging to an artistically minded nun at St. Catherine’s in Nuremberg, provides us with information on the production and cleaning of garments, various techniques for processing cloth, and the dyeing and printing of textiles, but also deals in detail with the processes involved in the production of stained glass. The crucial sentence relating to this issue falls at the start of this third part of the book: “If you wish to glaze a window with painted glass –whether that is with figures, ornament, architecture or arms –then you must have a design drawn up on paper by a painter that shows exactly how the work should look”.1 In this succinct assertion, made by a woman who was clearly self-taught and versed in such a practice herself, it encapsulates a working method that can be demonstrated with increasing 1 Nuremberg, Stadtbibliothek, Ms. cent. vi, 89; Mannert, Miscellanea, pp. 112–19. See also Ploss, Farben, pp. 127–54, here p. 150.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 07
frequency from the late 15th century onwards, and by no means solely in the field of glass painting. It is no coincidence that this concise and unambiguous observation at the start of a tract on glass-painting technique in the late 15th and early 16th centuries should be encountered specifically in Nuremberg. The city is the prime example of this working practice, because it was in Nuremberg that the most notable artists of the period – Albrecht Dürer and his circle of students: Hans Baldung Grien, Hans Schäufelein, Hans Süß von Kulmbach, Sebald Beham, and others –advanced this method considerably. The evolution of the division of labour between artist-designer on the one hand and craftsman-executor on the other, had a precedent, however, for which plentiful proof might be adduced, not only in Nuremberg itself, but also elsewhere. For example, we know from written sources that the workshop of the painter Hans Pleydenwurff, who settled in Nuremberg from 1457, was capable of executing commissions in the areas of both panel painting and glass painting. The same can be said of the painter Michael Wolgemut, who followed him, and whose workshop produced a significant portion of the choir glazing in the Nuremberg parish church of St. Lawrence c.1476–81.2 In these well-staffed workshops there were clearly individual specialist sections with differently trained personnel responsible for the different areas; design and execution thus remained the responsibility of one and the same workshop as a whole, even though, in practice, they might stem from different hands. Pleydenwurff has not, however, been identified as collaborating personally in the execution of stained glass; the same is true of Wolgemut. It is against this background that one can contextualize those workshops that might be distinguished as dealing purely with stained glass, which had at their disposal in their ranks workers skilled in producing vidimuses and cartoons on behalf of the workshop, who occasionally availed themselves of printed graphical sources as models. The most famous example of this in the German-speaking world was the “Strasbourg workshop community”, active c.1480 and centred on Peter 2 Frenzel, “Wolgemut”; Funk, Glasfensterkunst, pp. 128–35; Scholz, Mittelfranken und Nürnberg, vol. 1, pp. 65, 245–48; Popp and Scholz, St. Lorenz, pp. 22–37, 68–69, 71.
62 Scholz Hemmel von Andlau, whose highly prized products –the trademark “Strasbourg windows” –were supplied to high nobility, cities, guilds, and wealthy citizens as far beyond Strasbourg’s boundaries as Frankfurt, Tübingen, Ulm, Augsburg, Munich, Salzburg, Vienna, Nancy, and Bar-le- Duc.3 Yet, it was but a small step from here to entrusting the production of a design to an artist outside the workshop who was skilled in such matters. Contrary to the view expressed repeatedly in the literature, the tightening of regulations relating to guilds, crafts, and the making of masterpieces had no real effect on such work processes. Indeed, a trend towards increasing specialization in the artistic professions –painting, glazing, sculpture –can already be observed in the late 15th and early 16th centuries, even though none of the guild directives forbade a master from executing works to his own designs, and in doing so he would not have been trespassing on the professional ambit or jurisdiction of a competitor. Quite the opposite was true: in various regulations relating to the making of masterpieces, design and execution by the same hand are required explicitly. The 1446 regulations relating to the painters and glaziers of the guild of St. Luke in Vienna, which are exceptionally detailed for their time, impose the same specifications on painters and glaziers with regard to the masterpieces required of them, and at the same time, as one of the very earliest preserved sets of regulations for artists, convey to us a notion of the original, all-encompassing nature of the way in which commissions were implemented. Thus, a glazier was required to design and paint a picture panel in fired glass one “ell” in height (in Vienna c.75 cm) single-handedly, and to do so within three weeks.4 In cities such as Strasbourg and Freiburg there were regulations along similar lines, but here the glaziers were permitted to use an etching or a vidimus (drawn by another hand) as a model. The increasing pressure of competition between established workshops eventually led to a more restrictive idea – proposed by a group of Strasbourg painters and brought before the guild for ratification in 1516 –requiring, from that time, three masterpieces from each apprentice, all of which should be “freely designed”, i.e., by the apprentice’s hand.5 This requirement was however roundly rejected by the adversarial members of the guild, who demurred that in earlier times even the most excellent masters had not been ashamed to take the art of their forebears as a model and learn from it.6 3 On this, see Frankl, Hemmel; Reinhardt and Roth, Bilder aus Licht und Farbe. 4 Uhlirz, “Urkunden und Regesten”. 5 Scholz, Werkstattpraxis, pp. 6–13. On guilds, see also Baxandall, Limewood Sculptors, pp. 106–22.
Engagement with works by other artists –whether in the form of significant works of painting, glass painting, or sculpture, gathered together in pattern books –had therefore long been part of the normal working practices of late medieval workshops. In the final analysis, however, it was commissioners who were responsible for these encounters with designs by other artists.7 Donors’ growing levels of self-confidence and need to be represented personally, are easily gauged from the changing nature of what is depicted. Subjects rooted in the history of salvation step further and further into the background in favour of self-representation. Content outside prevailing norms required new pictorial inventions. At the same time, as far as donors were concerned, the increasingly humanist bent to education led to more aspirational tastes. If we take Nuremberg as an example, we see that for centuries donors of windows had primarily been eminent and powerful patrician families, from whose numbers the city’s council also recruited its members. Only in specific cases do others appear as donors of windows, such as the emperor, and the great territorial lords (the margraves of Brandenburg-Ansbach and the bishops of Bamberg). By the end of the 15th century, in addition to their actual religious purpose, the “greater glory of God”, there becomes apparent a growing tendency in all donations –whether for parish or monastery churches, cloisters or private chapels –to represent in more definitively visible form the reputation and social and commercial importance of the donor and his family. This shift in emphasis towards the “privatization of the sacred” is especially clear in glass-painting, on account of the immense increase in numbers of armorial panels and the emphasis on the image of the donor.8 The function of printed graphic works as conveyors of visual ideas had been increasing ever since the middle of the 15th century. These provided the medieval artist with models, in addition to those in his own, hand- drawn pattern book, and of which he could avail himself according to his own judgement. At the same time, reliance on specific models in individual cases may have been determined by the wishes of the commissioner. In this regard, the Frankish humanist and rector of the Nuremberg Latin School Johannes Cochläus (1479–1552), in the context of his brief description of Nuremberg and its artists, cites Dürer’s etchings of the Passion of Christ, observing that these prints were so singularly fine and 6 Rott, Quellen, pp. 221–22. 7 For example, from a very early stage, vidimuses were already a requirement and component of contracts for retables; see Huth, Künstler und Werkstatt, pp. 36–54, with numerous examples of designs by other artists in other art forms being used. 8 Becksmann, Vitrea dedicata; Schleif, Donatio et Memoria.
Design and Execution in Southern German Stained Glass
perspectivally correct, that merchants from the whole of Europe acquired them as models for their artists.9 1 Nuremberg: a Model that can be Applied Elsewhere In Nuremberg itself prospective donors of stained glass could turn directly to the artist himself; this was particularly the case with unusual pictorial programmes for which novel solutions were being sought. A prime example of this is the case of the designs for the extensive stained-glass cycle, which the abbot of the Benedictine abbey of St. Giles, Johannes Radenecker, commissioned from Dürer before 1500, for the glazing of the cloister windows. This consisted of nearly 30 panels with the life of St. Benedict. The cloister cycle, for which several patrician families vied to pay, was completed in 1501 in the workshop of the Nuremberg city glazier Veit Hirsvogel, but was destroyed in the devastating abbey fire in 1696. An abbreviated second version of the legend of St. Benedict after the same models had already been completed, in 1500, for the refectory, commissioned by the patrician Tetzel family. A third version destined for the cloister of the venerable Benedictine abbey of St. Emmeram in Regensburg followed in 1502, and a fourth (again in abbreviated form), commissioned by a Nuremberg citizen, Wolf Ketzel –for the abbey of St. Giles and executed after his marriage to Barbara Tetzel in 1503 –demonstrates the exceptional esteem accorded by commissioners to Dürer’s series.10 The Latin verses associated with the individual images in the cycle stemmed from the pen of the humanist Jakob Locher Philomusus (1471–1528), professor of rhetoric and poetry at the University of Ingolstadt, who had friendly ties with both abbeys and dedicated his “Disticha de miraculis et vita Sancti Benedicti” (“Distichs on the Miracles and Life of St. Benedict”) to the abbots in both places. As for Dürer himself, he was a highly esteemed figure in Nuremberg humanist circles, at the latest from 1499 and 1500, when the noted humanist Conrad Celtis praised him in two panegyrics as the German Apelles.11 These circumstances demonstrate the extraordinary status associated with these cycles, and as a result preferential treatment was afforded to Dürer when contracts were being awarded by an aspiring clientele for the 9 Langosch, Brevis Germanie descriptio, p. 89 (no. 30). 10 See Scholz, Nürnberg: Sebalder Stadtseite, pp. 341–75, with a complete bibliography on this famously contentious cycle, the designs for which have attracted controversy concerning the attribution to Dürer or his circle for a century and a half. See most recently Parello, Regensburg und Oberpfalz, pp. 156–62. 11 Wuttke, “Celtis-Epigramme”.
63
designs for ambitious commissions. The overall design for a St. George window –which is one of Dürer’s earliest commissions for glass-painting and is of roughly the same date as the Apocalypse woodcuts –is undoubtedly to be counted among these (Figure 5.1). Dürer’s design, for a large tableau filling the entire surface of a window with the saint’s battle with the dragon, was made without taking into account the mullions and panel divisions implicit in late Gothic fenestration.12 The Moses Window in the church of St. James in Straubing seems even bolder in its monumentality; the leading Nuremberg workshop of Veit Hirsvogel was called on again to execute it, around 1500 (Figure 5.2).13 The image of the handing over of the tablets of the law stretches over four lights and six rows. At a height of more than 3 m, the colossal kneeling figure of Moses dominates and fills the immediate foreground. Borrowing from the usual iconography of the Burning Bush (Exodus 3:1–6), God the Father appears here as a demi-figure in burning glory, above the group of trees in the mid-ground, presenting Moses with the ten commandments. What is truly staggering about the Moses Window is the sheer vastness of the pictorial conception, and once again the total disregard for the traditionally additive design principles of late Gothic glass-painting. This window justifiably left a profound impression on contemporaries and later generations; indeed, it was deemed the most successful ancient picture of such dimensions that had ever been produced in the field of glass-painting in Bavaria.14 From the point of view of technical execution, the painting of the Moses Window is, furthermore, so closely modelled on Dürer’s drawing style, that the glass-painter must have had the artist’s full-scale cartoons to hand. Rather less spectacular, but still indebted to the traditions of late medieval glass-painting, is the Bamberg Window in the east choir of that most stately Nuremberg parish church, St. Sebald’s. The window was executed in 1501–02 by the Hirsvogel workshop on a commission from Veit Truchsess von Pommersfelden, bishop of Bamberg, with the glaziers compensated to the tune of roughly 60 guilders.15 The payment of a modest sum to the painter who had contributed “some designs” to the window does not identify the artist, but today there is no longer any doubt as to Dürer’s authorship of the figural sections.16 The Bamberg Window presents an ensemble 12
Frankfurt am Main, Städel-Museum, inv. no. 6952; see Buck, Wendepunkte, no. 21. No window executed after this design survives. 13 Scholz, Mosesfenster, pp. 1–24. 14 Scholz, “Dürer and stained glass”, pp. 134–36 with fig. 2. 15 For the essentials of this, see Knappe, Bamberger Fenster; Scholz, Nürnberg: Sebalder Stadtseite, pp. 213–25, 500. 16 Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 106–08 (B. Butts).
64 Scholz assembled from donor images of four prince-bishops of Bamberg, their arms, and standing figures of those saints afforded particular devotion in the Bamberg bishopric, as well as a concluding row of micro-architectural canopies. While the repertoire of architectonic and ornamental motifs still draws on the same stock as used in earlier Strasbourg glass painting –which the workshop leader Veit Hirsvogel had studied intensively in his pre-1485 peregrinations –the figures, with their tangible corporeality and expressive physiognomies, are absolutely up-to-the- minute creations from Dürer’s inexhaustible repertoire. In the case of the Bamberg Window, the extent of Dürer’s contribution to the models –whether small-scale vidimuses and/or cartoons to scale –is not an uncontroversial question, and depends not least on whether one deems the famous cartoon of St. Peter in the British Museum in London to be a work from Dürer’s own hand (Figure 5.3). While this cartoon was earlier ascribed to von Kulmbach and subsequently to a particularly talented worker in the glass-painting workshop, preference has been given in more recent times to an attribution to Dürer himself.17 This interface between painters and glass makers is one area where the enduring influence exercised by Dürer, through his designs, on the contemporary formal language of Nuremberg glass painters, is revealed. Smaller designs executed for Dürer’s friend Dr Sixtus Tucher, the humanist and provost of St. Lawrence, for his private residence, also provide a concrete example of how close the intellectual exchange between commissioner and designer could be, even addressing in individual cases the matter of pictorial invention. Dürer’s vidimuses for two trefoils with Death on horseback and Sixtus Tucher at an open grave –which were subsequently transferred to glass by the glass painter on a scale of 1:1 –cannot be understood without presuming intensive engagement on the part of the artist with the devout clergyman’s intentions (Figure 5.4).18 As the opening decade of the century continued, Dürer usually passed the business of designs for stained glass to his immediate circle of assistants, and was only occasionally involved in the process by making sketches of preparatory ideas. At first it was Hans Baldung Grien (active as an apprentice in the workshop from c.1503) who followed in the footsteps of the great mentor, and for a brief period, 17
18
London, British Museum, inv. no. 1882-3-11-60. See Winkler, Kulmbach-Zeichnungen, pp. 71–72; Scholz, Werkstattpraxis, pp. 66–67; Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 107–08 (B. Butts). Schleif, “The proper attitude”, and Schleif, Donatio et Memoria, pp. 179–88; Bott et al., Nürnberg 1300–1550, pp. 286–89 (R. Schoch and R. Kahsnitz); Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 109–16 (B. Butts).
from 1504 to 1507, was the prime mover in the outstanding glazing projects in Nuremberg. In addition to his designs for individual panels at the Augustinian monastery (1504),19 and the earliest portions of the extensive History of Salvation cycle in the cloister of the Carmelite monastery (1504–07),20 the Löffelholz Window of 1506 in St. Lawrence counts as the artist’s crowning achievement in the field of stained glass, and, furthermore, counts among the highlights of Nuremberg glass painting (Figure 5.5).21 The window –donated by Nuremberg jurist and humanist Dr. Johannes Löffelholz and his spouse Katharina Dintner –consists, in line with contemporary taste, of coloured glazing surrounded by bull’s-eye panels. It presents over 12 panels the Annunciation to Mary, the Nativity, and the Adoration of the Magi, together with the donors’ name- saints and four armorial panels. The scenes and figural representations are conceived in the same way as found in contemporary panel painting. The colour palette and subtle shading serve to delineate the picture space in a fitting manner; then again, powerful chromatic chords and considerable interweaving of colours in the figures underline the excitement in this staging of the Christmas story. The great three-dimensionality and individualization of the figures lend these depictions a presence that Baldung himself hardly ever achieved in his panel paintings of the same period, while conversely, Baldung’s early painted work (for example the two 1507 altarpieces destined for the cathedral in Halle an der Saale), particularly in its choice of bold colouring, reflects the artist’s engagement with stained glass.22 The fact that the Löffelholz Window was conceived in the same way as a panel painting points ahead to the choir chapel windows in Freiburg Minster, for which Baldung produced the designs a decade later.23 What distinguishes the work in Nuremberg from that in Freiburg is the extent to which the artist was involved in the production process. While Hans Gitschmann von Ropstein’s glass-painting workshop in Freiburg was usually only provided with vidimuses by Baldung on a small scale,24 in the case of the Löffelholz Window we can assume that 19 Scholz, Nürnberg: Sebalder Seite, pp. 321–23. 20 Scholz, Mittelfranken und Nürnberg, pp. 166–79, 206–12, 312–28, 539–52. See also Knappe, “Baldung in Nürnberg”, pp. 56–68; Bott et al., Nürnberg 1300–1550, pp. 358–63 (R. Kahsnitz); Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 128–33 (L. Hendrix). 21 Knappe, “Löffelholzfenster”; Knappe, “Baldung in Nürnberg”, pp. 47–79; Scholz, Werkstattpraxis, pp. 86– 93; Popp and Scholz, St. Lorenz, pp. 78–83. 22 Von der Osten, Baldung, pp. 42–47, 49–53, colour pl. ii. 23 Becksmann, Freiburg, pp. 450–98. 24 Perseke, Baldung in Freiburg, pp. 99–116; for the documentary evidence concerning payment, see Becksmann, Freiburg, vol.
Design and Execution in Southern German Stained Glass
the artist must have provided cartoons for execution on a scale of 1:1 (at least for the figural sections). This is already apparent from the window’s exceptional closeness to works from the artist’s own hand, but in particular from his unmistakable repertoire of types and refined engraver’s draughtsmanship. What is more, in light of the directness with which the designer’s individual stylistic language was transferred to the glass, the only satisfactory conclusion, contrary to reservations expressed previously, is that Baldung himself collaborated to a significant degree in the execution of the window.25 This should probably be considered the exception to the rule, but in this specific case, the argument is supported by historical circumstances. As an apprentice, Baldung was required to work for an established workshop. During Dürer’s second trip to Italy, between August 1505 and February 1507, Albrecht’s workshop was abandoned, and his brother Hans apparently even had to be sent to Dürer’s teacher Michael Wolgemut (or another painter) to find work, so that he would not have to depend on his mother financially.26 By all appearances, Baldung had to get work during this period by moving to the workshop of the renowned city glazier Veit Hirsvogel, where he was not only superior to all his colleagues as a cartoon draughtsman, but also picked up the brush himself for the execution of upmarket commissions, such as Dr. Löffelholz’s window. Baldung left Nuremberg around 1507, and after a short sojourn in Halle an der Saale settled in Strasbourg in 1509. In Nuremberg his place was filled by the painter Hans Süß von Kulmbach, who, after establishing himself in the city, became the leading provider of designs for stained glass, cooperating very closely with Dürer, and possibly working in his workshop until 1511.27 Dürer certainly still provided preliminary sketches for the 1508 windows in the chapel of All Saints in Landauer’s “Zwölfbrüderhaus” (almshouse) and the 1509 Schmidmayer Window in St. Lawrence’s.28 The glazing of Landauer’s chapel, which consisted in part of stained 2, p. 618 (nos. 24, 27), p. 620 (no. 40). A single cartoon after a vidimus by Baldung survives, in the Kupferstichkabinett in Berlin (inv. no. KdZ. 4797); Durian-Ress, Baldung, pp. 240–43 (R. Becksmann). 25 See Winkler, “Review”, p. 267; Knappe, “Baldung in Nürnberg”, n. 285; Scholz, Werkstattpraxis, p. 88. 26 Letter from Dürer from Venice to Willibald Pirckheimer, dated 2 April 1506: Rupprich, Dürer, Schriftlicher Nachlaß, vol. 1, pp. 48–49. 27 Butts, “Kulmbach”, esp. pp. 127–59. 28 Winkler, Dürer-Zeichnungen, vol. 3, p. 53, and Appendix, pl. X. On the window, see Popp and Scholz, St. Lorenz, pp. 83–88. The further working-up of the models, including the cartoons on a scale of 1:1, was usually the responsibility of a workshop colleague.
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glass, was destroyed during the Second World War, but is known to us through photographs. The only surviving cartoon, for the War in Heaven scene (now in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston), leads us once again straight to the heart of the authorship issue: as with the St. Peter cartoon in London, attributions stretch from von Kulmbach,29 back via a glass painter of the Hirsvogel workshop,30 to Dürer himself.31 Dürer undoubtedly exercised overall artistic control of the furnishing of the Landauer chapel; he painted the central item of the furnishings (the All Saints’ Altarpiece, now in the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna) and also designed the carved frame for what was his last great altarpiece.32 The three great windows in the eastern choir of St. Sebald’s of 1514–15 –donated by Emperor Maximilian i, the margraves of Brandenburg-Ansbach, and the imperial councillor Melchior Pfinzing –constitute an undisputed high point for German stained glass of the early Renaissance, and at the same time provide a further instructive example for the fruitful interaction in the field of Dürer, von Kulmbach, and the workshop of the city glazier Veit Hirsvogel.33 Even in its formal construction, the extraordinarily imposing iconography of the three windows almost inevitably required a new conceptual approach; it affords the most generous space to the representation of the donor families, with full-figure portraits and armorials, yet treats patron and other saints, who are the objects of veneration, as marginal figures. At the start of the great renovation campaign came the emperor’s window, which Maximilian commissioned for the axial opening of the choir.34 A first overall design for the window by Hans von Kulmbach (the several parts of which are today in the Kupferstichkabinett, Berlin, and the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam) presents standing figures, beneath branch-tracery canopies, still entirely late Gothic in their forms: the patron saints of Austria, including Charlemagne, and shield-bearers with the arms of the Habsburg hereditary lands.35 The emperor apparently did not appreciate this traditional 29 Winkler, Kulmbach, p. 24; Grote and Strieder, Meister um Albrecht Dürer, p. 127 (H. Röttgen); Smith, Renaissance City, pp. 130–31; Bott et al., Nürnberg 1300–1550, p. 342 (R. Kahsnitz). 30 Panofsky, Dürer, no. 872; Scholz, Werkstattpraxis, p. 104. 31 Schmitz, Kunstgewerbemuseum, vol. 1, pp. 142–46; Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 116– 19 (B. Butts); Butts, “Modernization”, p. 349. See most recently Scholz, Nürnberg: Sebalder Stadtseite, pp. 442–53. 32 Strieder, “Communio sanctorum”. 33 See most recently Scholz, Nürnberg: Sebalder Stadtseite, pp. 198–213, 225–40, and 240–53. 34 For the relevant written sources, see ibid., pp. 198, 501 (nos. 13–17). 35 Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 156–59 (B. Butts).
66 Scholz design, for the window as executed clearly deviates from it from a formal point of view. The critical changes relate to the coherently constructed Renaissance architecture and the viewing angle chosen, whereby the massive figures are seen very much from below. It cannot be proved, but is it nevertheless very probable that this trend-setting development resulted from the involvement of Dürer, who at that time is known to have been busy with other commissions for the emperor: the sketches for the huge Triumphal Arch woodcut (on which he was already working in 1512), and the marginal drawings in Maximilian’s prayer book (from 1514).36 At the end of July 1515, in a letter to Christoph Kress (who, as envoy from Nuremberg to the imperial court in Vienna, put in a good word for the artist), Dürer himself speaks of many different designs executed on commission for the emperor; the reworking of the design for the window donated by the emperor may have been among these.37 Hans Süß von Kulmbach delivered the overall design for the window of the margraves of Brandenburg- Ansbach, rooted in this new conceptual approach, the very same year (Figure 5.6).38 Modelled on the Emperor’s Window and clearly in competition with it, the design allowed the ruling margrave and his wife, Friedrich the Elder and Sophia of Poland, to display themselves in exceedingly self-assured fashion with their eight sons and the arms of their territories. There is no trace of devotio, and even the figures of the Mother of God and John the Baptist at the apex of the window feature here merely as the patron saints of the Order of the Swan and the house of Hohenzollern, respectively, and appear to be only a small concession to the window’s location in the church’s interior (Figure 5.7). Window donations that were similarly prominently positioned were an ideal medium for dynastic self-representation, and less powerful donors from the city’s patriciate also emulated the example of the upper aristocracy. For the memorial donation for his father Siegfried Pfinzing and those affiliated with him –which was obviously not to be overshadowed by the neighbouring donations from the emperor and the margrave –Melchior Pfinzing, imperial councillor and provost of St. Sebald’s, secured for himself the active involvement of Albrecht Dürer. The result was a boldly constructed, two-storey Renaissance structure, and it is not by chance that its triumphal construction and decoration are reminiscent of the Triumphal Arch for Maximilian. The whole of the window’s lower register is reserved for the donor’s family and presents 36 Schauerte, Ehrenpforte; Sieveking, Gebetbuch. 37 Rupprich, Dürer, Schriftlicher Nachlaß, vol. 1, pp. 77– 78 (no. 25). 38 Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 160–61 (B. Butts).
in two rows, one above the other, Councillor Siegfried Pfinzing and his spouse Barbara, as well as their six sons and two daughters, albeit seen here kneeling in an entirely traditional manner in pious devotion. The upper storey, which is rendered to be seen from far below, brings together a group of St. Anne, the Virgin and the Christ Child, and St. Christopher, as well as a Virgin and Child, and the church’s patron saint, St. Sebald. The convincing conception of the overall picture space, which follows the laws of central perspective, is a masterpiece of ingenuity by Dürer. Unfortunately, definitive proof of the extent of Dürer’s and von Kulmbach’s involvement in the preparation of graphic models in these prominent cases is sparse. Generally speaking, the importance of these commissions suggests that cartoons on a scale of 1:1 were executed, and in the cases of the Emperor’s Window and the Margraves’ Window, these models (which are now entirely lost) can probably be claimed for von Kulmbach. In the case of the Pfinzing Window, Dürer’s role extended to producing the cartoon drawings: a fragment of these with the representation of the Mother of God survives in the Drawings Collection of the State Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg.39 We may doubt however that full-scale models in Dürer’s hand were available for all panels: scale sketches of the pictorial architecture and ornamental motifs would have sufficed. Dürer’s involvement is suggested not least by the high-quality execution of the window, which presupposes, as a rule, especially with demanding donors, the involvement of the glass- painting workshop’s outstandingly talented personnel. It comes then as no surprise that the fame of Nuremberg glass-painting in the era of Dürer, which reached far beyond the boundaries of the city, was also associated specifically with the reputation of the Hirsvogel workshop, itself comparable, for example, to the esteem in which the Strasbourg workshop community was held a generation earlier.40 A heightened awareness of quality and an increasing taste for exceptional workmanship, should be assumed for the bourgeoisie, the urban patriciate, and above all for rulers and the upper classes. It would otherwise be very hard to explain why commissioners, from within and outside the city, who had access to considerable means, should always have resorted to the same very compact group of artists. Yet, we should not in any way presume 39
40
St Petersburg, State Hermitage Museum, inv. no. L.2678a; Winkler, Dürer-Zeichnungen, vol. 3, pp. 22–23 (no. 551); Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 126–27 (B. Butts). The great number of exports, which were mainly for prestigious commissioners, are collated with all supporting evidence in Mock, “Exporte”.
Design and Execution in Southern German Stained Glass
that all donors of windows were seeking in addition to gain prestige through artistically innovative new work; it is rather the case that they simply availed themselves of the existing experience of the glass-painting workshop. A considerable portion of Nuremberg stained glass consists of commissions from a catalogue of works that could be made to order, in the form of two-and three- fold renditions after pre-existing graphic models, up to veritable serial production. Existing models were not protected by any form of copyright; they could be copied as and when required, under the direct control of the glass-painter’s workshop, and be reused over a long period of time, modified, and employed in combination at will. A request for a specific saint, for example the commissioner’s name saint, could be fulfilled in a swift and uncomplicated manner simply by customizing individual attributes. This clearly remained common practice in traditional workshop operations, but nowhere can it be demonstrated to the same extent as in the extremely substantial body of stained glass found in Nuremberg.41 At the same time, we should not make a distinction, in the sense of social rank, between those commissioners who were not content to make a selection from a pre- existing catalogue, and those who ordered directly from the glass-painter himself. A vast wealth of armorial panels in both round and rectangular formats were based on a limited number of broadly similar designs. The small-scale cycles that were increasingly popular in private contexts –Labours of the Month and Signs of the Zodiac, the planets, genre and hunting scenes, and allegorical and mythological scenes, as well as subjects drawn from the history of salvation and the lives of saints –were in part produced serially, after one-off designs, in order to satisfy the demands of a wider clientele.42 Whether artists –Hans Süß von Kulmbach, Sebald Beham, Georg Pencz, Erhard Schön, and other lesser masters –were approached by a glass-painting workshop itself as a commissioner, in order to produce these common subjects for the free market, needs to be examined on a case by case basis; nothing should be excluded a priori. There again, many glass-painters were themselves highly gifted draughtsmen, as is shown in the case of Augustin Hirsvogel and his extensive group of sketches, 54 in number, for round and rectangular panels, with very diverse hunting scenes (Figure 5.8).43
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With its incomparably rich heritage of stained glass and artistic approaches to it, Nuremberg provides in all cases a model by which the circumstances prevailing in other glass-painting centres may be assessed and judged. If we cast the net more widely to examine the situations in Augsburg, Strasbourg, Freiburg, Basel, and the Upper Rhine region, it brings to light certain commonalities, but also local differences. 2 Augsburg At the end of the 15th century and start of the 16th, Augsburg had in its ranks –in the figures of Hans Holbein the Elder, Hans Schäufelein, Hans Burgkmair the Elder, Leonhard Beck, and Jörg Breu the Elder –an impressive number of outstanding artists, all of whom, though to differing degrees, engaged with glass painting. In contrast to Nuremberg, practically no stained glass of the period has survived in the city itself, but outside the city, distributed far across southern Germany, Austria, and the Tyrol, the heritage of stained glass from Augsburg is incredibly rich. From this that one can conclude that there was a similar level of demand for Augsburg exports as was the case with Nuremberg’s.44 The mortuary hall of Eichstätt Cathedral undoubtedly counts among the most significant locations for sacred stained glass in Augsburg; the two-bay annex retains the original scheme, entirely of stained glass, from the period around 1500, in five of its ten windows, all of which were donations from noble canons.45 The fame of this scheme rests in particular on the magnificent Last Judgement Window (Figure 5.9), but there are standing figures of saints venerated in the Eichstätt diocese, a Crucifixion, and an image of the Virgin of Mercy that are also very fine. The designs for all of these come from the workshop of Hans Holbein the Elder, whose signature (“holbon” and “holbain”) is found in at least two windows. Two vidimuses in the Kupferstichkabinett (“Print Collection”) in Basel, which were intended for now-lost windows at Eichstätt, reveal the degree to which Holbein’s designs for the whole windows were worked up (Figure 5.10).46 In recent times, it has been usual to attribute the execution of the Eichstätt windows to the Augsburg 44
See Thiem, “Glasmalerei”, pp. 143–235. Since Thiem, numerous other works of the Augsburg school have been identified 41 Scholz, Werkstattpraxis, pp. 206–64. in churches and museum collections within the context of the 42 On this, see for example Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on work of the international Corpus Vitrearum. Light, pp. 142–52, 166–68, 180–88 (B. Butts). 45 Scholz, Mittelfranken und Nürnberg, pp. 119–54. 43 Löcher, Kunst des Sammelns, pp. 120– 79 (K. Achilles- 46 Falk, Zeichnungen, nos. 146, 241. This catalogue also provides Syndram). The drawings are today in the Szépművészeti an excellent overview of the wealth of extant designs from Múzeum (Museum of Fine Arts) in Budapest: see Bodnár, Holbein’s workshop and its followers, which for the most part “Hirschvogel”. were suitable for a variety of uses.
68 Scholz painter and glass-painter Gumpolt Giltlinger the Elder, who is named in the accounts in comparable cases, for example, the window for the abbot’s chapel in the church of Saints Ulrich and Afra (1496), or the contracts of 1506 and 1509 for Schwaz in the Tirol.47 In Giltlinger we have another example where workshop contracts for panel-painting, sculpture painting, and glass painting could be carried out with equal ease. In light of the excellent portraits among the figures seeking protection within the Virgin of Mercy window in the 1502 glass in Eichstätt Cathedral, it is quite justifiable to ask whether, and to what extent, Holbein himself was personally involved in the transfer of his designs to glass in specific cases. One argument for his close involvement could be the relatively legible signature on the hem of a sleeve of one of the figures kneeling under the cover of the Virgin’s cloak. Yet, the signature was already present on the design, as seen in the vidimus of St. Anthony in Basel, on whose little bell, the signature “holpain” can quite clearly be read. Similarly, on the design in Basel for a four-light window with the patron saints of the Eichstätt diocese, the sequence of letters “hol” can be seen in several places on the episcopal vestments of St. Willibald (Figure 5.10).48 In addition to monumental windows in stained glass, Holbein served the market for small-format, so-called Kabinettscheiben, as is attested by the large quantity of surviving sketches for roundels by Holbein’s workshop and its followers.49 In no case can it be shown who was responsible for the transfer of the design to glass, but the decidedly painterly character of the workmanship, with delicate contours and widespread use of gently modelled washes –which subsequently became determining features of Augsburg glass-painting –has its origins right here, in Holbein the Elder’s pen and wash drawings. The overwhelming majority of extant sketches for roundels from Augsburg dating to the first half of the 16th century, which have secular subject matter in the main, have been ascribed in one way or another to Jörg Breu the Elder, whether as original autograph designs, workshop products, reworkings by various glass- painters, or simply as imitative pieces. Among the most famous of these series is a cycle of the Months of the Year, originally designed for the Hoechstetter family of Augsburg, but reworked on several occasions for reuse, and modified in part (for example in the frames).50 Also 47 Thiem, “Glasmalerei”, pp. 149, 156, 163–70. 48 Falk, Zeichnungen, p. 77, nos. 154 and 241. 49 Ibid., nos. 166, 221, 224–27, 233–37, 280, 287, 288, 296–99, 317, 325. 50 At least six different versions are known in 11 collections; Morral, Jörg Breu, pp. 253–54.
well-known are the hunting and battle scenes that Emperor Maximilian commissioned for his hunting lodge at Lermoos in 1516 (Figure 5.11), and the 12-part sequence drawn from the story of Joseph; a complete series of panels after the latter is preserved in the Bayerisches Nationalmuseum in Munich. In addition to these there are further sketches for roundels with tournament, sporting and hunting scenes, the planets, exemplary scenes from the Gesta Romanorum, etc.51 Various hints have been given above as to who the glass painters responsible might be. Good arguments have been proposed for claiming the execution of the 1516 imperial commission for Lermoos to the workshop of Gumpolt Giltlinger, since he was related by marriage to the actual contractor, the court painter Hans Knoder, who was resident in Augsburg. It was in fact usual practice in Augsburg for a master, whether of painting or glazing, to limit himself to his own specialism under normal circumstances, but to be able to expand into another craft through marriage, without repercussions.52 In the case of the Months of the Year cycle ordered by Georg ii Hoechstetter, the artistic script on the panel for the month of July in the Kaiserslautern Pfalzgalerie (“Palatinate Gallery”) has been compared to that for the sketch for a roundel entitled “Venatio” (“Hunting”, again after Breu) and bearing an “H.B.” monogram, now in the Kupferstichkabinett in Berlin; this therefore brings the Augsburg glass-painter Hans Braun into consideration as a candidate.53 If we really are dealing here with Braun’s monogram, then we could also attribute to him the reworked drawings (cartoons?) of the complete series of Breu’s designs for the Months of the Year, preserved in the art collection of the University of Göttingen, which can only have been produced in the context of work on the Hoechstetter cycle of around 1526: when else would Breu’s originals have been available to Braun? Hans Braun, a Glasschmelzer (an historical synonym for a glass painter), had already been paid in 1515 for eight works of stained glass (now sadly lost) for the new council chamber in Augsburg, for which Hans Burgkmair the Elder had provided the designs.54 All in all, in Augsburg, as in Nuremberg, we are dealing with an established circle of prominent experts in 51
52 53 54
The literature on this subject is widely dispersed, and mention is made here of only a few recent titles: Morral, “Monatszyklus”; Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 200–32, nos. 78– 109 (L. Hendrix); Morral, Jörg Breu, esp. pp. 53–66, 196–202, 219–26 and Appendix pp. 253–58 (with a nearly complete list of extant sketches and associated stained glass). Morral, “Monatszyklus”, pp. 135–47. Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, p. 220, note 8. The most recent work on this is Scholz, “Burgkmair”.
Design and Execution in Southern German Stained Glass
the field of graphic art and outstandingly talented glass painters, some of whom collaborated over quite a long period of time. In addition, the approaches adopted when dealing with designs from an outside source, the role of the commissioner, and the repeated reuse of models produced for one project, are essentially the same at Augsburg.55 As in Nuremberg, an “obligatory” local style evolved in Augsburg glass-painting, which, despite the great differences between models (Holbein, Breu) and a certain latitude on the part of the glass painters who executed them, remains recognizable over a period of several decades, and has as its hallmark the fact that clients from far away turned to Augsburg. 3
Strasbourg, Freiburg, and Basel
We have a much less complete view of the traditions in the glass-painting centres of the Upper Rhine region, which need to be considered briefly here for comparison purposes. After the unparalleled heyday experienced by Strasbourg glass-painting around 1480, in the figures of the five independent masters (including Peter Hemmel von Andlau) who constituted the workshop community, local production appears to have waned considerably towards the end of the 15th century. Yet, practically no designs, vidimuses, or even cartoons survive anywhere that can be associated with the enormous range of schemes in stained glass from the last quarter of that century. However, numerous sketches from the output of the “Master of the Drapery Studies” (also known as the Master of the Coburg Roundels) –including individual motifs and whole scenes related to Strasbourg glass- painting –have been convincingly interpreted as drawings after works in glass, in the sense of a pattern book.56 Yet, if we turn to the first half of the 16th century, the situation is completely reversed; here the larger number of extant sketches for panels (on a scale of 1:1 with the glass as executed) from the workshops of Hans Baldung Grien and Hans Weiditz, as well as those of the glass-painters who collaborated with them, speaks to a certain degree of continuity, at least as far as the demand for individually designed armorial panels is concerned (though unfortunately practically nothing of this work survives).57 55
Thus, the History of Joseph cycle was executed in at least three versions; Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 230–31, no. 107, figs 78–79. 56 Roth, “Meister der Coburger Rundblätter”, pp. 28– 62, nos. 1–16. 57 On the sketches for panels from Baldung’s Strasbourg period, see Koch, Baldung-Zeichnungen, nos. 69– 79, 83– 84 and 145–59.
69
For Freiburg no more than half a dozen models (vidimuses and cartoons) are known.58 Here the glass- painters of Hans Gitschmann von Ropstein’s workshop seem to have been the only ones engaged in the choir glazing of the minster and the cloister windows of the charterhouse, and who, from 1513, were once again faced with a vast volume of contracts in the field of stained glass. These Freiburg models all stem from the Baldung milieu and can be related to contracts that were awarded to the artist during his years in the town (1512–17). In written sources we find evidence of Baldung’s obligation to produce the vidimus for the St. Anna Window of 1515; this was a donation from the workers at the St. Anna Mine in Todtnau for the chapel of St. Anna in the minster. We also have the designs for the windows paid for by the imperial emissary Jakob Heimhofer and the court chancellor Konrad Stürtzel (the latter from 1528) in the choir ambulatory in the minster, remuneration for which, according to the minster fabric account books, was made partly with small amounts (12½ shillings) and partly with substantial sums (3 pounds 15 shillings, and 6 pounds 5 shillings).59 There is no documentary evidence for Baldung’s involvement as designer with other choir chapel windows –donated by Sebastian von Blumeneck (mayor and first keeper of the minster fabric), Nikolaus Locherer (former rector of Freiburg University), and Jakob Villinger (treasurer to his imperial majesty) –but such involvement is not disputed; it may even be possible to associate the funerary memorials in glass in the imperial chapels with Baldung’s designs.60 The cartoons for the stained-glass windows of the Freiburg charterhouse, which similarly were produced for an august circle of donors, between 1513 and 1517 –and which are known as the “great” windows and “the most perfect stained glass of the early Renaissance” –definitely form part of Baldung’s graphic œuvre.61 Baldung’s sketches for armorial panels offer an interesting variant on the usual practice, whereby a vidimus is worked out by a single master. In the sketch produced c.1515 for a panel with the alliance arms of Eberstein/Sonnenberg (now in the art collection of the Veste Coburg) we have what may be deemed an exemplar for reconstructing the practical aspects of the division of labour in the implementation of a project 58 Perseke, Baldung in Freiburg, pp. 107–11. A single cartoon after a vidimus by Baldung survives, in the Kupferstichkabinett in Berlin (inv. no. KdZ. 4797); Durian-Ress, Baldung, pp. 240– 43 (R. Becksmann). 59 Becksmann, Freiburg, p. 618 (nos. 24, 27), and p. 620 (no. 40). 60 Ibid., pp. 463–507. 61 Ibid., p. 578; see most recently Parello, “Freiburger Kartause”.
70 Scholz (Figure 5.12).62 Baldung received the cartoon from the glass painter with the brief note on the lower edge giving the instruction that the spandrel above the branch-tracery framing should contain a depiction of a deer hunt (“Item eyn hirss Jagens zuo wald”). Furthermore, the positions of the “Ebersteyn” and “Sunnenberg” arms were noted and already outlined with slight charcoal strokes. The scene requested was created by Baldung in black ink, in the artist’s unmistakable fluid hand, the bodies emphasized with a subtle wash in grey ink. In the process, Baldung drew only one of the supporting baluster columns carefully, since the other only had to mirror this when being executed by the glass painter. Beyond this, it was not the master who was responsible for the drawing of the shields with helm, crest and mantling, which is clearly distinguished by its brown ink. These components formed part of the standard repertoire of armorial panels, which were produced in abundance, and could therefore be taken on by an apprentice schooled in Baldung’s drawing methods, or possibly even by the glass painter himself. Finally, what certainly did constitute part of the work of the glass-painters’ workshop was the drawing on of the lead in red chalk, which determined how the glasses should be cut, and demonstrates that the panel to be executed corresponded to the vidimus on a scale of 1:1. The desired colouring was indicated to the worker in the glass- painters’ workshops, responsible for cutting the glass in the relevant places, with the letters w (for white), r (for red), b or blo or B (for blue), and a linden leaf (for green). This process –which can also be demonstrated with other vidimuses by Baldung from both his Freiburg and Strasbourg periods –points to a very specific division of labour conventions in what were clearly established arrangements between the artist and the glass-painters’ workshop.63 It probably served to ease the burdens placed on Baldung, who was greatly in demand as a designer and had to remain in control of a flood of commissions, by only taking up his pen to satisfy the more ambitious iconographical requests of individual clients, leaving the standardized heraldry and the framing to the glass painter, as a rule. The only question to ask here is to whom did the commissioner turn? Or, to put it another way: who remunerated Baldung for his services, the glass painter or the donor of the glass? We can here address only in a cursory manner the broad issue of the production of armorial panels for 62 63
Andersson and Talbot, From a Mighty Fortress, p. 66 (no. 6). See Koch, Baldung-Zeichnungen, pp. 48–61, esp. pp. 50–51, with a convincing interpretation of the working methods concerned; see further Andersson and Talbot, From a Mighty Fortress, pp. 64–69, 78, nos. 5–7, 12 (C. Andersson); Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 236–39, nos. 111–12 (L. Hendrix); Durian- Ress, Baldung, pp. 228, 234, nos. 55, 58 (B. Söding).
cantons and other bodies and individuals. This caused an unprecedented boom in Swiss glass-painting in the 16th and 17th centuries as a result of the custom, widespread in the confederation, of giving panels as gifts, and kept legions of renowned, as well as less well-known, designers and glass-painters busy. We should glance briefly at Basel and the further development of glass-painting in the Upper and High Rhine regions, where, from 1517, Hans Holbein the Younger, one of the most productive and influential designers, imparted fresh stimulus to what was already a blooming art form. Only a very small portion of the numerous “Holbein” sketches for panels (notably those in the Basel Kupferstichkabinett) can be attributed to the artist’s hand, but copies of whole panels and of individual motifs by the artist’s workshop and followers attest to the ongoing influence exercised by Holbein in this field long into the 16th century.64 In addition to the designs for armorial panels, and a series of eight large sketches for four double panels with saints (all framed with massive, monumental Renaissance architecture, and featuring wide landscape vistas in the background), it is particularly worth highlighting the autograph series of ten sketches of 1528 for panels of the Passion.65 All the designs are characterized by the same pen and brush techniques, with a sparing use of contours and extensive painterly washes. Since the area for the arms is often left blank in the sketches, the possibility immediately suggests itself here that these were in fact pattern sheets that could be shown to prospective commissioners, and not actual working drawings for the glass painter. There are also no indications of colouring or of the leading like those known to us from Baldung’s designs. In contrast with the importance accorded to Holbein’s role in glass painting, however, the number of extant works is extremely small. A total of only three panels, in the cloister of Wettingen Abbey, can be associated directly with models by Holbein the Younger and his workshop: the panel with the Basel cantonal arms (the emperor St. Heinrich on the right-hand side); and in a broader sense, the figural panels of Georg Brunner and Andreas Wengi, with, respectively, three and two figures of standing saints.66 64
Ganz, “Holbein”, pp. 197–207; see also Müller, Holbein, passim, with a rich collection of designs for stained glass from Holbein’s workshop and related copies. 65 Müller, Holbein, pp. 72–74, nos. 100–07, and also pp. 109–15, nos. 162–71; Dürer – Holbein – Grünewald, p. 187 (C. Müller); Müller and Kemperdick, Holbein, pp. 181–83, 196–99, 227–37, 275–77, 284, 342–45, 362, 393–402, nos. 31, 39, 40, 53–59, 80, 84, 111, 116, 130–39. 66 Anderes and Hoegger, Wettingen, pp. 247–48, 278–79; Müller and Kemperdick (eds.), Hans Holbein, pp. 310–12, no. 97 (C. Müller); Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 296–301, nos. 140–143.
Design and Execution in Southern German Stained Glass
Among the names of the cathedral city’s glass painters in Holbein’s time, in addition to that of Urs Graf,67 that of Anthoni Glaser is especially prominent in the first quarter of the 16th century. Glaser was not only technically an outstanding glass painter,68 he was clearly also in a position to produce the designs for them himself, even if in doing so he took his inspiration for their attractive settings variously from drawings and printed graphic works by Holbein, Graf, and Niklaus Manuel.69 What we have here is in fact the beginnings of a development that determined the appearance of glass painting over the course of the rest of the 16th century in southern Germany and neighbouring Switzerland. Glass painters, subsequently, increasingly relied on sketches they had produced themselves. Cases in point are: Anthoni Glaser, and Balthasar and Matthäus Han (in Basel); Lienhard Brun i, Sebastian Lindtmayer, and Felix Lindtmayer the Elder, and also Hieronymus Lang the Elder (in Schaffhausen); Christoph Stimmer and the Stillhart glass-painting family (in Constance); and the Ropstein workshop (in Freiburg), as well as others. In the process these glass painters assembled motifs, purely as needed, from the brimming numbers of images produced in that age from book illustrations, etchings, drawings, and paintings. They were able to combine them, as fancy took them, by copying from the stock already present in the workshop, which was being expanded and updated continually. In light of the great mobility of glass painters and their apprentices at the time, it is specifically these stock images that contributed so decisively to the dissemination of model designs, in the form of sheets that were reworkings of, or sketches after, other works. The best examples of this practice before the mid- 16th century are the cantonal and other armorial panels found in city halls, such as those of Stein am Rhein, Endingen, Pfullendorf, and Rheinfelden (Figure 5.13).70 In addition to this, artistically pre- eminent designers, who were skilled in the production of sketches for stained glass, also produced models for their less innovative colleagues. This is even if they did not manufacture 67 Müller, Urs Graf, nos. 006, 012, 013, 058, 059, 081, 106–09. Graf is recorded as being in the workshop of the Basel glass- painter Hans Heinrich Wolleb c.1511, but whose principal occupation after that was his work as a goldsmith, though he occasionally produced sketches for panels. 68 His cantonal armorial panels of 1519–20, in Basel city hall, alone are sufficient testimony of this: Giesicke, Basler Rathaus, pp. 37–54, 70–133. 69 Menz and Wagner, Niklaus Manuel Deutsch, pp. 441–50 (H. Matile); Hasler, Scheibenriss-Sammlung Wyss, pp. 85–87. 70 Lehmann, “Oberrheinische Glasmalerei”, pp. 30–52; Noack, “Endinger Rathaus”; Butts, Hendrix et al., Painting on Light, pp. 43–55 (B. Giesicke and M. Ruoss).
71
stained glass in their own workshops themselves, or at least did so with the assistance of a talented apprentice, as in the case of Tobias Stimmer.71 The traditionally close links between the glass-painter’s and panel-painter’s spheres of activity, which can also be deduced from the guild regulations of the cities under consideration here, meant that fluid transfers evolved automatically. Consequently, it was not rare to find individuals who were equally skilled in both areas of business, as can be shown for the late Middle Ages and subsequently for all the locations mentioned here. 4 Conclusion While the division between design and execution in glass-painting of Dürer’s time initially led to an unprecedented flourishing of the medium in the leading glass- painting centres of southern Germany, if only on account of the sheer number of outstanding artistic personalities, the pendulum swung back the other way in the course of the following years of the 16th and 17th centuries. The decline in donations for monumental windows as a result of the Reformation led in southern German- speaking lands to a curtailment in production of individual panels: small-scale pieces executed singly or in series for private living spaces, with predominantly secular subject matter. It also led to a staggering volume of armorial production for general use. Despite the variety of individual forms, and an inexhaustible wealth of motifs, the ongoing boom led to a certain standardization that eventually defined the artistic parameters for individual designs. This boom was stoked mainly by the unceasing appetite for the exchange of cantonal and other armorial panels between friendly cantons, districts, monasteries, and corporations, and between like-minded guilds, civic militia, nobles, and private citizens in this period. Bibliography Secondary Sources
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Design and Execution in Southern German Stained Glass (Exhibition catalogue: Basel, Öffentliche Kunstsammlung), Basel, 1988. Müller, C., Katalog der Zeichnungen des 15. und 16. Jahrhunderts, Teil 2A: Die Zeichnungen von Hans Holbein dem Jüngeren und Ambrosius Holbein (Basel, Öffentliche Kunstsamm lung, Kupferstichkabinett: Beschreibender Katalog der Zeichnungen, 3), Basel, 1996. Müller, C., Urs Graf: die Zeichnungen im Kupferstichkabinett Basel, Basel, 2001. Müller, C. and Kemperdick, S. (eds.), Hans Holbein der Jüngere: die Jahre in Basel 1515–1532 (Exhibition catalogue: Basel, Öffentliche Kunstsammlung), Munich, 2006. Noack, W., “Die Standesscheiben im Endinger Rathaus”, Badische Heimat 31 (1951), 127–31. Osten, G. von der, Hans Baldung Grien: Gemälde und Dokumente, Berlin, 1983. Panofsky, E., Albrecht Dürer, 2 vols., 3rd ed., Princeton, 1948. Parello, D., “Die Glasmalereien für die Freiburger Kartause und ihre Stifter. Künstlerische Innovation unter Gregor Reisch, Hans Baldung und Hans Gitschmann”, in H. Krieg et al. (eds.), Die Kartause St. Johannisberg in Freiburg im Breisgau: Historische und baugeschichtliche Untersuchungen, Freiburg, 2014, pp. 75–96. Parello, D., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Regensburg und der Oberpfalz, ohne Regensburger Dom (cvma Deutschland, 13.2), Berlin, 2015. Perseke, H., Hans Baldungs Schaffen in Freiburg, Freiburg im Breisgau, 1941. Ploss, E.E., Ein Buch von alten Farben: Technologie der Textilfarben im Mittelalter mit einem Ausblick auf die festen Farben, 6th ed., Munich, 1989. Popp, M. and Scholz, H., St. Lorenz in Nürnberg (Meisterwerke der Glasmalerei, 6), Regensburg, 2016. Reinhardt, B. and Roth, M. (eds.), Bilder aus Licht und Farbe: Meisterwerke spätgotischer Glasmalerei. “Straßburger Fenster” in Ulm und ihr künstlerisches Umfeld (Exhibition catalogue: Ulm, Ulmer Museum), Ulm, 1995. Roth, M., Die Zeichnungen des Meisters der Coburger Rundblätter (Unpublished PhD, Berlin Freie Universität, 1988). Rott, H., “Beiträge zur Geschichte der oberrheinisch- schwäbischen Glasmalerei”, Oberrheinische Kunst: Vierteljahresberichte der oberrheinischen Museen 1 (1925/26), 21–32, 198–216, and 2 (1926/27), 123–139. Rott, H., Quellen und Forschungen zur südwestdeutschen und schweizerischen Kunstgeschichte im 15. und 16. Jahrhundert, 3, Oberrhein (Quellen 1, Quellen 2, Text), 3 vols., Stuttgart, 1936–38. Rupprich, H., Dürer: Schriftlicher Nachlaß, 3 vols., Berlin, 1956–69. Schauerte, T.U., Die Ehrenpforte für Kaiser Maximilian I: Dürer und Altdorfer im Dienst des Herrschers, Munich, 2001. Schleif, C., “The proper attitude toward death: windowpanes designed for the house of Canon Sixtus Tucher”, The Art Bulletin 69 (1987), 587–603.
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Schleif, C., Donatio et Memoria: Stifter, Stiftungen und Motivationen an Beispielen aus der Lorenzkirche in Nürnberg, Munich, 1990. Smith, J.C., Nuremberg, a Renaissance City, 1500–1618, Austin, 1983. Schmitz, H., Die Glasgemälde des Königlichen Kunstgewerbe- Museums in Berlin, 2 vols., Berlin, 1913. Scholz, H., Entwurf und Ausführung. Werkstattpraxis in der Nürnberger Glasmalerei der Dürerzeit (cvma Deutschland, Studien, 1), Berlin, 1991. Scholz, H., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Mittelfran ken und Nürnberg extra muros (cvma Deutschland, 10.1), 2 vols., Berlin, 2002. Scholz, H., Albrecht Dürer und das Mosesfenster in St. Jakob in Straubing, Berlin, 2005. Scholz, H., “Dürer and stained glass”, in D. Hess and T. Eser (eds.), The Early Dürer (Exhibition catalogue: Nuremberg, Germa nisches Nationalmuseum), Nuremberg, 2012, pp. 132–45. Scholz, H., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Nürnberg: Sebalder Stadtseite (cvma Deutschland, 10.2), Berlin, 2013. Scholz, H., “Hans Burgkmair und die Augsburger Glasmalerei –eine Spurensuche”, in W. Augustyn and M. Teget- Welz (eds.), Hans Burgkmair: Neue Forschungen zu einem Künstler der deutschen Renaissance (Veröffentlichungen des Zentralinstituts für Kunstgeschichte), Passau, 2018, pp. 415–38. Sieveking, H., Das Gebetbuch Kaiser Maximilians: Der Münchner Teil mit den Randzeichnungen von Albrecht Dürer und Lucas Cranach d. Ae., Munich, 1987. Spätrenaissance am Oberrhein: Tobias Stimmer 1539– 1584 (Exhibition catalogue: Basel, Kunstmuseum), Basel, 1984. Strauss, W.L., The Complete Drawings of Albrecht Dürer, 6 vols., New York, 1974. Strieder, P., “Communio sanctorum. Albrecht Dürers ʻAnbetung der Heiligen Dreifaltigkeitʼ für die Kapelle im Zwölfbrüderhaus des Matthäus Landauer”, in C. Pese (ed.), Brückenschlagen – Bridgebuilding 1902–1992 (Festschrift für F. Eckhardt), Nuremberg, 1992, pp. 83–104. Thiem, G., “Die Glasmalerei. Ihre Entwürfe und Werkstätten”, in C. Beutler and G. Thiem, (eds.), Hans Holbein d.Ä.: Die spätgotische Altar-und Glasmalerei (Abhandlungen zur Geschichte der Stadt Augsburg, 13), Augsburg, 1960, pp. 141–235. Thöne, F., Daniel Lindtmayer 1552–1606/07: die Schaffhau ser Künstlerfamilie Lindtmayer (Oeuvrekatalog Schweizer Künstler, 2), Munich, 1975. Uhlirz, K., “Urkunden und Regesten aus dem Archive der K.K. Reichshaupt-und Residenzstadt Wien I”, Jahrbuch der Kunstsammlungen des Allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses 17 (1896), no. 15219. Winkler, F., Die Zeichnungen Albrecht Dürers, 4 vols., Berlin, 1936–39.
74 Scholz Winkler, F., Die Zeichnungen Hans Süss von Kulmbachs und Hans Leonhard Schäufeleins, Berlin, 1942. Winkler, F., Hans von Kulmbach: Leben und Werk eines frän kischen Künstlers der Dürerzeit (Die Plassenburg. Schriften für Heimatforschung und Kulturpflege in Ostfranken, 14), Bayreuth, 1959.
Winkler, F., “Review of Meister um Albrecht Dürer (Exhibition catalogue: Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum), Nürnberg 1961”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 24 (1961), 267. Wuttke, D., “Unbekannte Celtis-Epigramme zum Lobe Dürers”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 30 (1967), 321–25.
Figures for Part 1
f igure 1.1 Sir Thomas Froxmere and his wife, a rare example of an amateur sketch for a window design? (c.1484–98). London, British Library, Ms Lansdowne 874, fol. 191.
f igure 1.2 Ecce Homo stained-glass panel (c.1529), based on Dürer’s engraved Passion of 1507–13. Oxford, Balliol College, East Window.
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f igure 1.3 Design for a window project, probably for Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, with annotation attributed to the glazier James Nicolson (c.1525–30). Edinburgh, National Galleries of Scotland, D959A.
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f igure 1.5 A heated dividing iron causes a crack to form.
f igure 1.4 Girona Table A, a detail of the canopy design on a wooden panel (c.1340). Girona, Museu d’Art.
f igure 1.6 A chamfered, ‘nibbled’ edge typical of a medieval grozing iron.
f igure 1.7 Workshop of John Thornton of Coventry, A grozing iron used as a heraldic device (1405–08). York Minster, Great East Window, panel 8j.
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f igure 1.8 Workshop of John Thornton of Coventry, Detail of a head painted in multiple layers and fired in a single firing (1405–08). York Minster, Great East Window, 10a.
f igure 1.9 Workshop of John Thornton of Coventry, Silver stain used to decorate the hair and nimbus of St John (1405–08). York Minster, Great East Window, detail of 10g.
f igure 1.10 Green, red, blue and purple ‘jewels’ annealed with a thick layer of glass paint to the edges of St. Cuthbert’s chasuble (1406). York Minster, St. Cuthbert window, s 7, 3/4c.
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f igure 1.11 Detail of ‘jewels’ of coloured glass inserted into holes drilled in the roof of the Shrine of St Laurence (c.1450). Ludlow, St Laurence, east window.
f igure 1.12 Strasbourg workshop, The Virgin and Child from the Jesse Tree, an extravagant early example of acid-etching of a flashed ruby glass (c.1480–81). Ulm Minster choir, the Kramer window, n ii, 3b.
f igure 1.13 Workshop of John Thornton of Coventry, The arms of St William of York, the only section of medieval window lead to survive in the Great East Window, with two sizes of cast lead (1405– 08). York Minster, detail of 1f.
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f igure 2.2 Painted glass head from the Merovingian basilica of Sainte-Reine (8th century). Alise-Sainte-Reine (Côte-d’Or).
f igure 2.3 Bust of Christ in glass with lead cames from San Vincenzo al Volturno (c.830). Venafro (IS).
f igure 2.1 Geometrical window panes from Baume-les- Messieurs (8th century). Abbey of Saint Peter, Baume-les-Messieurs (Jura).
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f igure 2.4 Wissembourg Head (c.1032–74 or last third of the 12th century?). Strasbourg, Musée de l’Oeuvre Notre-Dame.
f igure 2.6 Stained-glass fragments from the church of the Holy Saviour in Chora (12th century). Istanbul, Archaeological Museum.
f igure 2.5 Prophets David, Hosea, Daniel, and Jonas windows from Augsburg Cathedral (after 1132). Augsburg Cathedral, southern clerestory.
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f igure 3.1 The Ascension from Le Mans Cathedral, Romanesque stained-glass with modern replacements in the top and the bottom registers of the window (c.1120). Le Mans Cathedral (Sarthe), window xvi.
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f igure 3.2 Calvary window from Les Essards (c.1125). Church of Notre-Dame, Les Essards (Indre-et-Loire), bay 1.
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f igure 3.3 The Virgin and Child in Majesty window from Vendôme (c.1130). Abbey church of La Trinité, Vendôme, bay 0.
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f igure 3.4 The Crucifixion window from Poitiers Cathedral, commissioned by Eleanor of Aquitaine and King Henry ii Plantagenet (c.1165). Poitiers Cathedral, bay 100.
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f igure 3.5 The Entombment, stained-glass panel from Chemillé-sur-Indrois (third quarter of the 12th century). Church of Saint-Vincent, Chemillé-sur-Indrois (Indre-et-Loire), bay 0.
f igure 3.6 The Virgin and Child stained-glass panel from Saint-Martin in Chenu (c.1160–70). Now in the church of Mary and All Saints, Rivenhall.
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f igure 3.7 Romanesque stained glass from the church of Saint-Martin in Chenu (c.1160–70). Now at the church of Mary and All Saints in Rivenhall (England), remounted ensemble of 1839.
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f igure 3.8 Martyrdom of St. Catherine window (c.1190–1210). Angers Cathedral, bay 125.
f igure 3.9 Entombment of the Virgin from the Glorification of the Virgin window (c.1190–1210). Angers Cathedral, bay 123.
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f igure 4.1 Plan of Chartres Cathedral with numbering of windows.
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f igure 4.2 View of the north-eastern bays of the nave of Chartres Cathedral, following the conservation of the building fabric in 2015.
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f igure 4.3 Nicolas de Larmessin ii, engraving of The Sainte Châsse carried by two angels (1697). Chartres, Archives diocésaines.
f igure 4.4 Charlemagne offers relics to Aachen, detail of the Charlemagne window (1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, window 7.
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f igure 4.5 The Belle-Verrière, Romanesque and Gothic stained-glass window (before 1147, angels from c.1210). Chartres Cathedral, window 30b.
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f igure 4.6 Lubin is ordained bishop, scene from the Legend of St. Lubin window (1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, window 45.
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f igure 4.7 St. Matthew, window from the northern clerestory (1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, window 135.
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f igure 4.8 Eustache thrown from the ship, scene from the Legend of St. Eustache window (1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, window 43.
f igure 4.9 Creation of Eve, scene from the Good Samaritan Window (1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, window 44 (Paris, Centre André Chastel, umr 8150, photo C. Lautier).
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f igure 4.10 Cheron preaches, scene from the St. Cheron Window (1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, window 15.
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f igure 4.11 Demons before James, scene from the Legend of St. James window (1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, window 5.
f igure 4.12 St. Julien and his wife mourn over the bodies of his parents, scene from the Legend of St. Julien l’Hospitalier window (1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, window 21.
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f igure 5.1 Albrecht Dürer, Design for the St. George window (c. 1496–98). Frankfurt am Main, Städel-Museum, Graphische Sammlung, inv. no. 6952.
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f igure 5.2 Workshop of Veit Hirsvogel after a design by Albrecht Dürer, Moses and the Ten Commandments window from Strubing (c.1500.) The parish church of St James, Straubing, north transept window N vii.
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f igure 5.3 Albrecht Dürer (?), Cartoon of St. Peter for the Bamberg Bishops’ window in St. Sebald’s in Nuremberg (c.1501). London, British Museum, inv. no. 1882-3-11-60.
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f igure 5.4 Albrecht Dürer, Death on horseback and Provost Sixtus Tucher at an open grave, designs for two trefoil stained-glass panels (1502). Hannover, Landesmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, inv. no. Z. 5.
f igure 5.5 Design and execution by Hans Baldung Grien in the Veit Hirsvogel workshop, Adoration of the Magi from the Löffelholz Window (c.1506). St. Lawrence, Nuremberg, south transept window s xiii.
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f igure 5.6 Hans von Kulmbach, Design for the Window of the Margraves of Brandenburg- Ansbach in St. Sebald’s in Nuremberg (1514). Dresden, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Kupferstich-kabinett, inv. nos. C 2255 and C 2256.
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f igure 5.7 Workshop of Veit Hirsvogel after a design by Hans von Kulmbach, The Margraves’ Window (1515). Nuremberg, St Sebald’s, choir window s ii.
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f igure 5.8 Augustin Hirsvogel, design for a roundel, A wild boar-hunting scene (c.1530–36.) Budapest, Szépmüvészeti Múzeum, inv. no. 107.
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f igure 5.9 Workshop of Gumpolt Giltlinger after a design by Hans Holbein the Elder, Last Judgement Window (c.1505). Eichstätt Cathedral, mortuary chapel, bay iv.
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f igure 5.10 Hans Holbein the Elder (workshop), Design for a window in the mortuary chapel of Eichstätt Cathedral, with the Patron saints of the diocese of Eichstätt: Willibald, Richard, Wunibald and Walburga (c.1500). Basel, Öffentliche Kunstsammlung, Kupferstich-kabinett, inv. no. U.iii. 51
f igure 5.11 Jörg Breu the Elder, and Gumpolt Giltlinger(?), design and roundel of the Battle of Emperor Maximilian I at Hennegau (c. 1516). Munich, Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, inv. no. 28 (photo Staatliche Graphische Sammlung München), and Eisenach, Wartburg-Stiftung, inv. no. KG 113.
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f igure 5.12 Unknown glass-painter and Hans Baldung Grien, design for an heraldic panel of the Eberstein/Sonnenberg Alliance Arms with a deer-hunting scene above (c.1515). Coburg, Kunstsammlungen der Veste, inv. no. Z 27.
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f igure 5.13 Christoph Stimmer, Stained-glass panel of the arms of the artist, with his inscription as donor (1525). Single Pfullendorf, town hall chamber.
Pa rt 2 Light and the Aperture
∵
c hapter 6
A Matter of Matter: Transparent – Translucent – Diaphanum in the Medium of Stained Glass Wojciech Bałus This chapter studies stained glass from the perspective of Bildwissenschaft, or the consideration of its function, materials, and communicative potential. First, the terms “translucent” and “transparent” –which allow us to distinguish between a stained-glass window and an ordinary window –are examined. Then, analysis of the various categories of light within medieval writings (lux, radius, lumen, fulgor, splendor) will demonstrate that fulgor is the term that most aptly captures the idea of stained glass. In the next section, the specific nature of a stained-glass window is considered, making note of the fact that it is built of elements which, when put together, result in a window which works both as a functional object and as a carrier of images. A stained-glass window should be regarded as a very specific kind of picture, because the foundational material of its picture plane (or Grund), carries images. Moreover, its imagery may be seen only in transmitted light that illuminates the glass composition, resulting in fulgor. Finally, I conclude that the essence of a stained-glass window is best characterised by the term diaphanum, derived from Aristotle. 1
Translucent and Transparent
The unusual atmosphere of calmness, concentration, and creative work taking place in a scholar’s studiolo, away from the turmoil of everyday life, that emanates from Albrecht Dürer’s copperplate engraving Saint Jerome in His Cell, is the result of both the particular arrangement of the scene and the function served by the windows depicted in it (see Figure 6.1).1 The saint is seated, bent down at his desk, busy with writing. Above, the study is covered by a ceiling laid out with perspectival precision, at the back it is delimited by a wall, while its entrance is guarded by two animals: a huge reclining lion and a small sleeping dog. Two large windows on the left side of the room are glazed with bull’s-eye panes. They let the sunlight pass through (their reflections, echoing the round shapes of bull’s-eye panes, are 1 See Bałus, “Dürer’s Melencolia I”, pp. 12–14. I would like to thank the Foundation for Polish Science (fnp) for financial support for my investigations.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 09
visible within the window recess to the right), but effectively hinder the possibility of seeing the world outside, thus strengthening the impression of total isolation. Leon Battista Alberti wrote about two sorts of “apertures” in buildings, “one for light and ventilation, and the other to allow man or object to enter or leave the building. Windows serve for light; for objects there are doors, stairs, and spaces between the columns”.2 Open doors enable one to enter and leave the interior, and thus they may be rightly called apertio, a discontinuity in the wall. When, however, they are closed, they separate the internal space from the external one to the same degree as walls do.3 Windows may also separate or integrate the interior and the exterior, but they do it differently than doors. When open, they do not allow one to enter or go through them, but merely, as observed by Alberti, let in fresh air. But if they are closed, they do not separate the two worlds as distinctly as walls and doors do (with the exception of glass doors), unless their panels have been filled in with completely opaque material, as in Marcel Duchamp’s Fresh Widow (see Figure 6.2).4 Duchamp’s work, which consists of a closed “French window” covered in black leather, recognizes –by negation –that the essence of a closed window is to let in the light, and when it is glazed with white glass (which in secular buildings in Europe started to be introduced gradually from the end of the Middle Ages),5 it also allows for the viewing of external vistas. In the latter case –which does not apply to the vast majority of churches –a window enables a dual communication: it admits light and air from the outside, and it allows a view of the outside. Georg Simmel wrote: “… the teleological feeling vis-à-vis the window exclusively goes from the inside to the outside –it is only meant for looking-out-of and not for looking into. The window establishes the relation between the inside and the outside. Because of its transparency it does so –so 2 Alberti, On the Art of Building, 1.12. 3 Simmel, “The bridge and the door”, pp. 409–10. 4 Grabska, “Window, Eros”, pp. 730–31. 5 Descoeudres, “Licht in die Finsternis”, pp. 44–46. Also see Hérold, Ch. 8 in this volume.
110 Bałus to speak –necessarily [chronisch] and continuously; but because of the one-way manner in which this relating works, and because of the limitation of the window to being only a path for the eye”.6 Yet, contrary to Simmel, windows may sometimes also show what is happening inside. Shop windows allow us to admire goods gathered behind the glass, the so-called “window shopping” or “lèche-vitrine”.7 Fully glazed office buildings also permit a view into the open spaces where people work. The presence of reflective or coloured glass diametrically changes the situation. A building with a façade made of reflective glass panes ceases to be transparent and makes an impression of being closed, and inaccessible from the outside.8 Also, when windows are glazed with coloured glass, they usually lose “transparency” and become merely “translucent”: they transmit light, but do not allow the external world to be seen from the inside. In the latter case, they underscore their role of serving as a border between the interior and the exterior, thus becoming a kind of wall that is “open” only on one side, namely, for sunlight entering the interior. This phenomenon was noticed by Louis Grodecki who wrote with regards to French church stained-glass windows that, “the Gothic window, on the point of having reached the end of its development, that is around c. 1235, […] is no longer an opening in the wall, but the wall itself, or rather a partition”.9 If such a “wall” is made up of simple geometric glass panes or bull’s-eye glass, as is the case in Dürer’s print, it simply ensures the splendid isolation of the interior. When, however, it is made up of complicated ornamental patterns and, even more significantly, if it is filled with figural representations, it becomes an image. In the latter case, one can certainly concentrate only on the decorative aspect of the glazing, and consider it to be an aesthetically valuable accessory in the interior. However, it is true that the image-window prevents one from seeing the outside world but simultaneously, through the interplay of colours, imbues the interior with an atmosphere of intimacy, mystery or concentration. This was a usual practice in the arrangement of sophisticated homes of art connoisseurs in the 19th century. Loftie, in his book A Plea for Art in the House, wrote:
brought into a house. It is now much used for window screens with pleasing effect. But for the most part our modern glass fails in having too much colour, or too many colours in one composition, and not enough of a ventral character. Enough light cannot be transmitted where this is the case. But sometimes good pieces, old or new, are to be had. When a window has to be closed permanently, which sometimes happens where there are cross lights, a black board with holes in which specimens of glass are inserted may be used with excellent effect.”10
“Stained glass is sometimes an object of pursuit with
Sometimes coloured glazing was recommended for blocking unpleasant external views. In the 19th century, such a solution was employed in staircase windows of tenement houses which overlooked ugly backyards; also stained-glass substitutes in the form of decals – that could be glued to apartment windows overlooking, for instance, smoking factory chimneys –were advertised.11 However, a figural or heraldic stained-glass panel was usually intended to be seen as an image. This is splendidly demonstrated by numerous 15th-century Netherlandish paintings depicting the open bottom panels of a window, through which the external world (a cityscape or landscape) can be seen, whereas the translucent, and not transparent, upper stained-glass panels of the window show biblical scenes or heraldic shields that are iconographically related to episodes from the Scriptures, or the persons portrayed in the painting (as, for instance, in Hans Memling’s Diptych of Maarten van Nieuwenhove).12 This function of stained glass as image is perhaps still more explicitly illustrated in the Mariana by John Everett Millais (see Figure 6.3). Here, the heroine of Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure has paused in working on her embroidery; autumn scenery is seen behind the bay window, in front of which she is standing, as stray leaves also fall into the room. In the upper part of the windows there are stained-glass panels showing, at left, the Annunciation and, at right, a coat of arms. The Archangel Gabriel from the Annunciation seems to be looking at Mariana rather than at the Virgin Mary. This can be interpreted in light of the change of Mariana’s fate at the end of the play because, although initially abandoned by her fiancé, she eventually marries him.13 In contrast to the transparent panels in the lower half of the windows,
6 7 8 9
10 Loftie, A Plea for Art in the House, p. 87. 11 Allen, “Stained glass in the victorian house”, p. 42. 12 Ziemba, Wspólnota rzeczy, pp. 12–13; Stokstad and Cothren, Art History, p. 583, Fig. 18-17. 13 Prettejohn, The Art of the Pre-Raphaelites, pp. 12–13.
collectors, and few things more beautiful can be Simmel, “The bridge and the door”, p. 410. Bieńczyk, “Okno i metoda”, p. 354. Massu, “Le verre”, pp. 48–49. Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, p. 124.
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A Matter of Matter
the autumn landscape cannot be seen through the stained-glass panels. These transparent stained-glass “screens” nonetheless allow the sun to penetrate, revealing the figural imagery. As William Durandus observed, in his Rationale divinorum officiorum: “The glass windows in a church are Holy Scriptures, which expel the wind and the rain, that is all things hurtful, but transmit the light of the true Sun, that is, God, into the hearts of the faithful”.14 Thus, stained-glass panels are very particular kinds of artefacts. When set in windows, thanks to their translucent character, they fulfil one of the main functions of these openings, namely, they let in light. Simultaneously, they usually hinder the unrestricted view of the outside world, because they are not transparent. In this way, they are able to contribute to the closed, intimate character of interiors they decorate, and above all, perform the function of images. In the latter case, they resemble computer screens in which the light coming from the inside creates images and texts.15 Yet a computer screen, although constituting a sort of “virtual window”, is not intended to be mounted into the wall of a house and will never create a barrier between the interior and the exterior, as windows do; it is merely the outer layer of a completely opaque electronic device.16 Only within the medium of stained glass is a strange image illuminated from the back, while at the same time transmitting light, a property that aroused admiration in the Middle Ages and allowed for the drawing of parallels between a window and the human soul, as well as the virginal motherhood of Mary:17 Tu fenestra vitrea radiate (Thou glazed radiant window), as a hymn addresses the Virgin Mary.18 Stained-glass panels also performed a practical function: they protected buildings from wind, rain, snow, and cold, as described by Durandus. The complex nature of stained glass requires a more profound analysis. In what follows, I shall try to undertake such an analysis, using the tools developed in the method known as Bildwissenschaft which, as Gottfried Boehm has put it, encourages us to explore more thoroughly “what images are, what they consist of, how they function and what they communicate”.19 14
William Durandus, Rationale divinorum officiorum, 1.24, eds. Neale and Webb p. 23; Kurmann-Schwarz, “Fenestre vitree”, pp. 62–64. 15 Kurmann-Schwarz, “Fenestre vitree”, p. 61. 16 Friedberg, The Virtual Window, p. 138. 17 Galli, “L’anima santa”, pp. 173–77. 18 Meiss, “Light as form and symbol”, pp. 8–9. 19 Boehm, “Die Bilderfrage”, p. 327: “was Bilder sind, woraus sie bestehen, wie sie funktionieren und was sie mitteilen”.
2
The Types of Light
In his poem Chartres, the Polish poet Mieczysław Jastrun characterizes the impression made by the cathedral’s stained glass in the following way: “Colours strong enough to strip us bare /From the impermanent rose of the senses to the pupil’s grain”.20 In this paradoxical poetic picture, the term “rose of the senses” applies to the human sensory organs as much as it alludes to the round form of the circular window fitted with stained glass.21 Therefore, the colours that fill in the cathedral rose window –carried by light –reach man. And since the poem speaks of a “rose of the senses”, the plural form of reference for the senses used here may allude to the notion that colours impact not only sight, but also other senses. The response to colour is portrayed as so strong that it reaches deep into the inner parts of a human being: to “the pupil’s grain”. There is something undeniably painful about the image of “the pupil’s grain” being penetrated by the colourful ray of light that has pierced through the human senses, “stripping” them “bare”. Perhaps the image alludes to the experience, probably familiar to everyone, of staring straight into the sun? It is a look that might kill, if the observer were deprived of eyelids: a fate that befell the Roman commander Marcus Atilius Regulus who was punished with this dreadful torture by Carthaginians.22 Also, the well-known story recounted by Jacques Lacan, about how he was thrown off balance at sea by a flash of light, inevitably comes to mind. Although it was just a ray of sunlight reflected off a tin of sardines floating on the water, it made the French psychoanalytic think that the tin was staring at him.23 The “gaze” of the tin was very unpleasant. So, the light reaching man may inflict physical pain on his eyes, but it may also “afflict” his inner self. Although the eye is the only organ that is specifically affected by the impact of bright light in this way, it inflicts pain that radiates to the entire body. The rose window at Chartres in Jastrun’s poem painfully “impacts” the eyes. Even if we regard this pain as poetic hyperbole –especially since the light coming in through colourful glass is unable to effectively blind anyone –the sight of stained glass is here associated with touch. This is because light passing through translucent glass appears active: the rays of the sun entering the interior, light it up and illuminate the person standing opposite the window, penetrating into his eyes. 20 21 22
Jastrun, “Chartres”, p. 494. On rose windows, see Pastan, Ch. 16 in this volume. Poprzęcka, “Patrzeć do bólu”, p. 166. For more on the 3rd century b.c. general, see: https://www.britannica.com/biography/Marcus-Atilius-Regulus (last accessed 27 October 2018). 23 Lacan, The Four Fundamental Concepts, p. 95.
112 Bałus Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s thesis that, not only sensual and mental faculties, but also the external world that affects our body, actively participate in perception, is palpably confirmed in the experience of viewing stained glass:
colour patches, but also the actual figural or ornamental representations depicted in stained glass. Finally, it imbues stained glass with this luminosity that allowed for interpreting the radiant coloured glass as almost heavenly matter: Abbot Suger’s saphirorum materia, a kind of sparkling precious stone of which, according to the “Since things and my body are made of the same stuff, Apocalypse, the Heavenly Jerusalem was to be built.29 vision must somehow come about in them; or yet again, Fulgor is the kind of light that can never be achieved their manifest visibility must be repeated in the body in paintings drawn on opaque support. As noted by Ludby the secret visibility. ‘Nature is on the inside’, says wig Wittgenstein, if transparent green glass “were deCézanne. Quality, light, color, depth, which are there be- picted in a painting, the colours would be not transparfore us, are there only because they awaken an echo in ent on the palette”.30 Shining materials that reflect light our bodies and because body welcomes them.”24 may be used here, to a certain degree, as substitutes. But their splendor (to use another medieval category)31 will In reference to medieval distinctions among various never result from an internal radiance, but only from the types and kinds of light, Bonaventure said that rays sheen of the external surface. Many painters tried to de(radii), which depart from the source of light were pict fulgor in their works, but all they were able to obtain termed lux and create the physical light called lumen.25 was splendor, achieved by means of specially arranged If a person is standing inside a building decorated with little patches of oil colours. Regrettably, even the greatstained glass, the radius, passing through the glass est splendor resulting from the interplay of pigments panes, physically “impacts” him with its luminosity: it will always remain “blind” and “matte” in contrast to copenetrates into his eyes, illuminates the body and face, lours glowing in transmitted light. Even such an “optical” and causes colourful reflections. The action of the light technique of painting as impressionist pointillism is in also, as in the case of Lacan’s tin, invites the observer to fact a textural and “haptic” accumulation of coloured look at the windows that had been already “gazing” at matter, whereas the lumen passing through stained glass him. Simultaneously, the beams of light, or lumen, not both creates the phenomenon of the optical fulgor and only pass through glass but also light up the stained- “touches” the observer standing inside.32 glass windows from the outside, although this phenomenon is visible only from the building’s interior. This radiance of colourful glass –that starts to glow as 3 The Phenomenon of the Stained-Glass Window if by itself –was called fulgor, or refulgentia.26 As St. Bonaventure put it, “light in a luminous body is the The category of fulgor and the passing of light through principle of this body’s radiance which is contingent stained glass that “impacts” the observer, enables us to upon colour”.27 move on to the analysis of stained glass as a specific Staring directly at the sun may result in the phenom- visual phenomenon. Gottfried Boehm stated that, “the enon of afterimages (as in some of William Turner’s image layer of a traditional painting was necessarily works).28 A different effect occurs when we introduce opaque, so that, in the first place, it could open up a view stained glass between the lumen and the recipient. In this of the image world”.33 case the fulgor begins to play an important role. Above In stained glass –which Boehm, like the majority of all, it is the resulting fulgor that can be looked at with- the Bildwissenschaft scholars, hardly ever mentions –the out fear of losing one’s eyesight and –with the excep- “image field” (Bildschicht) is surely not opaque, although tion of those brief moments when the low sun is shining it rarely is fully transparent, either. As noted above, in straight into the window –one can look directly at it. many windows the coloured glass prevents one from Further, it enables one to discern not only a myriad of 24 25
Merleau-Ponty, “Eye and mind”, p. 125. Stróżewski, “Claritas”, pp. 128–29; Hedwig, Sphaera, pp. 10– 20; Hills, The Light of Early Italian Painting, p. 11; Vasiliu, “Le mot et le verre”, p. 141; Kalinowski, “Ars vitrea”, p. 25; Galli, “L’anima santa”, pp. 172. 26 Stróżewski, “Claritas”, pp. 131–32. 27 Ibid., p. 132. 28 Crary, Techniques of the Observer, pp. 139–45.
29 Grodecki, “Fonctions spirituelles”, p. 40; Kalinowski, “Ars vitrea”, p. 26; Westermann-Angerhausen, “Glasmalerei und Himmelslicht”, p. 99; Kessler, “The function”, pp. 190–205; Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “[…] et faciunt”, pp. 256–73. 30 Wittgenstein, Remarks on Colour, vol. 1, p. 18. 31 Stróżewski, “Claritas”, pp. 130–31; Hills, The Light of Early Italian Painting, p. 11; Kalinowski, “Ars vitrea”, p. 25. 32 Bałus, “Diaphanum”, pp. 11–12. 33 Boehm, “Die Bilderfrage”, p. 338.
A Matter of Matter
seeing even the outline of the world outside and instead creates a glittering colourful barrier to viewing the reality located outside of the building. Although the terms “transparent” and “translucent” are associated with the phenomenon of stained glass, they do not capture its essence. When speaking about stained glass it is better to return to the Greek term διαφανής, -ές, an adjective related to the word light (φῶς). It appears also in Aristotle (to whom I shall return later) in the noun τὸ διαφανές.34 The prefix διά means something that is separated, that tears apart, that enables passing through and seeing through, whereas the verb φαίνω means to glisten, to glow, to illuminate, to make visible, to present, to announce. Thus, διαφανές, in Latin diaphanum, diaphaneitas,35 is that what lets light appear as light; what shines, and what manifests itself.36 The phenomenon of diaphaneitas is what makes stained glass such a unique form of the visual arts. In easel or wall painting, or in manuscript illuminations, one can always distinguish between the support (Grund) and the image field (Bildfeld). The Grund is a foundation, that provides firm support; a kind of formless continuum on which an in statu nascendi difference lies and in which it exists.37 The image field is a clearly delineated, outer layer of the support (in the sense of Grund and Bildschicht) on which the image is realised. As noted by Wolfram Pichler, one has to:
“… conceive of the image field as a kind of delimited
plane on which something may be inscribed or into which something may find its way. One can consider this entry to be a marking, an element or a figure. What really matters is a certain correlation between the differences in placement and value. If an element of the image field is moved, it will assume a different significance for the observer, and its scope will change. The image field, even if superficially it may seem to be entirely homogeneous, it then makes itself felt as a highly differentiated space, divided into various areas, zones and positions.”38 In easel or wall painting, or in manuscript illuminations, the construction of an image –regardless of any preliminary sketches –always starts with defining a certain image field on top of the layer of the support. This happens by means of delineating the boundaries, such as spreading and tautening the canvas on the stretcher, delimiting the size of a miniature on a manuscript page, or dividing 34
Narecki, “Słownik terminów arystotelesowskich”, p. 37 (s.v. διαφανής). 35 On these terms see Vasiliu, “Le mot et le verre”, p. 140. 36 Vasiliu, Du diaphane, pp. 62–63. 37 Boehm, “Der Grund”, pp. 29–91. 38 Pichler, “Zur Kunstgeschichte des Bildfeldes”, p. 443.
113 the wall surface into image panels. Applying the first stroke to such a delimited field brings about the iconic difference (ikonische Differenz):39 the stroke stands out against the image field which becomes its background. At the same time, it is only once this first stroke has been applied that we can designate the (hitherto) empty field as the background. In its relationship to the boundaries of the image field it may be seen as either static (e.g. a horizontal line) or dynamic (e.g. an oblique line); it may also make an impression of ascending or descending. When designing a stained-glass panel, at the beginning the procedure looks fairly similar, although the artist makes his draft in a medium different than glass, as first he makes preparatory studies, then a full-scale design, and finally a cartoon. He draws on paper, and he once used to draw on canvas, parchment or (according to Theophilus) directly on a smooth, whitewashed, damp table top.40 The marking of the outline and internal divisions of an actual window on the cartoon changes the top layer of the support into an image field. From that moment on, the individual panels of the window will be filled in with figures, ornament or abstract shapes according to the “iconic difference” principle. The figures will be laid down in opposition to the background; they will assume particular positions with regard to the boundaries of the window or its parts; some figural elements will be different from others, and figures will differ from ornaments, etc. When, however, it comes to transferring the design into the medium of glass, the situation changes dramatically, as the image is detached from its original support. But it preserves all the attributes of the image field: the tension between the boundaries of the image and its inner plane; the relationship between figure and the background; oppositions between particular forms and parts of the things depicted. There also appears the phenomenon of the blue-coloured portions “receding” to the background and the red-or yellow-coloured elements “advancing” to the foreground,41 but the anchoring in the support disappears. What is more, if light is supposed to fill in the stained glass, that is, if stained glass is to start working as an image, there must be nothing immediately behind it, that is, in the place where usually the support (Grund) – a parchment leaf, canvas, wooden panel or wall –is located. A stained-glass panel makes an impression as if it were based on a sort of absence or chasm (Abgrund). 39 Boehm, “Ikonische Differenz”, pp. 170–76. 40 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, 2.17, trans. Hawthorne and Smith, p. 61; Brown, Stained Glass, pp. 19–23; Kurmann- Schwarz, “Malerei mit schwarzer Farbe”, p. 124; Frodl-Kraft, Die Glasmalerei, p. 35; Gajewska- Prorok, “Stained glass”, pp. 22–23. 41 Frodl-Kraft, Die Glasmalerei, pp. 77–78.
114 Bałus 4 Diaphanum Diaphanum is something that, although invisible and formless in itself, gives the means for the visible to materialize. In the process of perception it remains latent, because we see light and colour and not what enables their appearance.42 But this latent element is indispensable, as it is a condition of the possibility for transparency in the ordinary sense (mentioned in the first part of the present article), and of that what is translucent and diaphanous. It is “le degrée zero de visibilité”.43 At the same time, diaphanum is a concrete place, a certain environment, because colours and shapes would not be able to reveal themselves in the vacuum.44 The transparency of the air allows for the world to be seen, because if things were immersed in something opaque, the rays of the sun would not be able to emanate in such an environment. Similarly, it may be said that a computer is a “place” which allows for data stored in a computer’s memory, on a CD or available on the Internet to be seen, although in itself it remains “nothing” (or latent), being perfectly transparent (in the sense of διαφανής): the “nurse of all coming information”.45 It is difficult to determine what the term διαφανές, διαφανής, in Latin diaphanum, exactly means. In his treatise On the Soul, Aristotle notes simply: “Έστι δή τι διαφανές” (“there is (…) something transparent”).46 From the subsequent argument (and from his remarks in De sensu et sensibilibus, 439a), it follows that transparency is a “natural attribute” (φύσις ύπάρχουσα) of such bodies as water, air and “the eternal body on high” (ἂνω σῶμα),47 and perhaps also of all bodies, only it does not manifest itself in all of them distinctly. So, the meaning of Aristotelian διαφανής does not match the meaning of the English word “diaphanous”, which denotes phenomena located on the spectrum between “transparent” and the “translucent”, such as, for instance, a diaphanous veil, the filmy wings of a moth, sheer silk stockings, or vaporous silks.48 Diaphanum relates to transparency, but the latter must be properly understood. Above all, διαφανές is not visible per se. It can be seen only through the colour of something else: “by this I mean that which, though visible, is not properly speaking, visible in itself, but by reason of extrinsic colour”.49 This, however, is 42 Haverkamp, Latenz und Repräsentation, p. 7; Haase and Setton, Transparenz /Intransparenz, pp. 209–10. 43 Vasiliu, Du diaphane, p. 236. 44 Alloa, Das durchscheinende Bild, pp. 94–95. 45 Thumfart, “Das Diaphane”, p. 3. 46 Aristotle, De anima, 418b, 7, 2, ed. Hicks, p. 77. 47 Ibid., 418b, 7, 2, ed. Hicks, p. 79; Vasiliu, Du diaphane, p. 76. 48 http:// w ww.mnemonicdictionary.com/ word/ d iaphanous (last accessed 14 December 2016). 49 Aristotle, De anima, 418b, 7, 2, ed. Hicks, p. 79.
possible thanks to the contribution of yet another factor, namely, light: “Light is the actuality of this transparent qua transparent. But where the transparent is only potentially present, there darkness is actually”.50 Hence, when it is dark, the transparency is present in the bodies only potentially, and it is only when the light (lumen) comes that the transparency is filled in, and activated in a sense. At the same time, light alone, without the transparency, would have been deprived of an environment in which it could reveal itself. And light and transparency can be seen only through colours. Albert the Great wrote the following in his commentary on De anima:
“We see light not in itself, but in some subject, and this is
what diaphanum is; for diaphanum is not visible in itself because it has no colour. And since it has none, it may receive all [colours], and thus may be a means of seeing. Therefore it is always seen because of the extrinsic colour”.51 As Anka Vasiliu has demonstrated, diaphanum is something of a sort of χώρα.52 When explaining the latter term, Plato writes in The Timaeus that there exists a “third kind”: “the third kind is space everlasting, admitting not destruction, but affording place for all things that come into being”.53 This “third kind” may be metaphorically rendered as “the nurse of all becoming”54:
“Therefore the mother and recipient of creation which is visible and by any sense perceptible we must call neither earth nor air nor fire nor water, nor the combinations of these nor the elements of which they are formed, but we shall not err in affirming it to be a viewless nature and formless, all-receiving, in some manner most bewildering and hard to comprehend partaking of the intelligible.”55
Transposing these reflections to the sphere of stained glass, it may be said that, although windows deprived of the rays of external lumen do not lose their properties, their ability to transmit light lies only in potentia. The 50 51
Ibid., 418b 7, 2, ed. Hicks, p. 77. Albert the Great, De Anima, ed. Stroick, p. 110: “Videmus enim lumen non secundum se, sed in aliquo subiecto, et hoc est diaphanum; diaphanum enim secundum se non est visibile eo quod nullum habeat colorem; et quia nullum habet ideo omnes potest recipere, et sic medium potest esse in visu. Videtur ergo propter extraneum colorem semper”, cited after Vasiliu, “Le mot et le verre”, p. 141, n. 8. 52 Vasiliu, Du diaphane, pp. 234–35 and passim. 53 Plato, The Timaeus, 52a-b, ed. Archer-Hind, pp. 183–85. 54 Ibid., 49b, ed. Archer-Hind, p. 171. 55 Ibid., 51a-b, ed. Archer-Hind, p. 179.
115
A Matter of Matter
rays of the sun activate the fulgor. It is precisely thanks to their ability to transmit light that windows are filled with brightness, which is stronger or weaker, depending on the time of the day and year and atmospheric conditions.56 But, regardless of these factors, this brightness in stained glass will at once and always have the colour of the glass and of the silver stain used, while the intensity and value will be modified by the painted and fired ornaments, washing, as well as the contours and cross- hatching done in glass-paint.57 In stained glass, the diaphanum in itself is not visible (latent) either. But it is precisely diaphanum that is the condition for the emergence of the fulgor. Whereas in easel or wall paintings, there is a continuous dialectic between the real opacity of the medium and the transparency inherent in the painted representation of reality –when a painting, done on a flat support, becomes a “window” opening to the painted illusion of depth58 – in stained glass, the real transmittal of light is a constant element. So, the diaphanum, as a χώρα, is a very peculiar support (Grund) of this artistic medium: it is a certain place and environment (“the zero level of visibility”), has the character of a continuum, because translucence or transparency in the Aristotelian sense cannot be divided into parts. Further, it is the source of any potential differentiation because it assumes that as soon as the light appears, it will materialize in colours, strictly speaking, in coloured shapes. Thus, a pure diaphanum differs from colours, but it simultaneously assumes that the colours illuminated within will differ from one another. Neither does it match the notion of transparency discussed at the beginning of this paper, that is, the possibility of viewing the outside world behind a window glazed with white glass. Rather, it is – let us repeat –a latency or a condition of possibility for both the transparent and the translucent coming into being. 5 Medium Every work of art is a form made up of certain media. In stained glass these are: wooden (sometimes masonry) and metal construction elements (panel frames and ferramenta), coloured glass (flashed or pot-metal) decorated on either side with designs executed in glass-paint, and lead cames keeping together the pieces of glass cut 56 57 58
Frodl-Kraft, Die Glasmalerei, p. 77; Caviness, “Gothic glass paintings”, pp. 179–80. Caviness, “Gothic glass paintings”, p. 180; Gajewska-Prorok, “Stained glass”, pp. 26–28. Boehm, “Die Wiederkehr der Bilder”, p. 33.
into desired shapes.59 Certainly, light is also a medium for stained glass. The media provide a set of possibilities: panes of coloured glass in the glazier’s shop, strips of lead, not yet H-shaped in section, iron bars, silver stain and also –but in quite a different way –the sunlight. These materials, “scattered” in space, are waiting to be put together into a solid, permanent form because the essence of a medium is the loose coupling of elements and the contingency of their connections.60 While creating a work of art, the artist destroys the pure potentiality of materials, achieving at the same time a finished whole: “a tight coupling of (…) elements”.61 But stained glass is a specific case of a work of art: its individual elements, although put together to form a whole, preserve a certain degree of autonomy. On the one hand, stained-glass panels may be separated from the scheme (or mounted on hinges to be opened and closed); individual pieces of glass cut to desired shapes are joined with others by means of lead cames, so in case of damage (e.g. breaking), a piece of glass may be replaced with a new one.62 But there are of course certain, clearly defined limitations: the parts covered in glass-paint or silver stain, after firing, fuse permanently with glass, and damage to such a decoration resulting from corrosion, are sometimes irreversible.63 Similarly, Tiffany’s multi-coloured irridescent glass cannot be returned to its components. But, on the other hand, a stained-glass window is made to last, a particular case of apertio that transmits light, a homogeneous set of glass panes assembled by means of undulating lines of lead cames and horizontal bars of the ferramenta. Seen from the interior of a building at night, when the inside is illuminated and there is darkness outside, or when the window opening has been bricked up, it clearly demonstrates its forms as “a tight coupling”. Thus, stained glass, more than any other sort of art, and surely unlike other kinds of painting, preserves and reveals the interplay of medium and form. It is a relatively durable artistic composition which simultaneously carries out the function of a wind-, rain-and snow-proof barrier between the interior of the building and the external world, preserving at the same time a certain degree of autonomy of individual panels and interchangeability of glass panes. 59
60 61 62 63
Frodl-Kraft, Die Glasmalerei, pp. 29–48; Caviness, Stained Glass Windows, pp. 45–57; Gajewska-Prorok, “Stained glass”, pp. 34–43. Luhmann, “Medium and form”, pp. 104–05. Ibid., p. 105. Kurmann-Schwarz, “Malerei mit schwarzer Farbe”, p. 125. Caviness, “Gothic glass paintings”, pp. 189–90.
116 Bałus 6
Diaphanum and Claritas
When writing about theological aspects of nudity, Giorgio Agamben pointed to the fact that in Paradise the human body had been covered by the subtle veil of grace, and it was only after the loss of innocence that the body became indecent and naked. Still at the beginning of the 20th century, movements that glorified nudism differentiated between the obscene nudity of pornography and the nudity understood as the “Lichtkleid” (clothes of light) they propagated.64 Stained glass deprived of light is reminiscent, to a certain degree, of the human body stripped of this veil of grace: it is a product of craftsmanship and technology, exposed to the gaze, and in all its hopelessness, it displays its “private parts” in the form of lead cames, ferramenta and lines marked in glass-paint, fused with glass by firing. It is only with the first rays of the sun that the situation begins to change: not only do the depicted ornaments and representations become visible, but also the light medium, in the form of the fulgor, fills in the entire work, as if the process were a visible sign of grace. At that moment, aesthetic values come into play, and the transformation can probably be best expressed using the phrase Friedrich Schiller applied to art in general: a beautiful appearance.65 If the term “beautiful appearance” is particularly well suited to stained glass, it is because it contains a direct reference to claritas, that is, a specific kind of radiantia: an aura, glowing with luminosity and splendor.66 Coloured windows are filled in with the fulgor. But this is possible only because light had been envisaged from the start as one of the media of which they would be made. Along with the light, other formal components of stained glass come to life, transforming the naked existence of a technical artefact –made of glass, lead, and iron –into an “aura” filled with grace, brightness, and shine (claritas), that is, into a “beautiful appearance”. But, if such a transformation is at all conceivable, it is thanks to the diaphanum, that is the mere possibility of being filled with light, inherent in the coloured panes of glass. This is precisely the latent source of the uniqueness of stained glass, a place and environment in which the coloured light occurs. So, although contemporary physics makes the resorting to διαφανές for explaining the nature of light redundant, for stained glass the diaphanum will have to remain the expression of its χώρα, in other words, support (Grund), that is paradoxically deprived of support in the form of wall, canvas, or a 64 65 66
Agamben, “Nudity”, p. 66. Luhmann, “Medium and form”, p. 111. Stróżewski, “Claritas”, pp. 126 and 142–44; Johnson, Radiance, p. 4.
sheet of paper. This is a support that, in the technical sense, is “self-supporting”, being the construction of the window with its frame, ferramenta and a network of lead bars, and a support that, by virtue of being translucent, is capable of opening up to the “abyss” (Abgrund) behind it, from where the lumen comes. Bibliography Primary Sources
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A Matter of Matter Boehm, G., “Die Wiederkehr der Bilder”, in id. (ed.), Was ist ein Bild?, Munich, 1994, pp. 11–38. Boehm, G., “Die Bilderfrage”, in id. (ed.), Was ist ein Bild?, Munich, 1994, pp. 325–43. Boehm, G., “Ikonische Differenz”, Rheinsprung 11- 1 (2011) 170–76: https://rheinsprung11.unibas.ch/archiv/ausgabe- 01/glossar/ikonische-differenz/ (last accessed 1 September 2017). Boehm, G., “Der Grund. Über das ikonische Kontinuum”, in Boehm and Burioni (eds.), Der Grund, pp. 29–91. Boehm, G. and M. Burioni (eds.), Der Grund. Das Feld des Sichtbaren, Munich, 2012. Brown, S., Stained Glass. An Illustrated History, London, 1995. Caviness, M.H., Stained Glass Windows (Typologie des Sources du Moyen Âge Occidental, 76), Turnhout, 1996. Caviness, M.H., “Gothic glass paintings: the struggle for survival”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), Gothic Art and Thought in the Later Medieval Period: Essays in Honor of Willibald Sauerländer, University Park, 2011, pp. 176–204. Crary, J., Techniques of the Observer. On Vision and Modernity in the Nineteenth Century, Cambridge Mass., 1996. Descoeudres, G., “Licht in die Finsternis. Zur Belichtung und Beleuchtung von Wohnräumen im Mittelalter –eine Skizze”, in Georgi, von Orelli-Messerli, Scheiwiller-Lorber, and Schiffhauer (eds.), Licht(t)räume, pp. 42–48. Friedberg, A., The Virtual Window. From Alberti to Microsoft, Cambridge, Mass., 2006. Frodl-Kraft, E., Die Glasmalerei. Entwicklung, Technik, Eigenart, Vienna, 1970. Gajewska-Prorok, E., “Stained glass: technique and technology”, in Mistrzowie światła. Witraże i obrazy malowane pod szkłem /Masters of Light. Stained and Painted Glass (Exhibition catalogue: National Museum in Wrocław), Wrocław, 2014, pp. 16–50. Galli, F., “L’anima santa comme ‘fenestra vitrea’. Fisica e metafisica dell’illuminazione nel De luce di Bartolomeo da Bologna”, in D. Mondini and V. Ivanovici (eds.), Manipolare la luce in epoca premoderna. Aspetti architettonici, artistici e filosofici /Manipulating Light in Premodern Times. Architectural, Artistic, and Philosophical Aspects, Mendrisio, 2014, pp. 171–83. Georgi, K. B. von Orelli-Messerli, E. Scheiwiller-Lorber, and A. Schiffhauer (eds.), Licht(t)räume. Festschrift für Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz zum 65. Geburtstag, Petersberg, 2016. Grabska, E., “Window, Eros –glass even”, in J.A. Chrościcki et al. (eds.), Ars auro prior. Studia Ioanni Białostocki sexagenario dicata, Warsaw, 1981, pp. 729–32. Grodecki, L., “Fonctions spirituelles”, in M. Aubert et al. (eds.), Le vitrail français, Paris, 1958, pp. 39–54. Grodecki, L., “Le vitrail et l’architecture au XIIe et au XIIIe siècle”, in id., Le Moyen Âge retrouvé, vol. 2: De Saint Louis a Viollet-le-Duc, Paris, 1991, pp. 121–38. Haase, M. and Setton, D., “Transparenz /Intransparenz. Zur Ontologie kulturellen Seins”, in S. Diekmann and
117 T. Khurana (eds.), Latenz. 40 Annährungen an einen Begriff, Berlin, 2007, pp. 207–17. Haverkamp, A., “Latenz und Repräsentation. Die Figur im Verborgenen”, in id., Figura cryptica. Theorie der literarischen Latenz, Frankfurt am Main, 2002, pp.7–19. Hediger, Ch. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “[…] et faciunt inde tabulas saphiri pretiosas ac satis utiles in fenestris. Die Farbe Blau in der ‘Schedula’ und in der Glasmalerei von 1100–1250”, in A. Speer, M. Mauriège, and H. Westermann- Angerhausen (eds.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst: Die ‘Schedula diversarum artium’ (Miscellanea Mediaevalia, 37), Berlin, 2014, pp. 256–73. Hedwig, K., Sphaera lucis. Studien zur Intelligibilität des Seienden im Kontext mittelalterlicher Lichtspekulationen, Münster, 1980. Hills, P., The Light of Early Italian Painting, New Haven, 1987. Johnson, J.R., Radiance of Chartres, London, 1964. Kaern, M., “Georg Simmel’s The Bridge and the Door”, Qualitative Sociology 17 (1994), 397–413. Kalinowski, L., “Ars vitrea. The mediaeval art of light, colour and symbol”, in D. Horzela, and J. Utzig (eds.), L. Kalinowski and H. Małkiewiczówna, Ars Vitrea. Collected Writings on Mediaeval Stained Glass, Krakow, 2016, pp. 17–31. Kessler, H.L., “The function of vitrum vestitum and the use of materia saphirorum in Suger’s St.-Denis”, in id., Spiritual Seeing: Picturing God’s Invisibility in Medieval Art, Philadelphia, 2000, pp. 190–205. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “ ‘Fenestre vitree (…) significant Sacram Scripturam.’ Zur Medialität mittelalterlicher Glasmalerei des 12. und 13. Jahrhunderts”, in R. Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext. Bildprogramme und Raumfunktionen (Transactions oft he 22nd International Colloquium of the CV in Nuremberg and Regensburg), Nuremberg, 2005, pp. 61–73. Kurmann- Schwarz, B., “Malerei mit schwarzer Farbe auf leuchtend buntem Glas. Der Stil der Glasmalerei in seiner Beziehung zu den anderen Gattungen der Malerei”, in B. Klein and B. Boerner (eds.), Stilfragen zur Kunst des Mittelalters. Eine Einführung, Berlin, 2006, pp. 123–36. Lacan, J., The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psycho-analysis, trans. A. Sheridan and J.-A. Miller, New York, 1978. Loftie, W.J., A Plea for Art in the House, London, 1876. Luhmann, N., “Medium and form”, in id., Art as a Social System, trans. E.M. Knodt, Stanford, 2000, pp. 102–32. Massu, C., “Le verre ou la clarté absente”, Traverse. Revue du Centre de Création Industrielle, Centre Georges Pompidou 46 (1989), 42–59. Meiss, M., “Light as form and symbol in some fifteenth-century paintings”, in id., The Painter’s Choice. Problems in the Interpretation of Renaissance Art, New York, 1976, pp. 3–18. Merleau-Ponty, M., “Eye and mind”, in M.B. Smith (ed.), The Merleau-Ponty Aesthetic Reader: Philosophy and Painting, trans. M.B. Smith, Evanston, 1996, pp. 121–49.
118 Bałus Narecki, K., “Słownik terminów arystotelesowskich” [Dictionary of Aristotelian Terms], Arystoteles, Dzieła wszystkie [The Complete Works], vol. 7, Warsaw, 1994. Pichler, W., “Zur Kunstgeschichte des Bildfeldes”, in Boehm and Burioni (eds.), Der Grund, pp. 441–72. Poprzęcka, M., “Patrzeć do bólu” [Looking to the pain], in ead., Inne obrazy. Oko, widzenie, sztuka. Od Albertiego do Duchampa [Other Images. Eye, Seeing, Art. From Alberti to Duchamp], Gdańsk, 2008, pp. 166–81. Prettejohn, E., The Art of the Pre-Raphaelites, London, 2000. Simmel, G., “The bridge and the door”, in M. Kaern, “Georg Simmel’s The Bridge and the Door”, Qualitative Sociology 17 (1994), 407–12. Stokstad, M. and Cothren, M.W, Art History, 4th ed., New Jersey, 2011. Stróżewski, W., “ ‘Claritas.’ Uwarunkowania historyczne i treść estetyczna pojęcia” [‘Claritas.’ Historical conditions and aesthetic content of the term], Estetyka 2 (1961), 125–46. Thumfart, J., “Das Diaphane: über Materialität und Immaterialität des Computerbildschirms”, in T. Horing (ed.), Content is King! (Exhibition catalogue: Galerie Gebr. Lehman, Dresden), Dresden, 2014, pp. 2–7.
Vasiliu, A., “Le mot et le verre. Une definition médiévale du diaphane”, Journal des savants (1994-1), 135–62. Vasiliu, A., Du diaphane. Image, milieu, lumière dans la pensée antique et médiévale, Paris, 1997. Westermann- Angerhausen, H., “Glasmalerei und Himmelslicht –Metapher, Farbe, Stoff”, in ead., H. Hagnau, C. Schumacher, and G. Sporbeck (ed.), Himmelslicht. Europäische Glasmalerei im Jahrhundert des Kölner Dombaus (1248–1349) (Exhibition catalogue: Schnütgen-Museum der Stadt Köln), Cologne, 1998, pp. 95–102. Wittgenstein, L., Remarks on Colour, trans. L.L. McAlister and M. Schattl, ed. G. Anscombe, http://personal.denison.edu/ ~faurc/color/RemarksOnColoursm.pdf (last accessed 30 November 2016). Ziemba, A., Wspólnota rzeczy. Sztuka niderlandzka i północnoeuropejska 1380–1520 [Community of Things. Netherlandish and North European Art 1380–1520] (Sztuka Burgundii i Niderlandów 1380–1500, 3), Warsaw, 2015.
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Stained Glass and the Gothic Interior in the 12th and 13th Centuries Ellen M. Shortell Medieval stained glass was designed to be seen in an architectural setting, and Gothic architecture was designed to incorporate colored glass. Although this has been understood since the mid-19th century when the modern study of Gothic architecture began, stained glass and architecture have long been studied separately. Several generations of art historians have sought to understand the vast material and documentary evidence for both media, separately and together, compiling an impressive body of knowledge. Yet synthetic study of Gothic interiors –considering the elements of light, color, form, material, texture, and iconography that once defined a building –poses problems of both a practical and a philosophical nature. This chapter will review some of the questions that have been asked about the interrelationship of stained glass and architecture, focusing on buildings in the category of “great churches”, which share many physical and visual characteristics, whether erected for monastic communities or for the secular clergy in cathedral, collegiate, or parish foundations.1 A great deal of medieval stained glass has been lost, displaced, or rearranged, so that those who study it are often left to search for and reconstruct its original context, while architectural historians have typically described vaulting systems, walls, and spatial divisions devoid of color and light. The difficulties involved in more integrated studies of buildings have also been exacerbated by the traditional art-historical focus on separate media, which were further divided in the 19th century into “major” and “minor” arts, with architecture falling into the former category and stained glass the latter.2 While recent scholarship has broken down these categories, scholars seeking a more comprehensive approach to medieval building interiors are still faced with considerable bodies of highly specialized scholarship in the separate fields of stained glass and architecture, as well as the methodological differences inherent in the respective disciplines.3 1 Wilson, The Gothic Cathedral. The Architecture of the Great Church, pp. 7–12, defines this concept, which is now fairly widely used in English scholarship. 2 For a recent assessment, see Hourihane, From Minor to Major. 3 Caviness, “Artistic integration in Gothic buildings”; Crossley, “The integrated cathedral”; Kurmann-Schwarz, “La pierre peinte et le verre coloré”; Kurmann and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Chartres Cathedral as a work of artistic integration”.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 10
In a frequently quoted article of 1949, Louis Grodecki sought to redress the marginalization of stained glass as a decorative art by asserting that Gothic architecture was, in the strictest sense of the words, designed to support stained-glass windows.4 Many at that time and in the following decades continued to treat the two media as separate entities, conceiving of their relationship as that of solid and void, or as frame and image. However, just as stained glass is integral to Gothic architecture, the structure creates more than a frame for windows; the two elements work together, along with tracery, sculpture, and polychromy. Recognizing this interdependence helps us to go beyond the bridging of disparate fields to open new perspectives on Gothic buildings. 1 Developmental Narratives: Illumination and the Refinements of the Wall Elevation Despite the norms of separate disciplinary studies, several early 20th-century scholars did consider the interrelationship of architecture and glass. One fundamental approach to the history of Gothic architecture in the early 20th century was to consider its development as a series of solutions to technical and engineering problems. Grodecki’s “Le vitrail et l’architecture au XIIe et XIIIe siècles” of 1949, along with architectural historian Lisa Schürenberg’s Die kirchliche Baukunst in Frankreich zwischen 1270 und 1380, published in 1934, incorporated this approach in their explorations of broad developmental trends in French Gothic architecture and stained glass. Grodecki continued to develop the theme up to his last publication, while parallel ideas appear in the writing of architectural historian Paul Frankl, who studied both media during his career.5 Frankl’s final work, Gothic Architecture, written between 1947 and 1962, is particularly pertinent.6 Each of these authors told a story of progressive changes in wall construction in which the manipulation of light and the use of colored glass went hand in hand with, or even motivated, structural changes. 4 Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, p. 7. 5 Helten, “Zur Einführung: Maßwerk, Glasmalerei und Licht”, p. 9. 6 Frankl, Gothic Architecture. For the history of the writing of this book, see Crossley, “Frankl’s Text”, p. 15.
120 Shortell From the time of the construction of Sens Cathedral and the chevet of the abbey church of Saint-Denis in the 1140s, to the development of the Rayonnant Gothic style in the mid-13th century, window openings grew progressively larger until they filled the width and much of the height of the wall in each bay. Schürenberg, Grodecki, and Frankl saw this development, at least in part, as a solution to a lighting problem. As building heights increased during the 12th century, clerestory windows rose too high above the floor to shed sufficient light on the lower stories of the central vessel, and the indirect light admitted by windows in the aisle and the outer walls of the tribune gallery was not enough to compensate. By the end of the 12th century, the development of the flying buttress and the suppression of the tribune gallery created the three-story elevation that marked the “classic” phase of High Gothic, established in the choir of Soissons Cathedral (c.1190–1212) (Figure 7.1) and further developed at the cathedral of Chartres (c.1194–1220).7 These changes in the wall structure allowed the sills of the clerestory windows to extend downward below the springing of the high vaults, bringing them closer to the ground, increasing their height, and greatly expanding the surface area of stained glass.8 Grodecki and Frankl broached a question that has engaged a number of scholars since: that of the working relationship between masons and glaziers. Both imagined the progressive design of the Gothic wall over time as a collaborative effort between masons and stained-glass artists. Others, subsequently looking at individual buildings in more detail, have generally agreed that there had to be close collaboration between those who built the window openings and those who created stained-glass panels to fit them, especially with the development of more and more complex tracery lights.9 Frankl suggested further that the symbiotic development of architecture and glass was motivated by an aesthetic appreciation of stained glass: The desire to enlarge the windows sprang not only from the wish to improve the lighting but also from the enjoyment of stained glass and its softening of the light 7 Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, pp. 10–11; Bony, French Gothic Architecture, pp. 245–56; Kimpel and Suckale, Die gotische Architektur in Frankreich, pp. 235–55. On Soissons Cathedral, see Barnes, “The twelfth-century transept of Soissons” esp. pp. 10–14; Sandron, La cathédrale de Soisson, pp. 79–84. 8 For further discussion, see Kurmann-Schwarz, “Zum Verhältnis von Glasmalerei und Architektur in der Gotik,” pp. 151–53. 9 Kurmann-Schwarz, “Zum Verhältnis von Glasmalerei und Architektur in der Gotik”, p. 153; Helten, Mittelalterliches Maßwerk, pp. 143–60, argues that the master mason dictated to the glass painter.
in the interior. This diminution of light necessitated larger windows, and these again needed more stained glass: the two factors mutually stimulate one another.10 Frankl’s description of the changing size and palette of stained glass echoes Grodecki, who famously observed that, as the size of the window openings and the surface area available for stained glass increased, the palette used by glaziers also became progressively darker, maintaining a subdued interior light, so that a building with larger windows would be no brighter than one with smaller windows.11 He noted that while 12th-century windows often employed large areas of white glass as framing devices or background, 13th-century windows tended to scatter smaller pieces of white throughout the composition, creating a sparkling effect.12 Grodecki implied that there was a general understanding that the interior light in a religious building should be, ideally, quite subdued.13 Grodecki surely did not intend this observation to imply a precise standard, but it is somewhat problematic. While comparisons of specific windows may show a progressive use of darker glasses, it is actually very difficult to correlate this observation with interior light levels in different buildings. Many buildings, including the cathedrals of Noyon and Reims cited by Grodecki for this comparison, have lost much of their original glass, leaving us uncertain about the effects of color employed there. In addition, the amount of light perceived in a building with stained-glass windows depends on many variables: the time of day and year, the weather, and, above all, the state of preservation of the glass and interior walls. Attempts to measure the difference between interior and exterior light levels at Chartres Cathedral, for example, produced widely varied results in the mid-1960s, prior to the controversial cleaning of the 12th-century glass of the west façade.14 In addition, the loss of original wall treatments, floors, furnishings, and liturgical objects that reflected or absorbed light makes it difficult to truly understand the original quality of interior light.15
10 Frankl, Gothic Architecture, p. 105. 11 Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, pp. 8–14 and 24. 12 Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, p. 17. 13 The idea underlies the interpretation of medieval documents on light and color by Gage, “Gothic glass: two aspects of a Dionysian aesthetic,” pp. 36–37. 14 Johnson, The Radiance of Chartres, p. 10; Sowers, “On the blues of Chartres”, p. 220; Gage, “Gothic glass: two aspects of a Dionysian aesthetic”, pp. 36–7 and p. 51, n. 2. 15 Siebert, “Glasmalerei und Bauhütte im Mittelalter”, pp. 41–42; Mondini, “Himmelslicht. Lichtregie im Sakralbau”; Helten, “Zur Einführung: Maßwerk, Glasmalerei und Licht”, p. 9.
Stained Glass and the Gothic Interior in the 12th and 13th Centuries
2
“Transcendental Twilight”
One of the first scholars to discuss the manipulation of light as a defining element of Gothic architecture, Lisa Schürenberg, described the buildings of the “classic” phase of “High Gothic” as submerged in “ein schwebendes, transcendentales Dämmer … das die irrationale Wirkung der Architektur steigert” (a hovering, transcendental twilight … that enhances the irrational effect of the architecture).16 Schürenberg used this description as a contrast to the later 13th-century churches of Saint- Urbain of Troyes and Clermont Cathedral, which begin her study. She argued that the latter buildings represented a pivotal moment in the history of Gothic architecture, when the “transcendental twilight” gave way to the more brightly lit interiors of Rayonnant in France. Later scholars would affirm that Rayonnant represented a rupture in the Gothic architectural style.17 In architectural terms, the trajectory of this change has been described as evolving from the introduction of bar tracery in the 1230s, which led to more and more complex patterns of delicately carved stonework. The previously solid exterior wall of the triforium was then opened to glazing, beginning in the hemicycles of the abbey church of Saint-Denis and Troyes Cathedral. As the decorative stonework of Gothic buildings became progressively thinner, finely carved mullions and tracery broke the horizontal moldings that had previously defined distinct stories in the elevation. The visual unity of triforium and clerestory in many cases gave the appearance of a single wall of glass behind a delicate stone screen. It has also been surmised that the masons responsible for this intricate carving wanted it to be visible, and that their desire for visibility was the impetus for a greater use of white glass, a cooler palette, and a brighter, colder, interior light. Peter Kurmann suggested, however, that a desire for the visibility of architectural details, such as complex molding profiles and sculpted capitals, may have led to the selective use of grisaille and white glass even before 1200, that is, at the beginning of the High Gothic style.18 His observations accord with the relatively recent understanding that many buildings of the earlier period included a significant amount of white glass. Unquestionably, there are significant visual and structural differences between, for example, Chartres Cathedral (see Figure 4.2), with its heavy flying buttresses and thick walls on the one hand, and Saint-Urbain of Troyes 16 Schürenberg, Die kirchliche Baukunst in Frankreich, p. 282. 17 Schürenberg, Die kirchliche Baukunst in Frankreich, p. 282; Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, p. 24; Davis, “Frames of vision,” p. 197; Crossley, “Frankl’s Text”, pp. 22–23. 18 Kurmann, “ ‘Architektur in Architektur’ ”, p. 35.
121
with its thin, fragile-looking supports and tracery (Figure 7.2). While the window openings at Chartres appear as individual lights in solid walls, the entire eastern wall of Saint-Urbain has become a diaphanous structure of glass and tracery. Stone support and colored glass interpenetrate to such an extent that the traditional concepts of image and frame are meaningless.19 Chartres is the type of building on which Schürenberg’s characterization of “transcendental twilight” was modeled.20 While few today would characterize Gothic architecture as “irrational”, Schürenberg’s was once a commonly held, romanticized view of the “classic” Gothic architecture of the decades around 1200, in which the dim, mystical light lends the building an atmosphere suitable for contemplation.21 The buildings that have served as key examples of the phases of Gothic from 1140 to 1250 have all been susceptible to this characterization for various reasons. Thanks to rare surviving medieval documents, the abbey church of Saint-Denis and Canterbury Cathedral came to exemplify the earliest Gothic churches, while Chartres Cathedral and the Sainte-Chapelle of Paris, both with a great deal of surviving stained glass, served as archetypes of High Gothic and the beginning of Rayonnant in France. Saint-Denis in particular inspired investigations into a relationship between the use of stained glass and theological principles of light and darkness.22 The Sainte- Chapelle, which is a palace chapel, is a narrow, aisleless space that can be more easily illuminated by deeply colored windows than the typical Gothic “great church”; since the cleaning and conservation of the glass and wall treatment, it is far from gloomy. At Chartres Cathedral, the current restoration work must lead us to rethink the concept of contemplative darkness. 3
The Revelation of Chartres
The exceptional quantity of surviving stained glass at Chartres Cathedral played directly into the popular image of the subdued Gothic interior. In fact, when Grodecki wrote “Le vitrail et l’architecture” in 1949, the glass, which had been removed for protection during the war, had been recently replaced. The contrast in the interior 19 20 21 22
Helten, “Maßwerk, Glasmalerei und Licht”, p. 9. The glazing of Chartres Cathedral is treated at length in this volume by Claudine Lautier. Gage, “Gothic glass: two aspects of a Dionysian aesthetic”, esp. p. 37. Gage, “Gothic glass: two aspects of a Dionysian aesthetic”; Lillich, “Monastic stained glass: patronage and style”; Rudolph, Artistic Change at St-Denis; Kessler, Spiritual Seeing, pp. 190–205.
122 Shortell light with and without the glass was powerful.23 However, the effect that was so striking to Grodecki’s eyes –the restoration of the cathedral’s mysterious atmosphere – was largely the result of soot and candle wax on the walls, of a deliberate darkening of the windows earlier in the century, and of the loss of the original wall treatment. In fact, while he wrote of a consistently subdued light in the 13th century, Grodecki himself pointed out in another context that the widespread idea of “Gothic gloom” is the creation of a modern, Romantic imagination.24 The dim interior of Chartres Cathedral described by Schürenberg and Grodecki has been transformed by restoration work, begun in 2009. The 13th-century wall treatment, documented by Jürgen Michler nearly 30 years ago, was found intact over 80 percent of the vaulted and mural surfaces.25 As Brigitte Kurmann- Schwarz predicted, the newly revealed church should lead us to rethink the dark Gothic interior.26 The blackened and badly deteriorated 19th-century wall treatment has been removed, along with previously added paint layers, revealing light ochre-colored walls, with bay divisions accentuated by whitewashed colonettes, capitals, and moldings, and windows outlined by whitewashed plate tracery (see Figure 4.2). Also, the cleaned and restored glass is more transparent than was previously evident.27 Chartres can no longer be described as a dark interior in which glowing windows float in an indefinite space. Contrary to expectations, the intensity of the colored glass is not washed out by the pale walls, but rather reflected and amplified.28 It still modulates the interior light, but to very different effect. Rather than acting independently of architectural details, the glass now reveals a decorative unity in the interior. The light that passes through the restored windows illuminates the crocket capitals that frame the window 23 24
Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, p. 11. Grodecki et al., Le vitrail roman, pp. 11–17; id., “Esthètique ancienne et moderne du vitrail roman”; Gage, “Gothic glass: two aspects of a Dionysian aesthetic”, pp. 37– 38 and n. 10. 25 Michler, “La cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartres”. 26 Brigitte Kurmann- Schwarz anticipated this result in her “La pierre peinte et le verre coloré”; id., “Zum Verhältnis von Glasmalerei und Architektur in der Gotik”, pp. 161–63; and id., “L’architecture et le vitrail au XIIe et XIIIe siècle”, pp. 192–93. 27 Filler, “A scandalous makeover at Chartres”; Caviness and Hamburger, “Chartres: an exchange”; Cohen, “Understanding the restoration at Chartres”; Timbert, Chartres. Construire et restaurer la cathédrale; Lautier, “La cathédrale de Chartres. Restaurations récentes et nouvelles recherches”, pp. 3–11. 28 Lautier, “La polychromie de la cathédrale de Chartres et le vitrail”, pp. 124–33.
openings, bringing their sculpted forms into harmony with the foliate borders of the windows, so that the capitals appear almost as a three-dimensional extension of the painted leaves. The colors of the glass echo those of the painted bosses and polychromed triforium supports, while wall paintings in the upper walls of the western bays of the nave, creating an illusionistic continuation of the windows in the solid walls of the flanking towers.29 In addition, whitewashing now covers the masonry joints of the attached colonettes of the piliers cantonés, hiding the structural innovation they represented, and making them appear as simple piers surrounded by en-délit shafts, the type of construction that Chartres made obsolete. Rather than celebrate the engineering accomplishment of fully coursed piers, Chartres covered it up to accent the vertical elements. The visual effect was apparently more important than the new means of achieving it. The restoration of Chartres brings us much closer to the visual experience of the cathedral as it was in the 13th century, but this sense of unity is also illusory. One of the methodological problems that arises for any “integrated” or “holistic” study of Gothic architecture and stained glass is that a building is never fixed in time. Both walls and windows were continually subject to deterioration, destruction, rebuilding, replacement, and modernization. The prospect of a study that integrates all elements of a building as a Gesamtkunstwerk contains the danger of assuming that one can read an original master mason’s intent, and that meaning remains fixed.30 While any given arrangement of images in architectural space certainly had a designer, the communication of meaning is always contingent, and new webs of meaning are created over time. Even in the restored interior of Chartres Cathedral with its harmonious use of color in windows, sculpture, and polychromy, the green and yellow faux marble of the choir represents a major change in the interior as the result of an intervention three centuries after the construction of the Gothic cathedral. We no longer see the original design of the whole. While the transformation of Chartres seems dramatic, Jürgen Michler’s work revealed that other buildings in 13th-century France shared the same color scheme. This can be seen, for example, in parts of the cathedral of Châlons-en-Champagne where the original wall treatment has also been uncovered.31 Farther afield, Cologne 29
Jourd’heuil and Broissard, “Polychromie architecturale et vi traux ‘en trompe-l’œil’ de la cathédrale de Chartres”. 30 Caviness, “Artistic integration: a postmodern construct?”; Crossley, “The integrated cathedral”. 31 Ravaux, La cathédrale Saint-Étienne de Châlons-en-Champagne.
Stained Glass and the Gothic Interior in the 12th and 13th Centuries
Cathedral, begun in 1248, shows us that this scheme extended beyond the Rhine into imperial territories.32 It seems reasonable to infer that the effect now revealed at Chartres of a luminous and colorful space, rather than transcendental gloom, was closer to the ideal interior light of the early 13th century. While buildings begun in the 1260s do as a rule attain a brighter effect with more white glass and a cooler palette, the revelation of the pale walls and sparkling colors of Chartres suggests that the shift to brighter interiors in the 1260s might not have been as marked or as abrupt as has generally been accepted since Schürenberg described it. The revelations offered by the restoration of Chartres for the visual relationship of glass to painted interiors in High Gothic also raises the question of stylistic definitions and boundaries in an earlier period. Histories of stained glass per se have traditionally traced the origins of the medium to the use of colored glass in Late Antiquity, moved on to the evidence for colored window glass in the early Middle Ages, to the oldest surviving panels in the Holy Roman Empire, and then traced its arrival in 12th-century France as an element of Gothic, which then spread outward from Paris. The survival of earlier Romanesque stained glass in western France calls into question the story of the early development of stained-glass windows from the German-speaking areas into France, and gives us a broader picture of glazed Romanesque buildings.33 At the beginning of “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, Grodecki explained his focus on Gothic architecture with the following statement: “L’art du vi trail est si étroitement associé dans notre mémoire à l’architecture gothique que nous avons quelque peine à nous représenter l’église romane colorée par la lumière des verrières” (The art of stained glass is so closely tied to Gothic architecture in our memory that it is rather difficult to form a mental image of a Romanesque church colored by the light of stained-glass windows).34 Yet, stained glass worked in harmony with architectural polychromy and figural wall paintings in Romanesque buildings.35 While the surface area of stained glass is much smaller in Romanesque architecture, the similar use of color in the form of opaque wall painting and translucent glass painting in Romanesque and Gothic architectural 32 33
34 35
Michler, “Die Einbindung der Skulptur”; Kurmann-Schwarz, “La pierre peinte et le verre coloré”, p. 427. See Granboulan, Ch. 3 in this volume; Granboulan, “Le vitrail au XIIe siècle dans le domaine Planagenêt”; Lautier, “Les vitraux de Saint-Denis au XIIe siècle”. Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, p. 5. Becksmann, “Raum, Licht und Farbe”; Bacher, “Glasmalerei, Wandmalerei und Architektur”; id., “Glasmalerei im Kontext der Monumentalmalerei”; and id., “Glasmalerei als Bildkunst der mittelalterlichen Architektur”.
123
interiors begins to blur some of the distinctions between the two styles as Grodecki described them. 4 White and Grisaille Glass in 13th-Century Buildings Chartres is problematic as a typical example of the interaction of stained glass and architecture at the beginning of the 13th century, even in its restored state, as Kurmann-Schwarz has noted.36 While it was once believed that colored glass typically filled most of the windows of a building in this period, as it did at Chartres, this model was far from universal. Bourges Cathedral, for example, which was richly ornamented with grisaille windows, is an alternative model contemporary with Chartres.37 A number of other buildings of the late 12th and early 13th centuries have now been shown to have held a significant quantity of white or grisaille glass, and the old theory that this was due to economic constraints can no longer be supported.38 The use of white or grisaille glass in combination with color became common after about 1260, and is one of the characteristics ascribed to the architecture of the later 13th century. Clerestory windows with wide grisaille borders framing single figures in colored glass had already been used earlier in the century, for example, in the clerestories of Reims and Auxerre cathedrals, as well as in the transepts of Chartres itself.39 This increases the amount of light and also makes the large figures, which are distant from the viewer, more visible. Band windows, in which figural panels in the vertical center of a window are sandwiched between grisaille panels above and below, appeared in the clerestory glazing of Tours Cathedral and in Saint-Père of Chartres in the 1260s, and became a common feature of Gothic architecture thereafter.40 While grisaille glass has commonly been associated with the Cistercian ban on excessive decoration, both monastic and secular Gothic churches employed grisaille panels to enrich their interiors with bright ornament. 36
Kurmann-Schwarz, “L’architecture et le vitrail au XIIe et XIIIe siècle”, pp. 192–93. 37 See Boulanger, Ch. 18 in this volume. 38 Lafond, J., “Le vitrail en Normandie de 1250 à 1300”, p. 322; Scholz, “Ornamentverglasungen der Hochgotik”, p. 51. 39 See Lillich, Ch. 17 in this volume; Lillich, “The band window,” pp. 26–29; ead., “A redating of the thirteenth-century grisaille windows of Chartres Cathedral”, p. 14; Schiffhauer, “Die Kompositverglasungen im Chor der Kathdrale von Tours”, pp. 195–200. 40 Lillich, The Stained Glass of Saint-Père de Chartres, esp. pp. 24– 45; Schiffhauer, “Die Kompositverglasungen im Chor der Kathdrale von Tours”, pp. 195–200.
124 Shortell Full windows of grisaille with colored borders were part of the original design scheme of Cologne Cathedral, placed prominently in the choir after 1260.41 In England, a substantial amount of grisaille glass was used in the cathedral of Salisbury, and reused fragments of 13th- century glass at Wells Cathedral suggest it may have received similar glazing treatment.42 Gothic buildings in the 13th century also deployed grisaille panels strategically, to improve the visibility of colored windows as well as of the architectural space itself. Grisailles were often used in areas that were not immediately visible from the central vessel of a church, including chapels and transepts, or installed so as not to distract from a primary view of fully colored glass, as in the straight bays of choir clerestories. 5
Illumination and Visibility
A number of churches in Picardy and Champagne had radiating chapels of octagonal or decagonal plan, built between about 1175 and 1200, which featured rib vaults radiating from a central keystone. This arrangement created discreet spaces, separated from the ambulatory, and the buildings are important exceptions to the generalization that Gothic created unified interior spaces.43 The space is further enclosed with walls that encompass more than 180°. At Saint-Remi of Reims and Notre-Dame-en-Vaux in Châlons-en-Champagne, five sides of an octagon are circumscribed; in the south transept of Soissons Cathedral, the former collegiate church of Saint-Quentin, at Troyes Cathedral, and in the original chevet of Meaux, seven sides of a decagon are circumscribed.44 Jean Lafond, in a 1955 discussion of the stained glass of Troyes Cathedral, proposed that only the central lancets of the radiating chapels there held colored glass, while those on the sides must have been filled with grisaille glass in order to provide enough light for the enclosed chapel space and the ambulatory.45 Elizabeth Pastan has since demonstrated that grisaille 41 Scholz, “Ornamentverglasungen”, pp. 51– 52; Kurmann, “ ‘Architektur in Architektur’ ”; Burger, “Die ornamentale Verglasung des Kölner Domes”; Kurmann-Schwarz, “La pierre peinte et le verre coloré”, pp. 427–40. 42 Marks, Stained Glass in England, pp. 116– 17; Ayers, The Medieval Stained Glass of Wells Cathedral, pp. lxxx–lxxxi. 43 Bony, “The resistance to Chartres”, pp. 36– 39; Shortell, “Ambulatories, arcade screens, and visual experience”, pp. 56–57. 44 Kurmann, La cathédrale de Meaux, pp. 32– 48; Shortell, “Ambulatories, arcade screens, and visual experience”. 45 Lafond, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale Saint-Pierre de Troyes”, pp. 31–32.
windows now in the cathedral date to the early 13th century, and must originally have been installed in the chapels, confirming Lafond’s hypothesis.46 It seems likely that this was the case elsewhere. Anne Prache suggested that the design of the Soissons south transept chapels, with seven windows, was meant to allow more light than in the chapels of Saint-Remi, which had only three, although we have no information about the glazing of this part of Soissons.47 At Saint-Quentin, only three historiated windows survive from the radiating chapels, but 19th-century descriptions include a number of grisaille windows of unknown date.48 The axial chapel, which now holds the three historiated lancets and four modern geometric windows of colored glass, is indeed extremely dark, in great contrast to the other chapels, now largely devoid of colored glass (Figure 7.3). Anyone looking into one of these chapels from the choir would see the central windows of colored glass; only by moving toward and into the chapel would the grisailles come directly into view. Most of the time they would be hidden sources of light. Grisaille windows were similarly used as invisible sources illuminating other important areas of a building. At Bourges, grisailles illuminate the nave and mark its separation from the choir; at Tours, Châlons-en- Champagne, and Meaux cathedrals, grisaille windows filled the straight bays of the choir, while deeply colored glass is found only in the turning bays. 49 The eye of a visitor entering the nave from the west would be drawn toward the glow of deeply colored stained glass in the hemicycle windows hovering above the sanctuary. The lay visitor might continue from west to east as far as the entrance to the liturgical choir, as the images of universal and local saints depicted in that glass come into focus, while the real source of illumination in the liturgical choir would be invisible. The clergy, however, would continue forward and, whether they entered the choir directly through the center of the jubé or from a door in the side aisle, the presence of white glass would be revealed to them. Two different visual experiences 46
Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du choeur de la cathédrale de Troyes, pp. 44–45, 47, 71, 73, 90, 90, 95, 102, 121, and 133–42; Pastan, “Process and patronage”, esp. pp. 217–23. 47 Prache, Saint-Remi de Reims, pp. 107–08; Shortell, “Ambulatories, arcade screens, and visual experience”, pp. 57–62. 48 Shortell, “Erasures and recoveries” pp. 134–41 and n. 10–11. 49 Kurmann and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Die Architektur und die frühe Glasmalerei des Berner Münsters”; Kurmann-Schwarz, “Zum Verhältnis von Glasmalerei und Architektur in der Gotik”, esp. pp. 153–59; ead., “La pierre peinte et le verre coloré”, pp. 432–33; Michler, Die Elisabethkirche zu Marburg; Schreiber, Der Chor der Kathedrale von Tours, pp. 93–95; and see Boulanger, Ch. 18 in this volume.
Stained Glass and the Gothic Interior in the 12th and 13th Centuries
are offered to the clergy of the church and the visitor. For the layperson, the mystery of the largely invisible choir is maintained, with the glowing figures of apostles and saints making manifest the presence of their relics below.50 The real source of light is revealed only to the clergy. 6 Sight Lines and Scenography, Revealing and Concealing Architectural historians have long assumed that those who designed buildings were concerned with what could be seen from certain viewpoints in a building.51 Paul Frankl, for example, argued that the triple-arcaded entrances to the radiating chapels at the abbey church of Saint-Remi of Reims, completed about 1180, allowed an unimpeded view along the radii of the hemicycle in response to the design of the turning bays at Notre- Dame de Paris, where piers placed in the bay centers directly blocked the view to the windows of the outer wall.52 In his analysis of the geometry of the plan of the abbey church of Saint-Denis, Peter Kidson argued that it purposely allowed a celebrant standing at the high altar to see all of the stained-glass windows of the radiating chapels.53 At the cathedral of Bern, the 15th-century master maintained a clear view from the nave into the choir of the central vessel through a narrower triumphal arch, while in the 14th-and 16th-century reinforcement and rebuilding in the choir aisles and south transept of Saint-Quentin, mass was added to the aisle sides of piers only, leaving the profiles of the original choir and crossing piers visible along the central choir wall, maintaining the original 13th-century vista of the choir (Figure 7.4).54 Stained glass plays an important part in the construction of such sight lines. In her influential study of the abbey church of Saint- Remi of Reims, Madeline Caviness observed that the architecture of the tribune in the chevet conceals or reveals images as one moves across the space of the choir. The outer tribune wall holds triple lancet windows, while the inner wall is opened to the main vessel of the church with a double arcade. If one stands directly on 50
See Lautier, Ch. 4 in this volume; Shortell, “Dismembering Saint Quentin”. 51 Bork, “Geometry and scenography”, pp. 243–67; id., “Ground plan geometries in Suger’s Saint-Denis”. 52 Frankl, Gothic Architecture, p. 81; Shortell, “Ambulatories, arcade screens, and visual experience”, pp. 54–56. 53 Kidson, “Panofsky, Suger, and St-Denis”, pp. 12–14. 54 Kurmann and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Die Architektur und die frühe Glasmalerei des Berner Münsters”.
125
the axis of one of the bays, the colonette supporting the double arcade sits directly in front of the center of the window. This is especially significant in the case of the axial window, which holds a crucifixion scene (Figure 7.5). From the main east-west axis of the building, the body of Christ on the cross is hidden by the colonette, while it is clearly visible in an oblique view from either side of the choir.55 Thus, Christ would be invisible to a layperson approaching from the center of the nave, but revealed to the monks in their choir stalls. The two audiences are afforded different levels of understanding. Caviness argues as well that this arrangement reflects an architectural metaphor in the teachings of Abbot Peter of Celle, who admonished the monks not to rush directly to the sacrament.56 At Saint-Remi, Notre-Dame-en-Vaux, Saint-Quentin, and in the south transept of Soissons Cathedral, a triple arcade across the chapel opening separates the chapel space from the ambulatory. It also effectively blocks or frames stained-glass windows in its outer walls, depending on the standpoint of the viewer. Images would be revealed and concealed as one walked by or entered a chapel. A view of the interior of Saint-Quentin, looking toward the chevet, shows that the hemicycle piers frame the central window in the axial chapel and the window above it in the ambulatory wall (Figure 7.4).57 All other windows at this level are hidden from view. The original subjects of these windows are unknown, although it is highly likely that they contained Marian or Christological images. The central chapel window was flanked by Infancy scenes on the left and the Glorification of the Virgin on the right, which suggests a Tree of Jesse in the center, in keeping with the iconography of Saint-Denis and with Troyes and Beauvais cathedrals.58 The isolation of these two axial windows contrasts with the figures in the clerestory above, which fill the width of that zone with a double rank of Apostles of Christ and the locally celebrated Apostles of Picardy, some of whose relics were kept at the high altar below. With a choir screen and altar in place, it is uncertain whether the axial chapel’s window would have been visible from the nave as it is today. It would have been seen clearly, however, from the St. Michael chapel, above the 55 Caviness, Sumptuous Arts at the Royal Abbeys of Reims and Braine, pp. 45–46. 56 Caviness, Sumptuous Arts at the Royal Abbeys of Reims and Braine, pp. 45–47. 57 Kurmann, “Das Berner Münster, seine Baugeschichte und seine Ausstattung”, described the similar architectural framing of the three central windows in the choir of Bern Cathedral. 58 Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du choeur de la cathédrale de Troyes; Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 5–24.
126 Shortell narthex, which was still in active liturgical use in the early 13th century. This view, too, might have been intended primarily for the eyes of the clergy. The long view along the main east-west axis at Saint- Quentin is typical of the 13th-century great church in many ways. Similar arrangements in which tall clerestory figures of apostles, prophets, and locally significant saints hover above the sanctuary, while lower windows are framed by the architecture in the axial bay, can be seen at any number of buildings of the late 12th and 13th centuries, including Chartres, Bourges, Reims, and Beauvais cathedrals.59 The clerestory figures are designed to be visible from a distance and dominate the space above the sanctuary, serving as a visualization of the presence of the saints in the form of relics in the choir, which was inaccessible to the layperson. The singular chapel window, on the other hand, is illegible from a distance; it is an abstraction in light and color. As was usually the case for windows in the lowest story, the chapel windows contain sequences of scenes in geometric frames, with small figures enacting the story. One must stand close to read them; the distant view could only draw the visitor toward the chapel. A number of scholars have more recently turned their attention to the visual experiences offered by movement through architectural space. 7
Audiences in Motion
Great churches were designed to organize people’s movements through interior space, and the placement and visibility of images in sculpture, stained glass, or wall painting are important to the experience of this movement. In some instances, the subjects of stained-glass windows can be associated directly with liturgical practices. The subjects of windows may correspond to the dedications of chapels or nearby altars, and would have special significance when the liturgy focused on the saint or saints represented there; in other cases, the relationships are less direct. Claudine Lautier has mapped relationships between liturgy, relics, and stained-glass windows at Chartres, as Margot Fassler has also done from the perspective of liturgical history.60 At Canterbury, Madeline Caviness has shown that windows were moved in order to accommodate liturgical changes, allowing the monks 59
See Boulanger, Ch. 18 in this volume; Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 122–23; Lautier, “The sacred topography of Chartres Cathedral”. 60 Lautier, “The sacred topography of Chartres Cathedral”; Fassler, The Virgin of Chartres, pp. 210–367.
to celebrate without the distracting presence of pilgrims.61 Revenue records at Saint-Quentin indicate that donor figures in chapel windows correspond to chapel endowments by identifiable families; these chapels were to be the locations of annual memorial celebrations.62 Claudine Lautier has also observed the dominance of blood-red glass in the Martyrs Chapel at Chartres in the early morning light, giving us a breathtaking image of the correlation of iconography with light and color.63 These are just a few cases in which windows provided a key to the activities of a specific part of the building, and enhanced the sensory experience of specific rites. Another way of thinking about the movement of an individual through a building is suggested by the rhetorical practice of ductus, in which one imagines moving through a work of art as a mnemonic tool. This practice was often used by musicians and poets to compose a work. Mary Carruthers explored the possibility of relationships between this practice and actual works of art, and Paul Crossley has explored the idea of moving into and through Chartres Cathedral in this way, the images in sculpture and stained glass guiding one’s movement and suggesting connected meanings.64 This process of impressing images on the mind’s eye suggests a fairly active viewer, attentive to the significance of images, moving alone or as part of a procession. Requiring less active participation on the viewer’s part are the changing effects of light that might be built into the design of a building with the placement of grisaille and colored glass, or the revelation or concealment of images with architectural frames as one follows a prescribed path through space. The concept of the viewer in motion has received much attention in the history of art recently. While the effect of the viewer’s movement on the perception of wall paintings in Roman, Medieval, and Early Modern architecture has been investigated, stained glass has rarely been considered in this discourse.65 The question has been focused particularly on sculpture and other three- dimensional objects. Many such works have become
61
See Caviness, Ch. 10 in this volume; ead., “Stasis and movement”; ead., “Stained glass windows in Gothic chapels and the feast of saints”. 62 Shortell, “The widows’ money”. 63 Lautier, “La polychromie de la cathédrale de Chartres et le vitrail”, p. 128. 64 Crossley, “Ductus and memoria”; id., “The integrated cathedral”. 65 For example, Onians, “Architecture and Painting”; and Bergmann, “Playing with Boundaries”. Frank and Clark, “Abbot Suger and the Temple in Jerusalem” draw connections through time rather than movement.
Stained Glass and the Gothic Interior in the 12th and 13th Centuries
widely known through still photographs that freeze the image in an even light and from a chosen viewpoint.66 This familiar way of seeing works of art through reproduction contrasts strongly with the experience of a viewer who encounters a work in person. Scholars of Byzantine art have also looked at the deliberately orchestrated changes in lighting against mosaic-covered walls, and at the effects of changing light on one’s perception of an image.67 These visual experiences might be heightened when accompanied by the sound of chanting and bells or the smell of incense, as recent studies that consider the various circumstances that influence perception suggest.68 These factors are equally important to the experience of stained-glass windows. 8 Conclusion The accumulated knowledge of past generations of scholars of Gothic architecture and of stained glass has left us with an important body of information from which we may draw more detailed and nuanced pictures of the Gothic great church. As we look at the interactions of different media within medieval interiors, however, the overarching developmental narratives produced in the past century beg to be reconsidered. It is particularly important for our understanding of the history of stained glass that we consider the effects of physical context whenever possible, despite the great insights we may gain from closely examining a panel in isolation. The network of experiences that can intersect within a Gothic building are contingent, always changing in small and large ways. While we can never truly restore a building from the past or understand the experience of a medieval viewer, a greater awareness of the interactions of light, color, and images of two or three dimensions with architectural space is most revealing. Because of the fragility of glass and its wide dispersal from its original contexts, it may at times be more difficult to apply new methodologies that have arisen for sculpture that remains in place or liturgical objects that can be easily moved. However, stained glass is, as Grodecki pointed out decades ago, a critical part of Gothic architecture, and neither can be fully appreciated without the other. 66
Ganz and Neuner, “Peripatetisches Sehen”; Jung, “The Kinetics of Gothic Sculpture”,. 67 In particular, the work of Schellewald, including “Vom Unsichtbaren zum Sichtbaren” and Pentcheva, such as “Glittering eyes”. 68 Jørgensen, Laugerud, and Skinnebach (eds.), The Saturated Sensorium; Anderson, The Built Surface, pp. xvii–x xiv.
127
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Windows in Domestic Settings in France in the Late Middle Ages: Enclosure and Decoration in the Social Living Space Michel Hérold As Jean Lafond observed as early as 1956, windows made for medieval private homes in France can no longer be seen, and constitute “… one of the many items in the dictionary of our ignorance”.1 He referred to this lost legacy as “vitrail civil”, or domestic glass, to encompass the different kinds of window enclosures found outside of ecclesiastical settings.2 The loss of so much domestic glass is due to the numerous and inevitable window modifications, brought about by changes to the building’s structure, as well as by technological progress, modifications to meet new ways of living for the inhabitants, and the simple material necessity of periodically renewing relatively fragile interior fittings. Those few remnants of medieval or 16th-century windows that were still recorded in their original settings by scholars in the 19th century have almost all disappeared, been destroyed, or passed through the hands of glaziers to collectors.3 To look for domestic glass in France, an appropriate method needs to be devised. Tracking down and identifying the works themselves is obviously difficult despite the work of the Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France (Census of windows made before 1700 in France), which records domestic glass preserved in churches and museums. Domestic glass is easily moved and, once out of context, requires significant research to determine its provenance. To understand domestic glass, one must thus start at the beginning, with the window, and study its structure, the possible types of window enclosures that depend on the windows’ various uses in the late Middle Ages, and, of course, on the role played by glass, glazing, and ultimately window decoration. In the almost complete absence of domestic window enclosures in their original context, this study will characterize the different possible forms these windows took, seeking to draw upon all the available resources: from works that are no longer in context, to pictorial representations of windows, and the mention of windows in archival sources. It is also 1 Lafond, “Le vitrail civil”, p. 17. 2 This topic was also the subject of a Corpus Vitrearum colloquium that the author organized, “Le vitrail dans la demeure des origins à nos jours: vitrer et orner la fenêtre”, in Troyes between 4–8 July 2016. Boulanger (éd.), Le vitrail dans la demeure. 3 Lafond, “Le vitrail dans la demeure”, p. 9.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 11
now possible to add several examples of glass that have been recovered archeologically and carefully noted in situ, glass uncovered in excavations, and observations made through the careful study of surviving buildings and their w indows. 1 Windows in the Late Middle Ages: Nature, Function, Structure Windows are a major element of what architects call the “second oeuvre”: those furnishings, fittings, and interior decoration that contribute to organizing the structure of the residence and its functions, including the arrangement of various interior spaces, and the organization and design of wall elevations. In this context, windows also give particular value to the house and to certain of its rooms, that is, they add interest beyond their structural or material functions. A careful examination of the illuminations entitled Quatre états de la société, (The Four States of Society) attributed to Jean Bourdichon,4 shows how social hierarchies and the organization and function of space seem to coalesce around the way that openings in the wall were covered. The first state shows light and air entering the savage’s cave through a big hole, the only opening in his rough living quarters. The second social state corresponds to the place where a craftsman works with his family on the ground floor of a house; the only opening in the stone wall is a small aperture without a window covering, protected only by heavy iron bars. The third state is represented by a wretched man lying on a straw mattress, in a space directly under the roof, in a derelict timbered house where he cannot even cover the rectangular window opening in the room, the coarse wooden shutter having been broken and torn off the iron hinges that were supposed to enable it to swing closed. By contrast, the fourth social state shows all the elements that contribute to emphasizing the high social status of the rich man, including dishes on the sideboard and a fireplace, a half window with diamond-shaped quarry 4 Quatre états de la société in Paris, Bibliothèque de l’école nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts, Ms. 90–93, c.1505–10.
Windows in Domestic Settings in France in the Late Middle Ages
glazing; his residence is probably on the upper floor (or premier étage) of the building.5 Until the Renaissance, the window was the ostentatious element par excellence, an indicator of social status and of the owner’s taste. It also allowed someone outside of the house to understand the interior plan of the residence. The rectangular mullioned window, with its emblematic cross shape created by a central mullion and a transom, was built in quality materials and might be decorated, but only where it could easily be seen. The hierarchy of window openings in a house reflected that of its interior spaces and of the facade. The very precise depiction of the houses on the Rue de Sicile in Nemours, as seen on a stained-glass window in the church of Saint-John-the-Baptist there (Seine-et-Marne, c.1550), is a perfect illustration of Jean Bourdichon’s social hierarchy (Figure 8.1).6 The exterior elevation of the house on the corner shows what Bourdichon’s illuminations depicted on the interior of a house. The two windows on the lower level, strongly barred, are probably workshops for craftsmen or a storage location. The window on the second level clearly shows an important space in the house, either a private chamber or the reception hall. It is fitted with fixed transoms with glazed frames; as for the elements that open, they are in two parts, consisting of wooden shutters and glazed panes. The window in the attic also has a glazed frame, but the one in the dormer window above is closed only by means of two solid wood shutters: the hovel of the poor man in Bourdichon’s illumination could be there. As can be seen in the pictorial representation of these spaces, and especially in the living spaces, the choice among different kinds of window closures is determined by their functions, and by the social status of the inhabitants. Windows offer solutions for essential living needs, including retaining heat and protection from the cold and noise. Windows also allow light in, and permit the inhabitants to see out but not be seen. They thus help to allow one to live harmoniously with one’s neighbors, sometimes according to very strict urban regulations, which varied to differing degrees depending on the time and place. These varied needs called for equally varied solutions, which continued in use for long periods, sometimes well beyond the medieval period. Pierre Le Vieil described this very precisely in his famous treatise.7 If today glass seems to be the ideal material to fill a window aperture, this was not the case at the end of the Middle Ages. There were diverse alternative solutions, 5 Esquieu, “La baie”. 6 Leproux, “Une représentation inconnue”; Hérold, “À la fin du Moyen Âge”, pp. 250–51. 7 Le Vieil, L’art de la peinture sur verre, pp. 235–37.
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often preferred because of their ability to filter light, or simply because they were less expensive. Framed paper, for instance, though it had to be changed every year, is known for efficiently blocking noise and transmitting light evenly. This system continued in use until the 18th century in painters’ and engravers’ workshops, as well as in religious communities, where it provided an effective screen between interior and exterior. In the same way, oiled linen was widely appreciated, even in an aristocratic context: the chamber of Isabeau of Bavaria, Queen of France, in the Hôtel Saint-Pol in Paris still had some in 1416.8 The different frames found in windows with multiple segments throughout the 15th century and into the early 16th century incorporated several means of closure. Long studied with the aid of their many representations in manuscript, painting, and altarpieces, they can be further understood in light of other surviving sources, such as textual descriptions, which are plentiful for the 16th century. All studies show that complex and composite frames dominated, and that glass was not necessarily incorporated.9 The joinery of typical windows –to the extent it can be reconstructed on the basis of elements found in recent decades, especially in western France – allows us to characterize a “standard” window (Figure 8.2).10 It comprised four opening frames on each side of the mullion under the transom: the two at the top could be glazed while the two at the bottom were generally slatted; all four were fitted inside with wooden shutters. Above the transom, on each side of the mullion, were fixed or fixed-frame panels, generally glazed. Although it is impossible to discern any sort of linear progression, glass continued to occupy an increasingly important place in windows during the 15th century, and especially in the 16th century. Undoubtedly it became clear, little by little, that this material was the most durable and efficacious solution to meet the needs of the time, but at the same time it became more and more affordable.11 The great symbolic value attached throughout the Middle Ages to glass as a material in the religious sphere, was itself transposed into secular spaces. The literature attests to this,12 as do certain representations of windows. The famous Mérode altarpiece of the master of Flémalle, for example (Figure 8.3), of c.1430, like the 8 Lagabrielle, “Les fenêtres des rois et des princes”, p. 104. 9 Bontemps, Menuiseries de fenêtres, vols. 1.1 and 1.2; Tiercelin, “Les fenêtres à croisées bretonne”; “ Les châssis de fenêtres du XVe au XVIIIe siècle”: http://www.chassis-fenetres.info/ (last accessed 1 November 2018). 10 Bontemps, La demeure historique, p. 11. 11 For Paris, see Hérold, “La fenêtre et son vitrage” p. 233. 12 Grossel, “ ‘Clair comme verre’ ”, pp. 215–26.
134 Hérold stained-glass window of the Annunciation in the church of Saint-Pierre de Carville à Darnétal (France, Seine- Maritime: after 1562) shows the dove of the Holy Spirit passing through the glass in the window of the Virgin’s chamber without breaking it. The increasing amount of glazing in the home at the end of the Middle Ages is quite noticeable, but glass had had a clear presence in domestic settings for centuries. The forms it took are known especially from the end of the 13th century; at that time there appears to be an adaptation within domestic spaces of the decorative grisailles found in churches. Certain archaeological elements attest to this: at Figeac (France, Lot), pieces of domestic colored glass from the beginning of the 14th century are still in place; the Prunet house in Cordes (France, Tarn), above all, conserves in situ several small fragments of decorative grisailles from the 1330s.13 Recent archaeological discoveries confirm the presence of decorative grisailles in certain residences of the 14th century, such as the Château de Viarmes (France, Seine-et-Oise) near Paris.14 These decorative grisailles were found in tracery windows, often in the tracery lights, but sometimes also in the lancets. The choice of white glass painted in grisaille guaranteed maximum illumination. In the long history of residential windows, mullioned windows progressively replaced tracery examples from the second half of the 13th century onwards; their general use seems to have been completely accepted by the 1380s, at least in northern France.15 At the same time, the glazing destined for mullioned windows had its own, well- defined characteristics; this includes the square quarry as well as the lozenge,16 the dominant form of glazing at the end of the Middle Ages in France. In contrast to Switzerland, Germany, or Italy, the use of bull’s eye glass –small, circular panes of crown glass –was practically unknown in France. Lozenge windows, which were also found in religious settings from before 1300, easily allowed the creation of rectangular or square lights into which figural panels, roundels, armorial panels, or even more ambitious compositions could be inserted. 2
The Window and its Decoration
Today, examples of glazing and stained glass from medieval residences conserved in their original place in France can be counted on one hand. The recent 13 14 15 16
Lagabrielle, “Timide introduction”, p. 135. Gentili, Le Roy-Lafaurie, and Insingrini-Groult, “Les vitraux du château”, pp. 96–97. Garrigou-Grandchamp, Demeures médiévales, pp. 66–69. Le Vieil, L’art de la peinture sur verre, p. 202.
discovery of a 16th-century coat of arms still mounted in old glass on the second floor of the house known as the Maison du Viguier à Meyrueis (France, Lozère) (Figure 8.4) doesn’t change the general situation, but it does add to our knowledge of a type of heraldic decor that was apparently widespread. Conversely, what is known and preserved of the stained-glass windows in the hôtel built in Bourges for Jacques Coeur, treasurer to King Charles vii, shows its greatest possible development. The view of the hôtel painted around 1470 in the book of hours of the Coeur family by Jean Colombe, shows roundels in the windows on the right side of the façade. But old descriptions, along with preserved elements, give evidence of windows of the first order.17 The reception hall was decorated with figures of knights and ladies; in the upper hall 16 panels in the windows presented the arms of Jacques Coeur and his wife. The south-facing apartments also had heraldic decorations which have been partly conserved and reinstalled; the shields were crowned with bergamot orange trees with flowers and fruits and ostrich feathers accompanied by Jacques Coeur’s famous mottoes: a cuer vaillans riens impossible (nothing is impossible for a valiant heart); dire, faire, taire [de ma] joie (speak [little], do [much], reveal nothing, of my joy); en bouche close nentre mousche (no fly enters a closed mouth). In the upper galleries was the “chamber of the months of the year”, so called because of its stained-glass windows featuring the 12 months along with various shields of families from the Berry region. Decor of such breadth and formal variety as we have described is rare in France. A very interesting document dated 8 October 1446 reveals other possible forms that stained glass could take in an aristocratic residence. This is a contract for the glazing of the Château d’Authumes (France, Saône- et-Loire) belonging to Nicolas Rolin, chancellor to Duke Phillip the Good of Burgundy. The contract was executed with the famous painter Antoine de Lohny and the glass painter Euvrard Rubert, and offers a sort of numbered catalogue of what could be created. In brief, it includes three types of glazing: colorless glass apparently in the form of lozenges; white glass with borders painted with the heraldic devices of the owner; and glass with the same borders, but containing armorials and “istoires et ymaiges de sains telz que plaira a mond seigneur” (stories and images of saints such as would please my lord), perhaps in the form of roundels.18 17 Munich, Staatsbibliothek, Ms. 10.103, Fol. 148v and 149r: Ribault, Le palais Jacques Coeur, pp. 15–18; Favière, L’hôtel de Jacques Cœur à Bourges, pp. 105–08, Fig. 39. 18 Lorentz, “Une commande du chancelier Nicolas Rolin”, pp. 9–13.
Windows in Domestic Settings in France in the Late Middle Ages
3
The Symbols of the Master of the House
In the interior of the residence, different spaces, but above all the most important –the reception hall and the private apartments –were designed to hold the symbols of the owner, including coats of arms, devices, and emblems. Naturally, this phenomenon could also be applied to the windows, their frames, and their glazing. To understand the great value placed on these symbols, it is interesting to study representations in painting of the interiors of the homes of high-ranking persons; such images sometimes represent a real place, but at the same time they underline its most important symbolic qualities. The famous illumination in the Dialogues by Pierre Salmon, in which King Charles vi, in his chamber, speaks with the author of the manuscript (Figure 8.5.), is quite informative on the matter.19 Just as the counterpane, the canopy and the wall hangings are covered in a semy of golden fleurs-de-lys, the window also participates in this insistent figuration of the symbols of the king. In the lozenge glazing of the two fixed panels, the royal shield of three golden fleurs- de-lys on an azure field is unmistakably and repeatedly displayed. There are many more examples. Only the details of the archetype, the mode of representation of the coats of arms, and the greater or lesser richness of the surroundings vary. For example, one might find the collar of the Order of Saint-Michel, founded by Louis xi in 1469, with a surround of lozenges bearing the owner’s coat of arms, among other examples.20 In a princely or aristocratic context, one of the essential functions of the secular stained-glass window was surely to complement harmoniously all the other decorative elements of a space in order to mark it in its owner’s name. Stained glass was a great asset in this respect; thanks to the light that passes through and emphasizes its meaning, it draws the attention irresistibly. Documents confirm the importance of heraldic imagery in the interior as well as the place occupied by stained glass. When preserved, building workshop accounts show this clearly. This is the case for the Château de Germolles (France, Saône-et-Loire), rebuilt on the initiative of Margaret of Flanders and her husband Phillip ii the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, beginning in 1382. Here, archival information can be compared to significant 19
20
Taburet-Delahaye, Paris 1400, pp. 120–23; and see https:// www.e-codices.unifr.ch/fr/list/one/bge/fr0165 (last accessed 14 November 2018). Beautiful examples of the portrayal of the windows relating to Queen Anne of Brittany and Louis xii, can be found in the manuscript “Espitres en vers françois”: Saint-Petersburg, Bibliothèque nationale de Russie, Fr. F. v. xiv, 8, fols., 40 v, 58v et 81v.
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decorative elements still in place.21 Painted decoration, begun in 1388, was carried out until 1393 under the direction of Jean de Beaumetz and Arnoult Picornet as heads of a team of collaborators. They were asked to paint the walls with the emblems of the owners, repeating Phillip the Bold’s motto y me tarde (I am waiting), as well as the monogram PM for Phillip-Margaret, featuring thistles, daisies, roses, and ewes. The best-preserved decoration can still be seen in the duchess of Nevers’s chamber, namely the monograms PM and the thistles on a light green background, painted by Arnoult Picornet. While the château has an abundant collection of terracotta paving tiles that used to decorate the halls on the second and third floors –some especially designed for Germolles with daisies and ewes –one must turn to the archives to imagine the content of the windows. As early as 1399 they were fitted with stained glass from the glass painter Robinet de Cambray. This consisted mainly of white glass (171 square feet (about 18.5 m2)), but also 30 square feet (about 3.25 m2) of heraldic glass were installed, principally, it seems, in private chambers.22 These shields have not survived, but they obviously required painting and colored glass, as well as complicated cutting and leading to render the details of the heraldry of the Duke and Duchess of Burgundy. Late 15th-and early 16th-century examples of this type of stained glass, representing the dukes of Lorraine, are preserved. They underline the technical virtuosity necessary to represent in a small area the six quarters that comprise these complicated shields, using pieces set as jeweled glass as well as flashed and abraded glass. The ducal crown surmounting the shield adds to the complexity, and the whole is encircled with a border, often in the form of a vegetal garland, known as a “chapeau de triomphe”. Other examples enable us to imagine the sometimes complex forms of heraldic stained-glass windows in France in the late Middle Ages. The Gaignières Collection at the Bibliothèque nationale de France includes a drawing of the glazing of a mullioned window of the Château du Verger in Seiches-sur-le-Loir (France, Maine- et-Loire),23 a very sumptuous residence begun in 1504 on the initiative of Pierre de Rohan-Guéméné, Lord of Gié, known as the Marshall of Gié (d. 1513).24 This monumental window was fully glazed in six panels, the two 21 22
Fliegel (ed.), L’art à la cour de Bourgogne, pp. 146–49. Picart, “Le château de Germolles”, p. 178; Fliegel (ed.), L’art à la cour de Bourgogne, pp. 146–50. 23 Paris, bnf, Département des Ms, Gaignières, 1751: “Vitres de cristal du chasteau du Verger (…)”. 24 For the drawing of this window and its stained glass, https:// gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b6937701p/f1.highres (last accessed 12 December 2018).
136 Hérold upper panels fixed, and the four lower panels hinged. All were bordered with the Rohan’s heraldic lozenges gules, with the shields of Navarre and Evreux in the corners, all components of the owner’s shield. The monogram P-F for Pierre de Rohan and his wife, Françoise de Penhoët, occupied the centers of the panels in the middle register; the centers of the four other panels were decorated with the attributes of the pilgrims of Saint James, a staff, a rosary, and a shoulder bag with the motto on its strap: dieu garde de mal le pelerin (God protect the pilgrim from evil). These motifs recall that Pierre de Rohan had made the pilgrimage to Compostella around 1471– 72, just before entering the service of King Louis xi. The ostentatious character of domestic stained glass seems to reach its apex when it takes the form of a veritable dynastic and memorial program, such as the one that decorates the gallery of the comital palace of Vic-le-Comte (France, Puy-de-Dôme).25 At the end of the 16th century, this gallery still held eight heraldic windows, each with four coats of arms, described at the request of Catherine de Medici, who inherited the comté of Auvergne. These 32 “escussons et armoiries” were meant to “représenter aulcunes des plus anciennes alliances desd. maisons [de Boulogne et d’Auvergne]” (depict each of the most ancient alliances of the houses [of Boulogne and Auvergne]). This genealogical program, probably ordered by Count John i (1361–86), began with the arms of Ligier, first Count of Boulogne, and ended with the arms of Jeanne i, Countess of Boulogne and Auverne (d. 1360), wife of King John ii “the Good” of France. From simple shields mounted in white glass lozenges, to more complicated compositions, heraldic stained glass in residential settings was bound to be frequently renewed, from generation to generation and from one owner to another. Nonetheless, even out of context, the identification of coats of arms gives the researcher a chance to find its place of origin. The case is different for roundels. 4 The Roundel: Archetype of Domestic Stained Glass in the Late Middle Ages Even more than heraldic glass, roundels were exceptionally popular in the late Middle Ages. These small pieces of uncolored glass, most often round but sometimes rectangular, painted in grisaille and silver stain, represent what appears to be the archetype of domestic stained glass in France. Their dimensions are small; roundels could thus be easily inserted into the glazing 25
Gatouillat and Hérold, Les vitraux d’Auvergne et du Limousin, p. 186.
of a window. The stained-glass window of the life of Saint Francis at the church of Saint-Merry in Paris (Figure 8.6), which includes an image of a mullioned window, shows this clearly. In the two upper fixed panels of the window, the circular places for the roundels are left blank, allowing for the insertion of these moveable elements of the window’s decoration, which are conceived independently of the architectural frame and even of the other parts of the window’s glazing. To better understand the remarkable suitability of the roundel to lozenge glazing, it is interesting to consider its origins. Jean Lafond rightly considered it a direct descendant of the “fermaillets”, or bosses, found, for example, in windows in Normandy in several buildings glazed during the second quarter of the 14th century, especially in the former abbey church of Saint-Ouen of Rouen, and the former abbey of Jumièges.26 The famous little medallion known as the bear trainer, originally from the latter building, can be considered an example of such a precursor, since its secular subject, dimensions (20 cm in diameter), and execution in grisaille and silver stain on white glass, were all later adopted for roundels.27 Today, the oldest roundels that have been identified also came from Normandy. They date from the first decades of the 14th century and are conserved in the Musée des Antiquités de la Seine-Maritime, in Rouen.28 However, the numerous examples known today date after the middle of the 15th century. This type of stained glass, widely produced and greatly developed from the late 15th century and throughout the 16th, has been studied primarily through Flemish examples, which, until quite recently, provided the focus of virtually all the attention paid to the genre.29 There is nonetheless no doubt, as has just been noted, that roundels were painted in France since at least the first quarter of the 14th century, and its production there continued into the first half of the 17th century. At the same time, the dating and history of each of these pieces is almost always problematic; no roundels, or hardly any, have been preserved in the windows of their original buildings. The roundels found in France in churches, in museum reserves, and among collectors are the result of an immense and sometimes long period of jumbling that has obscured the paths of 26 Lafond, Le vitrail civil, p. 29. 27 This window is now in the chapel of the castle of Mailleraye- sur- Seine (France, Seine- Maritime): Callias Bey, Chaussé, Gatouillat, and Hérold, Les vitraux de Haute- Normandie, p. 323. 28 Hérold, “À la fin du Moyen Âge”, p. 254. 29 On this subject, see Husband, The Luminous Image and the inventories of roundels which are now being produced, notably those in Belgium: Berserik and Caen, Silver-Stained Roundels, vols. 1–3. See also Husband, Ch. 19 in this volume.
Windows in Domestic Settings in France in the Late Middle Ages
research. However, there is no want of archival texts on the subject of roundels, designated in the late Middle Ages by a very simple vocabulary. While the payment in 1461–62 “for two roundels with pictures”,30 destined for a window in the Maison de la Corne-de-cerf in Paris, by way of example, introduces the term “rondel”, the most frequently used terms in the Parisian documents are “ront” and “rond de peinture”, evoking the most common form of the roundel in the 15th century.31 The modular dimensions of roundels, starting with the oldest examples, are consistent at least until the first decades of the 16th century, and vary between 18 and 22 cm in diameter. This merits analysis; the reasons are several. They may be found in part to be of a technical nature, and certainly include the constraints imposed by the material of glass itself, by the methods of cutting, the practices of sheet cutting, and transportation. In Flanders, a cargo shipment of over 120 pieces of muff glass from about 1470–90 was discovered in the North Sea off the coast between Ostend and Knokke. This reveals the practice of transporting pre-cut rectangles of standard dimensions, no more than 8 inches, or 21–22 cm long on the shorter side.32 These dimensions correspond to those most commonly used in roundels. Study of the process of glass cutting itself produces comparable evidence. Diagrams for cutting flat sheets of blown glass show clearly how this was done until the 18th century in France.33 After removing undesirable parts, such as the pontil mark and surface imperfections, the sheet of about 0.80 m –which seems to have been the norm from the mid-15th century onwards34 – did not allow the cutting of a circular piece more than 24–25 cm in diameter, or a rectangular piece with sides longer than 24–28 cm. This module, largely in use in the late Middle Ages through to the first decades of the 16th century, also accords well with the lozenge glazing that framed these roundels, as can be seen from the beginning of the 30 “pro duobus rondellis depictis”: Paris, Archives nationales, H3*2803–22 (Comptes du collège des Écoliers de Laon à Paris pour 1461–1462). 31 Hérold, “La fenêtre et son vitrage”, p. 233. 32 Information courtesy of Joost Caen, cvma Belgium. 33 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Ms. n. acq. fr. 694, fol. 56 : “Mémoire à monseigneurs les commissaires du conseil du commerce concernant les remontrances des gentilshommes et maistres de grosses verreries (…)”, 1724 (Advice to monseigneurs commissioners of the trade council about the grievances of gentlemen and masters of significant glazieries (…), 1724). 34 Observations based on measurements taken from a sampling of pieces from stained-glass windows where the edges of the circular glass panels show signs of wear (1450–1550).
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14th century until the appearance of geometric glazing around 1530, and even afterward. This system continued for several centuries, as shown by the metal template for cutting lozenges, which was published in 1770 in Diderot and d’Alembert’s Encyclopedia.35 These pieces of glass also correspond frequently to a modular system with lozenges 8 inches wide and 5 inches high (or one-third of 1 ft × one-fifth of 2 ft), or 13.5 cm by 10.5 cm. It is easy to propose the insertion of a circular roundel measuring 20.0 cm in diameter, or about two-thirds of 1 ft., into a lozenge window conceived according to this modular principle. Thus, this dual modular system seems remarkably well adapted to the mullioned window with its regular rectangular panels. Such a system is also eminently practical for organizing work and keeping accounts. It could equally be adapted to the modular concept of the window, or even to the measuring system of the building’s design. The success of the roundel was due to the ease of inserting it into a window; the same qualities contributed to its wide diffusion as an object of trade with a large clientele. Roundels varied in quality and fulfilled the needs of very different social classes. They were sold ready-made in the workshop, and became what could be called “stock pieces”. Inventories made on the deaths of glass painters in the 16th century sometimes listed impressive quantities of this “merchandise”. In 1571, the Parisian Antoine Goussard had in his shop 18 “pièces carrées” (square pieces), 15 “pièces tant carrées que rondes” (square as well as circular pieces), 15 “ronds” (round pieces), and 72 “médailles” (medallions). In 1579, Laurent Marchant had at his disposal 329 pieces of painted glass “tant en ovalles, carrées que rondes” (oval, square, and circular). These small stained-glass pieces were available for a modest price, equivalent, around 1500, to the cost of 2 ft2 of white glass installed, thus drawing in a large clientele. Roundels, then, almost mass produced, could also become part of a veritable commercial system, and they could be sold outside the workshop. The account records of Jerôme Durand, a glass painter in Lyon in the 16th century, testify to this, noting the purchase of four evangelists with frames of grotesques at the All Saints’ Day fair in 1585.36 A glass painter, even a simple glazier, could install pieces that he had not made himself. Among the roundels that circulated in France, the best seem to have been imported, often from Flanders, but many still need to be better identified. 35
Diderot et D’Alembert, Vitrier, pl. iv, “Vitrier, Détails et Outils”, Fig. 6 no. 4. For more images about glass making see the plates in Recueil de planches sur les sciences, les arts libéraux et les arts mécaniques. 36 Guigue, Jérôme Durand, p. 91.
138 Hérold These works underline the way that roundels could be produced by the best painters of the time. In France, the drawing, and perhaps even the execution, of the famous roundel featuring Laurent Girard’s monogram (c.1450–60), preserved at the Musée national du Moyen Âge, is attributed to Jean Fouquet himself (Figure 8.7). The precise origin of this work of art is not clearly established,37 but it is supposed to have come from the house of Étienne Chevalier, treasurer of France, on the rue de la Verrerie in Paris. Laurent Girard’s roundel, ostentatiously bearing the monogram of its owner, emphasized his name and high rank, as did heraldic panels. At the same time, as “stock pieces”, roundels, for the most part quite conventional, did not display personal symbols; not surprisingly, the most familiar iconography was the rule. Subjects associated with the Passion of Christ, which was quite common, reinforced in the home the sense of the symbolic presence of Christ, something also recognized in the cross-shaped window, and brought to mind every hour of the day the sacrifice of the Savior. Figures of the Virgin and the most widely venerated saints also made up part of this repertoire. Although it seems that no clear iconographic rule applied, all themes, religious and profane, allegorical, frequently moral, and those tied to a historical context, were employed. Some roundels conveyed a polemical message. For example, two famous small, rectangular panels from a house in Limoges, in the collection of the fine arts museum of the city, are painted with caricatures that can be understood in the religious context of the 16th century. In one, a woman preaching is accompanied by this commentary: mal sont les gens endoctrinés /qua[n]t p[ar] fem[m]e sont sermonés (People are badly taught when lectured by a woman); in the other, the scene of a fox preaching in a hen house can be interpreted as a critique of the Church (Figure 8.8).38 Like heraldic glass, roundels may also benefit from their installation in a more developed and richer environment, in comparison to their usual placement in the fixed upper panels of a mullioned window. A roundel can itself have a decorative painted border, just like the glazing panel itself. The border might contain inscriptions related to the subject of the roundel. Lozenges themselves might also be painted with decorative grisaille and silver stained. These complementary elements enhance both the decorative value and the meaning of the roundel. A very beautiful example of this type, 37
38
Jacky, “Un exemple de vitrail civil”, pp. 48–51. This roundel from the Sommerard collection was found in a so-called antiquarian panel, along with other old pieces. Gatouillat and Hérold, Les vitraux d’Auvergne et du Limousin, pp. 292–93.
dating from the 16th century and belonging to a house in Rouen at 27 rue de la Basse-Tour, was published by Ferdinand de Lasteyrie in 1853.39 The roundel with the Entombment clearly belonged to an Apostles’ Creed cycle, as indicated by the inscription, et sepultus est in the border. The roundel and its border were combined with a geometric glazing surround in which a floral design was repeated on each piece of glass, along with the monogram of the house’s owner, M. Bonnissent, a draper. In the absence of a systematic catalogue of the roundels preserved in France, the changes in this type of glass in the 16th century can only be described in terms of general tendencies. These often concern iconography. Beginning in the years 1530–40, mythological scenes and Old Testament subjects were popular because of their relationship to the religious debates of the time. A roundel with the miracle of the reliquary of Saint Cande thrown into the fire by Protestants, for example, references an event in the Wars of Religion in Rouen. Inventories of Parisian workshops after 1580, on the other hand, abound in roundels with landscapes and rustic scenes and series of the seasons, a taste which lasted through to the beginning of the 17th century. A series of the months of the year from the Château de Montigny, now in the Musée des Antiquités de la Seine-Maritime –painted around 1609, after a series of engravings by Étienne Delaune and framed with magnificent borders –illustrates this taste marvelously. The decor –completed between 1620 and 1624 for the reception hall of the new Hôtel de l’Arquebuse in Troyes –was particularly ambitious (Figure 8.9). Painted by Linard Gontier and his sons, the subjects, partly historical, were drawn from events in the reigns of Henry iv and Louis xiii, and included royal portraits; representations of soldiers, including the famous image of a musketeer firing his weapon; and heraldic medallions. They provide a wide-ranging sampling of the highly creative and virtuoso miniature creations in glass in the final phase of domestic stained glass in France.40 The charm of this product of the second half of the 16th and of the 17th century comes in part from the application of enamel paints. This technique, which enriched the palette of the glass painter, was particularly suited to precious, detailed compositions meant to be seen up close. 5
More Ambitious Forms
As early as the first decades of the 14th century, glazed decoration was added to entire mullioned windows 39 Lasteyrie, Histoire de la peinture sur verre, pl. lxxxviii. 40 Hany, Linard Gontier.
Windows in Domestic Settings in France in the Late Middle Ages
rather than just to the fixed upper panels. While most of the physical evidence has disappeared, published evidence and other convincing documentation confirm this date. The glass painter Edmond Socard published what were probably the oldest examples.41 As is often the case for domestic glass, they include elements removed from their original locations and reused as stop gaps by glaziers in the 17th or 18th century, in this case at the church of Saint-Père de Chartres. The first two sets are characteristic of the early use roundels as we know them. In one, two squares of about 0.27 m are decorated with grisaille and silver stained birds and bordered with pearled fillets. The other is a composition of squares with sides of 0.25–0.27 m, each of which is itself divided into four squares, featuring very imaginative subjects, such as a centaur holding a pot, a mermaid’s tail, and a monkey holding bellows. Other fragments found at Saint-Père show, on the other hand, a panel possibly meant to fill a casement panel. It measures 0.74 m × 0.49 m, and is composed of canted squares painted with vine scrolls in grisaille and silver stain; a circular medallion or roundel in the center has an unusual floral design. This system is a direct transposition of the decorative grisailles with “fermaillets”, or bosses, in churches, as confirmed by the border of the panel where painted garlands on white glass alternate with colored glass pieces. Two panels previously mounted in the clerestory window in the last north nave bay (window 121) of Reims Cathedral, include stop gaps taken from a residential setting, that apparently date to the middle of the 14th century. They attest to the existence of decorative images in fixed panels of mullioned windows, when the buyer could afford it; one of the two panels is very fragmentary. The other, measuring 0.55 m on each side, has a vine scroll painted on lozenges of white glass, and in its center a quatrefoil medallion with a figure of St. John the Evangelist in grisaille and silver stain against a blue background. Panels reused as stop gaps in the triforium of the south transept of Troyes Cathedral (window 116), created around 1400, also undoubtedly come from the fixed panels of a mullioned window, to judge by their scale and dimensions (0.60 m × 0.53 m). They represent the Virgin and the angel of the annunciation, which would have faced each other in their original setting.42 These few examples, although rare, show the range of possible decorative glass in secular spaces starting in the 14th century. Almost all these panels, with rare exceptions, were of white glass decorated with grisaille paint and silver stain. They also fill the need to admit the maximum amount of light into the interior of the house, 41 42
Socard and Biver, Le vitrail civil au XIVe siècle. Socard and Biver, Le vitrail civil au XIVe siècle, p. 24.
139
as do decorative grisailles and blank glazing. This use of clear glass with grisaille and silver stain continued to be the dominant, constant characteristic through the 16th century. As far as we know, these types of stained-glass windows were very few before the Renaissance. The most famous, The Chess Players, in the collection of the Musée national du Moyen Âge, probably comes from the Hôtel de la Bessée, located on the Grande-Rue in Villefranche- sur- Saône (France, département du Rhône) (Figure 8.10). It was made around 1430–40 in grisaille and silver stain for the fixed panel of a mullioned window, where it must originally have had a pendant. It illustrates a scene in which a game of chess goes hand in hand with a game of courtship. In an intimate space, the partners play a hidden game not apparent at first sight. The man has just taken a key piece, the queen, a highly symbolic object that could ensure his victory in the game, where he dreams of love; however, the victory seems to go to the dignified lady, who sketches a gesture of withdrawal in the air as she ambiguously touches the sleeve of her partner. This complex dialogue in which everything alludes to love and to amorous desire should be counted among the best examples of courtly art in the late Middle Ages.43 Similar scenes were executed in other media. The relief sculpture that decorated a mantlepiece in the south gallery of the house of Jacques Coeur in Bourges, for example, pairs a game of chess with a couple eating fruit. But the most famous domestic stained glass in late medieval France is incontestably the window still in place in the so-called Galley Room in the house of Jacques Coeur, in the north-facing apartment where Charles vii’s argentier apparently lived with his family.44 It was one of six large panels with images of ships, echoing the ship carved in the lintel above the door of the same room. The grisaille and silver stained panel, preserved in situ, is composed of squares of white glass. The ship with the arms of Jacques Coeur, its sail filled with wind, sails toward distant horizons, a symbol to our eyes of the adventurous spirit and unparalleled ambitions of its owner, one of the greatest merchants of his time (Figure 8.11). The essential search through museums and public and private collections, which has barely begun, reveals other examples that help to define the characteristics of late Medieval domestic glass. Again in Bourges, in the collection of the Musée du Berry, is a small grisaille and silver stained panel (0.34 m high × 0.35 m wide), created around 1470–80, undoubtably meant to be placed 43 44
Sandron, “Le jeu de l’amour”. On the role and importance of the argentier in this period, see Mollat, Jacques Coeur, pp. 31–33.
140 Hérold in the upper part of a mullioned window. It is a canted square representing a group of men and women dancing around a May pole to the sounds of tambourine and fife. Drôleries, representations of monkeys holding different musical instruments, fill the four corners. Facing it in its original place was another piece of the comparable theme of the “jeu du cheval fondu”, a very old boys’ game, consisting of mounting one another without falling. The allusions to fertility and virility are obvious.45 The search for dispersed pieces in churches and museums, often fruitful, has produced interesting examples that are difficult to categorize, since the place of origin is no longer known. This is the case with a group of panels of c.1510–20 on the theme of La Condamnation de Banquet, found in descriptions of the seminary at Caen.46 Possibly of Flemish origin, these grisaille and silver stained panels, originally meant to adorn the upper panels of several windows, have been heavily damaged. Fortunately, the French inscriptions allow us to recognize a series of moralizing scenes, a common theme in domestic settings. They illustrate Nicolas de La Chesnaye’s lengthy poem or poème-fleuve, composed around 1500 and published for the first time in Paris in 1507. The text and the images it paints decry gluttony and drunkenness on both moral and physical grounds, offering a lesson in hygiene and better living. Toward the end of the Middle Ages, such historiated windows seem to have been reserved primarily for the most impressive hôtels and for aristocratic and princely residences. Examples are more numerous for the 16th century. The series of 18 scenes of the Passion, Resurrection, and Glory of Christ created in 1502 for the “grant gallerie du jardin” of the residence of Cardinal Georges d’Amboise in Rouen, is the largest surviving ensemble of its time. In this part of the palace, conceived in the image of the grand residences of Roman prelates, this decor in combination with carved and gilded parquet ceilings, was still judged to be so remarkable at the end of the 16th century that it was called the “gallerie aux belles vitres”. The galleries and apartments of the Château de Gaillon itself was not so elaborately glazed.47 It is perhaps due to the new proportions of the “gallery”, an architectural space indispensable to a noble residence, that extensive decorative programs were designed for them, sometimes in the form of veritable cycles of stained glass. The Château of Écouen is the most exemplary of this situation.48 Although nothing remains 45 Mandon, Les origines de l’arbre de mai, vol. 1. 46 Gatouillat, “Les vitraux anciens du séminaire de Caen”, pp. 133–37. 47 Bardati, “Rouen, archevêché”, p. 207. 48 Perrot, “Les vitraux du château d’Écouen”.
in place, the locations of panels in the residence built by Constable Anne de Montmorency is known thanks to an estimate for repairs, written in 1613 by Nicolas Deloys, a glazier in Saint-Denis.49 In addition to the chapel, painted glass panels are mentioned in the “gallerye de monseigneur”, in the “grant cabinet”, in the king’s chamber, in the “troisième chambre du pavillon du roy”, and “la gallerye du roy ou sont les istoires de Phiees [Psyché]”, or the “gallery of Psyche”, following a hierarchy of spaces marked by a decorative ensemble of stained glass, painted mantlepieces, tapestries, and brilliantly colored faïence tile floors. The exact locations of heraldic or emblematic panels of the Constable and his family, of Francis i, Henry ii, and Catherine de Medici, created between 1544 and 1559, is particularly difficult to pinpoint. The Psyche gallery, on the other hand, was situated on the upper floor of the west wing. The 44 compositions preserved at the Musée Condé, painted after engravings by the Maître au Dé, an artist in Raphael’s circle, form a coherent ensemble. Each scene was placed in the casement panel of a window, and used the common technique of grisaille and silver stain on white glass, with lead outlining the design. The 1540s and 1550s mark the short-lived apogee of such sumptuous painted decoration, often in series, like the stained glass of the Maison des Orfèvres in Rouen (1543),50 or the series of Éléments (c.1550) at the Musée d’Écouen, whose origin is unknown. Others have disappeared, including the series of the muses, formerly at the Château de Villesavin (Loir-et-Cher)51 and, indeed, the famous stained-glass windows of the Château d’Anet, which are currently being studied with the help of surviving project designs. 6 The Transformation of the Window and the Disappearance of Domestic Stained Glass in France In France, the gradual disappearance of domestic stained glass came about above all because of major changes to the window, as it was progressively renewed. In Paris, up to the 1660s, leaded glass was the rule in hôtels and major buildings; this was considered the best type of enclosure, and one in which painted glass roundels were still sometimes inserted. But there is no stained glass without leaded glazing. The wood-framed window pane appeared in the 1630s in more modest buildings and gained 49 Leproux, Recherches sur les peintres verriers, pp. 163–64. 50 Callias Bey, Chaussé, Gatouillat, and Hérold, Les vitraux de Haute-Normandie, pp. 414–15. 51 Merson, Les vitraux, p. 231.
Windows in Domestic Settings in France in the Late Middle Ages
great success by the middle of the century, not only for its moveable sash, but also because the frame opened toward the interior. One sees an inversion of values thereafter; leaded glass was largely reserved for secondary locations, while the main rooms were furnished with small framed panes that left no room for roundels or coats of arms. With the success of the new window, leaded glass panels and decoration with stained glass were gradually eliminated. Eventually, the same phenomenon found in urban buildings found its way to the provinces. As they progressively disappeared from residences in the 17th century, domestic stained-glass panels fell out of fashion; their meaning as well as their function was lost. In France, then, the social networks that assured a sort of longevity to domestic stained glass in other countries like the Netherlands and, above all, Switzerland, did not exist. While the fabrication, installation, and collection of domestic stained glass continued uninterrupted in these great “fiefs”, from the end of the 15th century to the present, the situation is completely different in France, where one must seek out a long-lost world, erased by many changes, one whose memory researchers strive to revive. Bibliography Primary Sources
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c hapter 9
“Consider the Glass, It Can Teach You”: the Medium’s Lesson Herbert L. Kessler Writing in the 1290s, that is, just after the heroic phase of Gothic church building had passed (at least in France), William Durand, Bishop of Mende (c.1230–96), condensed centuries of commentary on church windows in the ecclesiological compendium he titled Rationale divinorum officiorum:
“The glass windows of the church are the divine Scrip-
tures that repel the wind and rain, that is, they prevent harmful things from entering; and when they transmit the brightness of the true sun (that is, God) into the church (that is, the hearts of the faithful), they illumine those dwelling there. These windows are larger on the inside of the church because the mystical sense is broader and surpasses the literal sense. The five corporeal senses are also signified by the windows, which must be well structured on the outside, lest they allow in the vanities of the world; and they are open within to acquire more freely the spiritual gifts.”1 The claims are themselves neither original nor pellucid. Durand updated a tradition going back to Gregory the Great’s influential Homilies on Ezekiel by assimilating recent elaborations.2 Sicard of Cremona (1155–1215), his principal source, for instance, had already extended Gregory’s allegory to argue explicitly that windows are “Holy Scripture, which keeps evil away and illuminates those living in the Church”;3 and, about the same time, the theologian Pierre de Roissy (chancellor of Chartres Cathedral, 1205–08) reiterated the trope.4 When he compared them to the soul’s portal that keeps out vanities and the devil, Durand also assimilated ideas found in a 12th-century text formerly attributed to John of Salisbury, Bishop of Chartres (c.1120–80), which implicated windows in the current interest in the edification of the senses.5 This likening of 1 William Durand, Rationale, 1.2.24 (eds. Davril and Thibodeau, p. 20, trans. Thibodeau, pp. 18–19). See Faupel-Drevs, Gebrauch, pp. 67–94. 2 Gregory the Great, Homiliae, 2.5, ed. Adriaen, pp. 396–97. 3 Sicard of Cremona, Mitralis, Book i, Ch. 4, eds. Sarbak and Weinrich, p. 15, ed. and trans. Weinrich, pp. 80–81. See also, Speculum de mysteriis ecclesiae, PL 177 col. 336. 4 Pierre de Roissy, Manuale, “De fenestriis vitreis”, ed. d’Alverny, pp. 1095–96. See Grodecki, “Fonctions”; Kurmann-Schwarz, “ ‘Fe nestre vitree’ ”. 5 Newhauser, “Morals, science, and edification”.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 12
windows to spiritual gifts and, thereby, to virtues, drew on Hugh of Fouilloy (c.1100–72).6 Durand knew not only such texts but also actual windows filled with stained glass, the consummate contemporary art form. The grey patina that formed on the exposed exterior surfaces of these blended with the stone and metal frames holding the glass in place, for example, at Laon (Figure 9.1); the opaque outsides that reflected natural light reinforced the notion that church exteriors represented mundane elements, and the luminous glow inside their spiritual elevation. The effect plays out, for instance, in the south transept of Notre Dame at Chartres, where the sculpted Last Judgment on the tympanum over the central door is refigured within as a spiritual vision of Christ and his apostles occupying the celestial Temple rendered in glowing glass images in the rose above (Figure 9.2); ringed by the four creatures and 24 elders of the Apocalypse (Rev. 4–5), it provides a glimpse of what the faithful aspire to attain.7 Some surviving windows explicitly articulate the idea of external worldliness.8 At Laon, a small quatrefoil at the center of the rose generates a cross and then a sequence of 12 segments in the fashion of celestial charts.9 Similarly, a kaleidoscopic imago mundi on the south façade of the cathedral of Lausanne evokes cosmological diagrams and mappae mundi that locate Jerusalem at the universe’s center point (see Figure 16.7 in this volume).10 Sculptures adorning the mid-12th-century window of the north transept of Saint-Étienne de Beauvais actually transform the circular frame into an allegory of the transitory nature of earthly things, with Fortuna at the top, men rising and descending on the sides, and the fallen below.11 6 7
Hugh of Fouilloy, De claustro animae, 3.19 (PL 176, col. 1121). Suckale, “Fensterrose”, pp. 260– 61; Kurmann- Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, pp. 258–61. On the relationship of exterior sculpture and stained glass, see Kurmann-Schwarz, “ ‘Fenestre vitree’ ”, pp. 64–65. 8 Suckale, “Fensterrose”, pp. 269–70. 9 Kühnel, Time, pp. 65–115; Hamburger, Figura; also see Pastan, Ch.16 in this volume. 10 Beer, Rose, pp. 33–47; Kline, Maps, pp. 208–39; Suckale, “Fensterrose”, pp. 281–84; Cowen, Rose, pp. 241–63; Kupfer, Hereford, pp. 66–70. 11 Esmeijer, “Radvenster”; Cowen, Rose, p. 222.
144 Kessler Glass was itself understood as an apotropaic filter capable of repelling hostile intrusions. Indeed, the very first surviving reference to a figured window, in the early Carolingian Versus ad fenestram of the “Hibernicus exul”, describes the Hand of God and four evangelist symbols protecting Charlemagne’s bed.12 Realizing Sicard’s argument that windows “haeresum turbini resistunt et fidelibus Ecclesiae lucem infundunt”,13 armatures were sometimes fashioned as shapes believed to ward off evil: the quatrefoil at Laon, for instance,14 or crosses (the apotropaic signs par excellence) that resonate with the main theme of Crucifixion in the central glazed opening of the ambulatory at the abbey of St. Peter’s at Orbais (Figure 9.3).15 This essay treats neither the inside/outside dynamic as such, nor the claims about windows’ capacity to turn danger away, both aspects of stained-glass windows worthy of further research. Rather, following in the train of Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz’s fundamental essay,16 it focuses on Durand’s assertion that “fenestre ecclesie uitree sunt Scripture diuine” as a way to understand why 12th-and 13th-century stained glass figured rich arrays of biblical personages, dense sequences of sacred narratives, and scriptural allegories, despite the fact that some of the detailed iconographies are barely legible and the most ingenious typologies would have been incomprehensible to the “fidelibus Ecclesiae”.17 Examining modes of reading and the interplay of scriptural themes with the medium itself,18 this essay seeks to answer the question: what does stained glass teach? Durand’s conceit that windows are the “diuinae scripturae” was implicit already in Gregory the Great’s allegorizing of the embrasures’ splay as a channel of spiritualization, despite the fact that the Church Father had not envisioned glass windows nor, of course, historiated ones. “Fenestrae obliquae” itself alludes to Solomon’s Temple described in Ezekiel 41.26 and, in so doing, tethers medieval fenestration to the typology that deemed Christian churches to be replacements of the Tabernacle/Temple God had ordained for ancient Israel.19 Durand elaborated the point: 12
Hibernicus exul, Versus ad Fenestram, MGH, pp. 401–02; Dell’Acqua, “Fuoco”, p. 575. 13 Kline, “Window”; Angheben, “Crucifixion”, p. 359. 14 Nichols, Signs, pp. 95–105; Kemp, Sermo, pp. 15–19. 15 Kline, “Typological window”; Angheben, “Crucifixion”. 16 Kurmann-Schwarz, “ ‘Finestre vitree’ ”. 17 Caviness, “Stories”; Kurmann- Schwarz, “Vitrail”. The very demonstration of scriptural harmony protected against those heretics who rejected the “Old Testament”. 18 See Rudolph, “Window”. Grodecki distinguished “illuminatio” from “lectiones” in id.,, “Fonctions”, p. 40. 19 Kessler, “Fenestra obliqua”; id., “Sacred light”; O’Brian, Temple. For Gothic art, see Guerin, “Meaningful spectacles”.
“… although [these windows] catch a faint glimpse of
the true light, they are nevertheless stretched inwardly so that incorporeal light is captured in images of the corporeal, whereby it enters by recessed windows (per obliquas etenim fenestras lumen intrat) into the true seekers (vere speculatores) who always restrain their perception in humility and, thus, the understanding of contemplation enters their minds.”20 Following Bede’s De templo, Sicard had made the allusion explicit,21 and in his preface, Durand went so far as to declare that the Rationale disclose the celestial model that God had shown Moses on Mount Sinai.22 Around 1440, a painter from the circle of Robert Campin applied the argument on a panel of the Annunciation by rendering the Jerusalem Temple as a Romanesque tower replete with slit windows framed by sculpted wrestlers and entangled demons unable to penetrate the building, which also contrast the vanities of love and war with Moses and the sovereign God (Figure 9.4).23 Transparent, translucent, opaque, or reflective,24 the glass used during the Middle Ages to fill “fenestrae obliquae” was a perfect polysemous material for inflecting the typology rendered in the Campinesque painting as a light-filled Gothic church still under construction but already fitted with figured windows.25 The product of converting base sand and metals into luciferous matter through the application of heat, the medium was itself a figure of transformation;26 the jewel-like windows allude to the gems that, in many passages of Scripture, evoke God’s heavenly dwelling.27 Among these, John’s vision in the Book of Revelation was particularly important for medieval stained glass. It envisions “a sea of glass, like crystal” (Rev. 4.6) and “a sea of glass mixed with fire” (Rev. 15.2) and ends by describing the Heavenly Jerusalem as a “city of gold as pure as glass” adorned with inset gems (Rev. 21). The Book of Revelation has long been evoked 20
William Durand, Rationale, Book i, Ch. 24 (eds. Davril and Thibodeau, pp. 396–97, trans. Thibodeau, p. 347 (slightly modified)). 21 Sicard of Cremona, Mitralis, 1.4 (eds. Sarbak and Weinrich, p. 15, trans. Weinrich, pp. 80–81). 22 William Durand, Rationale, Prologue (eds. Davril and Thibodeau, p. 3); Thibodeau, “Enigmata”. 23 Thürlemann, Campin, pp. 309–10. 24 Westermann-Angerhausen, “Glasmalerei”. 25 On the significance of fictive architecture, see Grodecki, “Fonctions”, pp. 53–54, and Guérin, “Spectacles”. 26 Westermann-Angerhausen, “Glasmalerei”, pp. 97–98; Kessler, “Vitreous arts”; Gearhart, Theophilus and the Theory and Practice of Medieval Art, p. 57. 27 Meier, Gemma spiritalis, pp. 67–138; Kurmann, “L’allégorie”; Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “‘[…]et faciunt’”.
Consider the Glass, it Can Teach You
to account for Gothic church windows,28 and there are, indeed, unquestionable associations drawn between the scripture and stained glass. The south transept of Chartres, for instance, actually renders the text, and the rose window at Laon shows the Virgin Mary ringed by the 24 apocalyptic elders (Figures 9.1 and 9.2).29 Individual jewels were understood to symbolize Christ and his immaculate mother.30 The artists’ manual compiled c.1200 and known as the Pictor in carmine, for instance, compares the Annunciation to crystal, believed to be congealed water capable of generating fire when light struck it, and hence to figure Christ’s dual nature.31 An ancient beryl cameo of Julia atop of the “escrain de Charlemagne” was taken in the Middle Ages to be a depiction of the Virgin Mary,32 and red carbuncle was believed to sparkle even in the dark and, hence, to embody qualities of the Incarnation.33 When he contemplated the 7th-century cloisonné Eligius cross and “escrain” at Saint-Denis, Abbot Suger (1081–1151) seems to have remembered Eden’s “omnis lapis pretiosus” that Ezekiel inventoried (28.13–14) and that Revelation recapitulated; he referred to his glass as “materia sapphirorum”.34 Sicard quoted an antiphon (based on the Book of Tobit 13.16): “For Jerusalem shall be built up with sapphires and emeralds, and precious stone” to introduce his discussion of the church building, and, just before he turned to his discussion of windows, he wrote: “through these walls we learn Holy Scripture and keep heresy at bay”,35 an apt description of the Gothic church the Campinesque painter imagined (Figure 9.4). Aaron’s gold breastplate set with 12 precious stones, also offered a powerful gem-typology. Durand referred to it in the title of his tract, likening the priest’s rationale to a codex containing both testaments;36 Aaron is also portrayed with a prominent breastplate on a carved 28
For perspective on the thesis, see Cothren, “Reflections”, pp. 257–60. 29 See Christe, L’Apocalypse, pp. 148–50. 30 Gerevini, “ ‘Sicut crystallus,” and id., “Christus crystallus.” See also Yvernault, “Vision”. 31 Pictor in carmine, ed. Wirth, pp. 113 and 137; and see James, “Pictor in Carmine”, a translation drawing on several manuscripts. 32 The sapphire mounted atop it is inscribed: [A]gia [M]eter [Th]eou [X]pristou. 33 Dell’Acqua, “Fuoco”, pp. 582–86. 34 Alcouffe, Trésor de Saint-Denis, pp. 92–97; Kessler, “Function”; “Palazzo, Cinq sens”, pp. 77– 81; Hediger and Kurmann- Schwarz, “‘[…]et faciunt’”. 35 Sicard of Cremona, Mitralis, 1.4, eds. Sarbak and Weinrich, p. 15, trans. Weinrich, pp. 80–81. 36 Faupel-Drevs, Gebrauch, pp. 235–39. For the relationship between stained glass and goldsmith art, see Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “‘[…]et faciunt’”, pp. 270–71.
145 console in the choir of St. Remi in Reims that provides a type for the fulfillment in the stained-glass Crucifixion directly above;37 as in the Chartres north transept portal, the change of medium effects a transfer to a higher spiritual register, in this case elevating an Old Testament type to its Christian replacement. Understood to encode cosmological meaning, the breastplate also reinforced stained glass’ cosmic associations and apotropaic power,38 as Bruno of Segni (1047-23) made clear:
“These are living stones, which revolve above the earth;
which arranged in the breastplate of the High Priest teach silently, and preach. For they preach not by speaking out loud but by signifying. We must always bear them on our chests, with which our heart is taught and protected. All the people look at these things and what they signify, and they diligently interrogate them.”39 Looking at gems (and, by extension, gem-like glass) and reading Scripture allegorically were like processes, both demanding the application of exegetical processes to tease out divine meaning. Bruno of Segni elaborated the claim: “Whatever is figured in either Testament, all this is figured in an ornament … it does not suffice to see only its beauty; they ought to ask about each aspect of it, why those colors, why the gold, why those stones, what does the rest signify?”40 Pierre de Roissy maintained that the entire physical church, including the windows, teaches doctrine to the uneducated (“simplices”);41 and when Durand paraphrased Gregory the Great’s famous dictum, he tellingly expanded the “bibles of the illiterate” to include ornament as well as pictures.42 Stained glass’ material beauty and otherworldly wonder risked the very distracting vanity that windows were intended to ward off, however, which Suger’s nemesis Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1153) believed such art necessarily engendered.43 A response was to make edifying subjects visible through light and, thereby, to subsume them into the belief that God had entered the material 37 Caviness, Sumptuous Arts, p. 40; Kessler, “Dust”, pp. 93–94. 38 On the astrological significance of gems, see: Cordez, “Marbres”. 39 Bruno of Segni, Sententiarum, 28 (PL 165, col. 341); see Hamilton, “Décor”, pp. 71–77; Kessler, “Vitreous arts”, p. 46. 40 Bruno of Segni, Sententiarum, 5.2.7 (PL 165, col. 1065). 41 Pierre de Roissy, Manuale; D’Alverny, p. 1094. 42 William Durand, Rationale, 1.2.1 (eds. Davril and Thibodeau, pp. 34–35); Kessler, “Gregory the Great”. 43 Rudolph, “Window”, p. 411; id., Mystic Ark, p. 350.
146 Kessler world through Christ who, after all, had called himself the “lux mundi” (Durand’s “ver[us] sol id est Dei”).44 In fact, two of the earliest surviving examples of stained glass, at Wearmouth and Jarrow and San Vincenzo al Volturno, reified the metaphor,45 and such later examples as the windows made c.1179–80 for the Premonstratensian monastery at Arnstein, perpetuated the conceit that portraits of Christ in glass conveyed his dual nature (Figures 9.5–9.6).46 At the top of a Tree of Jesse of what originally was the central lancet of triple lights, the youthful Savior’s luminous white and gold garments glow against the blue ground filled with vines. The doves in coin-like disks surrounding him figure, literally, Hugh of Fouilloy’s seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, clearly implying that real light stands in for the third person of the Trinity, God the Father. In turn, the disks evoke Eucharistic hosts, in a manner entirely appropriate above the altar of the west choir, engaging contemporary speculation that the Holy Spirit confects and consecrates the sacraments.47 The perfect medium for depicting the ineffable Deity, who had assumed flesh to redeem fallen humankind, glass extended the sacred aura to other depicted persons as well. Picking up on Bede’s equation of high windows with the blessed who were allowed to glimpse heavenly secrets,48 Hugh of Fouilloy likened the “fenestrae obliquae” to prophets and saints whose love and compassion mediated between the faithful and God,49 a sentiment that Sicard and Honorius Augustodunensis (1080–1151) also articulated: “Clear windows, which keep storms out but allow light in, are the doctors, which resist the turbulence of heresy and pour in the light of Church doctrine”.50 Windows were “scripturae diuinae” 44
Cf. Grodecki, “Fonctions”. For the early history of the light metaphor, see Wallraff, Christus; Dell’Acqua, “Fuoco”, pp. 565–89; Ivanovici, Theophany, pp. 225–28 et passim. 45 Cramp, “Monkwearmouth and Jarrow”; Dell’Acqua, “Volto”; id., “San Vincenzo” and id., “Fantaisie”. See also Dell’Acqua, Ch. 2 in this volume. 46 Krings, Prämonstratenserstift, pp. 420–28 and 474–84; Parello, “Fünf Felder;” Martin, “Moses”. 47 Honorius Augustodunensis, Gemma animae, 9 (PL 172, col. 547). Honorius also identified the Host with coins: Honorius Augustodunensis, Speculum ecclesiae, dominica 10 (PL 177,1052). On the comparison of wafers to coins, see: Kumler, “Multiplication”, pp. 187–88 and Kessler, “Medietas”. 48 Bede, De Templo, 7 (ed. Hurst, p. 162). 49 Hugh of Fouilloy, De claustro animae, Bk. 3, Ch. 19, “De finestris temple” (PL 176, col. 1121). 50 Sicard of Cremona, Mitralis, Book 1, Ch. 4 (eds. Sarbak and Weinrich, p. 15, trans. Weinrich, pp. 80–81; Honorius Augustodunensis, Gemma animae, Ch. 130 “De finestris ecclesiae” (PL 172 col. 586). Honorius extended the trope to priests: Honorius Augustodunensis, Speculum ecclesiae, “Dominica de passione Domini” (PL 172, col. 909).
in the broadest sense, then: not only the Bible but also all sacred history. Most important, because of a double metaphor, stained glass came to refer particularly to the Virgin. Light passing through glass was understood as the Divine descending into the world, but also specifically as the God entering Maria-Ecclesia; as Venantius Fortunatus (530–607) had already asserted: “Full of radiant light, the church imitated Mary; she enclosed light in her womb, it enclosed day.”51 It was also taken, specifically, as a metaphor for comprehending how the Mother of God had remained pure when the Holy Spirit entered her person;52 Alain de Lille asserted explicitly that glass represents Mary’s sigillum virginitatis, her unbroken hymen through which the Holy Spirit entered her body.53 Unfortunately, the panel representing MARIA MATER DO[min]I directly below Christ in the Arnstein window is lost; but if Krings’ reconstruction of the inscription framing the David below is correct, Isaiah’s famous prophecy: “Ecce virgo concipiet” (Is. 7.14) would have evoked Mary’s virginity there too.54 The mid-12th-century early Middle High German Arnsteiner Mariengebet, to which the glass is closely related,55 supports the interpretation: When you bore the child, you were in all ways clean and pure from congress with men (luter unde reine van mannes gemeine). Whoever thinks that impossible, should consider glass, which is similar to you: the light of the sun shines directly through the glass, it is intact and clean as it was before.56 The virginity metaphor was engaged in other windows, among them, the late 12th-century “Belle Verrière” at 51
Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, 1.15.57–58 (ed. Reydellet, pp. 35–36), trans. Roberts, p. 66); Gábor, “Suger”, p. 127; Ivanovici, Theophany, p. 142. 52 See Grodecki, “Fonctions”. The trope goes back to the 5th century; see Breeze, “Sunbeam”, p. 23. 53 Alain de Lille, Sententiarum, De nativitate domini (PL 210, col. 233). 54 Only the “Ecce” is original; the “Virga Isai” is a 19th-century interpolation; see Krings, Prämonstratenserstift, p. 476. 55 Krings, Prämonstratenserstift, pp. 474– 84; Parello, “Fünf Felder”, p. 34; Hamburger, “Hand of God”, p. 61. 56 Arnsteiner Mariengebet, eds. Waag and Schröder, p. 173; see: Jörss, Mariengebet; Parello, “Fünf Felder”, p. 34 Hamburger, “Hand of God”. I am grateful to Sarah Bowden for translating the text, and also for pointing out that “luter” in the third line of this passage, which she renders as “clean,” was applied to glass to mean transparency. On the importance of purity in medieval writings about stained glass, see Binding, Bedeutung, p. 149.
Consider the Glass, it Can Teach You
Chartres, installed above the main altar of the Romanesque building that was destroyed by fire in 1194.57 As in the Arnstein Tree of Jesse, the Trinity is constituted there by the descending symbol of the Holy Spirit, an image of Christ, and real light penetrating the glass. The Virgin is elevated even higher at Laon (another Marian church), where she is flanked by angels, Isaiah, and John the Baptist bearing a disk with a Lamb (“Ecce agnus dei”: Jn. 1.29). 58 Enthroned above the altar, Mary holds the Child in one arm and a brilliant red rose in the other, the “rosa sine spina” signifying her purity and, in this instance, a metonym of the blossom-like window itself.59 The vitreous allegory pertained to Mary specifically in representations of the Annunciation, that is, of the moment when the Virgin was impregnated by the divine spirit. It had been integrated into a depiction of the Annunciation already in the 9th-century crypt of Epiphanius at San Vincenzo al Volturno, where an opening interrupts Gabriel’s address to Mary;60 the Pictor in carmine condensed it as: “Sol lucet per medium vitri nec violat substantiam”.61 The trope also underlies the Prado panel (Figure 9.4), where in contrast to Venus rendered as a sculpted ornament on the outside of the Romanesque tower, the Virgin is seated beneath an angled proscenium arch that opens, like a fenestra obliqua, into the interior featuring stained-glass windows. Of these, the above Gabriel reduces the seven beams of the Holy Spirit, allowing a single ray to penetrate the church and enter Mary’s person (through her head).62 57
Manhes-Deremble, Vitraux, pp. 64–66; Kurmann-Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, p. 175; Fassler, Chartres, pp. 212–23 et passim; Angheben, “Résonances”; Hediger and Kurmann- Schwarz, “Reliquie und Skulptur”; Kessler, “Sacred light”, pp. 260–62. 58 Lautier, “Vitraux” and ead., “Topography”, pp. 188–95. 59 Christe, L’Apocalypse, pp. 148–50. One of the lancets below pictures Christ’s Infancy and another, devoted to Theophilus, introduces the theme of Maria-Ecclesia; see: Lautier, “Vitraux”; Cothren, “Reflections”, pp. 268–70. 60 Most likely a window. Mitchell identified it as the fenestella confessionis: Mitchell, “Crypt”, p. 99, and is followed in this by Dell’Acqua, “Volto” and id., “Porta caeli”. The convention of introducing real light into depictions of the Annunciation was developed during the 14th century in the oratory of San Leonardo al Lago (near Siena), San Michele Arcangelo in Paganico, and San Giorgio in Padua, with the effect of unifying biblical history with actual environments and, in turn, Mary with ecclesia: see Arasse, L’Annonciation, pp. 59–122. 61 Pictor in carmine, ed. Wirth, p. 136. It anticipates another Marian metaphor that became popular in the late Middle Ages: “speculum sine macula” (derived from the Wisdom of Solomon 7:26). See Kupfer, Hereford, pp. 128–33. 62 In pre-Gothic Annunciations, drawn-back curtains had been used to figure the epiphany: Deshman, “Ancilla”; Hediger
147 The likening of Mary to a window may explain why the Tree of Jesse became especially common in stained glass.63 Beginning with the “prima fenestra” at the “caput” of the Marian chapel at Saint-Denis, that serves as an “incipit” to the typologies intended to “restore life to the dead letters of Jewish law”,64 the visualization of Isaiah’s prophecy (11.1) presented the Messiah’s maternal lineage.65 In the Arnsteiner Mariengebet, the Tree of Jesse bridges the discussion of glass’ mediality to Old Testament types: You are the intact glass, through which came the light, which rid the world of darkness. … The rod [of the Tree of Jesse] points to you, holy maiden, and the flower means your beloved son.66 And, the reduced version of the subject at Arnstein (Figure 9.6) depicts the genealogical tree culminating in an abstract depiction of impregnation, in which the dove of the Holy Spirit enters a womb-shaped bud.67 The history of the Chosen People was deemed particularly important in 12th-century stained glass because it provided the first stage of access to truth, 68 as Hugh of St. Victor (c.1096–1141), Suger’s theological advisor, maintained:
“We want the reader not to look down on the first lessons of doctrine. Nor should he judge with contempt
and Kurmann- Schwarz, “Reliquie und Skuptur”, pp. 154– 55; Rimmele, “Transparenzen”, p. 21. Such curtains may have been a precedent for stained glass; a letter by Gozpert von Tegernsee (982–1001) to Count Arnold (Gozpert von Tegernsee, Letters, MGH, pp. 25–26) refers to cloths covering church windows having been replaced in 10th-century churches by colored glass: Binding, Bedeutung, p. 133. A short time afterward, the Hitda Gospels (Darmstadt, Landes-und Hochschule Bibliothek, Cod. 1640; fol. 20r) dramatized the Annunciation by picturing Gabriel’s words as a curtain of light drawn back before Mary; Kessler, “Visibile imaginatum”. 63 Lepape, “Étude”, ead., “L’Arbre”, and ead., “Formalisation”; Rudolph, “Window”, pp. 402–06. 64 See Grodecki, “Vitraux allégoriques”; Rauch, “Bundeslade”. 65 Suger of Saint-Denis, De administratione, ed. Panofsky, pp. 74– 75; Arnulf, Versus, pp. 286–93; Speer and Binding, Suger, p. 358; Büchsel, Gotik, pp. 73–83 and id., Materialpracht, pp. 155–81; Cothren, Celestial City, pp. 10– 11; Lepape, “L’Arbre” and “Formalisation”; Gelin, “Stirps Jesse”. 66 Bernard of Clairvaux popularized the connection between the virga and Virgo; see Gelin, “Stirps Jesse”, pp. 25–26. 67 According to Honorius Augustodunensis, fetuses were stamped like coins, the womb comprising seven sacks: Honorius Augustodunensis, De philosophia mundi, 4.10 (PL 172, cols. 88–89). For Mary’s womb in art, see: Gertsman, Worlds Within, pp. 70–77. 68 Rudolph, “Window”; Kessler, “Vitreous arts”.
148 Kessler the knowledge of those things that Sacred Scripture offers first through the expression of letters. … Do not look down on the humility of the Word of God, because through humility, you are illuminated to the divine.”69 The famous example in the south transept rose of Chartres Cathedral, pictures supersession literally as a “sitting on top” (Figure 9.2). On either side of Mary holding the Christ Child, the evangelists are portrayed perched on the shoulders of the four major prophets, gazing at the celestial court in the rose window above.70 Even though the prominent depiction of the Daughters of Jerusalem at Orbais asserts the abrogation of God’s covenant with the Jews, and replacement with Christ’s incarnation and sacrifice (Figure 9.7),71 Moses, David, and “types” from Hebrew Scripture subordinated to the central cross prophesy a new order: the Slaughter of the Paschal Lamb and the Marking the Israelite Houses with blood (Ex. 12.1–17); Joshua and Caleb Bearing Grapes on a pole from the Promised Land (Num. 13.4), and the Inscribing of Foreheads with the Sign of the Tau (Ez. 9.4).72 This was the more common form of typology, remembered also in the Sacrifice of Isaac and Moses Receiving the Laws, pictured in the stained-glass window behind Mary in the Prado panel (Figure 9.4). Theologians deployed glass allegories to understand the process of moving from the Old Testament’s literalness to its interpretation through the New, such as the mirror of St. Paul’s metaphor for humankind’s incapacity to see God directly but to discern him, at least vaguely, in the Bible:73 “for now we see through a glass darkly (aenigmate) and then face to face” (1 Corinthians 13.12). Hugh of St. Victor, for instance, incorporated the trope: “The dark manner is Sacred Scripture. Why? Because it has obscure meaning. The mirror is your heart, if however, it is clean and clear and clarified (clarificatum);”74 and he embedded the literal reading of the Bible in the Augustinian principle of “per uisibilibus ad 69
Hugh of St. Victor, De scripturis et scriptoribus sacris praenotatiunculae, 5 (PL 175, cols.14–15). 70 Binski, Gothic Wonder, p. 46. Bede had already likened windows to the saints who can peer into secret places of heaven, an idea that came to be widely realized in the standing figures and narratives of Gothic windows. 71 Kline, “Typological window”, pp. 91–94. 72 The subjects in the window’s lower third are modern replacements. 73 Dell’Acqua, “Fuoco”, p. 557 and ead., “Vetrate”; Bucklow, “Mysteries”, pp. 145–48. 74 Hugh of St. Victor, De sacramentis christiane fidei, 1.10.9 (PL 176, col. 341–42; trans. Deferrari, p. 181). See Wirth, L’image, p. 367; Bedos-Rezak, Ego, p. 182. Also, Innocent iii, Sermones de tempore 13 (PL 217, col. 372).
inuisibilia”.75 Suger also recognized the anagogical potential of the reciprocal interplay of understanding and mystery implied by reading Old Testament subjects spiritually, when he applied the trope equally to the “multicolor, gemmarum, speciositas” and the “vitrearum novarum praeclarum varietatum” replete with typologies,76 addressing Paul at the start of his exposition of the anagogical windows at Saint-Denis as “making known the innermost meaning of the law”.77 Sicard also had St. Paul in mind, the converted Jew who had risen to the third heaven and contemplated the Light, when he described “window glass, through which the rays of the sun reach us, [as] the mind of the Teacher who looks at the heavenly things through an obscure mirror, or through which obscure mirror the true Sun enters into us”.78 Many works conceived the Old Testament literally as words and dark forms. The depiction of Moses Receiving the Commandments at Arnstein (Figure 9.5), for instance, contrasts the inscribed black LEX DEI with the lux mundi in the adjacent panel; and in the “Belle Verrière” at Chartres, Christ displays a black tablet-like book that contrasts prophecy (Isaiah 40.4, recycled through Luke 3.5) with the full Christian realization in vivid, light-filled colors.79 The window at Orbais actually figures the seeing process (Figure 9.7). At the upper right above “MOYSES”, proffering the words “an eagle challenges her chicks [to fly]” (Deut. 32.11), it pictures an eagle flying heavenward with three eaglets between her wings toward a blazing sun at the left. This transforms the Old Testament text into a symbol of Christian spiritual renewal by means of animal lore, in which the eagle 75 Augustine, De civitate Dei, 10.14 (eds. Dombart and Kalb, p. 288). 76 “De materialibus ad immaterialia transferendo”: Suger of Saint-Denis, De administratione, ed. Panofsky, p. 62; Speer and Binding, Suger, p. 344; and “una quarum materialibus ad immaterialia excitans”: Suger of Saint-Denis, De administratione, ed. Panofsky, p. 74; Speer and Binding, Suger, p. 358. 77 Suger of Saint-Denis, De administratione, ed. Panofsky, p. 62; Speer and Binding, Suger, p. 344 and ed. Panofsky, p. 74; Speer and Binding, Suger, p. 358; Gábor, “Suger”. Honorius may have had something of the same in his mind when, in his attribution of the four modes of reading to the Fathers of the Church, he characterized Augustine as the “painter of jewel-like colored glass”: Honorius Augustodunensis, Speculum ecclesiae, De dedicatione (PL 172, col. 1102). See Heslop, “Anselm,” p. 111. 78 Sicard of Cremona, Mitralis, Book 1, Ch. 4 (eds. Sarbak and Weinrich, p. 15, trans. Weinrich, pp. 80–81). 79 See the complex analysis of Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz in “Reliquie und Skulptur”. In so doing, such depictions evoke the widely circulated ancient trope that understood Hebrew Scripture as a mere sketch over which the Gospels were painted in full color; see Kessler, “Mosaic prohibition”.
Consider the Glass, it Can Teach You
is Christ who removes the burden of sins from those who steadfastly look at him, the “verus sol iustitia”.80 The Orbais vignette fits Durand’s (later) definition of anagogy perfectly, in which the literal meaning of a biblical passage brings a mystical reference to mind which, in turn, engenders a spiritual meaning (realized by light itself).81 The anagogical process explains the Old Testament type commonly represented in stained glass: Moses at the Burning Bush. Exemplifying how God manifested his power through visible light,82 the subject is preserved at Saint-Denis, Laon, the Arnstein glass (Figure 9.8), and elsewhere. A titulus explains Suger’s window as evidence of Christ’s dual nature.83 At Laon, however, where it is inserted into the narrative of Christ’s infancy, alongside Gideon and the Golden Fleece, it symbolizes instead Mary’s purity.84 The Arnsteiner Mariengebet also glosses Moses’ encounter with God on Mount Horeb as a Marian image, tying the symbolism to Aaron’s flowing rod (Num. 17.10) pictured above it in the glass:85 Moses, a holy man, saw a burning bush, But the bush was not consumed It burned without damaging it … The bush retained its beauty, As your body did its chastity … The almond branch also signified you, which once blossomed before God. It was Aaron’s rod, Which, as well as flowers, revealed the almonds.86 80
See, for instance, the early 13th-century bestiary in the British Library (Royal MS 12.C.xix, fols. 38r-38v); Baxter, Bestiaries, pp. 39–41; Aavitsland, Imagining, pp. 141–63. Tellingly, the windows in the Prado panel appear dark in contrast with the divine light emanating from Mary and suffusing the church interior. 81 William Durand, Rationale, Prologue (eds. Davril and Thibodeau, p. 7). 82 As Rupert of Deutz, among others, noted: Rupert of Deutz, De Sancta trinitate et operibus eius, 10.12 (ed. H. Haacke, p. 597). 83 Suger of Saint-Denis, De administratione, ed. Panofsky, pp. 74– 75; Arnulf, Versus, pp. 286–93; Speer and Binding, Suger, p. 358. 84 Lautier, “Vitraux”. See also the Pictor in carmine, ed. Wirth, p. 113. 85 Krings presumed that Ezekiel’s porta clausa was represented in a lost panel (Krings, Prämonstratenserstift, p. 480); Parello proposed that the blue panels themselves symbolized the closed door (Parello, “Fünf Felder”, p. 34). The Mariengebet does not refer to the third preserved typological panel picturing Moses Receiving the Commandments (Figure 9.5); but Krings adduced a mariological interpretation for it, too, through the Salutationes in Arensteyn (Krings, Prämonstratenserstift, p. 480). 86 Arnsteiner Mariengebet, eds. Waag and Schröder, p. 175.
149 As in the other examples, Mary is not actually represented,87 but her presence is nascent in the ring of petal-like flames in which Christ appears. Approaching the plant’s desiccated, thistle-bearing side –which according to Bruno of Segni would represent the “thorny” Jews from which Mary bloomed as a rose88 –Moses cannot discern its full meaning, suggested by the transformation of the bush on the side he cannot see.89 As the Arnsteiner Mariengebet suggests: “His appearance in the bush signifies (meinede) that God wished to assume flesh on earth through you. Growing green in the fire, as your virginity blossoms in the birth”.90 Transformation is also a theme of the Miracle of the Staff (Ex. 4.2–5), merged with the episode and underscored by the titulus that (correctly in my opinion) Lech Kalnowski construed as VIR[GA] VERT[ATUR].91 According to the Pictor in carmine and various exegetic texts it, too, alluded to Mary’s purity;92 in the Arnstein glass (Figure 9.5), it also tethered the pictured episode to the adjacent Tree of Jesse, and to the “virga Aaron”. More generally, God’s changing Moses’ staff into a serpent and back again embodies the dynamic of animation inherent in the conversion of Old Testament events into prophecies of the New (Figure 9.8). The process underlies the portrait of Gerlach directly below, framed by the extended titulus beseeching the “Illustrious King of Kings [to] have mercy on Gerlachus”.93 Enclosed in round arches that mimic those of the actual windows, the Premonstratensian brother, who apparently planned the windows, is shown holding a paint jug and grasping 87 E.g. Honorius Augustudunenis, Speculum ecclesiae, In Annunciatione Sanctae Maria (PL 172, col. 904) (followed by Aaron’s blooming rod: Heslop, “St. Anselm”, p. 111). 88 Bruno of Segni, Espositio in Pentateucham, In Exodum, 3 (PL 164, col. 237). 89 Krings, Prämonstratenserstift, p. 480. 90 Arnsteiner Mariengebet, eds. Waag and Schröder, p. 174. 91 Kalinowski, “Virga versatur”; Parello, “Fünf Fenster”, p. 31. On the suggested alternative reconstructions: Virgo salutatur, Virga versatur, and Virga viridatur, see Krings, Prämonstratenserstift, p. 481; Granboulan, “L’iconographie”. See, for example, Rupert of Deutz, Sancta Trinitate, 10.16 (ed. H. Haacke, p. 604). Virga vertitur (sic) was common in 12th- century epigrams, and the mystical meaning was incorporated c.1100 in a composite depiction in the church of Sta. Maria Immacolata at Ceri; see Kessler, Neither God nor Man, pp. 42 and 45–53. 92 Pictor in carmine, ed. Wirth, pp. 113 and 132; for Rupert of Deutz, it also symbolized the Tree of Jesse as a sign of the transfer from Jews to Gentiles: Rupert of Deutz, De Sancta trinitate et operibus eius, 10.16–17 (ed. H. Haacke, pp. 604–05). 93 Becksmann, Glasmalerei, pp. 41–43; Dell’Acqua, “Gerlachus;” Parello, “Fünf Felder”, pp. 31–32; Hamburger, “Hand of God”, pp. 61–65.
150 Kessler a brush that rhymes visually with Moses’ virga, perhaps by way of the Latin virgultis.94 As Moses looks at the Burning Bush and perceives God in the brilliant flames, so too Gerlachus (and his beneficiaries), perceiving the episode’s mystical significance in the stained glass, hoped to be redeemed and lifted up the way the author of the Arnsteiner Mariengebet did when she entreated the Virgin to intercede with her son Christ to forgive her sins so that she could see God’s inextinguishable light (unverloschen liet).95 Exegetic imagery of the sort presented in the Arnstein windows and elsewhere would, of course, have been directly and fully available only to educated viewers, in the first instance, the clergy.96 Even for those who understood the esoteric imagery, the glass’ beauty would have overwhelmed details of particular iconographies and obscured the erudite interpretations embedded in them.97 Nonetheless, the basic imagery (and accompanying inscriptions) provided a secure first step in a spiritual ascent, as the Pictor in carmine –which groups appropriate Old Testament types around Christian history –argued:
“… since the eyes of our contemporaries are apt to be
caught by a pleasure that is not only vain, but even profane … it is an excusable concession they should enjoy at least that class of pictures which, as books of the laity, can suggest divine things to the unlearned and stir up the learned to the love of the scriptures.”98 Indeed, scriptural concord was considered fundamentally pictorial. At the start of his Cur Deus homo, for instance, Anselm of Canterbury (1033–1109) not only affirmed the importance of the historical sequence unfolded in the literal account, but also asserted that its spiritual reading was essentially visual: “Then, in order that the physical reality of the truth, so to speak … may shine forth all the more, these appropriatenesses may be set out as pictorial representations of this physical reality”, and he has his interlocutor confirm: “All these are 94
The “VIR”, in fact, merges with the “GU” of REX REGU[M]. Rupert of Deutz used uirgultis, a word also meaning paint brush, to describe the burning bush: Rupert of Deutz, De Sancta trinitate et operibus eius, 10.12 (ed. H. Haacke, p. 597). On Gerlachus’ garments, see Krings, Prämonstratenserstift, pp. 483–84; Hamburger, “Hand of God”, p. 62. 95 Arnsteiner Mariengebet, eds. Waag and Schröder, p. 187. 96 Rudolph, “Window”, p. 412–18. Ambrosius Autpertus, Anselm of Canterbury, Honorius Augustodenensis, Hugh of St. Victor, and Peter of Celle have been directly associated with the planning of stained glass. 97 Grodecki, “Fonctions”; Kurmann- Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, pp. 130–42. 98 Pictor in carmine, ed. Wirth, pp. 109–10; trans. pp. 141–42.
beautiful notions, and are to be viewed like pictures”.99 Hugh of St. Victor reiterated the claim: “in an image the mystical understanding is painted, and through accessible similitudes, of those things that are understood spiritually, a clear demonstration is figured”.100 Elsewhere he also reverted to a pictorial simile: “Just as in the same passage of Scripture the [foolish man] will commend the color or the form of the figures, so [the wise man] will praise the sense and the signification”.101 Some of the complex theology would have been known through preaching, ceremonies, and ecclesiastic devotions. Jacques de Vitry (1180–1240), for instance, who grew up in the shadow of the cathedrals, incorporated Paul’s speculum in aenigmata into his sermons.102 Equally, a sermon on the Annunciation attributed to Richard of St. Victor (1110–73) made publicly available the arcane fenestrae obliquae typology (derived from Hrabanus Maurus’ Commentarium in Ezekielem), and likened the iron and lead armatures that secure the glass pieces to virtues.103 The antiphon that Sicard incorporated at the start of his discussion of the church cued the reading of glass as both Holy Scripture and the walls of Jerusalem. In the same way, the recitation of the responsorial Stirps Jesse conveyed the significance of the Tree of Jesse,104 and the “clara chorus” harmonized the local cult of the Virgin with references to the Temple and other mysteries pictured in the Belle-Verrière window at Chartres.105 Rendering Latin liturgical conceits in the vernacular, the Arnsteiner Mariengebet likened Mary to luminous glass and explained the various Marian typologies, culminating in a celestial liturgy in which angels, prophets, apostles, and saints sing the Virgin’s praise in God’s presence.106 With this the mystery of light passing through glass entered Romance.107 When raising 99 Anselm, Cur deus homo, Book 2, Chap. 4 (PL 158, col. 365); trans., p. 269. See Heslop, “Anselm”; Kessler, “Reading” and id., “Cloud”. 100 Hugh of St. Victor, De scripturis et scriptoribus sacris praenotatiunculae, 5 (PL 175, cols. 14–15). 101 Hugh of St. Victor, De tribus diebus, 4 (ed. Poirel, p. 10, trans. Rudolph, “Window”, p. 411). See Palmén, “Experience”, pp. 240–41. 102 Jacques de Vitry, Sermones communes, 16 (ed. Muessig, pp. 68–69). On art and preaching, see: Debby, “Pulpits”. 103 Richard of St. Victor (attr.), Sermones centum, 18 (PL 176, col. 934); Châtillon, “Contenu”. Durand seems to have known the Sermones centum: Thibodeau, Rationale, p. 16. 104 Fassler, “Mary’s Nativity”; Boynton, Monastic Identity, pp. 54–63. 105 Fassler, Chartres, pp. 219–23; Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Reliquie und Skulptur”, pp. 154–55. 106 Arnsteiner Mariengebet, eds. Waag and Schröder, pp. 175–76. 107 Reveryon, “Image”, pp. 304–05.
151
Consider the Glass, it Can Teach You
the Host upward, officiants in Laon and Orbais would physically have identified the Eucharist with the Passion represented in light-inscribed narratives in the central lancets behind.108 Not only would ambient words and performances have rendered specific iconographies and their mystical meanings comprehendible, but they would also have activated the “accessible similitudes” (to use Hugh of St. Victor’s term) in the fenestre uitree through light filtered through the images. Creating overall unity through the “mystical understanding painted in an image” –even in diverse, randomly arranged subjects, as at Orbais, for instance – the dynamic oscillation of knowing and feeling imprinted the faithful and raised them upward toward God. Indeed, the bestiary source of the eagle vignette at Orbais explicitly exhorts those whose sight has dimmed, whether Jew or Gentile, to lift the eyes of their hearts to the “Sun of Justice” so that spiritual vision will be restored.109 Such restoration was effected in the human “eaglets” struck by the light penetrating the painted sun in the glass. The Arnsteiner Mariengebet describes the process; it exhorts Jews in particular, that is those who live in darkness and read scripture only literally, to convert (“keren”) by viewing the luminous depictions with Christian understanding: “Jews, who wish to turn to God /Consider the glass: it can teach you”.110 The preceding verses make clear that this “God” is the lux mundi incarnate, available to everyone: From you the light of God shines in all lands, because our savior was born of you. This illuminated you and all Christianity, which was led far astray in unbelief. It found you, it left you clean (luter) in all ways, as the sun did with the window of glass.111 Gerlachus cues the same understanding by positioning his brush precisely between “Rex Regum” in the titulus and “clare” (Figure 9.8). Rarely used as an epithet for the Deity, “clarus” was frequently applied to glass windows.112 Hugh of St. Victor deployed it when he likened receptive souls to glass, “clean and clear and clarified”; and Suger used the word four times in his famous 108 Cothren, “Reflections”, p. 268; Angheben, “Crucifixion” and id., “Résonances”. 109 Baxter, Bestiaries, pp. 39– 41; Aavitsland, Imagining, pp. 141–63. 110 “… merket daz glas; daz mag ug leren”: Arnsteiner Mariengebet, eds. Waag and Schröder, p. 174. 111 Arnsteiner Mariengebet, eds. Waag and Schröder, p. 125. 112 Binding, Bedeutung, p. 145; Westermann-Angerhausen, “Glasmalerei”, pp. 98–99; as also the Mariengebet’s “luter”.
description of the choir of Saint-Denis: “For that which is linked up clearly (claris) clarifies (claret) with the clear (clare). And that which the new light pours through clarifies (claret) the lofty work”.113 Durand later applied the adjective specifically to the brightness (claritatem) of the true sun (that is, God) in the material church. Gerlachus’ virga thus traces stained glass’ basic teaching on the Arnstein pane. In contrast to illustrations in contemporary manuscripts, enamels, and other opaque art forms that make similar claims about the unity of sacred scripture,114 light passing through the windows reifies the argument that the persons and events of sacred history are diverse manifestations of a single Deity who, entering the minds of the faithful through both knowledge and emotions, lifts them heavenward. Gozbert had noted the effect already c.1000 when he contrasted the curtains that had formerly been used to cover church windows to the multicolored glass which, in his day, directly affected the emotions of those who looked at it.115 A detail in the window behind Mary in the Prado Annunciation, documents the claim’s persistence (Figure 9.4). Echoing Gabriel’s pose, a knight kneeling in prayer beneath the Old Testament typologies is struck by one of the rays emanating from the Virgin’s halo. In real churches, stained-glass windows operated in the same way; situating the faithful in the position Mary occupies who, devoid of all worldly vanity, ponders the scripturae diuinae, and, penetrated by rays that “transmit the brightness of the true sun into the church that is, their hearts” (to quote Durand again). The lesson of stained glass is the mystery of the Incarnation. Bibliography Primary Sources
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154 Kessler windows”, in P. Salonius and A. Worm (eds.), The Tree: Symbol, Allegory, and Mnemonic Device in Medieval Art and Thought, Turnhout, 2014, pp. 13–33. Gerevini, S., “Christus crystallus. Rock crystal, theology and materiality in the medieval West”, in J. Robinson, L. de Beer, and A. Harnden (eds.), Matter of Faith: an Interdisciplinary Study of Relics and Relic Veneration in the Medieval Period, London, 2014, pp. 92–99. Gerevini, S., “ ‘Sicut crystallus quando est obiecta soli’: rock crystal, transparency and the Franciscan Order”, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 56 (2014), 254–83. Gertsman, E., Worlds Within. Opening the Medieval Shrine Madonna, University Park, PA, 2015. Granboulan, A., “L’iconographie des vitraux romans d’Arnstein- sur-la-Lahn”, Bulletin monumental 143-1 (1985), 76–78. Grodecki, L., “Fonctions spirituelles”, in M. Aubert et al. (eds.), Le vitrail français, Paris, 1958, pp. 39–54. Grodecki, L., “Les vitraux allégoriques de Saint-Denis”, Art de France 1 (1961), 19–46 (repr. in id., Études sur les vitraux de Suger à Saint-Denis [XIIe siècle], ed. by C. Grodecki, C. Bouchon, and Y. Zaluska [CV France, Études, 3], Paris, 1995, vol. 2, pp. 51–83). Guérin, S., “Meaningful spectacles: Gothic ivories staging the divine”, The Art Bulletin 95 (2013), 53–77. Hamburger, J., “The Hand of God and the Hand of the Scribe: Craft and Collaboration at Arnstein” in M. Embach (ed.), Die Bibliothek des Mittelalters als dynamischer Prozess, Wiesbaden, 2012, 53–80. Hamburger, J., Haec figura Demonstrat. Diagramme in einem Pariser Exemplar von Lothars von Segni ‘De missarum mysteriis’ aus dem frühen 13. Jahrhundert, Berlin, 2013. Hamilton, L.I., Decor et decorum: Reforming the Episcopacy in Bruno of Segni’s De laudibus ecclesiae (Eleventh Century) (Unpublished PhD, University of Toronto, 2007). Hediger, C. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “[…] et faciunt inde tabulas saphiri pretiosas ac satis utiles in fenestris. Die Farbe Blau in der ‘Schedula’ und in der Glasmalerei von 1100–1250”, in A. Speer, M. Mauriège, and H. Westermann-Angerhausen (eds.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst: Die ‘Schedula diversarum atrium’ (Miscellanea Mediaevalia, 37), Berlin, 2014, pp. 256–73. Hediger, C. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Reliquie und Skulptur im Glasfenster. Intermediale Auratisierung am Beispiel von Notre-Dame de la Belle Verrière”, in U. Beil, C. Herberichs, and M. Sandl (eds.), Aura und Auratisierung. Mediologische Perspektiven im Anschluss an Walter Benjamin (Medienwandel –Medienwechsel –Medienwissen, 27), Zurich, 2014, pp. 135–60. Heslop, T.A., “St Anselm, church reform, and the politics of art,” Anglo-Norman Studies 33 (2011), 103–36. Ivanovici, V., Manipulating Theophany. Light and Ritual in North Adriatic Architecture (ca 400-ca.800), Berlin, 2016.
James, M.R. “Pictor in Carmine”, Archaeologia 94 (1951), pp. 141–66. Jörss, L., Das Arnsteiner Mariengebet und die Sequenzen des Mittelalters, Marburg, 1920. Kemp, W., Sermo Corporeus, Die Erzählung der mittelalterlichen Glasfenster, Munich, 1987 (trans. C. Saltzwedel, The Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, Cambridge, 1997). Kalinowski, L., “Virga versatur. Remarques sur l’iconographie des vitraux romans d’Arnstein-sur-la-Lahn”, Revue de l’art 62 (1983), 9–20 (repr. in D. Horzela and J. Utzig (eds.), L. Kalinowski and H. Małkiewiczówna, Ars vitrea: Collected Writings on Mediaeval Stained Glass, Krakow, 2016, pp. 33–51). Kessler, H.L., “ ‘Thou shalt paint the likeness of Christ Himself’: the mosaic prohibition as provocation for Christian images”, in B. Kühnel (ed.), The Real and Ideal Jerusalem in Jewish, Christian and Islamic Art, Studies in Honor of Bezalel Narkiss (Jewish Art, 23–24), Jerusalem, (1997–98), pp. 124–39. Kessler, H.L., “The function of vitrum vestitum and the use of materia saphirorum in Suger’s Saint-Denis”, in J. Baschet and J.-Cl. Schmitt (eds.), L’image: fonctions et usages des images dans l’Occident medieval, Paris, 1996, pp. 179–203 (repr. in H.L. Kessler, Spiritual Seeing. Picturing God’s Invisibility in Medieval Art, Philadelphia, 2000, pp. 190–205). Kessler, H.L., “Gregory the Great and image theory in Northern Europe during the twelfth and thirteenth Centuries,” in C. Rudolph (ed.), A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, Malden, rev. ed. 2019, pp. 221–44. Kessler, H.L., “ ‘Hoc visibile imaginatum figurat illud invisibile verum’: imagining God in pictures of Christ”, in G. De Nie, K. Morrison, and M. Mostert (eds.), Seeing the Invisible in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, Turnhout, 2005, pp. 293–328. Kessler, H.L., Neither God nor Man. Words, Images, and the Medieval Anxiety about Art, Freiburg im Breisgau, 2007. Kessler, H.L., “Shaded with dust: Jewish eyes on Christian art”, in H.L. Kessler and D. Nirenberg (eds.), Judaism and Christian Art, Philadelphia, 2011, pp. 74–114. Kessler, H.L., “Painted on a cloud: reading Medieval images as reality and as vision”, in A. Akiyama and K. Tomizawa (eds.), Images and Visions in Christian and Buddhist Culture (Bulletin of Life and Death Studies 8), Tokyo, 2012, pp. 19–36. Kessler, H.L., “ ‘They preach not by speaking out loud but by signifying’: vitreous arts as typology”, Gesta 51 (2012), 35–50. Kessler, H.L., “Medietas /mediator and the geometry of incarnation,” in W. Melion and L.P. Wandel (eds.), Image and Incarnation. The Early Modern of the Pictorial Image, Leiden, 2015, pp. 17–75. Kessler, H.L., “Sacred light from shadowy things”, Codex Aquilarensis 32 (2017), 237–69. Kessler, H.L., “Fenestra obliqua: art and Peter of Limoges’s modes of seeing”, in Kessler and Newhauser (eds.), Optics, pp. 139–58.
Consider the Glass, it Can Teach You Kessler, H.L. and R. Newhauser (eds.), Optics, Ethics, and Art in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries: Looking into Peter of Limoges’s Moral Treatise on the Eye, Toronto, 2018. Kline, N.R., “The typological window of Orbais-l’Abbaye: the context of its iconography”, Studies in Iconography 14 (1995), 83–130. Kline, N.R., Maps of Medieval Thought, Woodbridge, 2001. Krings, B., Das Prämonstratenserstift Arnstein an der Lahn im Mittelalter (1139–1527), Wiesbaden, 1990. Kühnel, B., The End of Time in the Order of Things. Science and Eschatology in Early Medieval Art, Regensburg, 2003. Kumler, A., “The multiplication of the species: eucharistic morphology in the Middle Ages”, Res: Anthropology and Aesthetics 59/60 (2011), 179–91. Kupfer, M., Art and Optics in the Hereford Map. An English Mappa Mundi, New Haven, 2016. Kurmann, P., “L’allégorie de la Jérusalem céleste et le dessin architectural à l’époque du gothique rayonnant”, in C. Heck (ed.), L’allégorie dans l’art du Moyen Âge. Formes et fonctions. Héritages, créations, mutations, Turnhout, 2011, pp. 67–77. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “ ‘Fenestre vitree […] significant Sacram Scripturam’: zur Medialität mittelalterlicher Glasmalerei des 12. und 13. Jahrhunderts”, in R. Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext. Bildprogramme und Raumfunktion (Transactions of the 22nd International Colloquium of the CV in Nuremberg and Regensburg), Nuremberg, 2005, pp. 61–73. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Le vitrail du XIIe siècle dans le Saint- Empire: recherches et problèmes”, in J.-F. Luneau (ed.), Le vitrail roman et les arts de la couleur. Nouvelles approches sur le vitrail du XIIe siècle (Transactions of the Colloquium organised by the Centre Georges Duby in Issoire; Revue d’Auvergne 570), Clermont-Ferrand, 2004, pp. 117–31. Kurmann- Schwarz, B. and Kurmann, P., Chartres. La cathédrale, Saint-Léger-Vauban, 2001. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux du chevet de la cathédrale de Laon. Première approche”, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Kunst und Denkmalpflege 54 (2000), 257–64. Lautier, C., “The sacred topography of Chartres Cathedral”, in E.S. Lane, E.C. Pastan, and E.M. Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing. Approaches to Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Farnham, 2009, pp. 174–96. Lepape, S., Étude iconographique de l’Arbre de Jessé en France du Nord du XIVe siècle au XVIIe siècle (Unpublished PhD, École des chartes, Paris, 2004). Lepape, S., “L’Arbre de Jessé: une image de l’Immaculée Conception?”, Médiévales 57 (2009), 113–36. Lepape, S., “Formalisation et analyse statistique d’un corpus d’images”, in J. Baschet and P-O. Dittmar (eds.), Les images dans l’Occident medieval (L’atelier du médiéviste, 14), Paris, 2015, pp. 333–50. Mahnes-Deremble, C., Les vitraux narratifs de la cathédrale de Chartres: étude iconographique (CV France, Études, 2), Paris, 1993.
155 Martin, F., “Moses vor dem brennenden Dornbusch mit Bildnis des Meisters Gerlachus”, in S. Wittekind (ed.), Romanik. Geschichte der bildenden Kunst in Deutschland, Munich, 2009, cat. number 104, p. 326. Meier, C., Gemma spiritalis: Methode und Gebrauch der Edelsteinallegorese vom frühen Christentum bis ins 18. Jahrhundert, Munich, 1977. Mitchell, J., “The crypt reappraised”, in R. Hodges (ed.), San Vincenzo al Volturno, Rome, 1993, vol. 1, pp. 75–114. Newhauser, R., “Morals, science, and the edification of the senses”, in Kessler and Newhauser (eds.), Optics, pp. 7–16. Nichols, S.G. Jr., Romanesque Signs. Early Medieval Narrative and Iconography, New Haven, 1983. O’Brian, C., Bede’s Temple. An Image and Its Interpretation, Oxford, 2015. Palazzo, É, L’invention chrétienne des cinq sens dans la liturgie et l’art au Moyen Âge, Paris, 2014. Palmén, R., “The experience of beauty: Hugh and Richard of St. Victor on natural theology”, Journal of Analytic Theology 4 (2016), 234–53. Parello, D., “Fünf Felder eines typologischen Zyklus aus Arnstein”, in P. Marx (ed.), Die Glasgemäldesammlung des Freiherrn vom Stein, Kulturstiftung der Länder u. LWL- Landesmuseum für Kunst und Kulturgeschichte Münster, Münster, 2007, pp. 22–39, 92–93. Ramos, F., “The metaphysics of light in the aesthetics of Suger of Saint-Denis”, Dionysius 32 (2014), 116–39. Rauch, I., “Die Bundeslade und die wahren Israeliten. Anmerkungen zum mariologischen und politischen Programm der Hochchorfenster der Kathedrale von Chartres”, in H. Scholz, I. Rauch, and D. Hess (eds.), Glas, Malerei, Forschung. Internationale Studien zu Ehren von Rüdiger Becksmann, Berlin, 2004, pp. 61–71. Reveryon, N., “Image performative et liturgie. Les sept chapiteaux de l’abside de la cathédrale de Lyon (XIIe)”, in Daussy and Reveyron (eds.), L’église lieu de performance, pp. 301–12. Rimmele, M., “Transparenzen, variable Konstellationen, gefaltete Welten. Systematisierende Überlegungen zur me dienspezifischen Gestaltung von dreiteiligen Klappbildern”, in D. Ganz and M. Rimmele (eds.), Klappeffekte. Faltbare Bildträger in der Vormoderne, Berlin, 2016, pp. 13–54. Rudolph, C., “Inventing the exegetical stained- glass window: Suger, Hugh, and a new elite art”, The Art Bulletin 93 (2011), 399–422. Rudolph, C., The Mystic Ark. Hugh of Saint Victor, Art, and Thought in the Twelfth Century, New York, 2014. Siebert, G. “Glass painters and manuscript illuminators”, in M.E. Müller (ed.), The Use of Models in Medieval Book Painting, Newcastle, 2014, pp. 57–88. Suckale, R., “Thesen zum Bedeutungswandel der gotischen Fensterrose”, in K. Clausberg, D. Kimpel, et al. (eds.), Bauwerk und Bildwerk im Hochmittelalter, Giessen, 1981, pp. 259–94.
156 Kessler Thibodeau, M.T., “Enigmata figurarum: biblical exegesis and (eds.), Himmelslicht. Europäische Glasmalerei im Jahrhunliturgical exposition in Durand’s ‘Rationale’ ”, Harvard dert des Kölner Dombaus (1248–1349) (Exhibition cataTheological Review 86 (1993), 65–79. logue: Cologne, Josef-Haubrich-Kunsthalle), Cologne, 1998, Thürlemann, F., Robert Campin: a Monographic Study with pp. 95–102. Critical Catalogue, New York, 2002. Wirth, J., L´image a l´epoque romane, Paris, 1999. Wallraff, M., Christus verus Sol: Sonnenverehrung und Christen- Yvernault, M., “La vision radieuse de la Jérusalem céleste dans tum in der Spätantike, Münster, 2001. la poème moyen-anglais Pearl (anon.)”, in É. Palazzo (ed.), Westermann- Angerhausen, H., “Glasmalerei und HimLes cinq sens au Moyen Âge, Paris, 2016, pp. 503–20. melslicht –Metapher, Farbe, Stoff”, in H. Westermann- Angerhausen, C. Hagnau, C. Schumacher, and G. Sporbeck
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f igure 6.1 Albrecht Dürer, Engraving of Saint Jerome in his Cell (1514). Krakow, Scientific Library of the Polish Academy of Arts and Sciences and Polish Academy of Sciences.
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f igure 6.3 John Everett Millais, Mariana (1850–51). Painting. London, Tate Britain.
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f igure 6.2 Marcel Duchamps, Fresh Widow (1920). Painted wood frame and panes of glass covered with black leather. New York, Museum of Modern Art.
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f igure 7.1 View into the choir of Soissons Cathedral (consecrated in 1212). Cathedral of Saint-Gervais-Saint-Protais, Soissons.
f igure 7.2 View into the choir of Saint-Urbain (c.1266). Troyes, former collegiate church of Saint-Urbain.
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f igure 7.3 View into the ambulatory and the axial chapel of Saint-Quentin (c.1197). Saint-Quentin, former collegiate church.
f igure 7.4 Interior view east, towards the choir of Saint-Quentin. Saint-Quentin, former collegiate church.
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f igure 7.5 View toward the chevet of Saint-Remi of Reims, with Crucifixion window in the tribune (c.1180).
f igure 8.1 Laurent Marchant, Detail of a house on the Rue du Roi de Sicile in Paris from the window of the Offering of the Relic of St. John the Baptist (c.1550). Nemours, France, church of Saint-Jean-Baptiste.
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f igure 8.3 The Master of Flémalle, Annunciation, detail of the Mérode Triptych (c.1430). New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art. f igure 8.2 Window closures and their component parts, early 16th century.
f igure 8.4 Heraldry within the medallion of a quarried window, panel from the so- called House of the Viguier (mid-16th century). Meyrueis, France.
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f igure 8.5 Maître de la Mazarine, King Charles vi in conversation with Pierre Salmon from the Dialogues de Pierre Salmon (c.1411–13). Geneva, Bibliothèque publique et universitaire, Ms. fr. 165, fol. 4r, Pierre Salmon.
f igure 8.6 Stained-glass panel of St. Francis infirm, tended by Angels (c.1510). Paris, Saint- Merry, window 122.
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f igure 8.7 Jean Fouquet, Roundel with the Monogram of Laurent Girard (c.1450–60). Paris, Musée National du Moyen Âge-Thermes de Cluny, inv. Cl.1037.
f igure 8.8 Roundel of the fox preaching to the farmyard (ca. 1500). Limoges, Musée des Beaux-Arts.
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f igure 8.9 Linard Gontier, Roundel of King Henri iv arriving at Notre-Dame of Paris, (c.1622–24). Troyes, Musée des Beaux-Arts, originally from the Hôtel de l’Arquebuse in Troyes.
f igure 8.10 The Chess Players (c.1430–40). Stained-glass panel now in Paris, Musée national du Moyen Âge-Thermes de Cluny, inv. Cl. 23422, probably from the Hôtel de la Bessée in Villefranche-sur-Saône, France.
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f igure 8.11 Master of Jacques Coeur, Galley ship with the arms of Jacques Cœur (c.1450). Window in the Palais Jacques Coeur, Chambre des Galées, Bourges.
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f igure 9.1 Eastern rose window from Laon Cathedral (c.1200). Exterior view of the choir façade of Laon Cathedral.
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f igure 9.2 Rose window of Christ surrounded by the 24 Elders of the Apocalypse, over lancets of the Prophets carrying the Evangelists (c.1230), south transept façade of Chartres Cathedral.
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f igure 9.3 Typological Crucifixion window from Orbais (c.1200). Orbais, former abbey church of St. Peter, bay 0.
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f igure 9.4 Robert Campin (attributed), Annunciation (c.1440). Panel painting now in Madrid, Museo del Prado.
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f igure 9.5 Typological windows from Arnstein (c.1179–80). From the choir of the church of the former Premonstratensian abbey in Arnstein. Now in Münster, Westfälisches Landesmuseum.
f igure 9.6 Christ with the gifts of the Holy Spirit, panel from the Tree of Jesse window (c. 1179–80). From the choir of the church of the former Premonstratensian abbey in Arnstein, now in Münster, Westfälisches Landesmuseum.
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f igure 9.7 Detail of the Typological Crucifixion from Orbais (c.1200). Upper part of the axial window from the former abbey church of St. Peter, Orbain, bay 0.
f igure 9.8 Moses and the Burning Bush from Arnstein (c.1179–80). From the church of the former Premonstratensian abbey in Arnstein, now in Münster, Westfälisches Landesmuseum.
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Pa rt 3 Approaches to Glass
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c hapter 10
Performative Interaction of Liturgy and Light through the Medium of Painted Glass Madeline H. Caviness … we not only need a corpus of thirteenth-century stained glass … but also a comprehensive study of the local liturgies of the Middle Ages. delaporte and houvet, Vitraux de Chartres, vol. 1, p. 15.
∵ In recent years many historians of the visual and musical arts have begun to look at explorations of the dynamic relationships that existed in the Middle Ages between liturgies and decorated spaces.1 The feast days recorded in ordinaries make it possible to trace the movements of processions throughout the year; sacred geography locates the tombs and reliquaries of the saints, and the altars at which masses were said; and lectionaries or breviaries may record the text of the readings. Unlike movable objects such as books, crosses, and reliquaries, stained-glass windows were made for fixed locations; nonetheless they interacted with ecclesiastic and lay worshippers, highlighting or expanding on stories told in the readings and sung-text, sometimes even inscribed with phrases from the liturgy. In rare cases, glass was reinstalled in a different location to assist changes in the placement of altars.2 Thomas Lentes has remarked on the paradoxical alliance of image and ritual, in that the space of performance of the Mass is also a space of images, yet liturgical books do not provide information about the use of images in the ritual. He argues that images “connect to the ritual of the Mass by framing it in space and time, giving the space of the ritual a specific aura, visualizing its content, and perpetuating the ritual ephemera”.3 I will argue that all liturgical performance, itself both a symbolic representation and a spectacle, is a multisensory enrichment in concert with other visual images. The association can be so close that scholars have thought of some of the Great East windows as retables; 1 For the purposes of this overview, the essential period of art history analyzed is late Romanesque through to late Gothic, approximately the 12th through to the 15th centuries. 2 Caviness, “Stained glass in Gothic chapels”, pp. 137–39, 146–47; and Kurmann-Schwarz and Kurmann, “Chartres”, pp. 134–35. 3 Lentes, “Ereignis und Repräsentation”, p. 184.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 14
Richard Marks for instance likens the one in Gloucester Cathedral to “a gigantic triptych”.4 Arguably, the late medieval folding altarpieces that block the view of earlier stained-glass windows were preferred by the late Middle Ages because selected images could be exhibited in concert with the liturgical calendar, and by then oil paints and glazes could produce durable brilliant colors to compete with stained glass.5 Yet, windows that were obscured were seldom blocked up, and the original glass is often preserved intact, which raises the question: what was stained glass doing by its continued presence behind an altarpiece, other than to keep out the elements? In the collegiate church of St. Margaret in Ardagger (Lower Austria) for example, the 13th-century east window with the life and passion of St. Margaret, is not only a perennial reminder of her feast day, but also a Baroque altarpiece in front of it provides an image of Christ on the cross layered with the tortures of St. Margaret; it is viewed here from the privileged position of the priest or the communicants in the chancel (Figure 10.1). In a setting that was transformed in the late 17th century, the window itself became a relic and her Christ-like suffering was magnified.6 The Ardagger east window is less visible from the nave, but it provides a halo of colored light for Christ on the cross, especially at sunrise.7 Windows may not 4 Marks, Stained Glass, p. 165, citing Rushforth. 5 On the east window in St. Mary’s, Krakow, see Kalinowski et al., “Sredniowieczne witraze”. The cycles for unfolding the altarpieces in St. Lorenz, Nuremburg, are described by Crossley, “Man from inner space”, pp. 165–82. 6 The elegant verse inscriptions may relate to lost liturgical texts. See Kronbichler and Oberhaidacher-Herzig, Margaretenfenster; most recently Laverock, “Visual hagiography”, pp. 152–208. 7 In a life of St. Liudger, of about 850, the first light through a window coincided with a miraculous cure: Schiffhauer, “Wunderbare Glasfenster”, pp. 335–39, 346–49.
176 Caviness unfold but they are volatile in another sense; the light coming through them constantly changes through the day, predictably with the annual and daily shifts in the angle of the sun, and unpredictably with cloud cover, and chromatic balances shift with the degree of luminescence; blues are dominant at the low light levels of dawn and dusk, red and yellow at noon.8 The dim light admitted through the small windows of north European Romanesque churches were compensated for by immense candle wheels that were lit in accordance with special feast days, but these were replaced in the Gothic period by the natural brilliance of large windows.9 Liturgical functions did not dominate all the choices made in producing the complex series of windows in the great Gothic cathedrals, or even of parish churches, nor could all windows be drawn into direct use, whether performative or mnemonic; sometimes windows and liturgies worked in tandem rather than symbiotically. A memorial chapel, like a family grave, could act as a site of memory, drawing lay people at all times of year to contemplate the patron saints and coats of arms in the windows; the Sainte-Chapelle became such an example after the addition of the remains of its founder, St. Louis. In this article I touch on such performative aspects of glass in situ in Christian buildings, as well as some of the more specific connections that have been made between the two media, such as liturgies enacted in front of windows or those with inscriptions that were chanted. It is necessary first though to arrive at a working definition of medieval “liturgy,” and review some recent discussions of the interaction and symbiosis between liturgy and cultural production. 1
Definitions and Roles of Liturgy
Recent scholarship affords a rather one-sided picture. Specialists in the stained glass of the Middle Ages and Renaissance have not routinely included relationships with the liturgy in their purview; the guidelines for the Corpus Vitrearum monographs do not insist on consideration of this aspect, though authors have begun to include it.10 More prolific is recent scholarship on the western Christian liturgy, once thought of as enshrined in 19th-century ecclesiological revivals, which created more guides as well as newly edited texts that elucidated what used to seem arcane practices.11 8 Johnson, Radiance, pp. 16–20. 9 Kroos, “Liturgische Quellen”, pp. 45–46. 10 The guidelines, created and revised over 60 years, are posted at http://www.corpusvitrearum.org/ (last accessed 11 April 2019). 11 Harper, Forms and Orders; Hughes, Manuscripts for Mass; Vogel, Medieval Liturgy.
Many recent studies of “liturgy” begin by tracing the derivation of the term, since it was not commonly used in medieval Latin; instead, terms such as divina officia or ecclesiastica officia (divine or church office) were used. All agree that it derived from the ancient Greek leitourgia (public services), and was adapted in the Septuagint and eventually in the New Testament for worship in the Temple sanctuary.12 In the 2nd century C.E. it was used for the Eucharist, then celebrated in domestic spaces by groups of family and friends.13 Otherwise, it seems to have come into common use for Christian rituals only in the 19th century, by which time it was associated with officiating priests.14 Marie-Pierre Gelin, for instance, relies on Dom Gregory Dix: “Liturgy” is the name given […] to the act of taking part in the solemn corporate worship of God by the “priestly” society of Christians, who are the “body of Christ, the church.” “The liturgy” is the term which covers generally all that worship which is officially organized by the church, and which is open to and offered by, or in the name of, all who are members of the church.15 Richard Pfaff usefully introduced the term “liturgical person” for “one whose life patterns are rooted in liturgical observance and who at the same time either studies the liturgy or makes active choices about it, or both.”16 This expands from the priesthood officiating, to include anchorites reciting the psalms and prayers in solitude; and even members of the laity who were allowed to enter the sanctuary to observe Mass. In addition, kings and queens who had a private capella and their own book of hours to use with or without their confessor, as may be seen in the window of Edward the Confessor, who miraculously saw the Christ Child in the elevated host (Figure 10.2).17 Susan Boynton noted the impossibility of consistently applying a public vs. private distinction between liturgy and devotion, but eventually preferred to use “devotion” for “more flexible practices that can be performed by an individual and do not involve clergy”; 12 13
Heffernan and Matter, Liturgy, pp. 1–9, 653–68. Heffernan and Matter, “Introduction”, p. 2, referring to the First Apology of Justin Martyr. 14 For a historiographical overview, see Pfaff, Liturgical Calendars, pp. 7–11. 15 Cited by Gelin, Lumen, p. 14, from Dix, Shape of Liturgy, p. 1. 16 Pfaff, Liturgical Calendars, p. 3. 17 Including Edward the Confessor, who miraculously saw the Christ Child in the elevated host. See Caviness, “Life of St. Edward”, p. 30; Callias Bey, Chaussé, Gatouillat, Hérold, Les vitraux de Haute-Normandie, bay 1, pp. 304–05. An example in fresco in San Francesco, Assisi is in Parker, “Architecture” pp. 274. See also Vauchez, Laïcs.
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even so, communal monastic prayer falls somewhere in between.18 Anthropologists have further broadened our perspective, since rituals and processions have a place in “societal performance” that imbeds and furthers bonds hegemonies.19 The definition I am working with here embraces that expansion, and challenges the ecclesiastical view, that restricts liturgical practices in the Middle Ages to those designed and officiated in by the clergy in Latin (whether monks, nuns or priests); analyses of accounts of lay participation using the vernacular seem to explode that narrow perspective.20 When peasants working in the fields sang hymns together, this was surely also part of choreographed worship.21 Similarly, some private, as well as shared devotional acts and habitual recitations in front of iconic works of art –the participants perhaps bathed in the colored ambiance of stained glass –also constitute liturgies.22 In the words of Matthew 18.20: “For where there are two or three gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them”.23 Even when a 13th-century jongleur tumbled in front of an image of Our Lady in the Cistercian Abbey Church of Clairvaux, as the best means of worship available to him, his performance seems to have been regarded as liturgical; as he said: “the others do service with song, I will do service with tumbling”. His act went on for the duration of the Mass, observed by the abbot and a monk who also saw the Queen of Heaven descend from the vaults with angels, and soothe him when he collapsed exhausted and unconscious.24 Essential in this liturgical event is the Mass being performed in an adjacent space, and the catalytic presence of a representation of the Virgin, as if it were standing in for an officiating priest, and interacting with the suppliant, thus forming a link to divinity. In this sense, any devotional actions by the pilgrims as they contemplated the saints in the windows, while the monks or canons sounded out the Latin liturgy, would be liturgical. Whereas ecclesiastics had seats and misericords in their 18
Boynton, “Prayer”, p. 896 and n. 2. Exact vs. fluid views of the public and private divide are expressed by Colum Hourihane and John Lowden, “Illuminated books,” in Hourihane, Objects, Images, pp. 4–5, 47–48. 19 Flanigan, Ashley, and Sheingorn, “Liturgy”, pp. 635–52. 20 See Jung, Gothic Screen, p. 196, for the Easter drama performed in front of the choir screen of Havelberg Cathedral, which culminated in a hymn in the vernacular, joined by clerics and lay participants. 21 Huglo, Hymns, pp. 27–28. 22 Bennett, “Commemoration”, pp. 54–78 on the suffrages, or prayers to saints, that became independent of a priest. 23 As in the Douay-Reims Vulgate. 24 Wren and Wren, Perspectives, pp. 250–53.
choir, lay people could fall on their knees or prostrate themselves anywhere in the free space outside it. 2 Spaces for Liturgy vs. the Church as Liturgical Space The essays published by Colum Hourihane comment on relationships between liturgy and artistic works in a variety of materials,25 and the architectural setting provided by stained-glass windows is also acknowledged by some scholars with a primary interest in the liturgy.26 Modern clerical author Allan Doig wrote of the Christian “rite” being interpreted through language/text, gesture, and choreography, with “props such as a table and vessels”.27 His history of liturgy and architecture encompasses not only the Mass or Eucharistic offering, but also the entire monastic cycle of praise of God (laus perennis), small services, and “huge processional celebrations”.28 Overall Doig makes clear that spatial planning and the placement of images are always worth scrutinizing in the light of liturgical needs. Architectural historian Peter Draper contributed a more penetrating essay on “Architecture and liturgy”, and in his later book on English Gothic architecture he establishes the degree to which the growing cult of Thomas Becket drove the design of the new Trinity Chapel in Canterbury Cathedral.29 In general however, he sees “an underlying tension between the aspirations of architecture and the varied liturgical and devotional functions it was required to accommodate”.30 Liturgical needs were met by screens to create subdivisions, and spaces for altars were added for masses endowed by the laity, or for expanded cults such as that of the Virgin, for whom a daily mass had now to be said. Draper acknowledges the impact of the newly designed liturgy for Salisbury Cathedral (the Rite of Sarum) at the time it was rebuilt on fresh ground. Yet, the severe loss of medieval stained glass from the cathedral of Salisbury, as also from Durham and Lincoln, deprives us of the ability to tie programs in glass to the altars and processions. Arnold Klukas, however, wrote about the subjects documented in the lost windows of Durham, and noted that 25 Hourihane, Objects, Images. 26 Ilnitchi, “Music”, pp. 589–612 offers a guide to the principal services and feasts, with their musical components, but she does not relate the 12th-century elaborations to changes in architecture. 27 Doig, Liturgy, p. xxi. 28 Ibid., pp. 143–44. 29 Draper, “Architecture and liturgy”; id., Formation, pp. 22–33, 197–215. 30 Draper, Formation, p. 185.
178 Caviness the Gothic rose window in the east end created a “realm of light” for the high altar and St. Cuthbert’s shrine.31 Canterbury and Wells have more to offer as we will see. Art historian Elizabeth C. Parker, who has paid attention to liturgy throughout her career, has contributed a broader and deeper purview of the interrelated developments in church architecture and decoration in relation to western liturgical traditions and innovations.32 Throughout her historical survey from the 4th to the 15th century, she emphasizes that the essence of these interactions was “to reflect a consistent concern to assert the reality of the intersection of the past and future of ongoing church time and the present liturgical moment of the celebration of Mass”.33 This framework allows her to connect the upward movement of the host at the consecration, toward the images placed overhead –such as the crucifixion over a choir screen or Christ or the Virgin/Ecclesia in clerestory windows –and to accept the symbolic relationship of the church to the Heavenly Jerusalem that is materialized through images.34 Her plotting of the course of the stations of daily prayer in a Benedictine monastery in the 9th century, is valuable for our understanding of later processions.35 In the 13th century, key issues were the changes in theology (notably transubstantiation and the obligation of the secular clergy to provide instruction to the laity), and the increasingly remote involvement of the priest saying Mass, who now turned his back on the laity and performed it behind high screens that separated them from the choir, so that they could barely see, or even hear anything, except for the bell at key moments. At the abbey of Saint-Remi of Reims, I have pointed to a crucial difference between the viewing positions of priests and monks and those available to lay “liturgical persons” or visiting pilgrims. Even the French crown prince and the Pairs de France could not see the Crucifixion in the east window of the tribune as they processed up the nave, because from this angle the corpus was behind a slender column, whereas it was visible to the monks in their choir stalls.36 This difference can also extend to ambient luminosity and the “realm of light”. 31
32 33 34 35 36
Durham’s windows have survived best; an early record of pre- dissolution liturgy and of subjects in some of the 14th-century windows, are reviewed by Klukas, “Durham Cathedral”, pp. 69–83 in conjunction with the findings of Haselock and O’Connor, “Stained glass of Durham”, pp. 105–29. Parker, “Architecture” pp. 245– 93 gives Romanesque and Gothic examples. Ibid., p. 245. See also Stookey, “Cathedral as heavenly Jerusalem”. Parker, “Architecture”, pp. 237–61. Caviness, “Stasis and movement”, p. 70, fig. 3; ead., Sumptuous Arts, p. 46, pl. 1.
Gerald Guest has suggested that stained glass and liturgy (as performance) “might be understood as analogous modes for representing (or re-representing) the sacred”, finding some “resonant parallels” in the structuring of hagiographic narratives.37 He also noted that some events depicted in windows, such as a bishop presiding over the burial of Mary Magdalen at Chartres, resonate with contemporary liturgical performances. Ecclesiastics in windows also move in urban and exterior spaces as well as in the confines of their church, just as stational liturgies linked the cathedral to the town and country surrounding it. Indeed, the many episcopal saints celebrated in glass of this period baptize, pardon, consecrate churches, and bless the crops.38 3 Liturgical Books as Sources for Stained Glass vs. Glass as Evidence for Liturgical Practices Almost all medieval religious buildings serve very different communities now than they once did –whether monastic or secular –and the books used in them are often dispersed or lost. As such, the recovery of a full picture of the liturgical practices once associated with them is laborious at best, and sometimes impossible. Stained glass has similarly suffered attrition, such that only a handful of medieval buildings retain anything approaching their original complement of windows. So, it is rare to be able to match a program in glass with anything close to the full range of rituals, readings, and sung-text once conducted within the spaces it defines. Significant but incomplete sources are available for some churches however, that will be touched on below. These are: the Abbey Church of Saint-Denis; the cathedral of Chartres; the Sainte-Chapelle in Paris; Canterbury Cathedral Priory and Wells Cathedral in England; and Cologne and Halberstadt39 cathedrals in the German Empire.40 Yet, few service books are detailed enough to help clarify unusual subjects in windows: even when a saint has several feasts in the calendar and an ordinal indicates that a life was read, there may be no full life preserved in a lectionary or breviary. Using the actual sources is laborious (at least to this scholar), and often merely tantalizing. At the same time, negative evidence within such books is not proof that a mass for a given saint’s life in the windows did not take place; indeed images 37 38 39 40
Guest, “Stained glass and liturgy”, pp. 271–85. Caviness, “Episcopal cults”, pp. 76–87. Fitz, “Farbverglasung der Marienkapelle”, pp. 97–102. The liturgical adjustments from the Romanesque double- ended cathedral in Cologne to the Gothic building have been traced by Kroos, “Liturgische Quellen”, pp. 35–202.
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in glass can sometimes give an indication of the rituals that were performed even if no liturgical books are preserved.41 A hagiographical window can be taken as evidence for the existence of such an office, and some even pre-date the official cult; Elizabeth Pastan has presented this latter argument for Charlemagne based on a window in the northeastern choir aisle at Chartres.42 4
Some “Liturgical Programs” in Glass
An obvious place to begin to connect subjects in glass with liturgical performance, is with ubiquitous services such as the Mass and the Sacraments (including the Eucharist), as well as the Christological and Marian feasts of Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Easter, Pentecost, and the Assumption of the Virgin. These provide multiple points of intersection with narrative subjects in glass. The Crucifixion in an east window, behind or floating above an altar, indubitably resonates with the Eucharist, and there are very many examples from all periods. In monastic or collegiate settings they are likely to be typological, since Old Testament scenes such as the Signum Tau (the sign on the door at Passover), Moses striking water from a rock, Jonah emerging from the whale, and the Israelites carrying the grapes into Canaan, are invoked in the liturgy, as well as being known through Bible commentaries (Figure 10.3).43 Jane Hayward has pointed to a group of 13th-century Redemption windows in small parish churches in the Loire Valley that combine the living Christ on the cross with his Nativity and Resurrection, the three Marys at the empty tomb, and Christ enthroned in heaven.44 All are located in the east end of the church, behind the altar where they were directly in front of the priest officiating at the Mass, so that during the elevation of the host or chalice his eyes would move up from the Passion through the Resurrection and to Christ in heaven. She cites Emile Mâle’s view that the stational Easter liturgies were plausibly invoked in some of these scenes.45 In that case, events that were recalled in the rituals enacted in the nave are collected in the chancel, where they shed light on the daily mass while being withdrawn from the sight of the laity. In a few other cases, notably Chartres Cathedral, a Redemption window was placed at the east end of the “secular” 41 Kurmann-Schwarz, Königsfelden, pp. 214–30. 42 Pastan, “Charlemagne”, p. 99, citing Manhes- Deremble, Vitraux narratifs, p. 77 for other examples. 43 Caviness, Windows of Christ Church Cathedral, pp. 165–72; discussed by Gelin, Lumen, p. 198. 44 Hayward, “Redemption windows”. 45 Mâle, Religious Art, pp. 126–53.
space of the nave, where it would have flanked the high altar in front of the choir screen when the choir was being rebuilt.46 The huge Crucifixion window behind the high altar of Fairford Parish Church (Gloucestershire) is very visible through the chancel screen; it is considered below in the context of chantry liturgy. In many churches, a crucifix sculpted in an opaque material and placed on top of this rood screen contrasted with the ineffability and luminosity of the window beyond the altar, as in Ardagger (Figure 10.1). The abbey of Saint-Denis just north of Paris is the chameleon of modern medievalism. Depending on the dominant viewing position, it is: a royal bastion and pantheon; the creative epicenter of the Gothic style in architecture if not in sculpture and glass-painting, the source of images like the Tree of Jesse that became ubiquitous in Christian art; a place where an intellectual elite wove theology into visual images; or it is a Benedictine monastery with a community of “liturgical persons” who adapted and reformed their celebrations –and their church –through the centuries. All but the last interpretation place Abbot Suger at the center, which demonstrates the power of his text about the abbey.47 The liturgical turn took attention away from Suger’s authorship and originality by immersing him in the continuum of monastic worship, and the Marian cult of his time. The main contributors to this have been Anne Walters Robertson, Niels Rasmussen, and Andreas Speer.48 Noting Suger’s concern with enlarged windows, Speer suggested that “Perhaps he would have perceived the light streaming through the window as a symbol of the perennial liturgical order within the changing hours of the office”.49 For another monastic house, Christ Church Canterbury, enormous contributions to an understanding of its liturgies, notably the offices for Thomas Becket, have been made since I wrote the Corpus Vitrearum volume in 1981. These contributions include those by Andrew Hughes, Sherry Reames, Kay Slocum, and Marie-Pierre 46
Lautier, “Sacred topography”, pp. 181. For images and description see Manhes-Deremble, Vitraux narratifs, pp. 56, 352– 53, window 37; Delaporte and Houvet, Vitraux de Chartres, vol. 1, pp. 383–91, window 59. For a concordance between Delaporte’s window numbering, and the Corpus Vitrearum numbering now in use, see Manhes-Deremble, Vitraux narratifs, pp. 296–97. 47 Critiques of the Suger- centric histories include: Kidson, “Panofsky”; Speer, “Art as liturgy”; Rudolph, “Inventing the exegetical”; Murray, Plotting Gothic, pp. 73–95. 48 Robertson, “Music and liturgy at the Abbey of Saint-Denis”; ead., Service Books of the Royal Abbey; Rasmussen, “Liturgy at Saint-Denis”; Speer, “Art as liturgy”; id., “Luculento ordine”. See also Caviness, “Stained glass in Gothic chapels”, pp. 135–41. 49 Speer, “Art as liturgy”, p. 872.
180 Caviness Gelin.50 The latter is concerned with the entire program of subjects in the glass, and emphasizes the cycle of prayer and meditation that was grounded in Anglo-Saxon custom and Benedictine monasticism. Politics and pilgrims, that have been more popular subjects among art historians, do not drop out of sight, but these scholars take into account the continuum and melismas of the liturgies that once filled the building day in and day out. As Susan Boynton stated: “Like the monastic garment, the liturgy was a habit that could not be shed, a fundamental and underlying condition of life in a religious community”, noting that the first thing a novice learned by heart was the psalms.51 Indeed, Gelin claims this as the source of typologies; yet he soon finds that a full exegesis of the windows also requires knowledge of the theological tenets and disputes of the time, and not all were reflected in the liturgy, nor indeed would they be known to all the brethren.52 His use of the detailed descriptions of various rites in the Constitutions of Lanfranc (archbishop 1070–89) and the Regularis Concordia of 970 are quite illuminating, but specifics are rare, and such a narrowly focused study is hampered by the extreme rarity of liturgical manuscripts from Canterbury in the period of glazing c.1175–122053 In emphasizing the Eucharist above other rites, Gelin omits references to the readings or sung-texts that might have inspired the remarkable corpus of inscriptions in these windows. My more recent assessment of the ancestors of Christ in the clerestory windows –a clear allusion to the dedication of the whole church to Christ –goes further in placing them in the context of liturgies through the year.54 At the same time, Jeremy Noble’s study informs us of the musical settings for the genealogies that aided the memorization and recitation of these long lists, that complements the mnemonic function of the windows.55 The medieval ordinal and lectionaries of Chartres were well known to Yves Delaporte when he wrote his detailed account of the windows, and he used the textual lives of the saints to explain the pictorial events, a process continued by several scholars. Yet the visual narratives are fuller and richer than the texts, since a single 50
Hughes, “Chants in the rhymed office”; Reames, “Liturgical offices”; Slocum, Liturgies in Honour of Thomas Becket; Gelin, Lumen. 51 Boynton, “Prayer”, p. 897. 52 Gelin, Lumen, pp. 136–40. 53 Gelin, Lumen, pp. 5–6, 42–45. Also see Lanfranc, The Monastic Constitutions of Lanfranc; Aethelwold, Regularis Concordia; Bowers “Liturgy of the cathedral”, pp. 408–15. 54 Caviness, “Visual and cognitive impact”, pp. 79–80. 55 Noble, “The genealogies of Christ”.
window may contain more than 30 scenes.56 Liturgical drama is a useful adjunct, as pointed out by Anne Harris in the case of the two windows with stories from the St. Nicholas repertory; the division between nave and chapel also mirrors the feast-day procession in the Ordinal that culminates at the altar, that has the baptism of a converted Jew above it.57 Margot Fassler has brought to life the 12th-century windows and sculpture by reassociating their themes with liturgical texts and processions.58 She also used the stational liturgy and sung-text to add a performative resonance to the Marian windows, such as the famous Belle-Verrière: a 12th-century Virgin enthroned with the Child that was amplified with angels and narrative scenes when it was reinstalled in the south choir aisle of the 13th-century building (see Figure 4.5). The Child holds an open book inscribed “Omnis vallis implebitur” (“Every valley shall be filled”: Luke 3.5, citing Isaiah), a phrase that was chanted during Advent, as recorded in the chartrain liturgical books.59 Other scholars have expanded the liturgical import of this figure to encompass the symbolism of the real presence in the Eucharist.60 In the clerestory windows in the turning bays of the apse, the Virgin/Ecclesia, enthroned with the Christ Child, is approached by an immense figure of the Archangel Michael with a censor, acting as a relay to heaven for the censing and Mass at the High Altar below, and recalling especially the culmination of the annual stational liturgy to and from the church if St. Michael in Chartres.61 Relics had a clear connection to the liturgies performed in their honor; the dismembered saint often had an altar dedicated to him/her giving the feast a locus, and a stained-glass window with the saint’s life often lit their chapels.62 In the Gothic rebuilding of cathedrals it is apparent that relics, with altars and the offices, were transposed from a dark crypt to a chapel that was easily accessible to processions; if you imagine churchmen in long gowns carrying reliquaries and candles negotiating 56
Delaporte and Houvet, Vitraux de Chartres, vol. 1, pp. 14–15, 161 n.1, citing three lectionaries in the episcopal library of Chartres: mss. 500 and 501 (12th century), and 507 (10th century); Delaporte, L’Ordinaire chartrain. See also Lautier, “Reliques et images”. 57 Harris, “Saint Nicholas”, pp. 22–25; ead., “Performative terms”, pp. 119–41. 58 Fassler, Virgin of Chartres, pp. 205–336, and earlier studies. 59 Brisac et al., “La Belle-Verrière”, p. 19. 60 Hediger and Kurmann- Schwarz, “Reliquie und Skulptur”, pp. 137–39, 153; they plausibly support a date before 1137 (or 1140–50), over the previously accepted one of c.1180. Also Kurmann-Schwarz and Lautier, “L’Essor”, p. 57. 61 Caviness, “Stained glass in Gothic chapels”, pp. 146, fig. 8. 62 Lautier, “Reliques et images”.
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dark stair vices, the advantage is evident. As mentioned at the outset, the cult of St. Benedict at Saint-Denis and the associated stained-glass cycle were brought up into the ambulatory of the new choir. The rebuilding of Clermont Cathedral, begun in 1248, occasioned the destruction of the ancient crypt and a very coherent allocation of chapel space, altars and narratives in glass, to the saints whose relics are recorded there.63 At Chartres, altars were set up in the nave in honor of the saints whose relics were brought up from the crypt in the first phase of the rebuilding, and in most cases the adjacent windows reflect the dedication; the reliquary of the Virgin’s chemise was not translated from her crypt chapel until it could be permanently displayed in the choir, with consequences for the liturgy and for the Marian emphasis in the clerestory windows above it.64 In Canterbury, although two Lady Chapels were maintained, in the crypt and in the nave, there is no evidence that her cult was acknowledged in stained glass until a new chapel was built for her off the north transept in the 15th century, although iconoclasm has deprived us of any devotional images that might have been in the windows.65 The cathedral of Halberstadt is one of many late Gothic Lady Chapels that enhanced the cult of the Virgin, and it retains four of its five original windows intact.66 They were witness to the special liturgies and the relic of her milk that were housed there from 1362, to mirror or rival the neighboring Liebfrauenkirche. A crypt chapel that had been refurbished in 1289 –when the cathedral was placed under her joint patronage with St. Stephen and Sixtus, while acknowledging her as the sole patroness – was replaced by one in the axis of the upper church. The antiphon for vespers in Advent, “Rorate coeli desuper et nubes pluant justum” (“Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain on the just”: Isaiah 45.8), was sung at all the daily masses for the Virgin, with candles, and the ringing of an Ave bell. In the windows, with a Jesse Tree and a Motherhood of the Virgin (Infancy of Christ) cycle, are also prophets with scrolls inscribed with texts from the Rorate antiphon. In another window, with the Coronation of the Virgin, the orders of angels and the saints are arranged in a heavenly choir in the hierarchical order of the litany. Wells Cathedral was mentioned above as a rare case where enough medieval glass is preserved to be able to discuss it in relation to the Sarum Missal, and Timothy Ayers has made full use of the opportunity; in addition, 63 Davis, “Frames of vision”, pp. 205–16. 64 Lautier, “Sacred topography”, pp. 174–96. 65 Sparks, Two Lady Altars. 66 Fitz, “Farbverglasung der Marienkapelle”, pp. 98–102; ead., Halberstädter Dom.
he is able to refer to a partial 15th-century calendar and a list of saint’s days.67 The repetition of the Crucifixion in the east windows of the retro-choir chapels is remarkable in light of a 13th-century English statute requiring a crucifix to be placed on the altar, so this may be another case of layering as at Ardagger (Figure 10.1). Ayers is circumspect about claiming a place for the glass behind an altar as a substitute for a crucifix on it, or for a reredos behind it, but brings out the resonances of these “image screens” with the Eucharist and Advent liturgies. He also plausibly relates the nursing Christ Child to the new emphasis on the bodily nature of Christ found in the Corpus Christi celebration, introduced to Wells by 1273; thus, the image of the lactating Virgin in the Lady Chapel is as appropriate for the elevation of the host as a crucifixion or other Eucharistic image. Ayers focuses on the medieval life of these images by citing the number of lessons given for each saint who is present in the windows, many of which were only easily viewed by the clergy, for whom the windows were made. 5 Ecclesiastical Control and Lay Devotion: from Coronations to Chantries A series of checks and balances between ecclesiastical powers meant that several French and German abbeys and cathedrals were involved in sanctioning the coronation of a king or emperor-elect. The subject is vast, and windows in Reims, both at the abbey and the cathedral, as well as Cologne are implicated. The rebuilding of the cathedral of Cologne from 1248 through the early 16th century offers the possibility of following its major relic of the Magi not only in the positioning of their great late 12th-century shrine, but also in the liturgy and the glass.68 The Magi were associated with the oblations of the Mass and the Eucharistic procession;69 the submission of kings to the Virgin/Ecclesia was also of major political import in relation to coronations. The adoration of the Magi is prominently represented in two windows in the eastern axial chapel dedicated to the Three Kings, the site of the shrine after 1322, though the intention was to move it into the crossing. From that position pilgrims would have seen 67 Ayers, The Medieval Stained Glass of Wells Cathedral, pp. lxxv- lxxxviii, 21–26, 152, 154–55, 159–60, 310–13. 68 Brinkmann and Lauer, “Die mittelalterlichen Glasfenster des Kölner Domchores”; Kroos, “Liturgische Quellen”, did not fully coordinate her findings with Rode, Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien des Kölner Domes, but he only gave basic information for chapel and altar dedications. 69 Ciresi, “Liturgical study”.
182 Caviness another representation of the Adoration, high up in both lights of the axial window of the choir clerestory. It was flanked by 48 standing kings with orbs and scepters, that are understood by Peter Kurmann to signify both Old Testament and German kings: it was customary for the kings to attend a mass in Cologne after their coronation in Aachen.70 The kings of France were strictly controlled by the abbots and archbishops throughout their coronation, from their penance in Reims the day before to their progress up the nave to a temporary altar, where the archbishop and bishops performed the sacrament of anointing. Kings were not allowed to enter the choir in either the cathedral or the abbey at Reims, nor take control of the Sainte Ampoule (the flask of oil that the Holy Spirit had supplied for the unction of Clovis on his conversion).71 The clerestory glazing programs of the late 12th and mid-13th centuries in both rémois foundations reflect the division of power between arch/bishops and kings, with figures of kings relegated to the nave, thus also articulating the distinction between the liturgical choir enclosed behind a screen, and the public space of the nave that opened onto the town to the west.72 In reading the subjects in the small roses above the double lights of the nave clerestory in light of the Coronation Ordos of 1230 and 1250, Meredith Lillich has differentiated pre-and post-coronation themes, noting especially the Christological status of the anointed king.73 When Louis ix built his own chapel within the palace courtyard in Paris, he ensured free access for himself and his successors to the hours, masses, marriages, and coronations performed in it, and to his own reliquary after he was canonized in 1297, in addition to the Crown of Thorns and other relics of the passion of Christ that he had installed there in 1248 as a raison d’être of its foundation. The structure is like the triforium and clerestory of a cathedral choir, perched in the piano nobile over a lower chapel, the very level at which enthroned archbishops and bishops are represented in the rémois coronation buildings. Its comprehensive liturgical use cannot be reconstructed, but the feast days concerning the relics acquired by the king are not in doubt.74 Alyce Jordan has demonstrated that “comparative analysis of liturgical texts and vitreous images is a textured view of the ways in which each medium lent complexity to the other”.75 The Old Testament kings, represented in narratives in
the windows, echo their prominence in the coronation rite as models for kingship. Further, she concludes that Louis himself was shaped as a living exponent of the values embodied in the convergence of text and image in the Sainte-Chapelle. The way that liturgy always functions to elide past and present becomes political as well as spiritual in this context. The lessons read in the liturgy for the translation of the Crown of Thorns to Paris, tracing the history of the relic into the present, function in the same way: the presence of the relic in France is to bring joy to all the people, since it is part of salvation history. Even the procession that brought it into Paris in 1239, joined by all the churches with their reliquaries, is remembered in the encrusted glass wall medallions with the martyrdoms of those saints under the windows. The interior is one of the most heavily freighted spaces imaginable. Far simpler are the memorial chapels for bourgeois families that became commonplace in the later Middle Ages, such as the chapels built out from the nave aisles of Chartres and Bourges in the 15th century that have resplendent windows.76 Endowed masses for the dead, known as chantries, are documented in charters and wills, which may reveal information about special dedications; some annual gifts were optimistically designated in perpetuity. In Chartres, canon Thierry had panels with the Virgin and Child and other saints inserted, in 1328, in the bottom of a window in the south transept, to mark the foundation of an altar of the Virgin positioned against the nearby pier. A legacy provided an annual mass for his soul, but the mnemonic function of the inscription in the glass has long outlasted the funding of a chantry priest.77 The Church instituted new masses and feast days that became popular in churches used by the laity. David King found that the donor of a large window about 1445–55 in the parish church of Saint Peter Mancroft in Norwich, also gave a Missal for use at the feast of the Name of Jesus.78 For the even grander and wealthier parish church of Fairford, the principal donors rebuilt a chapel on the north side c.1500 that became the family mausoleum and chantry chapel. The south chapel was dedicated to Corpus Christi, which, in Sarah Brown’s words, became “one of the most elaborate of festivals, marked by processions involving the whole parish”.79 A remarkably coherent program of images in stained
70 Kurmann, “Heinrich II.”, especially pp. 224–28. 71 Bayard, Sacres, pp. 100–01, 185–87. 72 Caviness, Sumptuous Arts, pp. 51–64. 73 Lillich, Gothic Stained Glass of Reims, pp. 153–75. 74 Palazzo, “La liturgie de la Sainte-Chapelle”. 75 Jordan, “Stained glass and liturgy”, pp. 274–97.
76
Kurmann-Schwarz, “Les vitraux du XVe siècle des chapelles latérales de Bourges”. 77 Lautier, “Un vitrail parisien à Chartres”. 78 King, St Peter Mancroft, pp. lxxviii, lxxxiii, clxxxi-clxxxiv, 69–70. 79 Brown, “Image, liturgy”, p. 7; Brown and MacDonald, Life, Death and Art.
Performative Interaction of Liturgy and Light
glass utilizes the effects of dim, cool northern light, and brilliant, warm southern light, to contrast demons and evil persecutors of the church with shining angels and saints in the clerestory windows. The Passion, which is in the east window of the chancel, faces a theatrical Last Judgment in the west window. Each east window seems to have functioned as a reredos for the altar below it, with a central scene of elevation resonating with the Eucharist. The windows show the Crucifixion, Assumption, and a Transfiguration that has a “golden host radiating from Christ’s breast”; the last is a notable departure from the usual Eucharistic association with the blood from the side wound. Each of these also resonates with a weekly mass: Corpus Christi on Thursdays, Holy Cross on Fridays, and the Virgin on Saturdays. 6 Other Episcopal and Priestly Duties to the Laity Many more churches and chapels built or glazed after 1200 in which glass has survived were for the use of the laity, rather than for men and women in orders. Changes in the early 13th century, notably the affirmation of transubstantiation, were popularized in Eucharistic windows. The Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 also enjoined bishops to ensure that the laity be instructed in the basic tenets of Christianity, including the role of prayer and the sacraments.80 Priests performed the sacraments, with the exception of ordination, for their parishioners, thus providing ecclesiastical experiences from birth to the grave. The depiction of the baptism of a saint, such as Eustace and his family in the nave of Chartres, could remind parents to bring their child to the font, that most churches placed toward the west end of the nave for the sacrament.81 Similarly, they could be inspired by a scene of John the Baptist baptizing Christ, as in the west window of Chartres in the mid-12th century, and in the church of Conches-en- Ouche in the early 16th century (Figures 10.4 and 10.5).82 Marriages also took place in the nave (or the porch), and the Church asserted its role in consecrating the union increasingly from the 11th century onwards. God presenting Eve to Adam was claimed as an antecedent, and the marriage of Joseph and the Virgin as a model; both are represented in nave windows at Chartres.83 80 Marks, Stained Glass, pp. 78–85. 81 Manhes-Deremble, Vitraux narratifs, Baie 43, pp. 362–63. 82 Hérold, “À l’église et au musée”, pp. 473–78. 83 Manhes-Deremble, Vitraux narratifs, baie 44, pp. 364–65 for the depiction of Adam and Eve in the Good Samaritan window; for the Marriage of the Virgin see ead., baie 28b, pp. 338–39.
183 The sacrament of Penance was associated with north doors, as Otto Werckmeister has argued for the north portal of St. Lazare in Autun and its famous sculpture of Eve on her belly like a serpent. Lay people did penance publicly in advance of Holy Week, and could be absolved after ritual expulsion from the church at the beginning of Lent, to be readmitted through the same door on Maundy Thursday to receive communion. This rite entered the Roman Ordo very early, and Gregory the Great in his commentary on Ezekiel’s vision references a “door to the north” through which the penitent might return.84 The sins of Adam and Eve and Cain dominate the north transept rose window of Reims Cathedral; Meredith Lillich has plausibly associated its theme of error and repentance with the excommunication and public flogging imposed on rebellious townspeople in 1237 and 1240 and their making amends to the cathedral chapter.85 Yet it is likely that those events only dramatized and magnified an annual ritual. The Charlemagne window in Chartres is also said to emphasize penance since it includes the Mass of St. Giles when he received divine instruction to absolve the king of incest.86 More directly didactic is the late medieval clustering of all the sacraments in one window. One in the parish Church of St. Mary in Melbury Bubb (Dorset), retains two subjects from a Seven Sacraments Window of a kind that was quite common in the west of England in the 15th century; one in Doddiscombsleigh (Devon) is also illustrated here (Figures 10.6 and 10.7).87 The Melbury window was glazed c.1466–75, probably at the behest of the Rector, Walter Bokeler, named in an inscription in the stonework of the east window that credits him with rebuilding the church. The central figure of Christ displaying his wounds can be related to the Corpus Christi feast, but his blood emanates from his wounds like rays; one strikes the hand of the bishop who is ordaining a priest, as if to denote a stigmata. The sacraments were indispensable to salvation, but these windows also assert the direct connection of the priesthood to Christ, at a time when ecclesiastic authority had been under attack by the Lollards. Few of these sacraments’ windows are in their original positions, but they were likely placed in view of the laity; the Melbury window remains in the western part of the nave.88 84 Werckmeister, “Lintel fragment”, pp. 15–27. 85 Lillich, Gothic Stained Glass of Reims, pp. 107–30. 86 Feltman, “Charlemagne’s sin”. 87 Several examples are described by Marks, Stained Glass, p. 79; id., Stained Glass of Holy Trinity, pp. 202–04, for the remains of a window dated 1482 that was once in the south nave aisle of Tattershall; Rushforth, “Seven sacraments”. 88 Hutchins, History and Antiquities, vol. 4, p. 435. Pre-restoration water-color drawings and descriptions are in Buckler and
184 Caviness The program of about 1500 devised for the north choir aisle in Great Malvern Priory Church, which served many lay donors, seems to have been devised as a spiritual guide. Three sacraments panels come from a large window that may also have contained the Nunc Dimittis (“Now Thou dost dismiss [Thy servant, O Lord, according to Thy word in peace]”), adapted from Luke 2.29–32 to dismiss the congregation at the end of a service.89 A whole window set high in the north transept proclaims the Magnificat; the verses of the canticle are inscribed on speaking scrolls, while the scenes of joys of the Virgin are more clearly labeled across the top of the panels (each beginning Gaude: Rejoice).90 Scenes with inscriptions from liturgical texts, increasingly used in the late Middle Ages, may have assisted laity who had passive literacy in Latin to remember the recitation of Hail Mary’s, the Pater Noster, the Creed, the Magnificat, and the Sanctus. Yet very often they can scarcely be deciphered from below, and I argue that the glass functioned like a solar prayer-wheel, proclaiming its message even when it was out of sight as long as daylight activated it. Here and elsewhere scrolls that twist and turn prevent easy reading; the text remains as elusive as it is when we hear it imperfectly in a large space (Figure 10.8). Trumpeting angels fulfilling the vision of the Apocalypse sound out from many scenes in the Great East Window of York Minster, designed by John Thornton of Coventry in 1405; another holds an open book inscribed with the words of Psalm 31.11.91 The symbols of the evangelists surrounding the Almighty are helped by angels in singing Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus Deus Omnipotens (Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty: Rev. 4.1-3, 5–8), and seem to chant along with the variant refrain of the Sanctus during Mass at the high altar in the choir below (Figure 10.8). The Almighty’s red-purple mantle glows in the light of vespers like the jasper described in the text, with pure white angels shining round him like stars.
masses, and direct prayers for special occasions. But they also supplied a focus for devotion regardless of the daily rhythm of the hours, the weekly rhythm of masses, or the annual rhythm of feast days. Their perennial presence counter-balances the alternating presence and absence of the liturgy. As spectacular images they complement the visual spectacle of formal liturgy. Whereas embroidered altar cloths and priests’ vestments, precious reliquaries, and folding altarpieces are movable, and could be lit at will by candles in concert with the liturgy, the luminous colors of stained glass had a mystical significance that was only fully revealed by the daily and seasonal movements of the sun. Figures and texts in windows came to life at dawn, with the first prayers of the day, and darkened at vespers. The coming of Light into the world at Christ’s nativity is often represented in the eastern windows, where the rising sun strikes first; with the Crucifixion, Resurrection, and Ascension, scenes that evoke the celebration of the Eucharist, are at the altar in front. In tracery lights in many late medieval churches, angels with scrolls for sung-text join in the heavenly chorus and boys’ choirs below or in galleries, strained to sound ethereal. As I indicated at the outset, the boundary between liturgy and private prayer is not always distinct, and painted glass was a vector for both. Occasional repetition between the two media might be called symbiotic, although more often the visual presence of glass complemented the fleeting, if repetitive, sensory input of oral recitations, ritual movements, and the scent of incense. Windows over altars were inevitably connected to the Mass by the celebrant and close participants as they raised their eyes. If we expand the definition of liturgy, as I have suggested, it is hard to find any medieval church window that does not resonate with the worship of the divinity and saints that it illuminates.
7
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185 couleurs: études d’histoire de l’art du Moyen Âge en l’honneur d’Anne Prache, Paris, 1999, pp. 61–71. Caviness, M.H., “Stained glass windows in Gothic chapels, and the feasts of the saints”, in Bock et. al. (eds.), Kunst und Li turgie, pp. 135–48. Caviness, M.H., “The visual and cognitive impact of the ancestors of Christ in Canterbury and elsewhere”, in J. Weaver and M.H. Caviness (eds.), The Ancestors of Christ Windows at Canterbury Cathedral, Los Angeles, 2013, pp. 69–97. Ciresi, L.V., “A liturgical study of the shrine of the Three Kings in Cologne”, in Hourihane (ed.), Objects, Images, and the Word, pp. 202–30. Crossley, P., “The man from inner space: architecture and meditation in the choir of St. Laurence in Nuremberg”, in G.R. Owen-Crocker and T. Graham (eds.), Medieval Art: Recent Perspectives. A Memorial Tribute to C.R. Dodwell, Manchester, 1998, pp. 165–82. Davis, M.T., “Frames of vision: architecture and stained glass at Clermont Cathedral”, in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing, pp. 197–216. Delaporte, Y., “L’Ordinaire chartrain du XIII siècle”, Mémoires de la Société archéologique d’Eure-et-Loir 19 (1952–53). Delaporte, Y. and Houvet, E., Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres. Histoire et description, 4 vols., Chartres, 1926. Dix, G., Shape of Liturgy, London, 1945. Doig, A., Liturgy and Architecture from the Early Church to the Middle Ages, Burlington, VT, 2008. Draper, P., “Architecture and liturgy”, in J. Alexander and P. Binski (eds.), The Age of Chivalry: Art in Plantagenet England, 1200–1400, London, 1987, pp. 88–91. Draper, P., The Formation of English Gothic:Architecture and Identity, New Haven, CT, 2006. Fassler, M.E., The Virgin of Chartres: Making History through Liturgy and the Arts, New Haven, CT, 2010. Fassler, M.E. and Baltzer, R.A. (eds.), The Divine Office in the Latin Middle Ages: Methodology and Source Studies, Regional Developments, Hagiography. Written in Honor of Professor Ruth Steiner, Oxford, 2000. Feltman, J.M., “Charlemagne’s sin, the last judgement, and the new theology of penance at Chartres”, Studies in Iconography 35 (2014), 121–64. Fitz, E., “Die Farbverglasung der Marienkapelle des Domes zu Halberstadt im Kontext von Liturgie und Kult”, in Kalinowski, Malkiewicz, and Karaszkiewicz (eds.), Stained Glass as Monumental Painting, pp. 97–102. Fitz, E., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Halberstädter Dom (CVMA Deutschland, 17), Berlin, 2003. Flanigan, C.C., Ashley, K., and Sheingorn, P., “Liturgy as social performance: expanding the definitions”, in Heffernan and Matter (eds.), The Liturgy, pp. 695–714. Gelin, M.-P., Lumen ad revelationem gentium: iconographie et liturgie à Christ Church, Canterbury, 1175–1220, Turnhout, 2006.
186 Caviness Guest, G.B., “Stained glass and liturgy: the uses and limits of an analogy”, Journal of Glass Studies 56 (2014), 271–85. Harper, J., The Forms and Orders of Western Liturgy: from the Tenth to the Eighteenth Century. A Historical Introduction and Guide for Students and Musicians, 1st ed., Oxford, 1991. Harris, A.F., “The performative terms of Jewish iconoclasm and conversion in two Saint Nicholas windows at Chartres Cathedral”, in M.B. Merback (ed.), Beyond the Yellow Badge: Anti-Judaism and Antisemitism in Medieval and Early Modern Visual Culture (Brill’s Series in Jewish Studies, 37),Leiden, 2008, pp. 119–41. Harris, A.F., “Saint Nicholas in context: stained glass and liturgical drama in the Archbishopric of Sens”, in Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext, pp. 22–25. Haselock, J. and O’Connor, D.E., “The Medieval stained glass of Durham Cathedral”, in N. Coldstream and P. Draper (eds.), Medieval Art and Architecture at Durham Cathedral, Durham, 1977, pp. 105–29. Hayward, J., “The redemption windows of the Loire Valley”, in S.M. Crosby et al. (eds.), Études d’art médiéval offertes à Louis Grodecki, Paris, 1981, pp. 129–44. Hediger, C. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Reliquie und Skulptur im Glasfenster. Intermediale Auratisierung am Beispiel von Notre-Dame de la Belle-Verrière”, in U.J. Beil, C. H erberichs, and M. Sandl (eds.) Auratisierung in medialer Perspektive (Medienwandel –Medienwechsel –Medienwissen, 27), Zürich, 2014, pp. 136–60. Heffernan, T.J. and Matter, E.A., “Introduction to the liturgy of the Medieval Church”, in eidem (eds.), The Liturgy, pp. 1–9. Heffernan, T.J. and Matter, E.A., The Liturgy of the Medieval Church, 2nd ed., Kalamazoo, MI, 2005. Hérold, M., “À l’église et au musée: l’oeuvre normande du Maître de la Vie de saint Jean-Baptiste”, in Kalinowski, Malkiewicz, and Karaszkiewicz (eds.), Stained Glass as Monumental Painting, pp. 113–30. Hourihane, C. (ed.), Objects, Images, and the Word: Art in the Service of the Liturgy (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 6), Princeton, 2003. Hughes, A., “Chants in the rhymed office of St Thomas of Canterbury”, Early Music 16 (1988), 185–201. Hughes, A., Medieval Manuscripts for Mass and Office: a Guide to their Organization and Terminology, Toronto, 1995. Huglo, M., Les livres de chant liturgique (Typologie des Sources du Moyen Âge Occidental, 52), Turnhout, 1988. Hutchins, J., The History and Antiquities of the County of Dorset: Compiled from the Best and Most Ancient Historians, 4 vols., 3rd ed., Westminster, 1861. Ilnitchi, G., “The music of the liturgy”, in Heffernan and Matter (eds.), The Liturgy, pp. 589–612. Johnson, J.R., The Radiance of Chartres: Studies in the Early Stained Glass of the Cathedral (Columbia University Studies in Art History and Archaeology, 4), New York, 1965.
Jordan, A.A., “Stained glass and the liturgy: performing sacral kingship in Capetian France”, in Hourihane (ed.), Objects, Images, and the Word, pp. 274–97. Jung, J.E., The Gothic Screen: Space, Sculpture, and Community in the Cathedrals of France and Germany, ca. 1200–1400, Cambridge, 2013. Kalinowski L., Malkiewiczówna, H., Heine L., and Karaszkiewicz, P., Sredniowieczne witraze kosciola Mariackiego w Krakowie. Historia i konserwacja [The medieval stained- glass windows of St. Mary’s church in Cracow. History and restoration] (Studia i Materialy. Wydzialu Konserwacji I Restauracji, 7), Krakow, 1997. Kalinowski, L., Małkiewicz H., and Karaszkiewicz P. (eds.), Stained Glass as Monumental Painting (Proceedings of the 19th International Colloquium of the CVMA), Krakow, 1999. Kidson, P., “Panofsky, Suger and Saint-Denis”, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 50 (1987), 1–17. King, D.J., The Medieval Stained Glass of St Peter Mancroft, Norwich (CVMA Great Britain, 5), London, 2006. Klukas, A., “Durham Cathedral in the Gothic era: liturgy, design, ornament”, in Raguin, Brush, and Draper (eds.), Artistic Integration, pp. 69–83. Kroesen, J.E.A., Seitenaltäre in mittelalterlichen Kirchen: Stand ort – Raum – Liturgie, Regensburg, 2010. Kronbichler, J. and Oberhaidacher-Herzig, E., Das Margaretenfenster aus Stift Ardagger, St. Pölten, 1991. Kroos, R., “Liturgische Quellen zum Kölner Domchor”, Kölner Domblatt 44–45 (1979–80), 35–202. Kurmann, P., “Heinrich II. von Virneburg, der Koronator Friedrichs des Schönen als Donator des Dreikönigsfenster im Hochchor des Kölner Doms”, in M. Becher and H. Wolter- von dem Knesebeck (eds.), Die Königserhebung Friedrichs des Schönen im Jahr 1314, Krönung, Krieg und Kompromiss, Cologne, 2017, pp. 209–28. Kurmann, P. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Chartres as a work of artistic integration: methodolocical reflexions”, in Raguin, Brush, and Draper (eds.) Artistic Integration, pp. 131–52. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien der ehemaligen Klosterkirche Königsfelden (CVMA Schweiz, 2), Bern, 2008. Kurmann- Schwarz, B., “Les vitraux du XVe siècle des chapelles latérales de Bourges et leurs commanditaires”, in I. Jourd’heuil, S. Marchant, and M.- H. Priet (eds.), Cathédrale de Bourges, Tours, 2017, pp. 423–38. Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Lautier, C., “L’essor d’un art: le vi trail roman”, in M. Hérold and V. David (eds.), Vitrail, Ve au XXIe siècle, Paris, 2014, pp. 48–71. Lane, E.S., Pastan, E.C., and Shortell, E.M. (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing: Approaches to Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Aldershot, 2009. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres. Reliques et images”, special issue of Bulletin monumental 161-1 (2003), 3–96.
Performative Interaction of Liturgy and Light Lautier, C., “Un vitrail parisien à Chartres: la grisaille du cha noine Thierry”, in H. Scholz, I. Rauch, and D. Hess (eds.), Glas. Malerei. Forschung: Internationale Studien zu Ehren von Rüdiger Becksmann, Berlin, 2004, pp. 143–50. Lautier, C., “The sacred topography of Chartres Cathedral: the reliquery chasse of the Virgin in the liturgical choir and stained-glass decoration”, in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing, pp. 174–96. Laverock, A., The Visual Hagiography of St. Margaret of Antioch in the Thirteenth-Century Stained Glass of Europe (Unpublished PhD, Emory University, 2016). Lecocq, I., “Donations de vitraux monumentaux dans les anciens Pays-Bas et occupation de l’espace liturgique et architectural”, in R. Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext, pp. 229–42. Lentes, T., “Ereignis und Repräsentation. Ein Diskussionsbei trag zum Verhältnis von Liturgie und Bild im Mittelalter”, in B. Stollberg-Rilinger and T. Weißbrich (eds.), Die Bildlichkeit symbolischer Akte (Symbolische Kommunikation und gesellschaftliche Wertesysteme, Schriftreihe des Sonderforschungsbereichs 496, 28), Münster 2010, pp. 155–84. Lillich, M.P., The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims Cathedral, University Park, Penn., 2011. Lowden, J., “Illuminated books and the liturgy: some observations”, in C. Hourihane, Objects, Images, and the Word, pp. 17–53. Mâle, E., Religious Art in France, the Twelfth Century: a Study of the Origins of Medieval Iconography, ed. H. Bober, trans. M. Mathews (Bollingen series, 90.1), Princeton, 1978. Manhes-Deremble, C., Les vitraux narratifs de la cathédrale de Chartres: étude iconographique (CV France, Études, 2), Paris, 1993. Marks, R., The Stained Glass of the Collegiate Church of the Holy Trinity, Tattershall (Lincs.), New York, 1984. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England during the Middle Ages, London, 1993. Martimort, A., Les lectures liturgiques et leurs livres (Typologie des Sources du Moyen Âge Occidental, 64), Turnhout, 1992. Murray, S., Plotting Gothic, Chicago, 2014. Noble, J., “The genealogies of Christ and their musical settings”, in B. Haggh (ed.), Essays on Music and Culture in Honor of Herbert Kellman, Paris, 2001, pp. 197–208. Palazzo, É., “La liturgie de la Sainte-Chapelle: un modèle pour les chapelles royales françaises?”, in C. Hediger (ed.), La Sainte-Chapelle de Paris: royaume de France ou Jerusalem céleste? (Transactions of the colloquium, Paris, Collège de France, 2002), Turnhout, 2007, pp. 101–11. Pfaff, R.W., Medieval Latin Liturgy: a Select Bibliography (Toronto Medieval Bibliographies, 9), 1st ed., Toronto, 1982. Pfaff, R.W., Liturgical Calendars, Saints, and Services in Medieval England, Aldershot, Hampshire, 1998. Parker, E.C., “Architecture as liturgical setting”, in Heffernan and Matter (eds.), The Liturgy, pp. 245–93.
187 Pastan, E.C., “Charlemagne as Saint: relics and the choice of window subjects at Chartres Cathedral,” in M. Gabriele and J. Stuckey (eds.), The Legend of Charlemagne in the Middle Ages: Power, Faith, and Crusade (The New Middle Ages Series), New York, 2008, pp. 97–135. Raguin, V.C., Brush K., and Draper P. (eds.), Artistic Integration in Gothic Buildings, Toronto, 1995. Rasmussen, N.K., “The liturgy at Saint-Denis: a preliminary study”, in P. Gerson (ed.), Abbot Suger and Saint-Denis: a Symposium, New York, 1986, pp. 105–30. Reames, S., “Liturgical offices for the cult of Saint Thomas Becket”, in T. Head (ed.), Medieval Hagiography: an Anthology, New York, 2000, pp. 561–93. Robertson, A.E., Music and Liturgy at the Abbey of Saint- Denis, 567–1567: a Survey of the Primary Sources (PhD, Yale University, 1984). Robertson, A.E., The Service Books of the Royal Abbey of St.- Denis: Images of Ritual and Music in the Middle Ages, Oxford, 1991. Rode, H., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien des Kölner Domes (CVMA Deutschland, 6.1), Berlin, 1974. Rudolph, C., “Inventing the exegetical stained- glass window: Suger, Hugh, and a new elite art”, The Art Bulletin 93 (2011), 399–422. Rushforth, G.M., “Seven sacraments compositions in English medieval art”, Antiquaries Journal 9 (1929), 83–100. Rushforth, G.M., Medieval Christian Imagery as Illustrated by the Painted Windows of Great Malvern Priory Church Worcestershire, Together with a Description and Explanation of All the Ancient Glass in the Church, 1st ed., Oxford, 1936. Schiffhauer, A., “Wunderbare Glasfenster. Zur Frage der Wahrnehmung gläserner Bilder in mittelalterlichen Hei ligenviten”, in C. Dauven-van Knippenberg, C. Herberichs, and C. Kiening (eds.), Medialität des Heils im späten Mittelalter (Medienwandel – Medienwechsel – Medienwissen, 10), Zürich 2009, pp. 331–50. Slocum, K.B., Liturgies in Honour of Thomas Becket, Toronto, 2004. Sparks, M., The Two Lady Altars in Canterbury Cathedral: a Paper Read to the Canterbury Branch of the Society in the Crypt of Canterbury Cathedral on November 11th, 1989, Wallington, 1992. Speer, A., “Art as liturgy: Abbot Suger of Saint-Denis and the question of medieval aesthetics”, in J. Hamesse (ed.), Roma, Magistra Mundi: Itineraria Culturae Medievalis. Mélanges offerts au Père L.E. Boyle à l’occasion de son 75e anniversaire, Louvain-la-Neuve, 1998, pp. 855–75. Speer, A., “Luculento ordine. Zum Verhältnis von Kirchweih liturgie und Baubeschreibung bei Abt Suger von Saint Denis”, Bock et al. (eds.), Kunst und Liturgie, pp. 19–37. Stookey, L.H., “The Gothic cathedral as the heavenly Jerusalem: liturgical and theological sources”, Gesta 8 (1969), 35–41.
188 Caviness Vauchez, A., Les laïcs au Moyen Âge: pratiques et expériences religieuses, Paris, 1987. Vogel, C., Medieval Liturgy: an Introduction to the Sources, 2nd ed., Washington D.C., 1986. Werckmeister, O.K., “The lintel fragment representing Eve from Saint-Lazare, Autun”, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 35 (1972), 1–30. Williamson, B., “Altarpieces, liturgy, and devotion”, Speculum 79 (2004), 341–406.
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Stories in Windows: the Architectonics of Narrative Alyce A. Jordan Recognition of stained glass as a major medium of medieval artistic production, and the acknowledgement of visual narration as an original, primary mode of historical discourse –rather than a derivative illustration of pre-existing texts –constitute foundational developments in the past generation of art historical scholarship. The construction boom in Gothic cathedrals across northern Europe in the late 12th and 13th centuries saw a parallel explosion of narrative stained-glass windows. Their quantity, physical scale and number of scenes, the complexity of their compositional layout, and the diversity of their subjects, argue for their identification as the dominant medium of narrative painting in the Middle Ages.1 This essay reviews recent methodological trends in scholarship devoted to narrative cycles in glass. One can characterize the scholarly explorations of narrative windows as looking both inward and outward, seeking to identify the internal mechanisms of narration, how those mechanisms organize, shape, and focus the stories they tell, and how stained-glass narratives interact with their larger sacred surroundings. This essay invokes such an inward/outward trajectory as an organizational thread to examine work devoted to narrative glass cycles, beginning with some of the analyses devoted to the internal disposition and ordering of narrative windows and moving outward to ways in which such structuring mechanisms encourage apprehension of thematic connections between windows. The “outward” portion of this historiographic overview considers some fruitful ways in which these narratives have been understood in the larger historical, liturgical, material, and spatial contexts of the buildings they decorate. Religious, economic, and cultural preoccupations –the thematic threads of which often interweave multiple windows into extended discursive fields –expand the trajectory of these vitreous stories beyond their architectural frames into their urban and regional surrounds. 1 Cothren, “The recollection of the past”, pp. 9–21, discusses the emergence of stained glass as the foremost medium of medieval monumental painting and its persistence as “the preferred pictorial medium of Christian places of worship”, and has argued for increased discussion of the content of medieval windows in art history survey texts. See also id., “Modern and postmodern historiographies”, pp. 255–70.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 15
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Narratives in Glass and Narratology
The first line of inquiry, originating in the 1980s, is characterized by what one author has called “the narratological turn in stained glass studies”,2 a vector of glass scholarship that employs semiotics, structuralist and post-structuralist theories of narrative, and medieval rhetorical theories of composition in concert with close visual scrutiny of the windows themselves. Recognition and investigation of such specifically visual rhetoric as foundational to the apprehension of visual narrative neither originated in, nor initially focused on, studies of stained glass, but rather on more famous media and monuments such as Byzantine mosaics, Renaissance fresco cycles, and Trajan’s column.3 One could, however, argue that the subsequent focus on narrative cycles in windows, stemming from this new interest in techniques of visual storytelling, engendered a sea-change in medieval stained-glass scholarship. In contrast to such well-traversed works as Trajan’s column or Giotto’s Arena Chapel, narrative windows composed a vast spectrum of virgin territory. Prior to the emergence of “visual narrative” as a discrete field of study, the hundreds of narrative cycles articulated in medieval windows had elicited little scholarly attention beyond the investigations of stained-glass specialists, whose focus, by necessity, had centered on issues of restoration/reconstruction and stylistic analysis, with selected forays into interrogation of the textual “sources” of a window’s iconography.4 Three publications, Madeline Caviness’ “Biblical stories in windows: were they Bibles for the poor?”, Wolfgang Kemp’s, The Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, and Jean-Paul Deremble and Colette Manhes’ Les vitraux légendaires de Chartres: des récits en images, laid the foundation for exploring the mechanics of visual 2 Guest, “The Prodigal’s journey”, p. 36, n. 3. 3 Kessler and Simpson, Pictorial Narrative; Brilliant, Visual Narratives; Maguire, Art and Eloquence; Lavin, The Place of Narrative. 4 For a lucid overview of the historiography of stained glass and the foundational work of the Corpus Vitrearum Medii Aevi, see Pastan, “Glazing medieval buildings”, pp. 443–65. Maines, “The Charlemagne window”, pp. 801–23, exemplifies earlier scholarly efforts to understand stained-glass narratives relative to their presumptive textual sources.
190 Jordan narration in glass in concert with larger contextualizing trajectories.5 Caviness maps the placement and genres of biblical windows in Gothic churches to discern the presence or absence of overarching programs and/or preferred subjects. Her study revealed a marked shift from heady theological subjects suitable for learned contemplation by monks and clerics, to animated iterations of biblical and hagiographical stories more engaging and apprehensible to lay viewers, in later cathedral ensembles such as Bourges, Chartres, and Auxerre. Canterbury Cathedral succinctly illustrates this shift in its juxtaposition of textually inscribed, typological choir windows with the narrative windows encompassing St. Thomas Becket’s shrine, which recount his miracles in a dynamic, visceral style easily accessible to a diverse viewing public (Figure 11.1).6 Regarding correlation between narrative subjects and their location, Caviness observed a recurrence of Incarnation and Passion narratives in axial windows, Old Testament narratives on northern walls, and New Testament and/or hagiographic narratives on the south, but found little evidence of overarching programs.7 Regarding internal disposition, Caviness noted a diversity and fluidity in the episodic layout of narratives, which, in windows, typically: move from bottom to top; use compositional repetitions to draw viewers’ attention to thematic similarities or thematic reversals; and use devices to facilitate narrative clarity, such as depicting main protagonists in like-colored costume.8 Finally, Caviness observes that preferred subjects, like the story of Joseph, frequently expand their biblical narrative 5 Caviness, “Biblical stories”, pp. 103– 47, published in 1992, stemmed from a 1985 conference presentation; Kemp, Narratives, published in German in 1987, appeared in English translation in 1997; Deremble and Manhes, Les vitraux légendaires, appeared in 1988. Kurmann-Schwarz, “Récits, programme, commanditaires”, pp. 55–71, offers a perceptive review of Kemp’s and Deremble and Manhes’ books, along with other publications discussed in this essay. I attempt here to focus on aspects of these works most central to the analysis of narrative cycles. 6 Caviness, “Biblical stories”, pp. 109–11. In drawing the distinction between typological/exegetical and narrative windows, I do not mean to propose a rigid binary, as narrative and non-narrative glass cycles can interact in a variety of complex ways. See, for example, the play of narration and typology elucidated by Rudolph, “Inventing the exegetical window”, pp. 413–17; Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Relique und Skulptur im Glasfenster”, pp. 135–60, demonstrate the multivalent ways in which the iconic 12th-century Virgin and Child Enthroned engages with its 13th- century complement of narrative glass in the “Belle-Verrière”, giving visual form to Christ’s miraculous twofold nature. 7 As one finds in spaces where a single entity controlled the complete decoration of the space, such as the Sainte-Chapelle. 8 Caviness, “Biblical stories”, pp. 117–18, 122–24, 126–29.
with apocryphal details, and that, despite the repetition of such subjects in multiple venues, narrative cycles typically vary dramatically in content from one venue to the other. While citing a number of texts that also expand the story of Joseph, including a popular liturgical play, Caviness concludes that the quantity and diversity of these textual and visual iterations render the search for literary or pictorial “sources” largely irrelevant, and proposes instead a reconceptualization of textual and visual “affiliates”. Similarly, Caviness advocates consideration of the particular narrative expansion and thematic foci of diversely realized cycles relative to the contextual particulars of the sites in which they occur.9 Kemp’s and Deremble and Manhes’ studies explore many of the same issues Caviness raises, though their analyses of specific visual narrative devices tend toward the more granular, and are rendered with a heightened emphasis on narratological terminology.10 For Kemp, the iron frameworks of medieval windows anchoring the scenic panels in place, also compose the fundamental organizing apparatus of the window’s narrative. A 9-scene narrative in Auxerre, disposed over three registers each containing three scenes, framed by the window’s rectilinear armature, recounts the story of the Jew who entrusts his treasure to the care of an image of St. Nicholas. By deconstructing and distilling the narrative into its constitutive elements, Kemp demonstrates how the story may be read chronologically across the registers from bottom to top, or as an abbreviated three-scene format moving diagonally from the leftmost panel in register one to the rightmost scene in register three (Figure 11.2). Repetition of scenic layouts depicting different narrative episodes allow for elegant plays of compositional similarity against contrasting content and composition-content reversals.11 The curvilinear armatures that became popular in the 13th century facilitate temporal flexibility, by simultaneously foregrounding syntagmatic apprehension of the story across the armature’s horizontal registers and paradigmatic apprehension along its vertical axis.12 9 Caviness, “Biblical stories”, pp. 128–47. 10 Kemp, Narratives, pp. 3– 88; Deremble and Manhes, Les vitraux légendaires, pp. 53–65. Despite these overlaps, the two books compose independent projects employing discrete theoretical and contextual materials. Caviness, “Review”, p. 972; Kurmann- Schwarz, “Récits, programme, commanditaires”, pp. 56–7. Karpf, Strukturanalyse, analyses the theories of literary scholars, including Propp, Todorov, and Barthes, demonstrating the ways in which structuralist narratology might be brought to bear on analysis of visual narration. 11 Kemp, Narratives, pp. 28–29. 12 Kemp, Narratives, pp. 23, 32; Caviness, “Biblical stories”, pp. 129–30 notes the application of similar devices in the Chartres Joseph window.
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By focusing on multiple iterations of the Prodigal Son parable found in Chartres, Bourges, and Auxerre, Kemp examines the selection of narrative events, their relative expansion or contraction, and the ways in which different designers engaged (or overrode) the windows’ geometric framework to highlight single incidents or episodic sequences. Similarly, the armatures highlight episodic repetitions and inversions, such as scenes of parting and return, voluntary exits versus involuntary expulsions, the Prodigal’s receipt of his inheritance versus his loss of same at the brothel and gaming table.13 Deremble and Manhes focus exclusively on the lower windows of Chartres. Like Kemp, they identify the iron armatures as the fundamental element in the structuration of narrative windows. Armature patterns guide viewer attention to certain events by locating them in larger, centralized apertures, or choreograph the expansion of other events across multiple apertures of smaller scale, thereby facilitating different paths of visual understanding. The authors similarly observe the myriad applications of compositional repetitions to articulate parallels or oppositions of content, that serve to establish visual guidelines for the viewer.14 In their close attention to armature patterns, palette, and the mechanics of scenic composition, both books invoke visual elements traditionally explored under the rubric of stylistic analysis. 15 The distinction here is that, for these authors, such elements function not as indicators of individual or workshop “hands”, but as rhetorical stratagems integral to the story’s visual recitation.16 Interrogation of these elements as aspects of narrative design merges scrutiny of the window’s narrative content with the visual means of its articulation. In so doing, Kemp, and Deremble and Manhes, reintegrate in profitable ways the bifurcated analyses of iconography and style that dominated a previous generation of stained-glass scholarship.17 13 Kemp, Narratives, pp. 32–34. 14 Deremble and Manhes, Les vitraux légendaires, pp. 53–65. 15 Deremble and Manhes, Les vitraux légendaires, pp. 125–57. Also see Cothren, Ch. 13 in this volume. 16 I borrow the word “recitation” from Caviness, “Biblical stories”, p. 127, as a more accurate descriptor than “reading” for the sort of activity in which a viewer engages with narrative windows. 17 Caviness, “Review”, p. 973, notes the new interpretation of stylistic elements as narratological stratagems. Kurmann- Schwarz, “Narrative and thematic method”, pp. 257– 73, employs a similar approach to elucidate the ways in which narrative windows in Kӧnigsfelden –where single compositions are divided into three parts by rectilinear armatures – marshal their tripartite division to focus visual attention on their scenic center.
Deremble and Manhes link their narratological analyses primarily to learned theological paradigms,18 Kemp with developments in contemporary modes of verbal narrative, including chansons de geste and sermons structured according to techniques advocated in the ars praedicandi, treatises devoted to sermon writing.19 I have argued for understanding the expansive Old Testament windows of the Sainte-Chapelle relative to methods outlined in the ars poetriae. These were 13th- century manuals devoted to storytelling, which outlined specific devices for episodic development, many of them predicated on stratagems of repetition-with-variation, thesis-antithesis, and thematic reversals. The scale of the Sainte-Chapelle windows, together with their extensive loss of glass, and restoration and reorganization, render impossible the close narratological analysis in which Kemp engages, but nonetheless enables fruitful comparisons with some of the most popular storytelling techniques of their day. Not least among these was the predilection toward amplificatio, the amplification of narrative material, achieved primarily through techniques of repetition, which enabled an author to focus attention on previously unexplored narrative elements.20 While addressed to authors of written narrative, the ars poetriae and ars praedicandi make clear their directives are aimed at the composition of materia intended for oral performance and aural reception. The explosion of narrative window production thus paralleled contemporary taste for the creation of protracted verbal narration. Both visual and verbal storytelling invoked a comparable litany of amplificatory devices to draw new meanings out of established stories; these same devices facilitated apprehension in both aural and visual 18
Deremble and Manhes, Les vitraux légendaires, pp. 11–48. Caviness, “Review”, pp. 973– 74; and Kurmann- Schwarz, “Récits, programme, commanditaires”, pp. 57–58, both critique this approach. Manhes- Deremble discusses interconnections between the new narratives in glass and the concomitant growth of vernacular literature in Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 75–113. 19 Kemp, Narratives, pp. 91–159; Cothren, “The recollection of the past”, p. 11, sees medieval narrative windows frequently functioning as visualized sermons. Caviness, “Biblical stories”, pp. 126–27 relates the expansion of the Joseph narratives in glass, and their inclusion of non-biblical detail, to the concomitant rise of apocryphal Joseph texts and the general popularity of contemporary vernacular epics. Caviness explores contemporary catalysts underpinning this cultural fascination with narrative in “ ‘The simple perception of matter’ ”. 20 Jordan, Visualizing Kingship, pp. 10–14; Raguin, “Architectural and glazing context”, pp. 182–83, observes similar techniques in the narrative windows of Poitiers Cathedral.
192 Jordan discourse. That such “how-to” manuals advocated techniques for the creation of written narratives intended for oral performance, suggests something about a medieval audience’s aural expectations and acuity. Kemp observes the degree to which narrative windows, while recounting stories unfolding over time, simultaneously function outside of time, enabling the viewer to visually construe the story in multiple, non-linear ways. Devices of division and repetition facilitated narrative, thematic, and argumentative structuration; they also served a mnemonic function for audience and performer.21 Both aural and visual apprehension are, effectively, spatial operations requiring listeners/viewers to hold large quantities of information in their minds. It is surely not accidental that so many hagiographic narrative windows predate a saint’s textual vita, or recount details deriving from oral, rather than textual, traditions.22 Given these parallels between techniques of verbal and visual storytelling, we might similarly consider parallels between aural and visual expectations and acuity that seem to have factored into both the design and reception of stories told in glass.23 Most of the recent work done on narrative cycles in glass has focused on Gothic cathedral windows, the primary locus for the explosive manifestation of medieval visual narration. Many of these, such as Joseph, the Prodigal Son, and the Good Samaritan, had rarely received visual articulation before their appearance in Gothic windows, and never on a comparable scale in terms of the quantity of scenes.24 Others, like saints’ lives, had appeared only in the rarefied medium of illuminated manuscripts rather than the public medium of monumental windows. Studies undertaking analyses of such newly popular stained-glass subjects have elicited several common conclusions: the narratives often vary markedly in terms of the episodes they depict and the incidents selected for elaboration; such narrative cycles 21 Kemp, Narratives, pp. 156–59; Jordan, Visualizing Kingship, pp. 28–29. 22 Kurmann- Schwarz, “Récits, programme, commanditaires”, p. 58; Raguin, “Architectural and glazing context”, pp. 170, 173, 182–83. 23 On relationships between orality and visual apprehension, see Camille, “Seeing and reading”, pp. 26–49. 24 Caviness, “Biblical stories”, pp. 128–45; Guest, “The Prodigal’s journey”, pp. 35– 8; Kemp, Narratives, pp. 10– 11; Guest, “Narrative cartographies”, pp. 124–25. Another newly popular subject, Theophilus, is explored by Cothren, “Theophilus windows”, pp. 308–41; and id., Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 71–96. While scholarship has focused on 13th-century glass, Kurmann-Schwarz, “Narrative and thematic method”, pp. 259–60, rightly observes that much 14th-century glazing exhibits comparably rich narrative stratagems.
incorporate significant amounts of scenic detail drawn from 13th-century life; and the distinctive focus of each cycle can often be linked with specific contextual aspects of the ecclesiastical space in which it appears. 2
Programs and Donors
Much of this contextual work has focused on the narrative windows of Chartres Cathedral. The unequaled completeness of its glass ensemble, the painstaking restoration the windows have recently undergone, revealing their extraordinary legibility and sensorial impact, and their extensive use of curvilinear armatures, assuring proper disposition of individual panels within windows, account in large part for this scholarly fascination and focus. The curvilinear armatures also reveal the original disposition of the windows themselves, thereby enabling full-scale analysis of the selection, arrangement, concentration, grouping, and juxtaposition of narrative subjects. On both a macro and micro level, then, Chartres’ unique preservation has made it “the model to which scholars turn to understand stained- glass programs.”25 The extended analyses and divergent conclusions of what exactly comprises a program, and how, and by whom, these programs may have been designed, remain topics of debate. The coterie of knights on horseback filling the choir clerestory rosettes, for example, evince deliberative placement and programmatic intent. The nave and choir aisle windows, by contrast, present looser thematic groupings in which one might discern patterns, but which do not necessarily rise to the level of a program.26 25 See Pastan, “Charlemagne as Saint?”, p. 97; Kurmann- Schwarz, “Nouvelles recherches”, pp. 693– 726; Kurmann- Schwarz and Lautier, “Recherches récentes”, esp. pp. 315–38; and Lautier, Chapter 4 in this volume.. 26 Caviness, for example, sees reiterative image types and thematic emphases among the aisle windows, rather than the tight programmatic progression for which Manhes-Deremble has argued. Caviness, “Biblical stories”, p. 115–18; id., “Review”, p. 974; Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, p. 5, and Chapters 1–2. Kurmann-Schwarz, “Récits, programme, commanditaires”, pp.58, 64; and Kurmann-Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, pp. 139–44, map the divergent positions of Kemp, Deremble, and Manhes on this point. While accepting portions of the latter’s programmatic argument, they consider the master-plan too rigid a conceptualization, and one which fails to account for the placement of numerous subjects. Kurmann and Kurmann- Schwarz, “Chartres Cathedral”, pp. 131– 34, acknowledge an a priori programmatic scheme for the windows, but consider their actual realization to have been more haphazard. Raguin, “Architectural and glazing context”, pp. 180–81, traces modern desires to find programmatic unity
Stories in Windows
Programmatic assertions are intimately linked to issues of patronage. For Caviness, the Chartres aisle windows, many of which contain depictions of artisan- merchants long identified as donors, could not have been planned a priori because it would have been impossible to know in advance what subjects the donors would select.27 Jane Welsh Williams’ revolutionary thesis that these images composed insertions by the cathedral chapter intended to inculcate proper behavior towards the Church from the city’s burgeoning artisan- merchant class, profoundly destabilized traditional understandings of these scenes relative to the windows in which they appear, and the larger question of programmatic organization.28 For, if the cathedral canons financed the glazing, that same body could certainly have designed the windows according to a unified “master plan”. This question remains unresolved, though it is perhaps worth noting that, in many venues, protracted completion times, loss of glass, restoration, and use of recurrent armature patterns enabling easy transposition of windows, render the pursuit of inclusive “master plans” largely moot.29 Whether the artisan- merchants pictured in the Chartrain windows constitute donors or characters in narrative extensions of the sacred stories unfurling above them, seems to me a more compelling question. As donors, they could have dictated both the selection of subjects and their narrative elaboration. The St. Lubin window, ostensibly given by the winemakers, merchants, and/or tavern keepers, includes repeated figures holding wine goblets and the transport of a wine barrel, seemingly secular details inserted into sacred history. Kemp ascribes significant agency to these “donors,” seeing the window as nothing short of a monumental advertisement of their trade (Figure 11.3).30 If, however, the canons deliberately wove the winemakers/merchants/ taverners into the story of St. Lubin, the temporal and contextual implications of the narrative become more complex. Williams interprets their inscription in the life of a local bishop-saint –customized with scenes redolent of local customs, notably the payment of tithes and taxes in quantities of wine, and inflected with sacred in glass ensembles to Gothic revival theories of restoration and the influence of Emile Mâle. On the variant interpretations of the equestrian knights in the Chartres clerestory, see Baldwin, “Les chevaliers à Chartres”, pp. 693–726. 27 Caviness, “Biblical stories”, pp. 117–18; id., “Review”, p. 974. 28 Williams, Bread, Wine, and Money. 29 Lautier, “Reliques et images”, pp. 6–10, provides a concise overview of the Chartrain debates surrounding programs and donors. See also Kurmann-Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, pp. 148–49. 30 Kemp, Narratives, pp. 200–17.
193 force through scenes of the Eucharist –as pictorial propaganda addressing commercial conflicts between the taverners and the cathedral. This reading suggests a powerful temporal interlacing of hagiographic narrative into contemporary life, and an equally powerful effort at socio-economic behavior modification via pictorial means.31 Wilhelm Schlink’s analysis of several windows at Chartres and Bourges evince more subtle relationships between the trades depicted in the lower registers and the holy narratives situated above. In the Bourges Good Samaritan window, the weavers’ production of cloth parallels the Samaritan’s provision of clothing to the assaulted traveler, such that the weavers, by virtue of their craft, mirror the merciful actions exhorted in Christ’s parable.32 The Chartres Good Samaritan window depicts shoemakers at work and gifting a stained-glass window; Schlink interprets its scene embellished with the inscription “sutores o” (sutores o[btelerunt]: the shoemakers offered it), as a complex play on Christian interpretations of labor (Figure 11.3). Medieval exegesis understood labor both as the punishment for man’s sins (outlined in the lancet’s complementary narrative of Adam and Eve, including a scene of Eve spinning while Adam digs the earth) and as a vehicle of man’s redemption. Schlink argues that the inclusion of the word sutores (cobblers) composes not only an identification of the donors, but a witty theological allusion to the word sudore (sweat), which links the sweat (work) of the shoemakers –which enabled their donation –to a salvific trajectory achieved through pious pursuit of honest labor.33 Schlink concludes that the interaction of artisan-donors and cathedral chapter regarding a window’s design, would have varied on a case by case basis. The carpenters and joiners occupying the lower register of the Chartrain Noah window could have simply directed that the ark and its construction compose a major feature of the window, whereas the complex exegetical and linguistic gymnastics apparent in the Good Samaritan lancet suggests more extensive learned intervention.34
31 Williams, Bread, Wine, and Money, pp. 73–101. Kurmann- Schwarz, “Récits, programme, commanditaires”, pp. 60–62, applauds Williams’ efforts to integrate the Chartres narratives into their social, political, and economic contexts, but finds her focus on vintners, bakers, and moneychangers too limited, as her argument fails to account for the many other trades included in the windows. 32 Schlink, “Der Stifter”, pp. 203– 05. Brugger and Christe, Bourges, pp. 364– 70, discuss uncritically the images of artisan-merchants at Bourges as “donors”. 33 Schlink, “Der Stifter”, pp. 206–08. 34 Schlink, “Der Stifter”, pp. 209–10.
194 Jordan Anne Harris’ elegant analysis of the shoemakers at Chartres links prevalent concerns surrounding the rise of a money-economy with clerical efforts to circumscribe the new monetary practices within traditional Christian moralities, topics explored in contemporary theological discourse under the rubric of the “just price”. For Harris, the shoemakers’ presence signals “neither actual donations nor defensive propaganda”.35 Rather, Harris envisions the shoemakers laboring at their trade, negotiating with clients, and offering stained-glass windows as both donors and subjects (Figure 11.3). Their very inclusion inscribes them into the sacred narratives above, while they simultaneously play out their own stories as part of the commercial and devotional life of their city. Harris concludes that “the labor of the artisan could be transformed into a salvific donation of a stained-glass window. The windows display both the possibility of material gain and the benefits of sanctified labor”.36 That the artisan-merchants depicted in Chartres may have functioned as subjects as well as donors is evinced in Ellen Shortell’s study of Marian windows featuring shoemakers in the collegiate church of Saint-Quentin. Having already identified the donors as wealthy, local widows, Shortell theorizes that the shoemakers may have composed “a kind of parable” extending the salvific themes of the Marian narratives into contemporary life by offering models of appropriate Christian values and behavior in a time of socio-economic change. Shortell thus expands Harris’ interpretation of the Chartrain shoemakers as a message not only to artisan-merchants but to a diverse demographic of viewers. The lancets’ widow- donors appear kneeling before altars gifting stained-glass windows, thus composing a pictorial exhortation for how the financial advantages accrued from the new money economies might be appropriately directed.37 These examples also make clear the fluidity,
complexity, and ambiguity underpinning visual narrative recitations, storytelling strategies, contemporary referents, donors, and designers.38
35 36
38
37
Harris, “Window as thing”, pp. 4–5. Harris, “Window as thing”, p. 20; Kurmann-Schwarz, “Récits, programme, commanditaire”, pp. 66–69, articulates a similarly nuanced conception of both the distinctions and overlap surrounding window donors and designers. Shortell, “The widows’ money”, pp. 217–36; Harris, “Window as thing”, pp. 1–25. Gast, “Die Farbverglasung”, pp. 117–36, has similarly reidentified the aristocratic figures found in the choir windows of St. Katherine’s in Oppenheim not as donors but as pictorial references to knightly families, whose duty it was to defend the king. One should similarly consider windows identified with heraldic blazons as not only signaling the identity of a donor, but as potentially multilayered narratives inscribing both saint and donor. Boulanger, Les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Angers, p. 121, discusses the St. Julien window relative to the family history of its donor, Bishop Guillaume de Beaumont. I have argued for a comparable reading in “St Thomas Becket windows”, pp. 171–207.
3 Creation, Location, and Content of Narrative Windows As in the study of programs and donors, much of the work devoted to motivations underlying the selection and elaboration of narrative windows has focused on Chartres. Here the cathedral’s appeal extends beyond the unusually complete and pristine condition of its glazing to the unusually complete collection of primary sources documenting its relics and liturgies. Other uniquely Chartrain texts, like its compilations of site-specific Marian miracles, offer an exceptionally rich environment in which to investigate connections between narrative windows and contextual history.39 The close correlation between the cathedral’s rebuilding following the 1194 fire and many of these materials have enabled unusually precise analyses of image-text-ritual relationships.40 The relic holdings of Chartres increased significantly after 1204, and 64 per cent of the cathedral’s medieval windows can be linked with relics then in its treasury.41 The 13th-century Ordinary includes numerous liturgies not celebrated previously at Chartres, and these new feasts reveal strong linkages with the narrative windows. Many medieval altars were situated in close proximity to lancets sharing their dedications, evincing a clear correlation of altar and window, such that the latter functioned, among other things, as vitreous altarpieces.42 Despite their shared subjects, at Chartres and elsewhere, liturgies and windows exhibit little overlap in terms of content. While windows certainly advertised relic holdings and altar dedications, their narratives served to
39
40
41 42
On the interpretation of donor images, see also Kurmann- Schwarz, “Datierung und Bedeutung von ‘Stifterbildern’ ”, pp. 228–43. Caviness, “Stained glass in Gothic chapels”, p. 135, observes that many sites with rich collections of liturgical materials retain virtually none of their medieval glass. Lautier, “Reliques et images”, pp. 1–96; Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs; Caviness, “Stasis and movement”, pp. 67–79; id., “Stained glass in Gothic chapels”, pp. 135–48; Kurman and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Chartres Cathedral”, pp. 131–52. Lentes, “Ereignis und Repräsentation”, pp. 155–84, provides a seminal analysis of ritualistic and performative interactions between images and liturgy. Lautier, “Reliques et images”, p. 4. Harris, “Window as thing”, pp. 6–7 notes that donations of windows typically occurred in conjunction with other gifts of a liturgical nature, such as chalices, candlesticks, and altar cloths.
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complement rather than illustrate liturgical texts. Thus, as with the proliferation of 13th-century vernacular and apocryphal texts whose subjects appear also in glass, windows and liturgies composed parallel, rather than derivative, discursive enterprises.43 Relics and liturgies could, then, determine in part the selection of narrative subjects in glass. What factors might account for the selection of narrative content? Scrutiny of specific windows reveals that hagiographic narratives often serve to “authenticate” relic holdings. Windows focus on the history of a saint’s relics, their origin and provenance, recounting how a relic came to reside in its current location, even engaging at times in a meta-narrative discourse with their physical environs, including visual references to the actual architectural space in which windows, relics, and reliquaries reside. Two studies of the Charlemagne window at Chartres demonstrate the distinct agenda underpinning many hagiographic narratives.44 This window has long puzzled scholars, given Charlemagne’s contested sainthood, problematic personal history, and lack of liturgical veneration at Chartres. Its narrative awkwardly juxtaposes Charlemagne’s journey to the Holy Land with the story of Roland, which occupies the window’s upper two thirds, and from which Charlemagne himself is conspicuously absent.45 Elizabeth Pastan’s essay offers an exemplary model for exploring the window’s hagiographic agenda, while simultaneously addressing the contested terrain of “sources,” lancet location, programs, and donors. Pastan concludes that Charlemagne’s import resided in his connection to the tunic of the Virgin, which Charlemagne brought back from Jerusalem and his son Charles the Bald later bestowed upon Chartres.46 This narrative focus, concentrated in the large panels composing the window’s central axis, begins with a furrier displaying a garment. Subsequent registers recount the meeting of Charlemagne and Constantine, Charlemagne’s donation of relics to Aix, journey to Spain, and construction of a church, after which the narrative protagonist switches to Roland. Roland battles with a Saracen, destroys his sword, and sounds his oliphant. The uppermost panel today contains the Mass of St. Giles, 43
44 45
46
Lautier, “Reliques et images”, pp. 3–4, 10–25; id., “Sacred topography”, pp. 180–82; Caviness, “Stained glass in Gothic chapels”, pp. 139–41; Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 75–78; Kurmann-Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, p. 150. Pastan, “Charlemagne as Saint?”, pp. 97–135; Lautier, “Le vitrail de Charlemagne”, pp. 229–40. The publications devoted to this particular window comprise an illuminating historiographic overview of the shifting terrain of visual narrative scholarship. See Pastan, “Charlemagne as Saint?”, pp. 122–35. Pastan, “Charlemagne as Saint?”, pp. 116–20.
during which Charlemagne’s incestuous relationship with his sister, that resulted in Roland’s birth, is revealed (Figure 11.5).47 Prior scholarship had sought to understand this window as a life of Charlemagne, an interpretation rendered problematic by Charlemagne’s absence for most of the narrative. Pastan argues for a narrative refocusing on Charlemagne’s import to Chartres vis-à-vis its major relic. She observes that the furrier (sometimes identified as the “donor” because furs were worn by royalty) holds a garment that strongly resembles a tunic. The following axial scenes authenticate the relics Charlemagne received in Jerusalem and donated to Aix. Charlemagne’s supervision of church building references his copious ecclesiastical and monastic foundations. Roland’s sword, gifted to him by Charlemagne, purportedly contained relics, and is visually emphasized in subsequent panels. The communication of Charlemagne’s sin to St. Giles takes the form of an inscription on a small piece of parchment resembling the parchment fragments used to identify relics.48 By reconceptualizing the window’s story from a “life of Charlemagne” to Charlemagne as the progenitor of Chartres’ most precious relic, Pastan effectively resolves its narrative “problems”.49 She also aligns the story with many of the ensemble’s other hagiographic windows whose stories similarly focus on relic authentication.50 Reliquaries were rarely seen by the laity, spending most of their time hidden in a cathedral 47
Before 1921 this panel occupied register six, and Roland’s battles with the Saracen register eight. This sort of inversion is unusual at Chartres, but is a typical hermeneutic complication in the study of glass narratives generally: Pastan, “Charlemagne as Saint?”, pp. 103–16. 48 Pastan, “Charlemagne as Saint?”, pp. 116–22. 49 Kurmann and Kurmann- Schwarz, “Chartres Cathedral”, p. 136; and Kurmann-Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, p. 145, observe that a window’s iconography and narrative design may often “appear arbitrary until compared with specific Chartrain traditions”, citing the St. Thomas window, which defies chronological and narrative coherence in its isolation of the scene depicting Thomas touching Christ’s wound at the bottom of the window. That the very finger with which Thomas probed Christ’s side constituted one of Chartres’ celebrated relics, readily accounts for this seeming narrative disjunction. 50 Mary Shepard finds a comparable focus in monastic hagiographic windows, which frequently recount the history, travels, and travails of a saint’s relics, their visual authentication an extension of monastic foundation histories and privileges. Shepard, “The St. Germain windows”, pp. 283–301; id., “The relics window of St. Vincent”, pp. 260–63; id., “Power windows”, pp. 75–87. Fitz, “Die Farbverglasung”, pp. 153–66, observes that surviving hagiographic windows at Halberstadt contain narratives focused on the cathedral’s relics, and are installed above altars sharing their dedication.
196 Jordan treasury or, as at Chartres, displayed within the choir where they were visible only to clergy and privileged dignitaries. The laity’s primary experience of relics and reliquaries occurred through their intermediary depictions in windows, where their luminous realization in glass mirrored the bejeweled gold and silver containers themselves.51 Beyond their recitation of histories and provenance, windows actuated reliquaries and their holy contents, making them eternally visible and present throughout the year between their liturgical commemoration on feast days, and extending their power throughout ecclesiastical space. Also, because these windows often depict groups of worshippers, they also visually enveloped the cathedral’s many pilgrims, inserting them into the windows’ own stories and prompting appropriate modes of veneration.52 4
Intervisuality and Webs of Correspondence
These complexly designed narratives did not proffer a single message. Their sophisticated rhetorical apparatus –predicated on techniques of compositional and episodic repetition, chronological disruption, fluid modes of visual apprehension, and conscious foregrounding of selected scenes –encouraged thematic connections across architectural space. Contextualized studies can elicit recurrent themes arising collectively from multiple windows. Manhes- Deremble and Lautier have perceived in the Charlemagne window efforts to claim Charlemagne for France via the gifting of relics to Chartres and a valorizing of Crusade, themes reiterated in the choir clerestory and elsewhere.53 Capetian moral and monarchic supremacy compose another reiterated theme. The St. Thomas Becket window 51
52
53
Montgomery, “Sacra conversazione”, pp. 253– 70, analyzes ways in which reliquaries and windows “converse” in sacred space; Lautier, “Le vitrail de Charlemagne”, pp. 236– 38, argues that the design and disposition of reliquaries in the Charlemagne window mirror the actual display of reliquaries on Chartres’ high altar. Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Reliquie und Skulptur im Glasfenster”, pp. 135–60, probe the multivalent ways in which “Notre-Dame de la Belle-Verrière” visualizes both the Virgin’s tunic, concealed in its reliquary, and the cult statue of “Notre-Dame-sous-Terre”, long housed in the crypt. Guest, “Stained glass and liturgy”, pp. 273–78 analyzes this performative function in the Mary Magdalene window at Chartres. Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 205– 10, speaks to the ways in which pilgrims would have identified with the pious crowds that populate the windows. Lautier, “Reliques et images”, pp. 34–36; id., “Le vitrail de Charlemagne”, pp. 232–35; Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 258–68.
contrasts the succor Louis vii extended the archbishop of Canterbury during his exile in France with the malevolent actions of King Henry ii, considered by many as responsible for Becket’s murder. This recent event is mapped back into sacred history in the visual recitation of the legendary encounters between Constantine and St. Sylvester, St. Remi and Clovis, and the myriad saints who met their end at the hands of wicked pagan rulers. The repetition of saints and rulers in conversation, and the good or bad actions that ensue, collectively create a visual dialectic on the theme of kingship. Caviness and Manhes-Deremble have observed that Gothic windows devoted to bishop saints apportion a great deal of attention to quotidian episcopal duties, such as officiating at Mass, consecrating churches, and preaching. Such preoccupations also emerge in non-episcopal narratives. Gerry Guest has noted a concentration on Bishop Maximinus’ performance of his duties in the Mary Magdalene window, which included caring for her relics and propagating her cult. Once more, larger themes –here a discourse on episcopal engagement in pastoral responsibilities and ecclesiastical reform –emerge through the repetition of similar compositional schema.54 Other “macro-narratives”, like the recurrent inclusion of artisan-merchants and the new popularity of Prodigal Son windows, with their focus on the temptations of taverns, gaming houses, and brothels, emphasize the rise of secularity, urbanism, and money economies.55 Numerous windows seek to resolve temporal anxieties in accordance with divine truths. The contemporary trappings in which these narratives were clothed, ranging, literally, from costumes and accessories, to the depiction of modern professions and customs situated in familiar architectural spaces and structures, effected a seamless telescoping of ancient stories into modern life. While 21st-century viewers must actively work to excavate such overarching patterns, their medieval counterparts, attuned to oral and visual techniques of episodic repetition and thematic interlacing –which undercut narrative linearity, enabling stories to exist in a continuous 54
55
Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 58– 60, 98– 108, 212–19; Caviness, “Episcopal cults”, pp. 77–87; Jordan, “Rhetoric and reform”, pp. 547–64; Guest, “Stained glass and liturgy”, p. 278; Cothren, “Who is the bishop?”, pp. 1–16; id., Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 44–71. Guest, “The Prodigal’s journey”, pp. 47–51, 55–59; Kemp, Narratives, pp. 178–85, proposes that the Chartrain Prodigal Son window was donated by prostitutes. Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 160–62, interprets the elaborated prostitution scenes as a story within a story and suggests they may signal a certain acceptance of prostitution as a necessary evil in the rapidly expanding urban environs of cathedral cities.
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present –would have found such temporal conflation apprehensible and “natural”. 5 Spatiality, Mapping, Integration, and Performance Whether or not the windows at Chartres or elsewhere were designed according to a master plan, recent studies –which seek to interpret narrative windows as constituent facets of larger physical and symbolic fields within the architectural space of the church itself –offer intriguing evidence of purposeful groupings. In what ways are individual narratives focused or amplified by the specific part of the church in which they appear, the various audiences to which they were available, other windows, sculptures, altars, reliquaries, and ornamentation that shared their immediate environment, or which the viewer encountered while moving through space? A facet of integrative studies that has focused particularly on interrelations of windows and other interior and exterior media (tapestries, reliquaries, sculpture), and liturgical and para-liturgical texts and practices –have illuminated rich, multilayered “conversations” pertinent to narrative content, aperture placement, and viewer experience. Anne Harris has traced the transformation of Canterbury Cathedral into a pilgrimage destination through the redesign of its choir, its installation of a glass cycle recounting St. Thomas Becket’s prolific résumé of miracles, and its conscious construction of the pilgrim experience. Following a recitation of the archbishop’s life and miracles in the chapter house, pilgrims were conducted on a tour through the cathedral, beginning with the site of Becket’s murder in the north transept, down to the crypt where his body first resided and his early miracles occurred, then up to the new choir housing his magnificent shrine encircled with dazzling windows recounting the miraculous events that unfolded in the crypt and elsewhere, details of which they had heard in the chapterhouse (Figure 11.1).56 Pilgrims could then procure ampulae filled with Becket’s healing water, many of which bore inscriptions comparable to those found in the miracle windows.57 Other examples of site-and space-specific typographies include Paul Crossley’s study of the now lost Chartres choir-screen as an iconographic nexus linking various parts of the cathedral together at the crossroad of nave, choir, and transepts.58 The screen’s Incarnation 56 Harris, “Pilgrimage, performance, and stained glass”, pp. 243–81. 57 Caviness, “Stasis and movement”, p. 72. 58 Crossley, “The integrated cathedral”, pp. 167–72, summarizes the historiography surrounding concepts of holism and
cycle forged connections with: the 12th-century windows of the west façade depicting Christ’s Infancy and Passion; his royal genealogy articulated in the Tree of Jesse; and the Marian subjects of the 12th-century west façade sculpture. The enthroned Virgin and Child found in the west façade tympanum, and reiterated in the axial window of the choir clerestory, was additionally linked through the choir-screen, articulating the processional trajectory the bishop led through the cathedral on major feasts. This visual map, activated in performance, also resonated aurally/orally in hymns, which foregrounded comparable iconographic subjects and themes articulated in the sculpture and glass. The massing of large-scale narrative windows devoted to the Virgin and St. Anne (whose head the cathedral had recently acquired) on the north side of the nave and transept, sited a vertical linkage with the cult statue of Notre-Dame-sous-Terre displayed in the northernmost chapel of the crypt.59 Pilgrims ambulating from the crypt into the cathedral via a stairway that brought them to the north transept porch encountered sculptures of St. Anne, the Virgin, and local martyrs, anticipating the windows devoted to these same personages inside the north transept and choir.60 In addition to functioning as “a link in a long axis or a lever in a transverse progression”, Crossly notes the jubé’s function as a “backdrop for liturgical theater”, including the annual Nativity play.61 Claudine Lautier identifies the sainte châsse – the reliquary shrine of the Virgin’s tunic/veil long situated on the high altar in the choir –as the pinpoint around which many of Chartres’ Marian windows revolve. These include the choir clerestory ensemble flanking the axial window of the Virgin and Child enthroned, with their numerous referents to the Arc of the Covenant, a prefiguration of the Infancy and Tree of Jesse lancets in the west façade. They also include the Miracles and Glorification of the Virgin windows in the south nave aisle, the Belle-Verrière and Life of the Virgin windows in the south choir aisle, the Charlemagne lancet in the north choir
59 60 61
master programs. Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Reliquie und Skulptur im Glasfenster”, pp. 139–43, identify the Belle- Verrière as linking the Virgin’s tunic and “Notre-Dame-sous- Terre” spatially, through visual similitude, and temporally, as survivors of the 1194 fire. Lautier, “Sacred topography”, pp. 193–95. Crossley, “The integrated cathedral”, pp. 167–68. Crossley, “The integrated cathedral”, pp. 169–70; Manhes- Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 42–43 relates windows devoted to Mary Magdalene in the western portion of the nave to liturgical dramas performed in that venue. Harris, “St. Nicholas in context”, pp. 89–99; and id., “Performative terms”, pp. 119–42, explore the relationship between St. Nicholas windows and liturgical drama in Chartres and Auxerre.
198 Jordan aisle, both transept roses, and several clerestory windows occupying the north and south transepts. Lautier observes in many of these windows renderings of reliquaries not accessible to the pilgrims who frequented the cathedral, and notes that in the Belle-Verrière lancet, the Virgin actually wears the sacred tunic contained in the sainte châsse.62 While the reliquary was visible only to the clergy, the tunic itself remained invisible to all, encased for centuries in the sealed reliquary. Finally, Lautier explores the recurrent theme of pilgrimage permeating the Chartrain windows and portal sculptures and the way in which Chartres, through its recursive visual invocation of pilgrimage sites in hagiographic windows, effectively maps itself into a topography of pilgrimage comparable to Rome and Compostela.63 Recent studies by Gerry Guest extend concepts of mapping and topography beyond the realm of Chartres.64 He analyzes biblical and hagiographic windows at Sens, Bourges, and Chartres, establishing linkages between established and contemporary pilgrimage sites. He also offers more theoretical conceptions of mapping, including the notion that many narrative windows attempt to spatially inscribe the destabilized landscape of an increasingly secular, urban, profit-driven culture, back into the stability of sacred time. Guest thus proposes that Gothic narrative windows exist not as “reflections of the medieval world but as reimaginings of it in a period marked by conflict and unrest”.65 He connects recurrent visual references to Jerusalem and Constantinople with contemporary unease over loss of the Holy Land and the division of the Latin and Eastern Orthodox Churches.66 His analysis of the Bourges Relics of St. Stephen window parallels Lautier’s discussion of Chartres, in observing the way in which Bourges seeks to inscribe itself into the sacred terrain of venerable pilgrimage sites. Guest’s comparison of the window with the liturgy for the feast of St. Stephen reveals the ways in which narrative structuration in text and image parallel each other (both rely upon short, recurrent, episodic sequences) eliciting the insightful observation that the window picks up the history of Stephen’s relics exactly where the liturgy leaves off, thus offering another example of the ways in which liturgies and windows functioned as symbiotic narrative discourses.67 Bishops figure more 62 63 64
65 66 67
Lautier, “Sacred topography”, p. 179. Lautier, “Sacred topography”, pp. 195–96. Guest, “Narrative cartographies”, pp. 121–23, reviews the historiography underlying “cultural constructions of space” and “cognitive mapping”. Ibid, p. 124. Ibid, pp. 125–30, 135–36. Ibid, pp. 131.
prominently in the window than in the corresponding liturgy, a phenomenon Guest ascribes to ecclesiastical efforts, observed elsewhere, to emphasize reform agendas and assert clerical authority into increasingly secularized urban spaces.68 He also expands recent interpretations of the Chartres St. Lubin window with the observation that, while Lubin’s relics resided in the cathedral, the clergy made an annual procession to a Benedictine priory outside the city dedicated to St. Lubin of the vineyards. Thus, the window’s focus on wine –as it moves, literally, through city and countryside and, metaphorically, from a locus of secular excess (the tavern depicted in the bottom register) to the sacrality of the Mass –adds another dimension to the cathedral’s sometimes tempestuous relationship with Chartrain vintners and wine merchants (Figure 11.4).69 In this way, as at Bourges, one may map the St. Lubin narrative onto both physical and cultural geographies of space. 6 Conclusion These 13th-century narrative cycles in glass evince a striking amplification and diversification of content, and an equally striking shift from complex allegorical and typological structuration to lively storytelling. While they often engage a wide variety of sacred, secular, liturgical and para-liturgical texts, Gothic narratives also exhibit a marked independence from textual “sources”, their interaction more accurately composing fluid “dialogues” with their textual counterparts. Analogies can be drawn between narratological devices found in 13th-century literature and windows. At the same time, narrative windows engage a uniquely visual rhetoric, employing such elements as palette, armatures, compositional schema, and linear and non-linear scenic progression, resulting in animated stories articulating purposeful thematic through-lines. Analysis of similar subjects in variant venues (and sometimes similar subjects in the same venue, like the multiple St. Nicholas windows at Chartres) demonstrate a startling diversity in terms of narrative arcs and characterizations of main protagonists. A comparable 68 69
Ibid, pp. 136; id., “Stained glass and liturgy”, p. 278. Ibid, pp. 136–42. Guest undertakes comparable analyses relative to the Sts. Mary Magdalene and Savinian and Potentian windows at Chartres in “Stained glass and liturgy”, pp. 271–85. Id., “The Prodigal’s journey”, aligns the Chartres Prodigal Son window’s position in the north transept with penitential rituals and processions oriented around the north portal. On the St. Lubin window see also Williams, Bread, Wine, and Money, pp. 73–101.
199
Stories in Windows
repertoire of rhetorical devices and sophisticated stratagems are marshalled to articulate diverse retellings of familiar stories. Hagiographic windows often perform particular work in advertising a church’s relic collections, recounting their history, authenticity, and journey to their current location. Equally important, these windows reified saints, relics, and reliquaries, sustaining their memory between annual feasts. Hagiographic and biblical windows frequently invoke aspects of contemporary life, weaving depictions of urban venues and professions into their sacred narratives. In this regard, Gothic narrative cycles gave visual form to contemporary anxieties and exigencies; they articulated, addressed, and exhorted ecclesiastically-preferred modes of thought and behavior. They existed as both catalyst and consequence in complex discursive matrices. Much more work of the types outlined here remains to be done. At the same time, what other vectors might be profitably pursued in relation to narrative cycles in glass? One important avenue urges increased attention to venues beyond Chartres. Chartres remains seductive for its completeness and exceptional preservation. However, the proliferation of Corpus volumes identifying, authenticating, and analyzing medieval glass has made many more sites accessible for study. Another pursuit might focus attention on the ways in which medieval narratives are recast through restoration. What can such windows tell us about their importance to later centuries? How did they participate in the work of reinvention that drove many 19th-century architectural restoration campaigns?70 Dialogues between medieval and post-medieval windows also compose a fruitful trajectory. Nancy Thompson’s analyses of temporally discrete articulations of religious doctrine in glass, demonstrate the potential of such lines of inquiry.71 Just as medieval narrative windows converse with one another, so too do medieval windows compose discursive matrices with later manifestations of devotional visual culture. They speak to the “afterlives” of holy personages, as sites of memory, commemoration, and, sometimes, reinvention. Such intervisual conversations have much to tell us about the sustained import of medieval windows and the compelling stories they contain. 70
71
Harris, “St. Nicholas in context”, pp. 90–91 argues for the significance of the selective 14th-century restoration of the St. Nicholas statue in the Chartres window relative to the statue’s centrality in the contemporary St. Nicholas play. I have proposed that the restoration of the Sainte-Chapelle windows also involved a selective recrafting of their narratives: Jordan, “Nineteenth-century restoration politics”, pp. 195–217. Thompson, “The Immaculate Conception window in Santa Croce”, pp. 1–25.
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Baldwin, J., “Les chevaliers à Chartres: les fenêtres hautes de la cathédrale”, Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres. Comptes rendus des séances de l’année (2014-2), 693–726. Becksmann R. (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext: Bildprogramme und Raumfunktionen (Transactions of the 22nd International Colloquium of the CV in Nuremburg and Regensburg), Nuremberg, 2005. Boulanger, K., Les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Angers (CV France, 3), Paris, 2010. Brilliant, R., Visual Narratives: Storytelling in Etruscan and Roman Art, Ithaca, 1984. Brugger, L. and Christe, Y., Bourges: la Cathédrale, Saint-Léger- Vauban, 2000. Camille, M., “Seeing and reading: some visual implications of medieval literacy and illiteracy”, Art History 8 (1985), 26–49. Caviness, M.H., “Review of Deremble and Manhes, Les vitraux légendaires de Chartres: des récits en images”, and “Review of Kemp, Sermo corporeus: die Erzählung der mittelalterlichen Glasfenster”, Speculum 65 (1990), 972–75. Caviness, M.H., “ ‘The simple perception of matter’ and the representation of narrative, ca. 1180–1280”, Gesta 30 (1991), 48–64. Caviness, M.H., “Biblical stories in windows: were they Bibles for the poor?”, in B.S. Levy (ed.), The Bible in the Middle Ages: its Influence on Literature and Art (Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 89), Binghamton, 1992, pp. 103–47. Caviness, M.H., “Stasis and movement: hagiographical windows and the liturgy”, in L. Kalinowski, H. Malkiewicz, and P. Karaskiewicz (eds.), Stained Glass as Monumental Painting (Proceedings of the 19th International Colloquium of the CVMA), Krakow, 1999, pp. 67–79. Caviness, M.H., “Episcopal cults and relics: the lives of good churchmen and two fragments of stained glass in Wilton”, in F. Joubert and D. Sandron (eds.), Pierre, lumière, couleur: études d’histoire de l’art du Moyen Âge en l’honneur d’Anne Prache, Paris, 1999, pp. 61–71. Caviness, M.H., “Stained glass windows in Gothic chapels and the feasts of the saints”, in N. Bock, S. de Blaauw, C.L. Frommel, and H. Kessler (eds.), Kunst und Liturgie im Mittelalter, Rӧmisches Jahrbuch der Bibliotheca Hertziana 33 (Transactions of the International Conference at the Bibliotheca Hertziana and the Dutch Institute in Rome), Munich, 2000, pp. 135–48. Cothren, M.W., “Iconography of Theophilus windows in the first half of the thirteenth century,” Speculum 59 (1984), 308–41. Cothren, M.W., “Who is the bishop in the Virgin chapel of Beauvais Cathedral?”, Gazette des Beaux-arts, 6th ser., 125 (1995), 1–16. Cothren, M.W., “ ‘The recollection of the past is the promise of the future’: the medieval heritage of Philadelphia’s sacred
200 Jordan windows”, in J.M. Farnsworth, C.R. Croce, and J.F. Chorpenning (eds.), Stained Glass in Catholic Philadelphia, Philadelphia, 2002, pp. 9–21. Cothren, M.W., Picturing the Celestial City: the Medieval Stained Glass of Beauvais Cathedral, Princeton, 2006. Cothren, M.W., “Modern and postmodern historiographies of Gothic stained glass”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), From Minor to Major: the Minor Arts in Medieval Art History (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 14), Princeton, 2012, pp. 255–70. Crossley, P., “The integrated cathedral: thoughts on ‘holism’ and Gothic architecture,” in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing, pp. 157–73. Deremble, J.-P. and Manhes, C., Les vitraux légendaires de Chartres: des récits en images, Paris, 1988. Fitz, E., “Die Farbverglasung im Chorumgang des Halberstädter Domes: Einige grundsätzliche Beobachtungen zu Bildprogramm und Raumfunktion”, in Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext, pp. 153–66. Gast, U., “Die Farbverglasung des Ostchores der Katharinenkirche in Oppenheim: Glasmalerei im Kontext politischer Wandlungen und Konflikte”, in Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext, pp. 117–36. Guest, G.B., “Stained glass and liturgy: the uses and limits of an analogy”, in E.C. Pastan and M.B. Shepard (eds.), Journal of Glass Studies 56 (2014), 271–85. Guest, G.B., “Narrative cartographies: mapping the sacred in Gothic stained glass”, Res 53/54 (2008), 121–42. Guest, G.B., “The Prodigal’s journey: ideologies of self and city in the Gothic cathedral”, Speculum 81 (2006), 35–75. Harris, A.F., “Pilgrimage, performance, and stained glass at Canterbury Cathedral”, in S. Blick and R. Tekippe (eds.), Art and Architecture of Late Medieval Pilgrimage in Northern Europe and the British Isles, 2 vols., Leiden, 2004, vol. 1, pp. 243–81; vol. 2, figs. 124–33. Harris, A.F., “Saint Nicholas in context: stained glass and liturgical drama in the archbishopric of Sens”, in Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext, pp. 89–99. Harris, A.F., “The performative terms of Jewish iconoclasm and conversion in two Saint Nicholas windows at Chartres Cathedral”, in M.B. Merback (ed.), Beyond the Yellow Badge: Anti-Judaism and Antisemitism in Medieval and Early Modern Visual Culture (Brill’s Series in Jewish Studies, 37), Leiden, 2008, pp. 119–41. Harris, A.F., “Stained glass window as thing: Heidegger, the shoemaker panels, and the commercial and spiritual economies of Chartres Cathedral in the thirteenth century”, Different Visions 1 (2008), 1–30: http://differentvisions.org (last accessed 14 November 2018). Hediger, C. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Reliquie und Skulptur im Glasfenster: Intermediale Auratisierung am Beispiel von Notre-Dame de la Belle-Verrière”, in U.J. Beil, C. Herberichs, and M. Sandl (eds.) Aura und Auratisierung in
medialer Perspektive (Medienwandel – Medienwechsel – Medienwissen, 27), Zürich, 2014, pp. 136–60. Jordan, A.A., Visualizing Kingship in the Windows of the Sainte- Chapelle (Publications of the International Center of Medieval Art, 5), Turnhout, 2002. Jordan, A.A., “Stained glass and the liturgy: performing sacral kingship in Capetian France”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), Objects, Images and the Word: Art in the Service of the Liturgy (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 6), Princeton, 2003, pp. 274–97. Jordan, A.A., “Rhetoric and reform: the St Thomas Becket window of Sens Cathedral”, in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing, pp. 547–64. Jordan, A.A., “Nineteenth-century restoration politics: recrafting monarchy in the stained glass windows of the Sainte- Chapelle in Paris”, in J. Marquardt and A.A. Jordan (eds.), Medieval Art and Architecture after the Middle Ages, Newcastle upon Tyne, 2009, pp. 195–217. Jordan, A.A., “The St Thomas Becket windows at Angers and Coutances: devotion, subversion, and the Scottish connection”, in P. Webster and M.-P. Gelin (eds.), The Cult of St Thomas Becket in the Plantagenet World, c.1170-c.1220, Woodbridge, Suffolk, 2016, pp. 171–207. Kemp, W., The Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, trans. C.D. Saltzwedel, Cambridge, 1997. Kessler, H.L. and Simpson, M.S. (eds.), Pictorial Narrative in Antiquity and the Middle Ages, (Studies in the History of Art, 16), Washington D.C., 1985. Karpf, J., Strukturanalyse der mittelalterlichen Bilderzählung, Marburg, 1994. Kurmann, P. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Chartres Cathedral as a work of artistic integration: methodological reflections”, in Raguin, Brush, and Draper (eds.), Artistic Integration, pp. 131–52. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Nouvelles recherches sur l’iconographie des vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, Bulletin monumental 174 (2016), 210–11. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Seeing and understanding narrative and thematic method in the stained glass of the choir of Kӧnigsfelden ca. 1330–40”, in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing, pp. 257–73. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Datierung und Bedeutung von ‘Stif terbildern’ in Glasmalereien”, in B. Klein and H. Wolter-von dem Knesebeck (eds.), Nobilis arte manus. Festschrift zum 70. Geburtstag für Antje Middeldorf-Kosegarten, Dresden, 2002, pp. 228–43. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Récits, programme, commanditaires, concepteurs, donateurs: publications récentes sur l’icono graphie des vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, Bulletin monumental 154-1 (1996), 55–71. Kurmann- Schwarz, B. and Kurmann, P., Chartres: la Cathédrale, Saint-Léger-Vauban, 2001.
Stories in Windows Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Lautier, C., “Recherches récentes sur le vitrail médiéval 1998– 2009”, Kunstchronik 63 (2010), 261–304, 313–56. Lane E.S., Pastan E.C., and Shortell E.M. (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing: Approaches to Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Farnham, 2009. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux du chevet de la cathédrale de Laon (première approche)”, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Kunst und Denkmalpflege 54-2/3 (2000), 257–64. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres. Reliques et images”, special issue of Bulletin monumental 161-1 (2003), 3–96. Lautier, C., “Le vitrail de Charlemagne à Chartres et les reliques du trésor de la cathédrale”, in R. Didier and J. Toussaint (eds.), Actes du colloque autour de Hugo d’Oignies, Namur, 2004, pp. 229–40. Lautier, C., “The sacred topography of Chartres Cathedral: the reliquary chasse of the Virgin in the liturgical choir and stained-glass decoration”, in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing, pp. 174–96. Lavin, M.A., The Place of Narrative: Mural Decoration in Italian Churches, 431–1600, Chicago, 1990. Lentes, T., “Ereignis und Repräsentation: ein Diskussionsbei trag zum Verhältnis von Liturgie und Bild im Mittelalter”, in B. Stollberg-Rilinger and T. Weißbrich (eds.), Die Bildlichkeit symbolischer Akte (Symbolische Kommunikation und gesellschaftliche Wertesysteme, Schriftreihe des Sonderforschungsbereichs 496, 28), Münster, 2010, pp. 155–84. Maguire, H., Art and Eloquence in Byzantium, Princeton, 1981. Manhes-Deremble, C., Les vitraux narratifs de la cathédrale de Chartres: étude iconographique (CV France, Études, 2), Paris, 1993. Maines, C., “The Charlemagne window at Chartres Cathedral: new considerations on text and image”, Speculum 52 (1977), 801–23. Montgomery, S.B., “Sacra conversazione: dialogues between reliquaries and windows”, in E.C. Pastan and M.B. Shepard (eds.), Journal of Glass Studies 56 (2014), 253–70. Pastan, E.C., “Glazing medieval buildings”, in C. Rudolph (ed.), A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, Malden, 2006, pp. 443–65.
201 Pastan, E.C., “Charlemagne as Saint? Relics and the choice of window subjects at Chartres Cathedral”, in M. Gabriele and J. Stuckey (eds.), The Legend of Charlemagne in the Middle Ages: Power, Faith, and Crusade (The New Middle Ages Series), New York, 2008, pp. 97–135. Raguin, V.C., “The architectural and glazing context of Poitiers Cathedral: a reassessment of integration”, in Raguin, Brush, and Draper (eds.), Artistic Integration, pp. 167–94. Raguin, V.C., Brush, K., and Draper P. (eds.), Artistic Integration in Gothic Buildings, Toronto, 1995. Rudolph, C. “Inventing the exegetical stained- glass window: Suger, Hugh, and a new elite art”, Art Bulletin 93 (2011), 399–422. Schlink, W., “Der Stifter schleicht sich in die Heilsgeschichte ein. Zur Chartreser Samariterfenster”, in H.-R. Meier, C. Jäggi, and P. Büttner (eds.), Für irdischen Ruhm und himm lischen Lohn: Stifter und Auftraggeber in der mittelalterlichen Kunst, Berlin, 1995, pp. 203–11. Shepard, M.B., “The St. Germain windows from the thirteenth- century Lady Chapel at Saint-Germain-des-Prés”, in E.C. Parker and M.B. Shepard (eds.), The Cloisters: Studies in Honor of the Fiftieth Anniversary, New York, 1992, pp. 283– 301. Shepard, M.B., “The relics window of St. Vincent of Saragossa at Saint-Germain des Prés”, Gesta 37 (1998), 258–65. Shepard, M.B., “Power windows: relic windows and the context of collective remembering”, in Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext, pp. 75–88. Shortell, E.M., “ ‘The widows’ money’ and artistic integration in the axial chapel at Saint-Quentin”, in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing, pp. 217–36. Thompson, N., “The Immaculate Conception window in Santa Croce and the Catholic revival in nineteenth-century Florence”, Nineteenth-Century Art Worldwide 12 (2013), 1– 25: http://www.19thc-artworldwide.org/ (last accessed 14 November 2018). Williams, J.W., Bread, Wine, and Money: the Windows of the Trades at Chartres Cathedral, Chicago, 1993.
c hapter 12
The Reception of Stained Glass Anne F. Harris 1 Introduction Studying the reception of stained glass invites an analysis of the dynamic between the medium, its audience, and its makers. Stained-glass windows have shaped the experience of audiences in religious buildings for over 800 years. They have, in turn, been shaped by the response and desire of audiences, as patrons and stained- glass artisans collaborate to create powerful encounters with the medium for participants in church life. This essay will examine the embodied perception, conceptual understanding, and aesthetic diffusion of stained glass within a dynamic of reception engaging the medium and its audiences. What it seeks to reveal is that, far from a placid surface, the medium of stained glass was often a contested ground, where understandings of both the presence of the divine and the concept of art were worked out for centuries. To begin this work, let us reposition the word “reception” as an active term, displacing any tendency to consider “receiving” a work of art as a passive act. Reception is an interaction between audience and medium that shapes both. It is experienced and activated in the relationship between the medium and its patron, its artist, and its many audiences (from liturgical to touristic). A donor panel from the St. Cheron window at Chartres Cathedral in France, made around 1220, depicts the intense interaction and relationship between a contemplative figure and a sculpture in the locked exchange of gazes between the two (Figure 12.1). This exchange has been heightened by modern restorations, specifically the head of the figure gazing down at the sculpture.1 The sculptors who are portrayed as having donated this window are represented commemorating their artistic production by including both the physical mode of quarrying and carving as well as the contemplative mode of gazing upon a work of art.2 The thinker-artist is coupled 1 Written communication concerning the restoration of stained glass at Chartres Cathedral between Drs. Claudine Lautier and Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz, generously provided by Dr. Kurmann- Schwarz. 2 Williams, Bread, Wine, and Money, pp. 19–36, argues that the donor panels are not signs of pious devotion by tradespeople, as had long been believed, but instead are projections of a piety of donation from tradespeople designed by church programmers.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 16
with the maker-artist in the same visual field, linking reception of a work of art with its production. I invite us to enter the same dynamic in considering reception as part of production: raw materials become works of art through acts of reception by artists, donors, and audiences. Conversely, artists, donors, and audiences perceive themselves as such in their reception of works of art. “Reception” has been examined within the broader context of all medieval art by Madeline Caviness and David Areford in essays from 2006 and 2012 respectively.3 These essays shifted the conversation about reception decisively from older standards of influence and style to issues of social history and audience agency. Caviness positions several indicators of reception that signal actions by audiences, from imitation and competition to negative reactions and marginalia. Areford traces the visual appropriations, ambiguities, and interpretations of Wound of Christ imagery to demonstrate how much audience manipulation can “set [an image] going”, to paraphrase Roland Barthes. In establishing visual reception as originating in, but now differentiating from, literary theory’s conceptualization of reception, Caviness and Areford’s work resonates with that of a 2000 anthology edited by Robert S. Nelson, which also sought to position reception to images as distinct, though certainly not mutually exclusive from, reception to texts.4 In all of these scholars’ works, audiences are active in their reception of images, leading us to consider how audiences bring desires and debates to the endeavors of perceiving, understanding, and diffusing stained glass. 2
Embodied Perception: Experience
How do we study a medium that is both challenging to perceive on site, and elusive to capture in reproductions, for analysis in teaching or research? Contributing an article on French stained glass to André Michel’s monumental Histoire de l’art in 1906, medievalist art historian and iconographer Emile Mâle pointedly stated that:
3 Caviness, “Reception of images by medieval viewers”, Areford, “Reception”, and Caviness, “Broadening the definitions of ‘art’ ”. 4 Nelson, Visuality Before and Beyond the Renaissance.
The Reception of Stained Glass
What will prevent the writing of the history of stained glass, for a long time yet, is the small number of reproductions … One should have constantly beneath one’s eyes a nicely made corpus of all the stained glass windows of France. And this corpus does not exist.5
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At the time, the large part of the study of stained glass relied on drawings made by draftsmen and -women on site. For the comparative analysis that the iconographic method that Mâle and other art historians of the period practiced, there would not be enough quantity or accuracy in this mode of reproduction to warrant sustained analysis of the medium. With photography, Mâle argued, individual panels could be laid out, compared, and examined for both stylistic and iconographic trends. The modular mode of seeing the medium panel by panel encouraged the identification of master artists and workshops through style, and established iconographic patterns and trends. A medium often gained stature by having a prominent or prolific artist who, if he did not leave his name, left traces of himself, and perhaps the workshop he oversaw, in his style. Such a presence could only be found in close study of stained-glass panels as though they were paintings. Indeed, stained glass had been relegated to the status of a “minor art” by the time Mâle was writing, having lost in stature to painting since the late Renaissance and its debates of disegno (line) and colore (color). A medium almost entirely collaborative and workshop- produced, whose primary aesthetic element was the play of light and color, would not fare well under a conception of art driven by painting, that favored individual genius and defined line. The medium of photography brought about a resurgence of stained glass in scholarship because it could be seen in the painterly terms of design: panel by panel, and line by line. Mâle seems not to have been bothered that all photography of stained glass was in black and white, as style and iconography were preserved and were the priority.6 A tension exists between modern and medieval ways of perceiving stained glass: where modern perception, as established by Mâle, prized individual panels for the study of style and iconography, medieval perception seems to have valorized the whole window, whether or not individual panels were visible, as well as the individual panel. Reproductions of stained-glass windows in the Middle Ages are rare but indicative of a less modular,
more holistic perception of the medium or, at a times, a perception that simultaneously prized the panel and the whole. When Villard de Honnecourt drew the tracery of lancet windows and rose windows, he did not mention iconographic content or style.7 When the shoemakers of Chartres are depicted offering a stained-glass window – within the donor panel of a window dedicated to St. Nicholas in the ambulatory of Chartres Cathedral –they do so by lifting the window as a single object onto the altar (Figure 11.3). This image defies reality but not explanation: made of multiple component parts (panels, tracery, fitting for architectural placement and more), stained-glass windows are not discrete, moveable objects. But they are perceived and understood as such in the panel of the shoemakers, which represents the window not only as an object, but as a liturgical object that can be offered up to God on an altar. Unlike the modern mode of representation, which sees and represents stained glass in its component parts for iconographic and stylistic study, the medieval mode of representation saw and represented stained glass as an object in religious space, available for donation and presentation to the divine. Here and in the St. Stephen window (Figure 12.2), t[he] donor panel on the opposite side of the window depicts shoemakers sewing leather shoes, with a large pile of shoes between them, suggesting, as I have written elsewhere, a resonance between commercial and spiritual economies in which a window is a whole object, rather than a set of disparate parts.8 The need for the window to be perceived as whole in the Middle Ages is deeply connected to its visual presence above altars and in religious space in general, and we will explore this reception of stained-glass windows in the next section.9 Important for our consideration is this oft-repeated trope of a donor presenting a stained- glass window as an offering to God. Henry ii and Eleanor of Aquitaine are famously depicted thusly at Poitiers in the 12th century (see Figure 15.6), and the shoemakers of Chartres are represented holding a stained-glass window while being blessed by the hand of God in the donor panel of the Good Samaritan window in the nave (Figure 11.3). A text scrolls reads “Sutores O” with available meanings of the “O” being “obtulerunt” (they bore, offered [this window]) or “orant” (they prayed). Whichever translation we choose, we are in the presence of a medieval perception of stained-glass window as whole object.10 This medieval
5 “Mais ce qui empêchera encore longtemps d’écrire l’histoire du vitrail, c’est le petit nombre de reproductions … Il faudrait avoir sans cesse sous les yeux, dans un Corpus bien fait, tous les vitraux de France. Et ce Corpus n’existe pas.”: Mâle, “La peinture sur verre en France”, p. 372. 6 Publications in this period printed color on top of black and white photography, or panels were hand-tinted.
7 Barnes, The Portfolio of Villard de Honnecourt. 8 Harris, “Stained glass window as thing”; Baschet, “L’image- objet”. 9 On glass and architecture, also see Shortell, Ch. 7 in this volume. 10 Harris, “Stained glass window as thing”, Fig. 1.
204 Harris holistic mode, in tension with the modern modular mode, signals an important difference in perception, in so far as what was valued about a stained-glass window: its entirety as a window, its particularity in its panels, and the many combinations of the two. We can delve more deeply into the perception of stained glass by studying modern and medieval texts that address its visual effects. In his 1964 book, The Radiance of Chartres; Studies in the Early Stained Glass of the Cathedral, James Rosser Johnson advances a theory of the perception of stained glass based on the science of optics.11 An entire chapter devoted to “Seeing the Windows” addresses the phenomenon of seeing stained-glass windows in their architectural context, one deeply influenced by the presence and absence of light. Diffused daylight from the outside contrasts powerfully with the site-specific and changing light sources of candles on the inside, to create what Johnson calls “tasks for the eyes”, that result in the windows insistently remaining shimmering shapes rather than settling into discernible iconography. Indeed, Johnson cites a fatigue if he strains his eyes to see particulars. As he will explore in later parts of the book, the high contrast colors of blue and red, so prominent throughout medieval stained- glass, accentuate this disorienting effect. Disorientation is a positive perceptual result for Johnson, however, as it preserves the mystery of stained glass for the viewer, and asserts the medium’s wondrous quality. On the matter of productive disorientation, Johnson had a kindred spirit in Abbot Suger of Saint-Denis from the 12th century. The translation of Suger’s record of his administration of the abbey of Saint-Denis, and of the consecration of the same, by Erwin Panofsky in 1944, marks a key moment in the historiography of stained glass. Andreas Speer and Françoise Gasparri have provided recent translations and analyses of Suger’s texts that further his, and Panofsky’s, works.12 Not only did Panofsky offer direct access to a vividly written first- hand and eyewitness accounting of medieval artistic production, but he did so within both a medieval theological framework and a modern iconographical one. In a key passage of his De Administratione from around 1148, Suger explains the effects of precious materiality on transcendent spirituality. When looking upon the bejeweled cross of St. Eligius at the abbey, Suger writes of inhabiting a “strange region of the universe” (extranea orbis terrarium plaga), citing the liminal space that its colorful gems took him to “between the slime of the
earth and the purity of heaven” (terrarium faece … coeli puratitae).13 What can continue to capture our attention about this passage in terms of our interest in perception, is Suger’s self-perception: that he sees himself (videor videre) in this space between the slime of the earth and the purity of heaven. Seeing precious materiality invites Suger to see himself between two worlds. In another passage within the book, Suger refers to the “sapphire matter” (saphirorum materia) of the stained-glass windows of Saint-Denis, aligning stained glass with the jeweled cross in the complex work of transcendence that both enact. Hovering in that liminal place “betwixt and between”, precious materiality truly becomes a medium; an entity that mediates between opposite entities: earth and heaven, material and immaterial, physical and spiritual. We note again, how within this example of medieval perception, stained glass is seen for its materiality, one with the power to bring its viewer into another space altogether. When Suger refers to the stained-glass windows of Saint-Denis as “urging us onwards from the material to the immaterial” (de materialibus ad immaterialia excitans), the window, one could argue, becomes a portal, able to transport the viewer from one place to another. And indeed, stained glass can both be seen and seen through; depending on the play of light, its visual surface can be opaque and drenched in color or translucent and available to light. In that duality, stained glass can become, for Suger, the prompt for his own self-perception as a being existing in duality and between two worlds. A stained-glass window as a whole shimmering image is simultaneously of this world and of the next, and Suger- as-viewer comes to embody this simultaneity. In him, we have a vivid image of self-perception: a medieval viewer seeing himself between two worlds when looking upon a stained-glass window. Medieval modes of perception of stained glass were not homogeneous, however, and we find fascinating variations within medieval texts. The treatise On Divers Arts was written in the voice of Theophilus Presbyter and focused on the material qualities of the medium.14 Part of the reason for this emphasis is the function of the treatise as a technical guide, possibly for both the production of painting, glass, and metalwork, and as a manual for patrons for talking about art. The treatise presents information for the set-up of workshops, procurement of resources, distribution of labor, and execution of craft. As a record of practice and expertise,
11 Johnson, The Radiance of Chartres, p. 20. 12 Suger, De Administratione: trans. and eds., Speer and Binding, Abt Suger von Saint-Denis; trans. and ed. Gasparri, Suger de Saint-Denis.
13 Suger, De Administratione, ed. Panofsky, pp. 62–65. 14 Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus. For further discussions of Theophilus, see Brown, Ch. 1, Kurmann-Schwarz, Ch. 20, and Thompson, Ch. 21 in this volume.
The Reception of Stained Glass
On Divers Arts reveals both the material production of stained glass and approaches to medieval materials in general. Materials are discussed in their at-times mystical power as well as their physical efficacy, and provide insight into popular beliefs about matter. A recipe for what is called “Spanish gold”, for instance, to be wrought from “red copper, basilisk powder, human blood, and vinegar” borders on the alchemical.15 A meticulous set of instructions for the care and killing of roosters to procure the basilisk powder is followed by the instruction to “take out the ashes [of the roosters] and grind them, adding them to a third part of the dried and ground blood of a red-headed man”.16 What we discover in the section of the treatise devoted to stained glass is that the medium could not exist without a great deal of wood, badgers, and urine. A sustainably hot furnace required copious amounts of wood, and beechwood is recommended by Theophilus. The hairs of a badger (or a mule, cat, or donkey) are best for the brushes used to paint upon the glass. And urine or wine are best to fix colors.17 The dense materiality of glass and the heavy presence of metal fittings to hold its heaviness in place, would have shaped perception of the medium. In an age of almost exclusively manual labor, many viewers could recognize indicators of a complex materiality like that of glass. Perception focusing on the immaterial and spiritual transcendence of stained glass, and perception focusing on the material and physical immediacy of stained glass were not mutually exclusive in the Middle Ages: they co-existed, likely with different connections to different audiences. Modern scholarship can often seek to make one text speak for the reception of a historical period, and we must guard against this reduction.18 Suger and Theophilus do not just represent two different perceptions of stained glass, but rather two simultaneous ones. Stained glass was both material and immaterial for audiences; viewers brought both physical and spiritual fascination to the medium. The emphasis in medieval scholarship in general on religious and theological texts has shaped medieval art history to privilege religious over secular interpretation, and spiritual over material perception, relegating texts like Theophilus’ to specialized audiences of artists and patrons, and neglecting the interpretive possibilities of general audience responses 15 Van Duzer, “An arabic source”. 16 Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, trans. Hawthorne and Smith, p. 119. 17 Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, trans. Hawthorne and Smith, pp. 49, 62–63. 18 See Murray, Plotting Gothic, pp. 73– 96 for analysis of Abbot Suger.
205 to the materiality of the medium. The “material turn”, as it is being called by some, has infused medieval studies with approaches that are sometimes text-based and sometimes rely on scientific or physical experience.19 Both the text-based religious iconography approach, to which Suger has contributed so much, and the material- based artisanal embodied approach, so well-informed by Theophilus, were active in the medieval perception of stained glass. The concept of “translucidity” exercised by the contemporary abstract artist Pierre Soulages in windows he designed for the Romanesque abbey of Sainte-Foy at Conques, presents a modern interpretation of the medium based on how it is perceived. With keen awareness of the experience of seeing stained glass, Soulages, argues critic Marie Renoue, carefully chose a mode that could embody the complex visual experience that is a stained-glass window.20 In this challenge, Soulages thought carefully about not only the substance of glass, as capable of being infused with color, but also its texture, especially in its differentiation from glass facing the exterior and that facing the interior. The result is what can be described as a milkiness in the glass which, while not transparent is not fully opaque either.21 Holding the experience of seeing stained glass at this delicate moment between transparency and opacity, Soulages acknowledges the simultaneity of seeing stained glass, as both a window and a visual field. Soulages is better known for his densely black abstract paintings, which might seem to be the absolute opposite of translucid white windows. The painter’s interest in perception and color, however, link the two projects: in both, he seeks to understand the play of the absence and presence of color and light, a pursuit in his work that the artist himself credits to the hours he spent in the abbey of Conques growing up nearby.22 What Soulages captures for our consideration is the powerful simultaneity of stained glass as both opaque and transparent in perception, resonating with the medieval simultaneities of perception of the material and the immaterial. The perception of stained glass exists perpetually within this vivid simultaneity.23 19 Miller, Cultural Histories of the Material World, and the Material Collective, http://thematerialcollective.org/ (last accessed 1 July 2017). 20 Renoue, “De la ‘matière’ du visible et des arts”, pp. 101–13. 21 http://www.tourisme-conques.fr/en/histoire-patrimoine/ eglise-abbatiale/stained-glass-windows-soulages.php (last accessed 1 July 1 2017). 22 Brennan, “Illuminating the void, displaying the vision”, pp. 121–22. 23 See also Heck, “Conques, Sainte-Foy”.
206 Harris 3
Conceptual Understanding: Purpose
This section seeks to delineate the frameworks of understanding put forward by modern and medieval thinkers, especially as these frameworks shape the reception of the medium. 24 As we saw with embodied perception, there are both distinctions and overlaps in modern and medieval approaches to stained glass. In shifting from issues of perception to understanding, we are moving from records of experiences to arguments of purpose. Indeed, key to note here is how the conceptual understanding of stained-glass windows is closely connected to the purpose of the medium. We can take our cue from Theophilus who, in his introduction to the section on stained glass from On Divers Arts claimed that in “filling the storeroom of my heart” with knowledge from practice and tradition, he had “come to understand the nature of glass”.25 An understanding of the medium does not come without effort for any of our thinkers or audiences. Stained glass is hard to produce, difficult to maintain, and challenging to see; so why the hundreds of years of investment of human creativity and labor in the medium? What are its benefits to human understanding? We will find many answers to these two crucial questions in the frameworks articulated by modern and medieval thinkers, as these align understanding, purpose, and benefit. The international organization Corpus Vitrearum Medii Aevi is at the core of modern understandings of stained glass, and the collaboration of its scholars, conferences, and publications is shaping modern scholarly reception of the medium. The work of the Corpus Vitrearum, comprised of 14 countries, has been crucial to the identification of stained-glass images through meticulous studies of iconography, production, donors, and information provided from archival and historical contexts.26 From these studies, the modern understanding of stained glass now encompasses questions of style, iconography, donation, technique, historical context, and narrative.27 This understanding is applied to many site-specific case studies, each of which furthers our understanding of the purpose and benefit of stained glass for its audiences. What emerges from these case studies is that stained glass was a responsive medium, in that it 24 Cothren, “Some personal reflections”. 25 Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, trans. Hawthorne and Smith, pp. 47–48. 26 The website of the organization provides up-to-date information on completed and upcoming publications: http://corpusvitrearum.org/(last accessed 1 July 2017). 27 Two studies that have established broad conversations in stained-glass studies are: Marks, Stained Glass in England; and Kemp, Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass.
often addressed specific needs of the communities who put their energies and resources into the medium.28 In a visual field made up of multiple panels lay diverse opportunities to present images that spoke directly to communal concerns. In that the medium was an aesthetic shared throughout Europe (a quality of the medium that we will explore in the last section); a shared understanding of the medium as framing religious space also existed. Modern scholarship thus locates medieval understandings of stained glass not in the academy or a medieval university setting, but rather with patrons and donors, church administrators and theologians. In discussing this understanding of stained glass, we will return to Suger’s text, and the information that it provides about the purpose of the medium, especially the idea of stained glass being understood both in material and immaterial terms. The 12th-century construction of the abbey transformed the darker Carolingian space into one resplendent with associations of the New Jerusalem.29 Light mattered; it was, one could argue, itself a form of matter, bringing or expressing divine presence, and setting the stage for a theological understanding of stained- glass windows, which would in turn couple with the material and architectural placement and presence of the medium to make a powerful connection to liturgy.30 The understanding of stained glass in the Middle Ages stretched across a spectrum from theological symbolism to liturgical organization, creating multiple opportunities for various audiences to connect with the medium. In his perception of stained glass, Suger is acutely aware of its effects and its ability to transport the viewer “from the material to the immaterial”. In his passage about the St. Eligius cross, which establishes the dynamic of precious materiality that both gems and stained glass share, Suger claims “I can be transported from this 28
29 30
A selection of site-specific case studies by Anglo-American scholars include: Caviness, The Early Stained Glass of Canterbury Cathedral; Lillich, Rainbow like an Emerald; Jordan, Visualizing Kingship in the Windows of the Sainte-Chapelle; Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City; Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du choeur de la cathédrale de Troyes; Ayers, The Medieval Stained Glass of Merton College. The authors of these monographs have additionally published multiple articles that further the case study approach to understanding stained glass. International publications are also listed at the Corpus Vitrearum website. Frank and Clark, “Abbot Suger and the Temple in Jerusalem”. Panofsky popularized a connection between Suger and the theologian and philosopher Pseudo-Dionysius, who prized light as divine presence. This has now been disproven by Speer in his new translation of Suger, as well as by Murray, Plotting Gothic.
207
The Reception of Stained Glass
inferior to that higher world in an anagogical manner” (anagogic more). The precious materiality of stained glass gives that movement momentum, and then the divine ideas take over. In the delineation of a stained-glass window, Suger does work through a window panel by panel for purposes of anagogical thought and interpretation. Thus, an image of the Pharaoh’s daughter finding Moses prompts Suger to liken Moses to the child that the Church nurtures. Suger’s knowledge of the panels as they combine to create a window has the makings of a sermon in glass. We can treasure Suger’s text for what it contributes to our understanding of medieval perceptions and receptions of stained glass.31 The ability for the window to represent an image that is visible to the eye, as well as one that is visible only to the mind’s eye is deeply embedded in medieval ways of seeing.32 The stained-glass window here provides a cumulative momentum for the transition from the material to the immaterial. Each panel combines with another for a holistic effect that leaves Suger, and any viewer of stained glass within this mode of perception, transported. As each exploration shows us, however, understanding of stained glass in the Middle Ages was not a uniform experience. No text reveals this multiplicity and variety more vividly, and with more humor and irreverence, than the “Prologue” to the Tale of Beryn, a continuation text of Chaucer’s 14th-century tale Canterbury Tales, written the 15th century.33 The “Prologue” picks up where the Canterbury Tales themselves leave off: in the moments before the pilgrims arrive at Canterbury to worship at the tomb of St. Thomas Becket. The pilgrims make their way inside the cathedral where (if we recall James Rosser Johnson), their perception is overwhelmed by the red and blue hues of the stained-glass windows. They make their way into the sacred space and come to pause before a stained- glass window. But what should be a moment of hushed wonder before the window becomes a comedy routine of disagreement that almost comes to fisticuffs. The debate roils over the object that the pilgrims understand a male figure to be holding: for some it is a staff, for others a spear, and a third interpretation presents a rake.34 The interpretive framework for this popular audience is neither theology nor liturgy, but rather common knowledge and 31 32
33
34
Brown and Cothren, “The twelfth-century Crusading Window of the Abbey of Saint-Denis”. Caviness, “ ‘The simple perception of matter’ and the representation of narrative”, and Caviness, “Images of divine order and the third mode of seeing”. Geoffrey Chaucer, Tale of Beryn, ed. Bowers, see http://www .lib.rochester.edu/camelot/teams/berynfrm.htm (last accessed 1 July 2017). Brown, “Journey’s end”.
common sense. After insulting each other’s intelligence, the grumpy company are called away by the host’s cries of “Peace!” and calm is re-established as they move on to the saint’s tomb. The interlude before the stained-glass window is productive in setting the tone for the rest of text, and as such serves a literary function.35 The understanding of the medium as a contested interpretive field establishes an expectation that interpretation will matter throughout the rest of the text, with the possibility of humor. For our purposes, it indicates the draw that a stained-glass window was to visitors of a church. In their visual variety and intrigue, stained-glass windows called viewers forward to be understood. Whether fiction based in fact, or fact disguised as fiction, the Tale of Beryn highlights in a humorous way through literature what Madeline Caviness’ key essay, “Biblical stories in windows: were they Bibles for the poor?” addresses in a comparative study of stained glass.36 In asking that crucial question, Caviness dislodges the assumption long carried forward that stained-glass windows existed for the edification of the poor or illiterate, and were plausible as such because of their “graphic novel” or “cartoon” visual form. The widely popular manuscript tradition known as the Biblia Pauperum (the Bible of the Poor), which indeed illustrates the Bible according to stories, only appeared around 1300,37 many years after the prolific production of stained-glass windows in the 12th and 13th centuries, and did not do much for the poor or illiterate.38 Nonetheless, the purpose of stained glass was folded into that of the Biblia Pauperum, and the medium, in meeting modern expectations of illiteracy being met or mitigated by imagery, was assigned to this didactic function and purpose. The “Bible of the Poor” was itself a formalization and culmination of an association of images with the ignorans (“illiterate”), first articulated by Pope Gregory the Great around 600 in his defense of images as useful for the diffusion of Christianity.39 A closer look at stained-glass windows in their visual, narrative, and signifying structures reveals a much more complex visual field than the linear narrative of a Biblia Pauperum would allow. Visual forms are varied and position images in interpretive relationships to each other; narrative structures often group around a central panel, or wind their way up a window through a series of visual switchbacks. Equally, the content of windows is quite often not pulled from narratives in the Old or New Testament, but rather –as Caviness identifies –from 35 36 37 38 39
Harris, “Glazing and glossing”. Caviness, “Biblical stories in windows”. Biblia Pauperum, ed. Henry. Caviness, “Biblical stories in windows”, pp. 103–05. Chazelle, “Pictures, books, and the illiterate”.
208 Harris typological or symbolic considerations. There is no doubt that a great deal of stained-glass window images are engaged in the display of a narrative, but these may be much more performative than didactic in character. Caviness makes the connection between narrative art and “recitation” rather than “reading”, a connection that I found tremendously useful in my own study of the relationship between stained-glass windows and liturgical drama.40 The role of oral tradition and recitational transmission can hardly be underestimated in the medieval understanding of stained glass. In practices and evidence lost to us –because they were oral rather than textual –guides, and canons, and residents, and any number of other people, could take it upon themselves to engage a new viewer in the narrative, typology, or symbolism before them. I also believe that we should not underestimate the power of (re)cognition: that of the viewer to connect one visual narration of a story at one site with one seen previously at another. It is on this point, of active recognition instead of passive reception, that liturgical drama can be understood to intersect with stained-glass windows. The textual traces of liturgical drama are not as deep and sure as those of other church texts, largely because any manuscripts of liturgical drama were likely to be performance notes more than literary production.41 But the placement of stained-glass windows in the nave or above altars could signal the placement of actors during liturgical dramas that, far from being performed on a stage, were performed throughout church space.42 Textual sources well beyond the Bible furnished inspiration for the image makers of stained-glass windows. As the Charlemagne window at Chartres Cathedral –which depicts key scenes from the epic poem The Song of Roland –reveals, the medium might have existed in rich interaction with poetry as well as liturgy.43 The St. Nicholas windows of Chartres, Auxerre, and Saint-Julien-du-Sault all visualize narratives found only in sermons and texts of liturgical drama.44 The connection between stained glass and liturgy argues for an understanding of the medium engaged with both architectural space and religious performance.45 In this “integrated” understanding of the medium, advanced by Virginia Chieffo Raguin in a transformative anthology, stained glass is an active participant in the religious activity of the church space, and no medium
is understood alone.46 Stained glass benefits from this approach as interactions with audiences can be highlighted. Of the many ways to understand stained glass, it engages the mechanism, or rather ritual, through which the material becomes the immaterial. Gerry Guest conceptualizes stained glass and liturgy as “analogous modes for representing (or re-presenting) the sacred”.47 Within a close study of the window dedicated to Sts. Savinian and Potentian, Guest can cite multiple points of interaction between liturgical acts and the windows, in which both modes signal the presence of the divine to an audience, while also cautioning that the windows do not exist only in relation to liturgy, but can have potential to interact with entities outside the church through references to urban spaces and practices. Panofsky’s presentation of Suger as “an arranger of liturgical spectacles”, opens up one more possibility for the understanding of stained glass as guided not only by liturgy but by liturgical furniture and instruments.48 When Suger was establishing his liturgical spectacles, he not only moved his audiences from the material to the immaterial, but also sought to bring the New Jerusalem to France. His literary revels in the splendor of not only stained-glass windows, but also crosses and other liturgical furnishings, reveal an understanding of an alignment between stained-glass windows and those other objects of precious materials which bring the divine closer to an audience. The 12th-century Necrologue of Chartres Cathedral bears this relationship out in the donations of multiple canons that consistently group stained-glass windows with, for example, “a precious silken cape, a silk pallium, one window, and a golden necklace for the treasure chest of the Virgin Mary”.49 The precious material of stained-glass windows here aligns them with those of liturgical objects, and the gleaming surfaces of stained glass form a liturgical and mystical continuum with silver goblets, silk palliums, and gold necklaces. A post-medieval postscript to this section devoted to the understanding of stained glass will feature Alexandre Lenoir, whose crucial role in saving medieval and early modern artifacts during the French Revolution has recently been recognized in a large-scale exhibition at the Musée du Louvre.50 Of particular interest to us is how Lenoir understood stained glass, and what he understood its
40
46 Raguin, Brush, and Draper, Artistic Integration in Gothic Buildings, and Caviness, “Stained glass windows in Gothic chapels and the feasts of saints”. 47 Guest, “Stained glass and liturgy”. 48 Panofsky, Abbot Suger on the Abbey Church of Saint-Denis, p. 20. 49 Harris, “Stained glass window as thing”, pp. 6–9; Necrologue of Chartres Cathedral, eds. Lépinois and Merlet, vol. 3, p. 129. 50 Bresc-Bautier and Chancel-Bardelot, Un musée révolutionnaire.
Harris, “The performative terms of Jewish iconoclasm and conversion”. 41 Symes, “The appearance of early vernacular plays”. 42 Harris, Medieval Theatre in Context, pp. 36–46. 43 Pastan, “Charlemagne as Saint”; see also Jordan, Ch. 11 in this volume. 44 Harris, “Saint Nicholas in context”. 45 Lentes, “Ereignis und Repräsentation”.
The Reception of Stained Glass
purpose to be in the very trying times in which he lived. Far from an iconographic, theological, or liturgical benefit, stained-glass windows held the benefit of creating the mood of history itself, at a time when the history of France seemed to be disappearing in the destruction and vandalism of the Revolution. In creating each room of the Musée des monuments français –for its brief but influential existence from 1790, in the midst of the French Revolution, to 1816, as France emerged from the reign of Napoleon –Lenoir used stained-glass windows to set the mood of each of his period rooms, starting with the ceremonious tone of the 13th century established by windows from Saint-Germain-des-Prés.51 As Mary Shepard argues, Lenoir’s use of stained glass is not in the service of accurate history –Suger’s windows from the 12th century find themselves in the 14th-century room –but they serve the purpose of evoking the vibrant mood of the 14th-century that Lenoir wanted to convey.52 In the Musée des monuments français, stained glass was almost entirely a signifier of historical mood, in a progression from the mysticism of the Middle Ages, steeped in the rich red and blue hues of Gothic stained glass, to the enlightenment of the Renaissance, visible in the translucent glass which had become a painted surface. Lenoir had very little concern with either iconography or liturgy, seeking instead to transport his audiences to authentic impressions of historical periods that were rapidly being rewritten in France. Even in this highly curated setting, stained glass proved unpredictable. In the 1810 edition of his Description historique et chronologique du Musée des monuments français, Lenoir records the reaction of then-Emperor Napoleon who, upon entering the 13th-century room proclaimed, “Lenoir, vous me transportez en Syrie”.53 The military Emperor’s recall of his campaigns in the Middle East were fortuitous to Lenoir, who was interested in finding Arabesque stylistic origins for the Gothic period.54 As we will see in our final section, the reception of stained glass did indeed range widely in the human imagination. 4
Aesthetic Diffusion: Idea
Our last mode of reception is the most abstract. A study of the aesthetic diffusion of stained glass will examine 51
Shepard, “Medieval stained glass and Alexandre Lenoir”; see also Shepard, Ch. 25 in this volume. 52 Lagabrielle, “Les vitraux de Saint-Denis au Musée des monuments français”. 53 “Lenoir, you transport me back to Syria”: Lenoir, Description historique et chronologique, p. 96. 54 Shepard, “Medieval stained glass and Alexandre Lenoir”, pp. 506–09.
209 how the idea of stained glass –in distinction with the experience and purpose analyzed in the two previous sections –is manifested. Art historians have long studied the geographical movement and plastic transformation of various media and styles. One of the very earliest pieces of modern art history writing, by Johan Joachim Winckelmann, is entitled Reflections on the Imitation of Greek Works in Painting and Sculpture, with chapters such as “Noble Simplicity and Quiet Grandeur”, devoted to the pervasive aesthetic of the Greek works diffused through imitation.55 In the realm of stained glass, diffusion through imitation seems to have occurred primarily through the geographical movement of artisans and craftsmen. Suger makes a point of mentioning the internationalism of the medium. Before engaging in his first long descriptive passage about a window, he cites the work as having been made “by the exquisite hands of many masters from different regions” (magistrorum multorum de diversis nationibus manu exquisite).56 In a recent article, Nancy Thompson has examined the various modes of collaboration, both across national boundaries and across artistic media, which resulted in the production of grand stained-glass projects in 14th- and 15th-century Florence.57 Stained glass moved with its artisans, both in idea and production. We have less of a textual record of the role of theology in this work, but the shared structures of architecture and liturgy insured and required the presence of stained glass throughout western Europe for hundreds of years. Stylistic diffusion will continue to be a fascinating area of study in stained glass, as the movements of workshops are tracked, and the exchange of ideas into production is followed. What I will focus on in more detail is the aesthetic diffusion of stained glass through its uses in metaphor. Stained glass was not only a beneficial medium in its beautiful effect or liturgical connection; it also proved very useful to theologians, poets, and other authors seeking a metaphoric framework in which to describe liminal states and entities that hovered between the material and immaterial, as Suger so eloquently taught us stained glass does. Virginity in general, as a treasured and contested state of being in the Middle Ages, and the Virgin Mary in particular, as both a Virgin and the Mother of God in perpetuity, benefited from the ambiguities, simultaneities, and multiplicities of glass. A wide range of texts elaborates on the metaphoric possibilities of glass to explain not just the clear state of virginity, but its 55 Winckelmann, Reflections, pp. 33–43. 56 Panofsky, “Introduction”, Abbot Suger on the Abbey Church of Saint-Denis, pp. 72–74. 57 Thompson, “Designers, glaziers, and the process of making stained glass windows”.
210 Harris fragility. The author of the 13th-century English rule for anchoresses known as Ancrene Riwle provides the memorable phrasing “this precious balsam in fragile glass is virginity and cleanness”, which can be lost or spilled; though whether this is uniquely through the body or also through the spirit, is left ambiguous.58 Glass could also provide what I would call a physical metaphor, when an actual piece of glass or crystal could serve as a vivid and physical translation of a concept. This is the case with the “Katharinenthal Visitation” group brilliantly analyzed by Jacqueline Jung in its physicality and theology.59 Rock crystal cut to be put into fittings on the bodies of Mary and Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist, evoked not only wonder in its shimmering variety, but also an entire theological discourse that sought to explain both the purity and glory of Mary’s virginity. In contrast to the virginity of nuns, which was more fragile and contested, Mary’s was rock solid and resplendent. It defied explanation while being unrelentingly present. Rock crystals were understood to be water that had hardened into crystal form, almost as a kind of “unmelting” ice. Their changing form aligned them with stained glass, which also changed from molten to fixed form. Both would become metaphors for the virginity of the Mother of God. Multiple theologians, St. Bernard of Clairvaux chief among them, would extoll the virtues and the mysteries of Mary’s virginity.60 Rock crystal and glass presented a magnificent set of metaphors for their ability to signal the beauty, strength, rarity, purity, wonder, and immaculate condition of the Virgin.61 Windows, and stained-glass windows in particular, offered an additional metaphorical layer: interaction with light, especially, as we have seen, when that light is understood as divine presence. In the 14th century, a vicar of Char- Sutton living in Kent, who is known to us as William of Shoreham, gave voice to a rushing series of metaphors that sought to speak to the power and beauty of the Virgin Mary. The poem exists in a unique manuscript in the British Library, and courses over metaphors from the dove of Noah to the Temple of Solomon to the Bush of Sinai, as it exuberantly explores all of the metaphoric possibilities of the Virgin Mary.62 The stanza given over to a glass window is worth quoting in full: “As the sun takes his passage through the glass, without breaking it, so thy maidenhood was untainted by bearing thy 58 Atkinson, “Precious balsam in fragile glass”, pp. 137–38. 59 Jung, “Crystalline wombs and pregnant hearts”. 60 Warner, Alone of All Her Sex; see also Kessler, Ch. 9 in this volume. 61 Kornbluth, Engraved Gems of the Carolingian Empire. 62 William of Shoreham, Poems, ed. Konrath, pp. 127–29.
child. Now, sweet lady of solace, be merciful to us sinful ones!”63 The quotidian passage of light through glass without shattering it, thus becomes a daily minor miracle. Active here is the tangibility of light, its physicality, as captured and mediated by windows. The optics of a window, and the medium’s ability to bend or diffuse light, is especially vivid when the glass is stained with color. Splashes of blues and reds can be seen on the floors of churches and cathedrals at various times of day, amplifying and transforming light. William of Shoreham established a metaphor of Mary’s virginity that could be verified and celebrated with every glance to a window, and amplified within the multi-colored hues projected by light shining through a stained-glass window in a church. In a twist at once cheeky and marvelous, Henry Adams, in his art historical travelogue of 1904, Mont Saint- Michel and Chartres, would make of the windows of the cathedral a rich tapestry, and of the ambulatory the Virgin’s “boudoir,” stating, “Here, as everywhere throughout the church, the windows give the law, but here [in the ambulatory] they actually take place of law. The Virgin herself saw to the lighting of her own boudoir.” 64 Through the allusion of the ambulatory as an intimate and sensual feminine space, the windows’ simultaneity and ambiguity had become the Virgin’s own. The English poet Geoffrey Chaucer would use stained- glass windows to frame one of his most poignant and enigmatic love visions, The Book of the Duchess, which he wrote between 1368 and 1372.65 Having fallen asleep reading a tragic Ovidian myth of love and loss, the Lover is awakened by bird song into a dreamscape of wonder, and marvels to see “all the tale of Troy” in stained glass and “all of the Romance of the Rose, with its text and gloss” in a wall painting. Colors richly imbue the space of the dreamer and establish limitless possibilities of narrative, most apt for the excursion into a poetic dreamscape the Lover is about to undertake. During the course of his wanderings, he will meet a Black Knight who tells him of his engagement with another complex visual field of possibilities: the chess board.66 Unfortunately for the knight, he loses the chess game to Fortune and with it, his White Queen, his Blanche. Stained glass 63
Parker, “A medieval song to Mary”; William of Shoreham, Poems, ed. Konrath. 64 Adams, Mont Saint-Michel and Chartres, p. 123. 65 Geoffrey Chaucer, The Book of the Duchess, trans. Stone, pp. 19–60. 66 Adams, “Pawn takes knight’s queen”. The poem may have been in commemoration of the death of Blanche of Lancaster, who died in 1368, much to the grief of John of Gaunt, who may have commissioned the poem.
211
The Reception of Stained Glass
appears here as a literary device to open up the interpretive field and to suggest the limitless possibilities of light, color, form, and meaning of both literature and art.67 Our final, post-medieval, postscript features what I would call a rediffusion of stained glass, characterizing the reception of the medieval medium in modern times. The “vitraux archéologiques” emerged from the studious polemics of the Annales Archéologiques, inaugurated by Alphonse Didron in 1844, at a time when the mystery of medieval stained glass was thought to be irreparably lost, and, for many, the mysteries of medieval culture along with it. One of the primary missions of the journal was to establish the parameters of authenticity in the production and restoration of stained glass. Didron elaborated a nuanced position within the fiery 19th-century debates surrounding restoration in calling for the replacement of damaged or absent windows with carefully rendered “vitraux archéologiques”.68 These newly fashioned objects were made of modern glass produced by modern industrial means, and yet claimed medieval authenticity through a careful combination of technique and iconography. Even though the materials were modern, the principles of production and content were recuperated from the Middle Ages, mainly through medieval texts and a close examination of extant medieval monuments, such as Chartres Cathedral.69 Elizabeth Pastan has explored this tension of modern method and medieval aesthetic in the restoration work of Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc, an Annales alumnus, at Troyes Cathedral.70 As consultant for the cathedral’s stained-glass restoration in the 1850s, Viollet-le-Duc was called upon to choose between a restoration that successfully mimicked the look of medieval glass by adding a patina, and one that did not look medieval in the 19th-century manner, but that used no artificial means of mimicry. Viollet-le-Duc sided with the latter because, Pastan explains, “however unsatisfactory in appearance, [the window] conformed to Viollet-le-Duc’s ideals of the Middle Ages’ ‘sincere’ use of materials”.71 In the early 1850s, Didron announced that the search for the lost art of stained glass had been achieved through the “vitrail archéologique”. Both saving grace and technological feat, the “vitrail archéologique” heralded a rebirth not only of stained glass, but of its color-drenched hues. 67 68 69 70 71
Harris, “Glazing and glossing”. Brisac, “Le vitrail archéologique en France”; Luneau, “Vitrail archéologique”. Didron, “Vitrail de la charité”, p. 220. Pastan, “Restoring the stained glass of Troyes Cathedral”. Pastan, “Restoring the stained glass of Troyes Cathedral”, p. 162. See also Foucart, “Viollet-le-Duc et la restauration”.
With the able distribution of colors throughout the mass of the glass facilitated by modern techniques, Didron had recaptured the operations of light in the Middle Ages so that, as he exuberantly declared in 1850, “instead of sliding upon the surface … light will from here on out penetrate the substance itself”.72 The medium was no longer a pale, unfixed imitation of panel painting, it could now be produced and perceived according to its own criteria and standards. Indeed, Didron rejected the notion that stained glass be any kind of opaque panel, like a painting, and reclaimed translucence as the optical goal of the medium. “Every art has its genius”, he stated in the first pages of the Annales Archéologiques, and the “genius” of stained glass was translucent light. The long trajectory of the reception of stained glass through its illuminations had come full circle. 5 Conclusion This essay has sought to trace the reception of medieval stained glass in and out of experience, purpose, and idea in both medieval and post-medieval contexts. In doing so, I hope to have demonstrated the restless and contested characteristics and history of this extraordinary medium. Fundamentally spectacular, often on a grand scale and in the highly charged public spheres of religious edifices, stained-glass windows made themselves known to their audiences immediately and vividly. With panels filled with content connecting to identities, rituals, and worldly concerns, stained-glass windows were both projections of color and content, and reflections of history of practice. Critical tensions exist between its medieval and modern receptions, and should continue to inform our work in understanding the visual fields and visual cultures that societies create. The ability for the medium of stained glass to persevere and re-emerge throughout art and history, compels us to keep questioning the power of reception to shape both art and audiences. Bibliography Primary Sources
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72
“au lieu de glisser sur la surface … la lumière vient dorénavant pénétrer dans la substance même”: Didron, “La divine liturgie”, p. 1.
212 Harris Kalamazoo, 1992, http://www.lib.rochester.edu-/camelot/ teams/berynfrm.htm (last accessed 1 July 2017). Geoffrey Chaucer, The Book of the Duchess, trans. B. Stone, Geoffrey Chaucer: Love Visions, New York, 1983, pp. 19–60. Lépinois, E. de and Merlet L. (eds.) Cartulaire de Notre-Dame de Chartres, vol. 3, Necrologium insignis ecclesiae sanctae Mariae Carnutensis, Chartres, 1865. Suger, De Administratione, ed. and trans. E. Panofsky, Abbot Suger on the Abbey Church of Saint-Denis and Its Art Treasures, Princeton, 1946, pp. 40–81. Suger, ed. and trans. F. Gasparri, Suger de Saint-Denis. Moine, soldat, homme d’État au XIIe siècle, Paris, 2015, pp. 54–155. Suger, ed. and trans. A. Speer and G. Binding, Abt Suger von Saint-Denis. Ausgewählte Schriften: Ordinatio, De consecratione, De administratione, Darmstadt, 2000, pp. 256–371. Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, trans. J.G. Hawthorne and C.S. Smith, On Divers Arts: the Foremost Medieval Treatise on Painting, Glassmaking and Metalwork, New York, 1963. William of Shoreham, Poems, ed. M. Konrath, The Poems of William of Shoreham, London, 1902.
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Brown, E.A.R. and Cothren, M., “The twelfth-century Crusading Window of the Abbey of Saint-Denis: Praeteritorum enim recordatio futurorum est exhibitio”, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 49 (1986), 1–40. Brown, P., “Journey’s end: the Prologue to the Tale of Beryn”, in J. Boffey and J. Cowen (eds.), Chaucer and Fifteenth-Century Poetry, London, 1991, pp. 143–66. Caviness, M.H., The Early Stained Glass of Canterbury Cathedral, c. 1175–1220, Princeton, 1977. Caviness, M.H., “Images of divine order and the third mode of seeing”, Gesta 22-2 (1983), 99–120. Caviness, M.H., “Broadening the definitions of ‘art’: the reception of medieval works in the context of post- impressionist movements”, in P.J. Gallacher and H. Damico (eds.), Hermeneutics and Medieval Culture, Albany, 1989, pp. 259–82. Caviness, M.H., “ ‘The simple perception of matter’ and the representation of narrative ca. 1180– 1280”, Gesta 30–1 (1991), 48–64. Caviness, M.H., “Biblical stories in windows: were they Bibles for the poor?”, in B.S. Levy (ed.), The Bible in the Middle Ages: its Influence on Literature and Art (Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 89), Binghamton, 1992, pp. 103–47. Caviness, M.H., “Stained glass windows in Gothic chapels and the feasts of saints”, in N. Bock, S. de Blaauw, C.L. Frommel, and H. Kessler (eds.), Kunst und Liturgie im Mittellter, Rӧmisches Jahrbuch der Bibliotheca Hertziana 33 (Transactions of the International Conference at the Bibliotheca Hertziana and the Dutch Institute in Rome), Munich, 2000, pp. 135–48. Caviness, M.H., “Reception of images by medieval viewers”, in C. Rudolph (ed.), A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, Malden, 2006, pp. 65– 84. Chazelle, C., “Pictures, books, and the illiterate; Pope Gregory I’s letter to Serenus of Marseille”, Word and Image 6-2 (1990), 133–58. Cothren, M.W., Picturing the Celestial City; the Medieval Stained Glass of Beauvais Cathedral, Princeton, 2006. Cothren, M.W., “Some personal reflections on American modern and postmodern historiographies of Gothic stained glass”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), From Minor to Major: the Minor Arts in Medieval Art History (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 14), Princeton, 2012, pp. 255–70. Didron, A.N., “La divine liturgie”, Annales Archéologiques 10 (January and February 1850), 1–13. Didron, A.N., “Vitrail de la charité”, Annales Archéologiques 14 (July-August 1854), 217–24. Foucart, B., “Viollet-le-Duc et la restauration”, in P. Nora (ed.), Les lieux de mémoires, 3 vols., Paris, 1986, vol. 2.2: La Nation, pp. 613–49.
The Reception of Stained Glass Frank, J. and Clark, W., “Abbot Suger and the Temple in Jerusalem: a new interpretation of the sacred environment in the Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis”, in C. Anderson (ed.), The Built Surface: Architecture and the Pictorial Arts from Antiquity to the Enlightenment, vol. 1, London, 2002, pp. 109–218. Guest, G.B., “Stained glass and liturgy: the uses and limits of an analogy”, in E.C. Pastan and M.B. Shepard (eds.), Journal of Glass Studies 56 (2014), 271–85. Harris, A.F., “Saint Nicholas in context: stained glass and liturgical drama in the Archbishopric of Sens”, in R. Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext: Bildprogramme und Raumfunktionen (Transactions of the 22nd International Colloquium of the CV in Nuremberg and Regensburg), Nuremberg, 2005, pp. 88–99. Harris, A.F., “The performative terms of Jewish iconoclasm and conversion in two Saint Nicholas windows at Chartres Cathedral”, in M.B. Merback (ed.), Beyond the Yellow Badge: New Approaches to Anti-Judaism and Anti-Semitism in Medieval and Early Modern Visual Culture (Brill’s series in Jewish studies, 37), Leiden, 2007, pp. 119–41. Harris, A.F., “Stained glass window as thing: Heidegger, the shoemaker panels, and the commercial and spiritual economies of Chartres Cathedral in the 13th century”, Different Visions 1 (2008): www.differentvisions.org (last accessed 1 July 2017). Harris, A.F., “Glazing and glossing: stained glass as literary interpretation”, in E.C. Pastan and M.B. Shepard (eds.), Journal of Glass Studies 56 (2014), 303–16. Harris, J.W., Medieval Theatre in Context; an Introduction, London, 1992. Hatt, M. and Klonk, C., Art History: a Critical Introduction to Its Methods, Manchester, 2006. Heck, C., “Conques, Sainte-Foy. Les vitraux de Soulages”, in Congrès archéologique de France. Monuments de l’Aveyron 167 (2009), 161–65. Jordan, A.A., Visualizing Kingship in the Windows of the Sainte Chapelle (Publications of the International Center of Medieval Art, 5), Turnhout, 2002. Johnson, J.R., The Radiance of Chartres: Studies in the Early Stained Glass of the Cathedral, New York, 1964. Jung, J.E., “Crystalline wombs and pregnant hearts; the exuberant bodies of the Katharinenthal Visitation group”, in R. Fulton and B. Holsinger (eds.), History in the Comic Mode: Medieval Communities and the Matter of Person, New York, 2007, pp. 223–37. Kemp, W., Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, trans. C.D. Saltzwedel, Cambridge, 1997. Kornbluth, G., Engraved Gems of the Carolingian Empire, University Park, 1986. Lagabrielle, S., “Les vitraux de Saint-Denis au Musée des monu ments français”, in Bresc- Bautier and Chancel- Bardelot (eds.), Un musée revolutionnaire, pp. 112–19.
213 Lenoir, A., Description historique et chronologique du Musée des monuments français, Paris, 1810. Lentes, T., “Ereignis und Repräsentation. Ein Diskussionsbei trag zum Verhältnis von Liturgie und Bild im Mittelalter”, in B. Stollberg-Rilinger and T. Weißbrich (eds.), Die Bildlichkeit symbolischer Akte (Symbolische Kommunikation und gesellschaftliche Wertesysteme, Schriftreihe des Sonderforschungsbereichs 496, 28), Münster, 2010, pp. 155–84. Lillich, M.P., Rainbow like an Emerald: Stained Glass in Lorraine in the Thirteenth and Early Fourteenth Centuries, University Park, 1991. Luneau, J.-F., “Vitrail archéologique, vitrail tableau. Chronique bibliographique”, Revue de l’art 124 (1999), 67–78. Mâle, E., “La peinture sur verre en France”, in A. Michel (ed.), L’histoire de l’art depuis les premiers temps chrétiens jusqu’à nos jours, vol. 2-1, Paris, 1906, pp. 372–96. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England during the Middle Ages, London, 1993. Material Collective, http://thematerialcollective.org/ (last accessed 1 July 2017). Miller, P.N. (ed.), Cultural Histories of the Material World, Ann Arbor, 2013. Murray, S., Plotting Gothic, Chicago, 2015. Nelson, R. (ed.), Visuality Before and Beyond the Renaissance: Seeing as Others Saw, Cambridge, 2000. Panofsky E., “Introduction”, Abbot Suger on the Abbey Church of Saint-Denis and Its Art Treasures, Princeton, 1946, pp. 1– 37. Parker, E., “A medieval song to Mary: ‘the rich castle, where all the weary rest’ ”, http://aclerkofoxford.blogspot.com/2012/ 08/a-little-song-to-mary.html (last accessed 1 July 2017). Pastan, E., “Restoring the stained glass of Troyes Cathedral: the ambiguous legacy of Viollet-le-Duc”, Gesta 29-2 (1990), 155– 66. Pastan, E., “Charlemagne as Saint: relics and the choice of window subjects at Chartres Cathedral”, in M. Gabriele and J. Stuckey (eds.), The Legend of Charlemagne in the Middle Ages: Power, Faith, and Crusade (The New Middle Ages Series), New York, 2008, pp. 97–135. Pastan, E. and Bacon, S., Les vitraux du choeur de la Cathédrale de Troyes (XIIIe siècle) (CV France, 2), Paris, 2006. Raguin, V., Brush, K., and Draper, P., Artistic Integration in Gothic Buildings, Toronto, 1995. Renoue, M., “De la ‘matière’ du visible et des arts”, Protée 36-3 (2008), 99–109. Shepard, M.B., “Medieval stained glass and Alexandre Lenoir”, in E.S. Lane, E.C. Pastan, and E.M. Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing: Approaches to Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Farnham, 2009, pp. 497–512. Symes, C., “The appearance of early vernacular plays: forms, functions, and the future of medieval theater”, Speculum 77-3 (July 2002), 778–831.
214 Harris Thompson, N.M., “Designers, glaziers, and the process of making stained glass windows in 14th-and 15th-century Florence”, Journal of Glass Studies 56 (2014), 237–51. Van Duzer, C., “An Arabic source for Theophilus’s recipe for Spanish Gold”, in A. Speer, M. Maurièges, and H. Westermann-Angerhausen (eds.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst: die ‘Schedula diversarum artium’ (Miscellanea Mediaevalia, 37), Berlin, 2014, pp. 369–78.
Warner, M., Alone of All Her Sex: the Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary, Oxford, 1976. Williams, J.W., Bread, Wine, and Money: the Windows of the Trades at Chartres Cathedral, Chicago, 1993. Winckelmann, J.J., Reflections on the Imitation of Greek Works in Painting and Sculpture, trans. E. Heyer and R.C. Norton, LaSalle, 1987 (orig. 1755).
c hapter 13
Using Style to Interpret Medieval Stained Glass: a Case Study at Beauvais Michael W. Cothren Stylistic assessment built the foundation on which the modern study of Gothic stained glass was constructed.1 Before the middle of the 20th century, discussion of stained glass took place primarily in the context of broader architectural or local history. It was largely descriptive rather than analytical, but the focus changed in the wake of World War ii. In the years leading up to the war, many stained-glass windows had been removed from their buildings and secured in storage facilities to protect them from destruction. After the war, before the windows were returned to their buildings, art historians were consulted to guide the process of restoration and consolidation before reinstallation. This opportunity was transformational. It made possible the proximate study of works whose architectural context had kept them far removed from scholars; fine details of painting styles became visible. During the intensified attention this directed to both individual panels and overall compositions, it became clear that these works were major examples of Gothic painting, ready to be integrated into broader art historical study on their own rather than as one aspect of Gothic architecture. Although subject matter and meaning received expanded attention,2 at the outset, formal analysis was the driving focus of this beginning of modern stained-glass studies. In 1948, while he was in the midst of these post-war examinations, Louis Grodecki (1910–82)3 published a foundational article that established a stylistic method for identifying and assessing the character of Gothic stained- glass workshops.4 The approach was not new: Grodecki was in touch with a broader formalist development in art 1 The deep stylistic analysis this entails was not restricted to the study of medieval stained glass during the 20th century. It was a general feature of modernist art history, especially when it addressed medieval art. The fundamental definitions and objectives of the 20th-century method –often called “formalism” though it takes diverse forms –are outlined and discussed in Schapiro, “Style”. See also Seidel, “Formalism”; Sauerländer, “From stilus to style”; Klein and Boerner, Stilfragen (an essay by Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz specifically addresses the study of stained glass). 2 For the relationship of Panofskian iconography and iconology to modernist stained-glass studies, see Cothren, “Historiographies”, pp. 257–59. 3 For Grodecki, see Caviness, “Louis Grodecki (1910–1982)”. 4 Grodecki, “Stained glass atelier”.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 17
history during the first half of the 20th century. His ideas were formed in part by the lectures of his teacher, Henri Focillon, and by his reading of Wilhelm Vöge’s study of early Gothic French sculpture.5 In Germany, Paul Frankl’s dissertation on stained glass (published in 1912) was rooted in formalism, and Hans Wentzel organized his broad 1951 survey of German windows around stylistic study.6 Enrico Castelnuovo also foregrounded style in his overview of Italian medieval stained glass.7 For French stained-glass specialists in the second half of the 20th century, however, Grodecki’s study became the model for using formalist methods to organize an understanding of the production of windows. Grodecki used the scrutiny of style –window composition and design, chromatic character, figural compositions, and the details of painted articulation –to sort Gothic windows from Bourges Cathedral among a series of “workshops” associated with regional stylistic tendencies. His emphasis was on evaluating these works of medieval art in relation to their creation rather than their reception, their forms rather than their meanings. We might characterize Grodecki’s project as the elucidation of “production management”. Style was his evidence, in an artistic environment where we have almost no textual documentation of production practices.8 He confined Gothic stained glass within a relatively closed “art world”, dominated by the personal styles of masters and the regional formation of workshops.9 Windows were 5 Focillon (1881–1943), Vie des formes; Vöge (1868–1952), Die Anfänge. 6 Frankl (1878–1962), Die Glasmalerei; Wentzel (1913–75), Meister werke. 7 Castelnuovo (1929–2014), Vetrate medievali. 8 Very little is known with any certainty about the working methods and workshop organization of medieval glass painters. Although the text of Theophilus, On the Divers Arts, gives information on how individuals might make windows, it does not broach the question of how they might have organized their collaborative work in an atelier. On what we do know, see Cothren, “Suger’s stained glass masters”, Lillich, “Gothic glaziers”, and Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume. 9 As Grodecki developed and extended this method over the course of three decades, he used “workshop/atelier” and “master/maître” almost interchangeably, although there is sometimes a subtle distinction in meaning. Central to his conception of production practice as revealed by style, was the assumption that even
216 Cothren products of tradition, influence, and innovation. Their creation was rooted in the energy of artists more than the expectations of patrons or the experiences of original audiences. They were more about facture than function. In a sense, Grodecki saw these Gothic artists operating within an insular system similar to that in the Modern art world that flourished in Europe and America at the middle of the 20th century, contemporary with his foundational modernist conception of the study of medieval stained glass. Most current stained-glass specialists who focus on monuments in France learned their interpretive craft from teachers whose training and scholarship were rooted, at least in part, in the practices of workshop identification as outlined by Grodecki in 1948, and developed by him over three decades in a dazzling series of studies of medieval stained-glass windows.10 The current use of style as an investigative tool, however, extends into other areas of analysis more useful in furthering priorities of post-modern art historical practice. In this essay, I will use the Gothic windows of Beauvais Cathedral as a case study to survey various ways –both traditional and new –in which stylistic analysis has been used, and can be used, to elucidate the historical contexts of medieval stained-glass windows.11
10
11
if the creation of windows was organized as a group enterprise, the stylistic character of the product was under the control of a single individual, an artist whom he refers to as the “master” of the workshop. For instances where he discusses style in relation to the notion of a workshop, see his studies of Saint- Denis and the Sainte-Chapelle: Grodecki, Le vitrail roman, pp. 96–103; id., “Le style des vitraux de Saint-Denis”; Aubert et al., Les vitraux de Notre-Dame et de la Sainte-Chapelle, esp. pp. 92–93; Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique, pp. 98– 104. For his use of “master” to discuss the stylistic character of individual windows, see Grodecki, “Le maître de Saint- Eustache”; id., “Les problèmes de l’origine”. Within his larger and more comprehensive studies, he discusses style in relation both to workshops and masters: e.g. Grodecki, “De 1200 à 1260”; id., Le vitrail roman; id. and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique. In an important stylistic study of the nave aisle windows at Chartres, Claudine Lautier, one of Grodecki’s students, complicates this situation by foregrounding stylistic discontinuities as well as continuities in individual windows: Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés de la nef de Chartres”. Although Grodecki’s 1948 article and subsequent scholarship became the models for the modernist approach in France, he did not develop this method in isolation. Others were also using and advancing it, including Grodecki’s supremely gifted older colleague, Jean Lafond (1888–1962), who also used stylistic analysis to identify and characterize important Gothic and Renaissance stained-glass painters. Much of what is presented here is drawn from Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, where numerous illustrations provide the extensive visual evidence needed to support many of the generalizations that follow.
1
Defining “Workshops” and “Masters”
The three 13th-century openings in the axial Virgin Chapel of Beauvais Cathedral are filled with double- lancet and rose windows whose architectural framework would date them to the mid-1240s Figure 13.1). Each of the three is clearly distinguishable through the sort of stylistic analysis outlined by Grodecki in his 1948 study. He would assess these windows as the work of three different masters and workshops since each is clearly distinct stylistically across the four categories of analysis Grodecki employed: 1. overall window design (both the division into panels created by iron armatures and the medallion compartments that are defined within those panels) 2. ornament (ground patterns, medallion frames, window borders) 3. color tonalities (both the range of hues and how they are employed) 4. distinguishing features and techniques of figural scenes (compositions, figural proportions and postures, drapery folds and arrangements, and the details of painted articulation, especially in faces). Based on these qualities, each window at Beauvais can also be related through comparative study to windows elsewhere. The enduring usefulness of Grodecki’s method becomes clear in a window by window examination. It will also suggest other new directions. 1.1 The Infancy Window The central window portrays three subjects: the Jesse Tree (left lancet), the Infancy of Christ (right lancet), and a Sacramental Crucifixion (rose). The overall design of the Jesse Tree lancet is essentially standard in this period,12 and the non-overlapping sequence of canted squares and opposed half-quatrefoils of the Infancy lancet (Figure 13.1b) is far from unusual. Similar compartment designs, based on the alternation of relatively simple shapes, each containing a single figural composition, became standard when the subdivision of broad openings into narrower lancets took place during the second quarter of the 13th century. The need to devote as much area as possible to narrative scenes in such window designs led to the use of narrow “half-borders” and reduced patches of bold “mosaic ground”. Both expanded compartment design and overall ornamental austerity also characterize what survives from the rose above the two lancets. These features associate the Infancy window with broad period trends. Other stylistic features help isolate its distinctiveness and its regional affiliations. 12
For the sorts of variations that do occur, see Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, p. 10.
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The color palette is relatively extensive, including yellow, red, brownish purple, two hues of blue (saturated and light), two hues of green (olive and forest), white, and with several pinks and tans reserved for human flesh (Figure 13.2). Though saturated blue forms the backgrounds of all figural scenes, and is joined by a vibrant red to activate the decorative mosaic field, no color dominates in figural compositions; the entire palette is employed for drapery and décor. Painting in these figural scenes is dense, detailed, and precise, if occasionally stiff or dry. Eyes are formed with four brittle curves; mouths are tight bars over plump chins; ears are crumpled; jaws are heavy; hair forms tightly curled hats. The coordination of these facial details constitutes a distinctive style, different from that used for faces in the chapel’s other two windows. Drapery is equally distinctive. Folds are rendered as carefully and precisely as facial features, with brittle lines tapering to sharp points or ending in curved loops; smooth, unarticulated passages alternate with areas densely packed with lines. It is in figural conception and composition, rather than in the details of painted articulation, that the window’s stylistic character emerges most cleanly. Upright, occasionally stiff, figures pose as compact forms; their gestures are controlled and angular. The figures’ outlines are rectilinear, and the blockiness of individual figures is reflected in the way they are arranged into groups within narrative scenes. The blocky shape of a group of several figures is emphasized over the individual shape of any member of that group. This tendency characterizes compositions without regard to the shape of the compartment they occupy, and there is no attempt to accommodate poses or gestures to compartmental shapes. Also, frames seem to have been imposed over pre-formed rectilinear compositions. Even if stylistically distinctive within the Virgin Chapel, the visual characteristics of the Infancy window associate it with a broader regional tradition, that includes windows in smaller churches at Agnières, Belle- Église, and Villiers-Saint-Paul, all within a 30 km radius of Beauvais.13 The stained glass from these churches is more modest in scale, but its close relationship technically and formally to the grand window in the local cathedral assigns it to a regional workshop active in this area, probably in the years following the glazing of the Virgin Chapel. Using Grodecki’s analytical model, the relationship is especially close with Agnières, which 13
Three panels in American collections, survive from another regional Jesse Tree window: Caviness et al., New England Collections, pp. 22–23 (entry by Michael Cothren); Hayward et al., English and French Medieval Stained Glass, vol. 1.1, pp. 134–40.
includes Infancy and Jesse Tree windows closely modeled on the lancets in the cathedral window.14 The related stained glass at Beauvais and Agnières may not have been created by the same artists and workshop, but it shares a definable regional tradition, unified by several aspects of style. The tradition seems to have earlier antecedents in the Beauvais region at Breuil-le-Vert, Saint- Jean-aux Bois, and Noyons.15 The Infancy window is the product of artistic workshop traditions developed and active within the Beauvaisis. 1.2 The Bishop Saint Window16 Both lancets of the left window in the Virgin Chapel recount the life of a bishop saint using an overall window design that is similar to that used in the Infancy lancet of the central window (Figure 13.1a).17 Here circular medallions replace canted squares in the central row of compartments aligned up the middle of each lancet, and the slightly reduced half-quatrefoils that run up the sides have a pointed inner lobe connecting with the points of a floating (rather than overlapping) canted- square “brooch” at the center. There are similarities in ornament as well, though the mosaic ground is bolder in concept, and the lancets are framed with whole, rather than with half borders, as in the Infancy window. The prominence of red in these ornamental passages, as well as the frequent use of red for the drapery of figures, give this window a somewhat warmer overall tonality than the Infancy window, but both windows make use of a varied palette in the draping of figures and in the settings of the scenes they enact. In overall window design, ornamental character, and coloristic effect, this window is not significantly distinct from the Infancy window, but with this window’s conception, articulation, and composition of figural scenes, we are in a different stylistic world. The arrangement of figures and props follows two oppositional tendencies (Figure 13.1a). The first is a coordination of poses, movements, gestures, and 14 15 16
17
Cothren, “Choir windows of Agnières”. Cothren, “Saint John the Baptist window from Breuil-le-Vert”; id., Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 39–43. I have proposed that the sainted bishop in this window might be Constantin, an early bishop of Beauvais, but I have stressed that the generic quality of most of the scenes in the story may be intended to downplay identification with any particular bishop saint, and to facilitate an association of this sainted bishop’s career with that of Robert de Cressonsacq, bishop of Beauvais when this window was created and installed. See Cothren, “Who is the bishop?”; and id., Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 47–58. As in the Theophilus window to the right, the stained glass from the rose above the lancets does not survive.
218 Cothren environments to the shape of the framed picture space: whether it is defined as a circle or an awkwardly restricted half-quatrefoil. Adjacent areas are filled as completely as possible (note the flourish of drapery that moves into the empty space behind a striding participant in Figure 13.3). This is a striking contrast with the practice of the designer of the Infancy lancet, who holds fast to rectilinear compositional principles without regard to the shape of compartment frames (Figure 13.1b). In a contradictory tendency, the designer of the Bishop Saint window at times imposed compartmental frames over narrative participants so that their bodies or heads are unsettlingly truncated (Figures 13.3 and 13.1a, lower right scene). In contrast, in the Infancy lancet, heads and bodies are more likely to overlap frames than to be overlapped by them. The figures enacting these scenes from the life of a bishop saint are as distinctive as the way they are arranged, especially when juxtaposed with the adjacent window in the Virgin Chapel. Their attenuated bodies are strangely mannered, with low, bent knees, long torsos, and proportionally small heads, hands, and feet. Facial features follow a distinctive formula, using lines that vary between extremes of bold (eyebrows, mouths, hairlines, jaws, noses) and wiry (eyes, hair, inner nose contours, and nostrils). Even if postures are somewhat rubbery, figures strike self-consciously elegant, dancelike poses when caught in movement. Drapery is voluminous and soft, articulated with bold, sweeping lines and prominent loops. Clothing often clings to figures to reveal the contours of their bodies. Drapery not only defines form and movement, it accentuates the sweeping sense of line that coordinates compositions with compartment shapes. As distinctive as the figural style of the Bishop Saint window is within the Virgin Chapel, it is not unique to Beauvais. Closely related stained glass remains from the nearby Norman cathedral of Rouen: in a Good Samaritan window still installed in the ambulatory,18 and in a series of fragmentary panels surviving from a St. John the Evangelist window.19 The stylistic relationship with the Good Samaritan window is especially striking: borders are almost identical; the repetitive mosaic grounds are formed from similar components painted with the same motifs; and comparable compartment shapes are employed. The latter at Rouen, though, are spread in horizontal registers of repeated forms, rather than offset alternations going up the window, probably because the opening at Rouen is much broader. These overall design relationships are underscored by the similarities 18 Ritter, Rouen, pp. 47–48, pls. 21–23. 19 Cothren, “Seven sleepers”, pp. 213–19.
in compositional structure and the details of painted articulation. Human poses are rubbery, mannered, and occasionally dance-like, and loop-fold drapery clings to bodies to reveal underlying form. The style of these windows at Beauvais and Rouen evolves from a long-standing glass-painting tradition that can be traced back to a classicizing approach to the human figure developed in north-eastern France around 1200. This style was prominent in French stained glass during the second quarter of the 13th century, notably at Laon, Soissons, Chartres, Saint-Quentin, Baye, Orbais, and Troyes.20 The windows at Beauvais and Rouen were probably both produced by the same workshop of glass painters, who practiced a distinctively mannered variant of this long and broad northern French stylistic movement.21 Thus, whereas the style of the Infancy Window is local, the style of the Bishop Saint Window is broadly based, both in origin and in practice. 1.3 The Theophilus Window The right window in the Virgin Chapel offers an immediate and striking contrast with its two neighbors (Figure 13.1c): a difference in scale is most obvious. The window design, coupled with the decision in most cases to devote two adjacent panels to single narrative scenes, provides broad fields for figural compositions. Instead of using the expansive space to create more complicated scenes, packed with details, the artists of the Theophilus window chose to increase the scale of the figures and place them in airy surroundings, reserving negative space to emphasize their silhouettes. Huge cuts of glass and strong, spontaneous painting reinforce the sense of boldness. The monumentality enhances legibility; this story can be followed even in dim light. This distinguishes the Theophilus window most noticeably from the Bishop Saint window (contrast Figure 13.1a to Figure 13.1c), with its dazzling collection of as many as 20 densely populated scenes, ornately painted on intricately cut morsels of glass, and barely accommodated by the small-scale panels stacked in the paired lancets. The Theophilus window presents instead a stately, measured series of half as many events (Figure 13.1c). Tonalities are also distinctive. The palette is more restricted and subdued than in the other two windows. The red is not as intense and warm and is used sparingly, except for ornamental borders and fields. Much more prominent in the figural scenes is a cool, streaky purple 20 21
Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique, pp. 33–48. For a more developed explanation of the transformation of the classicizing style into the mannerist variant, seen in the windows of Beauvais and Rouen, see Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 69–71.
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glass (Figure 13.4). As in the Infancy window there are both an olive and a forest green. The blues of the backgrounds are less saturated, and a lighter blue is used in the figural compositions. The constitution of the palette itself is less exceptional than its deployment. Most scenes contain broad areas of a couple of colors; few include the complete palette. Colors chosen for emphasis vary from scene to scene, giving each an individual chromatic profile. The Theophilus window is not only distinguished by scale and color, but also by its bold painting. The meticu lous and detailed articulation used by the artists of the other two windows is shunned here for rapid, summary, vigorous painting that maintains the energy and confidence of spontaneous execution. Emphasis shifts from the intricacies of interior delineation to the clearly defined and elegantly cut contours of whole forms (Figure 13.4), often indicated with the broad strokes of lead lines. These stylistic features associate the Theophilus window with the cosmopolitan and progressive trends in French glass painting just before the middle of the 13th century. No surviving stained glass elsewhere can be attributed to the workshop that produced the Theophilus window; there is no circumscribed, developing regional style into which this window fits as neatly as the adjacent Infancy window. But fundamental formal features associate the Theophilus window more broadly with Parisian stained glass of the 1240s: the closest stylistic parallels are with the St. Vincent windows created between 1244 and c.1250–55 for the Virgin Chapel of the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.22 The stylistic tendencies they share are precisely those characterizing a mid-century Parisian trend that would travel through France and beyond in the succeeding decades. These Parisian features include overall window design; ornamental fabric; the crisp, clean outlines of figures in airy compositions; streamlined and rapidly applied painted articulation; and a stiff and stylized sense of narrative austerity using ritualized poses and gestures. 2
Using Style to Date Windows
Implicit in Grodecki’s analytical model is a link between style and date, rooted in a belief that stylistic development over the history of Gothic stained glass followed a smooth and evolutionary trajectory. This allowed Grodecki to date windows stylistically based on their 22
For a comprehensive stylistic study of the stained glass at Saint-Germain-des-Prés, see Shepard, Thirteenth-Century Stained Glass, pp. 132–91 (for the Saint Vincent window, pp. 166–75). See also Shepard, “The Relics Window”.
position along a developmental timeline that was constantly in revision because of new information on dating drawn from extra-stylistic documentation.23 The diversity of style within a single setting in the Virgin Chapel at Beauvais –prepared to receive its windows in the mid- 1240s according to the currently accepted architectural chronology24 –complicates things. The diversity stems not only from distinctions in artistic temperament; it is founded in relationships to divergent stylistic traditions associated with different moments in time according to standard models of stylistic evolution. The Infancy window belongs to a regional heritage that emphasized: detailed if schematic painting; rectilinear compositions of stiffly posed, solid figures; and the varied use of an extensive palette. Seen in relationship to developmental models of stylistic evolution during the first half of the 13th century, this style seems conservative, more representative of glass painting in the 1220s and 1230s than predictive of tendencies that would dominate in windows after 1250.25 Only a certain hardness to the painting, and the reduced border and simplified overall window design, associate this window with developments of the 1240s; it has little else in common with the “progressive” developments in contemporary Parisian windows. This suggests that even if, as Grodecki proposed, the hardening evident in the Parisian-related work of the “Saint Chéron Master” was pervasive in French stained glass of the 1230s and 1240s,26 not all such developments were headed toward the mid-century Parisian style. Hardening might be a definable stylistic trend, but it did not lead to a single stylistic end.27 In the Beauvaisis, the chronology could have been something like this: the passive softness of Breuil-le-Vert c.1235, yields to dryer precision at Beauvais 23
24
25
26 27
This system dominates his two synthetic and magisterial late publications (Le vitrail roman and Le vitrail gothique). See also Grodecki, “Les problèmes de l’origine”. For a broader discussion of dating stained glass, see Pastan, “Dating the medieval work”. According to Stephen Murray (Beauvais, pp. 84–89), the radiating chapels of the Beauvais choir were constructed during a second architectural campaign begun in the early 1240s. If the production of stained glass was contemporary with the construction of the stone building itself, the three windows of the Virgin Chapel would date to the middle of the 1240s. The style of this window might be related, for instance, to the Charlemagne window at Chartres (dated to c.1220–25 in Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique, pp. 65–72) or the Virgin Chapel windows at Le Mans (dated to c.1235–40, because of their relationship to Chartres, in Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique, p. 60). Grodecki, “Les problèmes de l’origine”. See Cothren, “Choir windows of Agnières”, esp. pp. 63–64.
220 Cothren c.1245, ultimately giving way to energetic brittleness at Agnières c.1250. The Bishop Saint window emerges stylistically from another, more venerable, tradition that had flourished in north-eastern France at the dawn of the century. Self- conscious exaggeration, suave refinement, and schematization distinguish this window from its earlier ancestors. If the narrative participants of the Infancy window are defined by their flat, angular, rigid, stillness, the figures of the Bishop Saint window are caught instead in curvilinear movement, and their pervasive overlapping gives a sense of depth absent in the scenes of the Infancy lancet, where horizontal continuity triumphs over spatial recession. The Bishop Saint window is a precious and mannered outgrowth of classicizing Muldenfaltenstil, and the existence at the cathedral of Rouen of a closely related window, seemingly produced by the same workshop, demonstrates that this stylistic tendency was not restricted to the Beauvaisis. Unlike its neighbors, the Theophilus window looks forward more than back. Its presumably Parisian artists practiced a variant of a cosmopolitan trend characterized by airy compositions, emphatic silhouettes, heightened legibility, spontaneous and streamlined painted articulation, narrative austerity, and simplified and monumental compartment and ornamental design. It is large in conception, a striking contrast to the small- scale fussiness and refined, if distorted delicacy of the Bishop Saint window. In part because of its association with buildings of royal affiliation, this mode of glass painting was to appear frequently outside the capital in the 1250s and 1260s. If the Infancy window artists were fundamentally conservative, and those who created the Bishop Saint window were well-bred mannerists, these painters were proponents of an avant-garde. Could this diversity bear witness to sequential rather than simultaneous production? There is no reason to assume automatically that these three windows must be contemporaneous. Three teams of artists or three workshops could have labored here successively rather than concurrently, each producing a single window before moving on to find work elsewhere. Subsequently, a new workshop, or group of artists, could have been called to Beauvais to execute another window when both money and architectural framework were available. Under such an analysis, the three windows could take an individual chronological position on a developmental stylistic timeline, with the conservative Infancy window initiating a three-part sequence c.1240, or slightly earlier, in anticipation of chapel construction, and the progressive Theophilus window completing the glazing, perhaps postdating the construction of the chapel by several years at c.1250, or even later.
Although conceivable, this explanation seems unlikely. In large, well-funded architectural projects such as Beauvais, the magnitude of work in stained glass would have supported –and may actually have mandated –the simultaneous activity of several workshops, distinguishable by the stylistic differences apparent in the windows each produced. The character of High Gothic glazings, such as those at Chartres and Bourges, seems to indicate that this was the case earlier in the century. At Chartres, for instance, the legible and airy compositions, simplified articulation, and ritualized narratives associated with the “Saint Chéron Master” may have coexisted with the detailed and rather rigid meticulousness of the Charlemagne window, to cite only two potentially contemporary tendencies evident in this ambitious program.28 The stylistic diversity apparent in the somewhat later programs of the Sainte-Chapelle and Saint-Germain- des-Prés, confirms the extension of this common working method into the 1240s, even in ensembles where a unified decorative vision is more apparent than in the Virgin Chapel at Beauvais. Far from surprising, the stylistic heterogeneity of the Beauvais Virgin Chapel may actually be representative of the complexion of French stained glass during the second quarter of the 13th century. During this prodigious period in the history of the stained-glass window, formal diversity was normal rather than exceptional; perhaps in some programs it was sought as an aesthetic ideal.29 Instead of seeking a unified formal vision, or proposing explanations for a putative failure to achieve it, perhaps we should envision programs like the Virgin Chapel triptych as a celebration of the rich diversity of stylistic dialects that could be assembled to portray the central messages of the Church to the assembled faithful. 3 Could Workshop Style Have Coordinated with Narrative Design? The three windows in the Virgin Chapel at Beauvais are not only different in style, they also differ in the design 28
29
The traditional assessment of these windows as contemporary has been challenged by Kurmann and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Chartres Cathedral”, pp. 136–37, 148–49 n. 33; and Kurmann- Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, pp. 176–92. See Lautier, Ch. 4 in this volume. Stylistic diversity within a single program was common from the very beginning of the vogue of the stained-glass window. Perhaps it was an aesthetic goal of Gothic church programs rather than the unfortunate by-product of the need to glaze buildings quickly. See Cothren, “Suger’s stained glass masters”, esp. p. 54 and p. 63, n. 81.
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of the stories they tell. Could style and story be related in the construction of meaning in each individual window? Could there be a programmatic, as well as an aesthetic, explanation for the combination of different styles within a discrete ensemble? It is not difficult to suggest how mode and message could be related here. The staid style of local venerability seems a logical choice to embody the symbolic diagram of the Jesse Tree and the immutable sacred narrative of Christ’s Infancy. Figures are frozen in changeless configurations, as if captivated by the solemnity of sacred significance. The meanings they convey and the stories they enact neither emphasize nor rely on human action or interaction. Events are presented with the quiet clarity of eternal truth by artists who, perhaps for more than one reason, manifest the conservative status quo of regional respectability. The Theophilus window’s suave style of monumental legibility is anything but stiff and rectilinear. Perhaps the distinct flavor of a Parisian avant-garde was deployed here intentionally to attract the attention of the cosmopolitan class of wealthy and powerful individuals to whom the message of this window is clearly directed?30 More generally, this style of narrative power, clarity, and immediacy seems a logical choice where effective story- telling is critical to conveying the message. The window is crisscrossed with gestures and curvilinear evocations of human activity; facial expressions are engaging, wide eyed, alert; the spontaneous painting of summary articulation vibrates with the immediacy of artistic production. With this and the axial window then, a clear possibility emerges that choices concerning style, and consequently choices of artists or workshop, may have been influenced by intended meaning. In his pioneering narratological study of Gothic stained glass, Wolfgang Kemp has cited “in passing … more as a curiosity than anything else” the Good Samaritan window at Rouen as an example of a narrative style of accretion: of extending one biblical story over the unusual expanse of 36 panels. He ascribes this window to a narrator “who was unaware of the essential thing –who was never told that this theme could only be made to fill a window with the aid of typology.”31 As a result, Kemp sees here only “unbelievable awkwardness and redundancy”.32 He activates this bold appraisal by employing the Good Samaritan window as a foil to highlight what he considers the more sophisticated “systematic narrative” of the more “successful” Good Samaritan window at Sens, whose designer he characterizes as “a brilliant 30 Cothren, “Iconography of Theophilus windows”, pp. 333–34. 31 Kemp, Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, p. 66. 32 Ibid, p.66.
theologian, but … an even better narrator”.33 Kemp’s brazen comparison of apples and oranges is easy to critique, but purged of its normative gloss, his assessment highlights an important feature of both the Rouen Good Samaritan and the Beauvais Bishop Saint windows created by the same workshop, a feature which may be significant in determining the possible relationship of mode and meaning in the Virgin Chapel. Like the Good Samaritan window, the Beauvais Bishop Saint window is designed as a narrative which seems more expansive than the tale it tells, a narrative characterized more by inter-visual rhyming repetition than by the focused activity and chronological unfolding of a saint’s life. As Alyce Jordan has so brilliantly demonstrated in her analysis of narrative design in the Sainte- Chapelle, such amplificatio scarcely represents second- rate narrative practice during the 1240s.34 If the narrative designers of these two windows at Rouen and Beauvais showed a propensity for long-winded story-telling, they would have been ideally suited to realize the incumbent bishop of Beauvais’s possible agenda for this window, as I have suggestively reconstructed it elsewhere.35 If it made sense to render diagrams of lineage, Incarnation, and Redemption in the enduring style of conservative local respectability, and to tell the moral tale of Theophilus in a lively cosmopolitan –even courtly –style of compelling legibility, it seems equally logical that the expansive narrative habits of the artists of the Bishop Saint window might have made them particularly suitable for this particular wing of the Virgin Chapel triptych. The stylistic diversity among these windows could be an intentional by-product of deliberate narrative design. For some, the formal discontinuity may seem less confusing when mapped on the specific story-telling strategies of three different narratives. 4
Discovering Individual Artists
Stylistic analysis can be used not only to identify and characterize stained-glass workshops and broader period trends, it also allows us to identify and characterize the individual artists who worked together to produce windows. Evidence for the collaborative process of painting exists from the beginning of the history of stained glass; it was central to the creation of windows in the first Gothic church at Saint-Denis.36 In a brilliant and important study of the nave aisle windows of Chartres, 33 Ibid., p. 68. 34 Jordan, Visualizing Kingship, esp. pp. 9–14. 35 Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 52–58. 36 Cothren, “Suger’s stained glass masters”.
222 Cothren Claudine Lautier’s close stylistic study has revealed the collaboration of diverse individual artists within the windows of the nave aisles, in ways that complicate and enrich our understanding of how Gothic stained-glass windows were made, as well as the dynamic relationship that existed between masters and workshops.37 Her conclusions raise important questions concerning how strictly Grodecki’s model of defining workshop production under stylistic unity can be taken. Meredith Lillich has also advanced our understanding of artistic individuality on Gothic windows by identifying and tracing the work of stylistically definable individuals in the regional tradition of western France.38 The evidence of individual hands at work in the Virgin Chapel windows of Beauvais is not as challenging and revealing as the evidence presented by Lautier and Lillich, but it does further an understanding of how work was organized in the atelier that produced the Infancy window.39 As already discussed, this window was painted by a “workshop” rooted in local glass-painting traditions. The style of the window is a cohesive expression of that tradition, but careful formal analysis of the panels, when seen from close proximity, reveals that the window was painted by three distinguishable artistic hands.40 I have called the first and most prolific of the painters the “hard hand” (Figure 13.2, and most of Figure 13.1b). This artist’s painting is precise, and there is a hardness to the line. Even when loops are employed to relieve the stiffness of the drapery, the painted lines that define 37
Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas côtés de la nef de Chartres”. 38 Lillich, Armor of Light. For example, she masterfully identifies two artists who worked side by side on the glazing of the Norman cathedral of Sées (c.1270–85) –artists she calls the Jean de Berinières master and the Magdalen master –by contrasting their painting of figures of Saint Peter based on the same design: Lillich, “A stained glass apostle”. By allowing the painters of Gothic windows to have personalities, she takes the stylistic analysis of stained glass to a deeper level of human interest. 39 For a more detailed discussion of the three artists who worked on the Infancy window, see Cothren, “Holding hands”. 40 The possibility of close examination is a key factor here. From an examination of photographs and by using binoculars, I had developed a sense that the window was painted by several different “hands”, but only when I had the opportunity to examine the whole window from scaffolding erected right in front of the inside surface was I able to make confident and clear distinctions. It was also the opportunity for close examination of the aisle windows of Chartres that led to Lautier’s conclusions about collaborative execution there: Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas côtés de la nef de Chartres”, esp. pp. 9–12.
them still taper to brittle points, and broad, unarticu lated areas of clothing contrast with densely painted ones. The outlines of figures are especially crisp, poses especially stiff; facial expressions are consistently alert and tightly controlled, and there is a sense of flatness to bodies and faces. The overall feeling is wiry, tense, tight, precise, hard. This painter was responsible for the lowest registers of the two lancets and the most important aspects of the rose: 23 and a half panels in total. There is a subtle relaxation in the work of a second painter, whom I have dubbed the “trough hand” because of the long, illusionistic recessions filled with half-tone wash that appear within broad expanses of drapery. This artist painted the fewest panels in the window, taking full responsibility for three kings and two prophets in the Jesse Tree, as well as a single figure in the Infancy lancet: King Herod in the scene where he is visited by the three Magi (second canted square from the bottom in Figure 13.1b). Evoking a sense of three-dimensional form was more important for this artist than tight patterns, sharp silhouettes, or precise painting. The broadened faces seem more relaxed and less focused, never as tense as those painted by the “hard hand”. Figural outlines are softer, posture more relaxed. The comparison between the work of these two artists is clearest when juxtaposing two pairs of prophets in the Jesse Tree based on the same two models or cartoons (Figure 13.5a-d). The poses, basic configuration of drapery, and facial types conform to a full-scale drawing or workshop norm, but the distinct temperaments of the painters shine through in the way they rendered the formulae. The drapery of the “trough hand” gives figures a greater sense of plasticity, especially noticeable in the pull of drapery over the leg of one of the prophets (Figure 13.5d). The heads painted by the “trough hand” are broader and more rounded; the painting of the wide- opened eyes emphasizes that roundness. The waves of hair are more relaxed and tend to curve around contours, again to convey more three-dimensionality, especially when compared with the crisp contours of the “hard hand” figures. The more extensive work of the “soft hand,” the window’s third painter, is concentrated in the upper half of both lancets.41 This artist’s figures seem even more relaxed. At times they have flabby outlines, and the painting seems halting, detailed but disorganized, the antithesis of the confident if fussy precision of the “hard hand.” Possibly because of relaxed conception and articulation, both individual figures and narrative compositions seem
41
A chart mapping the work of these three painters within the window is in Cothren, “Holding hands”, p. 32.
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Using Style to Interpret Medieval Stained Glass
bland and detached, hesitant rather than assertive in demeanor and presentation. Dividing the execution of this window among three “hands” is relatively straightforward. We need only look beneath the larger stylistic system that unifies the window and discover the individual idiosyncrasies and tendencies that manifest each artist’s habits of working or thinking.42 In the process, however, some broader and more challenging interpretive questions emerge. Is it significant that most of the work of the “soft hand” was relegated to the upper registers of the lancets and subsidiary sections of the rose, and that the “trough hand” worked primarily on the upper part of the Jesse Tree? Is it possible that because these two painters were considered less gifted or experienced by patron or workshop, their painting was placed in areas that were further removed from viewers, less available for close scrutiny? The more painstaking painting of the “hard hand”, which seems to embody most consistently the stylistic profile of the window as a whole, is spread across the bottom of the window where it is easiest to see, and this painter also took responsibility for the privileged scene of the Crucifixion at the top of the window. It is tempting to identify the “hard hand” as the “master” of the workshop who was responsible for the design of the window as a whole. In such an assessment, his two colleagues would become assistants. But we have no way of knowing if the artists who made medieval stained-glass windows organized themselves along such hierarchical lines, nor if our qualitative assessments coincide with the unknowable judgements of those who commissioned, produced, and received these works. 5 Relating the Style of Stained Glass to Painting in Manuscripts As stained glass began to take its place as part of the history of Gothic painting, and not just the history of Gothic architecture, relationships were sought and cited between the style of windows and the style of painted miniatures in manuscripts. Grodecki went so far as to propose that in at least one instance –the dispersed 12th- century panels from Troyes –the stylistic relationship 42 Sometimes the situation is more complicated. Madeline Caviness’ pioneering study of the relationship among a series of stylistically linked glazings at Canterbury, Braine, Saint- Remi at Reims, and Sens, traced the way artists moved with patterns from church to church, introducing variations not necessarily related to their own personal stylistic profile, but to tailor these workshop patterns to the context of individual churches: Caviness, Sumptuous Arts; ead., “Tucks and darts”.
between glass painting and manuscript paintings was close enough to claim that both window and book were painted by the same individual, working in two very different media.43 At Beauvais the relationships are hardly close enough to make such a bold claim, but comparisons with manuscripts have proven useful in contextualizing the style of its windows in two different instances. The stylistic traits that associate the Infancy window in the Virgin Chapel with a regional workshop tradition also associate that tradition with the historiated initials of two partially preserved Bibles, believed to have been executed in Picardie in the late 1220s or 1230s.44 Notable features are rectilinear compositional tendencies and the stiff conception of stocky figures. Oversized heads sit on craning necks; gestures are angular; hair is handled as a tightly curled cap. It is difficult to imagine the mechanisms that allowed such cross-media relationships at this time, but could there have been interaction between the insular and stable world of the scriptorium and the presumably itinerant workshop artists who created stained-glass windows? With two band windows in the St. Vincent Chapel created a half a century later in the 1290s –part of the restorations occasioned by the famous collapse of the main vaults at Beauvais in 1284 –there is an even closer connection with contemporary manuscript painting.45 Particularly striking are comparisons with the full-page pictures in the Livre d’images de Madame Marie,46 painted in Hainaut at the end of the 1280s, and the Psalter and Hours of Yolande de Soissons, from about the same time.47 The expressionistic fervor of the executioners in the windows’ scenes of martyrdom (often underlined by the display of teeth), as well as the serenity of the accompanying angels, and the air of delicacy and sweetness characterizing portrayals of Christ, all find close parallels within the miniatures of these books. In both media, facial features are pulled forward along extended 43
Grodecki, “Problèmes de la peinture en Champagne”, pp. 137– 39; id., Le vitrail roman, pp. 144–46. For a broader assessment of the cross-media connections in these panels, see Pastan, “ ‘Fit for a Count’ ”, pp. 346–55. 44 Amiens, Bibliotheque municipal, mss 21 and 23. The Bibles originate from Corbie, where they may have been produced. I am grateful to Willene Clark for bringing these manuscripts to my attention. See Clark, “Three manuscripts”, pp. 102– 05, figs. 11–13, 15; and Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, figs. 44–45. 45 Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 124–45; id., “Le vitrage de la chapelle Saint-Vincent”. 46 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, ms nouv. acq. fr. 16251. See Stones, Le livre d’images. 47 New York, Pierpont Morgan Library, ms M. 729. See Gould, Psalter and Hours.
224 Cothren noses toward pursed lips, framed by the tight, symmetrical curls of beards. There are also parallels in the delineation of bold, beak-fold drapery. Connections extend from figures to framing. The plethora of pinnacles, gables, and flyers used in various combinations for the frames in the Psalter of Yolande de Soissons are closer to the canopies surmounting the narratives scenes in the windows at Beauvais than any contemporary examples in stained glass. There is no reason to conclude that these two manuscripts influenced the painters of the Beauvais windows directly. Comparisons are general rather than specific, and, once again, it is difficult to imagine how glass painters would have gained access to these books. Also, though manuscript painters would have been able to see stained-glass windows, both books seem to predate by a few years the Beauvais chapel glazing. Rather than pointing to direct influence, these general comparisons –like the earlier 13th-century ones between the regional windows and books –evoke broader artistic contexts. If more works of art survived from this period and place, they might document a multimedia regional painting tradition at the end of the 13th century, stretching from Beauvais, through Picardie, and into the Hainaut. 6 Showing Sensitivity to Styles in the Recent Medieval Past A large stained-glass workshop was assembled at Beauvais during the 1340s, charged with creating a window for the axial bay of the newly renamed St. John Chapel (installed between the two windows from the 1290s, just discussed) and a vast choir clerestory glazing to replace windows that had been destroyed when the high vaults tumbled in 1284. At first glance, it is far from apparent that these windows were created by the same artists. The chapel window offers small-scale figures and elaborate canopies, set as a full color band between expanses of delicate grisaille touched with silver stain. This carefully painted ensemble exemplifies precisely the style one would expect to see in stained glass from the 1340s. But the clerestory windows contain a band of bold and brash figures (Figure 13.6a) sandwiched between unpainted grisaille, surprisingly different not only from the chapel window but also from 14th-century clerestory programs in general. The identity of manufacture is secured, however, by close relationships in the painting of figures, backed up by chromatic and physical correspondences.48 If chapel and clerestory windows were 48 Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 178–81.
produced around the same time by the same artists, why are they so different in execution and effect? Is the seeming unstylishness of stained glass in the clerestory programmatic? Were these artists shrewd or just sloppy? The lean and vigorous painting in the choir clerestory could be the result of the glass painters’ sensitivity to location, to an awareness that from the floor of the choir, viewed from a severe angle, only bold statements are visible at these dizzying heights. But the transformation is greater than that demanded by physical situation, and it was not customary for 14th-century artists to reduce their style this drastically in clerestory windows. The distinctions could be ascribed alternatively to haste or thrift. Rapid execution and the avoidance of silver stain, even paint, in the grisailles, would have saved money and readied the church for services more quickly. There is a third possibility that I find more convincing: could these windows be intentionally old fashioned? Did the artists make a conscious and successful attempt to accommodate their style to the extant 13th-century windows of the hemicycle clerestory by emulating the earlier format, and by subjecting their painting to a drastic technical and stylistic reduction? The number of significant correspondences between the design and execution of the 14th-century clerestory windows and the surviving 13th-century clerestory windows make this possibility compelling.49 It is not only possible but likely that the 14th-century glass painters worked to harmonize their modern windows with earlier windows by exercising a stylistic reduction (Figure 13.6a-b). They did not mimic antique style with pastiche, but they did refer to the building’s past without managing to be totally out of step with their present. This situation would not be unique to Beauvais, nor to the 14th century. Madeline Caviness has examined comparable examples in which medieval artists in various media restored earlier works in ways that blend later intervention with original style, demonstrating a respect for the styles of the works they were restoring and an attempt to keep their work from forming a jarring contrast to them.50 What is unusual at Beauvais is that this sensitivity to the past manifests not in replacements or restorations within an older ensemble, but in the creation of a new ensemble of windows that would be viewed next to an older ensemble.51 49
50 51
For a fuller discussion of the evidence, see Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 176–85; and Cothren, “Restaurateurs et créateurs”. Caviness, “De convenientia”. There is a comparable “conservationist” tendency in the 14th-century stonework of the architectural restoration at Beauvais. See Cothren, “Picturing the Celestial City,” pp. 183– 84 and pl. 204.
Using Style to Interpret Medieval Stained Glass
7 Conclusion No one monument can involve every aspect of the ways stylistic analysis has been, and can be, used in present practice to interpret Gothic stained-glass windows. But, by using Beauvais Cathedral as a case study, we have been able to assess the continuing utility of a foundational model outlined by Louis Grodecki. We have also used that model as a springboard for engaging with more current artistic concerns: raising questions of dating, authorship, narrative design, and sensitivity to style in medieval practice, as well as modern and post-modern analysis. Specialists in the study of medieval windows will certainly find new analytical tools and interpretive priorities. The history of art is a work continually in process, but the analysis of style seems destined to remain a part of this work as it moves into the future. It is difficult to imagine the tool kit without it. Bibliography Secondary Sources
Aubert, M., et al., Les vitraux de Notre-Dame et de la Sainte- Chapelle de Paris (CVMA France, 1), Paris, 1959. Castelnuovo, E., Vetrate medievali. Officine, tecniche, maestri, Turin, 1994, 2nd ed., Turin 2007. Caviness, M.H., “ ‘De convenientia et cohaerentia antiqui et novi operis’: medieval conservation, restoration, pastiche, and forgery”, in P. Bloch et al. (eds.), Intuition und Kunstwissenschaft: Festschrift für Hanns Swarzenski, Berlin, 1973, pp. 205–21. Caviness, M.H., Sumptuous Arts in the Royal Abbeys in Reims and Braine: Ornatus elegantiae, varietate stupendes, Prince ton, 1990. Caviness, M.H., “Louis Grodecki (1910–1982)”, in H. Damico (ed.), Medieval Scholarship: Biographical Studies on the Formation of a Discipline, New York, 2000, pp. 307–21. Caviness, M.H., “Tucks and darts: adjusting patterns to fit figures in stained glass windows around 1200”, in J. Burns (ed.), Medieval Fabrications, Dress, Textiles, Clothwork and other Cultural Imaginings, London, 2004, pp. 105–19. Caviness, M.H. et al., Medieval and Renaissance Stained Glass from New England Collections (Exhibition catalogue: Cambridge, Mass., Busch-Reisinger Museum of Harvard University), Cambridge, Mass., 1978. Clark, W.B., “Three manuscripts for Clairmarais: a Cistercian contribution to early Gothic figure style”, in M.P. Lillich (ed.), Studies in Cistercian Art and Architecture, 6 vols., Kalamazoo, 1987, vol. 3, pp. 1–16. Cothren, M.W., “The iconography of Theophilus windows in the first half of the thirteenth century”, Speculum 59 (1984), 308–41.
225 Cothren, M.W., “The Saint John the Baptist window from Breuil-le-Vert (Oise): an example of stylistic and iconographic regionalism in the second quarter of the thirteenth century”, in M.H. Caviness and T. Husband (eds.), Corpus Vitrearum: Selected Papers from the XIth International Colloquium of the Corpus Vitrearum, New York, 1–6 June 1982 (CV USA, Occasional Papers, 1), New York, 1985, pp. 49–59. Cothren, M.W., “The Seven Sleepers and the seven kneelers: prolegomena to a study of the ‘Belles Verrières’ of the cathedral of Rouen”, Gesta 25-2 (1986), 203–26. Cothren, M.W., “The choir windows of Agnières (Somme) and a regional style of Gothic glass painting”, Journal of Glass Studies 28 (1986), 40–65. Cothren, M.W., “Suger’s stained glass masters and their workshop at Saint-Denis”, in G. Mauner et al. (eds.), Paris: Center of Artistic Enlightenment (Papers in Art History from The Pennsylvania State University, 4), University Park, PA, 1988, pp. 46–75. Cothren, M.W., “Who is the bishop in the Virgin Chapel of Beauvais Cathedral?”, Gazette des Beaux-Arts 125 (January 1995), 1–16. Cothren, M.W., “Restaurateurs et créateurs de vitraux à la cathédrale de Beauvais dans les années 1340”, Revue de l’art 111 (1996), 11–34. Cothren, M.W., “Le vitrage de la chapelle Saint-Vincent de la cathédrale de Beauvais: un chef-d’oeuvre méconnu de la peinture française vers la fin du XIIIe siècle”, in D. Gaborit- Chopin and F. Avril (eds.), 1300 … l’art au temps de Philippe le Bel, Actes du colloque international (Rencontres de l’École du Louvre, 16), Paris, 2001, pp. 119–35. Cothren, M.W., Picturing the Celestial City: the Medieval Stained Glass of Beauvais Cathedral, Princeton, 2006. Cothren, M.W., “Holding hands in the Virgin Chapel at Beauvais Cathedral”, in E.S. Lane, E.C. Pastan, and E.M. Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing: Approaches to Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Farnham, Surrey, 2009, pp. 30–43. Cothren, M.W., “Some personal reflections on American modern and postmodern historiographies of Gothic stained glass”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), From Minor to Major: the Minor Arts and Their Status in Medieval Art History (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 14), Princeton, 2012, pp. 255–70. Focillon, H., Vie des formes, Paris, 1934. Frankl, P., Die Glasmalerei des fünfzehnten Jahrhunderts in Bayern und Schwaben, Strasbourg, 1912. Gould, K., The Psalter and Hours of Yolande of Soissons, Cambridge, Mass., 1978. Grodecki, L. “A stained glass atelier of the thirteenth century: a study of the windows in the cathedrals of Bourges, Chartres, and Poitiers”, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 11 (1948), 87–111.
226 Cothren Grodecki, L., “De 1200 à 1260”, in M. Aubert et al., Le vitrail français, Paris, 1958, pp. 115–61. Grodecki, L., “Problèmes de la peinture en Champagne pendant la seconde moitié du douzième siècle”, in Studies in Western Art, vol. 1: Romanesque and Gothic Art: (Transactions of the 20th International Congress of the History of Art in New York), Princeton, 1963, pp. 129–41. Grodecki, L., “Le maître de Saint-Eustache de la cathédrale de Chartres”, in M. Kühn and L. Grodecki (eds.), Gedenkschrift Ernst Gall, Berlin, 1965, pp. 171–94. Grodecki, L., Le vitrail roman, Fribourg, 1977. Grodecki, L., “Les problèmes de l’origine de la peinture gothique et le ‘maître de Saint Chéron’ de la cathédrale de Chartres”, Revue de l’art 40–41 (1978), 43–64. Grodecki, L., “Le style des vitraux de Saint-Denis”, in id., Études sur les vitraux de Suger à Saint-Denis (XIIe siècle), ed. by C. Grodecki, C. Bouchon, and Y. Zaluska (CV France, Études, 3), Paris, 1995, pp. 135–42. Grodecki, L. and Brisac, C., Le vitrail gothique au XIIIe siècle, Fribourg, 1984. Hayward, J., Shepard, M.B., and Clark, C., English and French Medieval Stained Glass in the Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (CV USA, 1), 2 vols., London, 2003. Jordan, A.A., Visualizing Kingship in the Windows of the Sainte- Chapelle (Publications of the International Center of Medieval Art, 5), Turnhout, 2002. Kemp, W., The Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, trans. C.D. Saltzwedel, Cambridge, 1997. Klein, B. and Boerner, B. (eds.), Stilfragen zur Kunst des Mittelalters. Eine Einführung, Berlin, 2006. Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Kurmann, P., Chartres: la cathédrale, Saint-Hilaire-Vauban, 2001. Kurmann, P. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Chartres Cathedral as a work of artistic integration: methodological reflections”, in V.C. Raguin, K. Brush, and P. Draper (eds.), Artistic Integration in Gothic Buildings, Toronto, 1995, pp. 131–52. Lautier, C., “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés de la nef de Chartres au début du XIIIe siècle”, Bulletin monumental 148-1 (1990), 7–45. Lillich, M.P., “A stained glass apostle from Sées Cathedral (Normandy) in the Victoria and Albert Museum”, Burlington Magazine 119 (1977), 496–501.
Lillich, M.P., “Gothic glaziers: monks, Jews, taxpayers, Bretons, women”, Journal of Glass Studies 27 (1985), 72–92. Lillich, M.P., The Armor of Light: Stained Glass in Western France 1250–1325, Berkeley, 1994. Murray, S., Beauvais Cathedral, Architecture of Transcendence, Princeton, 1989. Pastan, E.C., “ ‘Fit for a Count’: the twelfth-century stained glass panels from Troyes”, Speculum 64 (1989), 338–72. Pastan, E.C., “ ‘And he shall gather together the dispersed’: the Tree of Jesse at Troyes Cathedral”, Gesta 37 (1998), 233–36. Pastan, E.C., “Dating the medieval work: the case of the Miracles of Saint Andrew Window from Troyes Cathedral”, in B.S. Tuten and T.L. Billado (eds.), Feud, Violence, and Practice: Essays in Medieval Studies in Honor of Stephen D. White, Farnham, Surrey, 2010, pp. 239–57. Raguin, V.C., “The Isaiah Master of the Sainte-Chapelle in Burgundy”, Art Bulletin 59 (1977), 483–93. Ritter, G., Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Rouen. XIIIe, XIVe, et XVIe siècles, Cognac, 1926. Sauerländer, W., “From stilus to style: reflections on the fate of a notion”, Art History 6 (1983), 253–70. Schapiro, M. “Style”, in A.L. Kroeber (ed.), Anthropology Today. An Encyclopedic Inventory, Chicago, 1953, pp. 287–312. Seidel, L., “Formalism”, in C. Rudolph (ed.), A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, Malden, 2006, pp. 106–27. Shepard, M.B., The Thirteenth-Century Stained Glass from the Parisian Abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés (Unpublished PhD., Columbia University, 1990). Shepard, M.B., “The Relics Window of St. Vincent of Saragossa at Saint-Germain des Prés”, Gesta 37-2 (1998), 258–65. Stones, A., Le livre d’images de Madame Marie. Reproduction intégrale du manuscrit Nouvelles acquisitions française 16251 de la Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris, 1997. Vöge, W., Die Anfänge des monumentalen Stiles im Mittelalter. Eine Untersuchung über die erste Blütezeit französischer Plastik, Strasbourg, 1894. Wentzel, H., Meisterwerke der Glasmalerei, Berlin, 1951.
c hapter 14
Saints’ Lives and Stained Glass Ashley J. Laverock The rise of narrative stained-glass windows during the 13th century coincided with the expansion of devotion to the saints. This essay explores the contribution of stained glass depicting saints’ lives to the cult of saints, by drawing attention to the significance of the medium, its relation to reliquaries and relics, and the importance of location within the church, as expressed through 13th-century windows depicting the popular early Christian virgin martyr St. Margaret of Antioch. Stained glass conveyed saint’s lives in unique and site-specific ways, amplified by a constellation of metaphors linking glass, saints, gemstones, and relics. Depicting saints, especially martyrs, in the medium of stained glass reinforced the values and characteristics of sanctity through shared symbolic properties. As a medium with broad audience appeal, glass could also contribute to the growth of a saint’s cult by providing a visible physical presence for the saint and by referencing relics held by the church, and even providing the impetus for the creation of new liturgies to the saint. The study of hagiographic stained-glass windows and their contribution to the cult of saints raises numerous questions. How is stained glass unique among other visual manifestations of the cult of saints? How was stained glass used as a hagiographic tool? How does the medium shape the beholder’s understanding of sanctity? How are stained-glass images of saints affected by the dynamic environments of churches, both at the moment of their creation and across time? I address these questions through a consideration of the medium and the subject matter of individual windows depicting saints’ lives within the church’s sacred topography, and in relation to the church’s liturgy and relics.
Latin, and Eastern texts related to the cult of saints.1 This publication, and the 66 subsequent volumes published by the Bollandists (through 1940), form a corpus of hagiographic evidence that excludes non-textual sources. The Bollandists endeavored to bring together archaeological and documentary evidence of “historical value,” which, for Bollandist Hippolyte Delehaye, comprised only explicitly religious works aimed at edification.2 In his publication The Legends of Saints: an Introduction to Hagiography (1907), Delehaye dismissed as ahistorical hagiographic texts that were composed centuries after a saint’s death, such as early Christian martyr narratives.3 Delehaye’s outlook was tied to his belief in a divide between clerical and lay religious practices. This so-called “two-tiered model” of Christianity held that the laity had only a “general notion” of sanctity and thus were unconcerned by anachronisms and fantastical episodes in saints’ lives, while the clergy embodied “scholastic” theology.4 For Delehaye, visual imagery negatively contributed to hagiography by favoring the dramatic and fanciful, thus leading to misrepresentations of the saints.5 The relegation of visual images of saints and other non- textual manifestations of the cult of saints to the realm of the laity, “popular religion,” or “folklore,” was given a firm foundation by art historian Emile Mâle, a contemporary of Delehaye’s, in his monumental work on French Gothic art, L’art religieux du XIIIe siècle en France, first published in 1898.6 In Mâle’s chapter on images of saints in Gothic cathedrals, he acknowledged the didactic value of hagiographic images for the laity while perpetuating the perceived divide between clergy and laity, by explaining that such images “charmed” and entertained the “childlike” people.7 In the 1980s, scholars began challenging this two- tiered model. In his influential book The Cult of Saints,
1
1 Acta Sanctorum. 2 Delehaye, The Legends of Saints, p. 2. 3 Ibid., pp. 2, 61. 4 Ibid., pp. 21, 24. For David Hume, the cult of saints belonged to “popular religion”, which “had an appetite for absurdity and contradiction”: Hume, The Natural History of Religion, pp. 22- 23. 5 Delehaye, The Legends of Saints, pp. 46, 75. 6 Mâle, L’art religieux; Mâle, Religious Art. 7 Mâle, L’art religieux, pp. 313–86; Mâle, Religious Art, pp. 267–329. The French reads, “Tous ces récits charmaient un peuple enfant”; Mâle, L’arte religieux, p. 327; Mâle, Religious Art, p. 279.
Hagiographic Windows in Art History
Once the domain of textual scholars, the study of the saints has expanded beyond textual vitae to include the diverse objects and images associated with the cult of saints. Visual imagery is now recognized as a significant contributor to the cult of saints and as a form of hagiography in its own right. In 1643, Jean Bolland (1596–1665), a Jesuit scholar, published the first volume of the Acta Sanctorum (Acts of the Saints), a compilation of Greek,
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 18
228 Laverock historian Peter Brown argued that the growth of the cult of saints in Late Antiquity was orchestrated by powerful clerics who sought to increase devotion to the shrines they oversaw.8 Brown convincingly showed that the cult of saints adapted to both lay and clerical needs. Since Brown’s study, scholarship on the cult of saints has expanded to include previously-overlooked evidence, including material culture. Art historians began to consider how visual imagery, particularly in manuscript illuminations, expressed devotion to the saints, the changing conceptions of sanctity, and contemporary religious beliefs and practices.9 In the late 20th century, art historians expanded their studies of the cult of saints to incorporate a wider range of objects and images.10 Many of these objects –including relics and reliquaries –intersect with the medium of stained glass through liturgical interactions and close physical proximity. As imagery associated with the cult of saints was taken more seriously as evidence of medieval devotional practices, stained glass depicting saints’ lives became an area of serious scholarly inquiry. Elizabeth Pastan and Mary Shepard employed various approaches in their consideration of the stained-glass medallion depicting St. George tortured on a wheel from Chartres Cathedral (currently in the Princeton University Art Museum), including provenance, condition, the cult of the saint, representations of the saint in other media, and the evidence of devotions at the cathedral.11 These constitute a well-rounded model for studying hagiographic windows. Pastan and Shepard, as well as other scholars represented in this volume, including Madeline Caviness, Michael Cothren, Anne Harris, and Alyce Jordan, have considered images of saints in stained-glass windows within the topography of the church and in conjunction with the architecture and liturgy.12 For example, Madeline Caviness has examined how stained-glass windows
interacted with liturgies, and how windows depicting the Old Testament figure Joseph created unique interpretations through different narrative choices.13 Michael Cothren has shown how differences in the narrative of Theophilus in stained glass reflect the specific contexts, contemporaneous social customs, and traditions of the locations where the different windows appear.14 Anne Harris has examined the ways in which depictions of St. Nicholas in stained glass at Chartres interacted with liturgical performances, and how the windows depicting St. Thomas Becket’s miracles at Canterbury Cathedral could have been understood by pilgrims hoping to experience the saint’s intercession.15 Alyce Jordan has studied how the windows of St. Thomas Becket express the spread of his cult, and the role of stained glass in reinforcing the relics of Christ’s Passion at the Sainte- Chapelle.16 My own work has examined how the life of a single saint, St. Margaret of Antioch, was reinterpreted, reframed, and reimagined in stained glass across several sites during the early 13th century.17 Other scholars, including Colette Manhes-Deremble, Claudine Lautier, Patrick Geary, and Frank Martin, have shown how stained glass could stimulate and enhance devotion to a saint.18 Patrick Geary examined how the stained-glass window depicting St. Helen of Athyra at Troyes Cathedral, created after the acquisition of her body, generated devotion to the saint.19 Frank Martin has considered how the 13th-century window depicting the life of the recently canonized St. Elizabeth of Hungary at the church of St. Elizabeth in Marburg established a new iconography for the saint in conjunction with hagiographic images on her reliquary shrine.20 Scholarship on stained glass depicting saints and their narratives shows the malleability of hagiographic subjects, as they were shaped according to the needs of a particular viewing community.21
8 Brown, The Cult of Saints, pp. 8–10. 9 Abou-el-Haj, “The audience for the medieval cult of saints”, pp. 3–15; Abou-el-Haj, The Medieval Cult of Saints, pp. 28–32; Carrasco, “The imagery of the Magdalen”; Carrasco, “Spirituality in context”; Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart. 10 Bagnoli, Treasures of Heaven; Hahn, “The voices of the saints”; Hahn, Strange Beauty. 11 Pastan and Shepard, “The torture of Saint George medallion”. Pastan and Shepard returned to these issues in their article, “Introduction. Stained glass”, which engages varied approaches to the window. 12 Caviness, The Early Stained Glass of Canterbury; Caviness, “Stained glass windows in Gothic chapels”; Cothren, “The iconography of Theophilus windows”; Cothren, “Who is the bishop in the Virgin Chapel of Beauvais Cathedral?”; Harris, “Pilgrimage, performance, and stained glass at Canterbury Cathedral”; Harris, “Saint Nicholas in context”; Jordan, “Rhetoric and reform”; Jordan, Visualizing Kingship; Pastan, “Charlemagne
as Saint?”; Pastan and Shepard, “The torture of Saint George medallion”; Shortell, “Dismembering Saint Quentin”. 13 Caviness, “Biblical stories in windows”, pp. 128–47; Caviness, “Stained glass windows in Gothic chapels”. 14 Cothren, “The iconography of Theophilus windows”. 15 Harris, “Pilgrimage, performance, and stained glass at Canterbury Cathedral”; ead., “Saint Nicholas in context”. 16 Jordan, “Rhetoric and reform”; ead., Visualizing Kingship. 17 Laverock, The Visual Hagiography of St. Margaret of Antioch. 18 Geary, “Saint Helen of Athyra”; Lautier, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”; Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 32–33, 75–78; Martin, “Die heilige Elisabeth in der Glasmalerei”. 19 Geary, “Saint Helen of Athyra”. 20 Martin, “Die heilige Elisabeth in der Glasmalerei”. 21 Caviness, “Biblical stories in windows”, pp. 128–45; Jordan, “Rhetoric and reform”.
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Saints’ Lives and Stained Glass
Studying hagiographic subjects in stained glass has its own particular difficulties, however. As noted by Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz and Claudine Lautier, the study of medieval glazing often requires reconstructing the original programs of windows whose panels have been restored, rearranged, replaced, or lost.22 Such reconstructions are made more difficult because the subject matter of windows often does not directly express textual sources, but incorporates oral traditions.23 To explore the role of stained glass as a hagiographic source, I turn to the 13th-century windows depicting the early Christian virgin martyr St. Margaret of Antioch. Margaret is among the most frequently represented female saints in medieval stained glass, appearing in extant examples at the cathedral of Notre-Dame at Chartres, the cathedral of Saint-Étienne at Auxerre, and at the church of St. Margaret at Ardagger Abbey in Austria, to name a few.24 Born to a pagan father, Margaret converted to Christianity in her youth, was pursued by a licentious pagan magistrate, was imprisoned, tortured, and was ultimately beheaded for her steadfast devotion to Christ.25 Margaret’s narrative is distinguished from other martyrs’ passions by her triumphs over the devil, who appeared to her, first, in the form of a dragon and then, in the form of a demon.26 As a saint who did not have a living memory within any 13th-century community, Margaret’s narrative was particularly adaptable and her representations in stained glass vary in their form, emphases, locations within the church, and relation to liturgy.27 The windows 22
Kurmann-Schwarz and Lautier, “Recherches récentes, 2e partie”, pp. 317–18. 23 Kurmann-Schwarz and Lautier, “Recherches récentes, 2e partie”, pp. 317–18. For the problems of oral traditions, textual sources, and the stained-glass images in the Miracles of Virgin window (baie 38) at Chartres, see Sobczyk, “Langue, texte, image”. 24 The number of windows suggests Margaret’s widespread appeal. Surveying extant 13th-century stained-glass subjects across France in Corpus Vitrearum publications, I found that St. Margaret is depicted in ten extant windows. St. Catherine is the second most represented virgin martyr, and is depicted in nine extant windows. Other female saints who are often represented are St. Mary the Egyptian and Mary Magdalen, both penitent saints. Images of the Virgin Mary are, of course, more numerous than any other female saint. 25 St. Margaret’s textual vitae are found in Greek, Latin, and numerous vernacular languages throughout the Middle Ages. Laverock, “The visual hagiography of St. Margaret of Antioch”, pp. 17–40. 26 Margaret was able to easily best the dragon through the sign of the cross, and overcome the demon by beating and stomping on him: Boninus Mombritius, Sanctuarium, eds. Duo monachi Solesmenses, pp. 192–93. 27 Laverock, “The visual hagiography of St. Margaret of Antioch”.
of Margaret, in their variety, remind us that stained glass, like sanctity, was, “in the eye of the beholder, that it was negotiated, contested and shaped as much by the needs of the audience as by the experience of the saint in question”.28 2
Materials: Mundane to Marvelous
The significance of stained-glass windows to the cult of saints begins with the symbolic properties of the medium. The process of creating a window analogizes a saint’s transformation from mere mortal to heavenly being. Hagiographic vitae, especially the passions of martyrs, highlight the process of sanctification, during which the saint, like St. Margaret, strips away their connections to this world: their family, society, material goods, and finally corporeal bodies.29 Margaret’s physical torments are revelations of her purity and sanctity that imitate Christ’s suffering, and function as the “refiner’s fire” of scripture.30 In her textual vitae, Margaret’s corporeal suffering begins with beatings and escalates to boiling and burning prior to her beheading. Tortures were often emphasized in visual imagery of martyrs, as in the narrative window depicting St. Margaret at Auxerre Cathedral (Figure 14.1). Here, the saint’s tortures are situated along the window’s central axis, drawing attention to her suffering. The vertical orientation of this stained- glass window, read from bottom to top, enhanced this transformative process. Margaret passes from our world in the lowest registers of the window to heaven, where the saint is admitted, in the uppermost panels.31 The process of creating a window by subjecting base materials to intense heat parallels the martyr’s experience. Just as sand and wood ash were heated to a molten state and refined with fire and tools to a gem-like brilliance, so to the saint’s mortal flesh was heated with fire, tested with water, and stripped with implements to reveal the saint’s final immaterial luminescence.32 The 28 Smith, “The problem of female sanctity”, p. 5. 29 Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, p. 60; Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. Granger Ryan, pp. 662–65. 30 Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, p. 60; Boninus Mombritius, Sanctuarium, eds. Duo monachi Solesmenses, p. 191; Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. Granger Ryan, pp. 369– 70. Malachi 3.3. 31 See also the windows depicting St. Margaret’s life at Auxerre Cathedral, Ardagger Abbey, the church of Saint-Julien-du- Sault, and Clermont-Ferrand Cathedral, where this orientation is consistent. 32 On the notion that materials and processes can evoke the significance of what is represented see: Buettner, “From bones to stones”, pp. 44–45; Bynum, Christian Materiality, pp. 58–59;
230 Laverock analogy between glassmaking and sanctification extends further to the creation of a window. A window’s composition, made up of numerous pieces of glass held together by lead cames, required that sheets of colored glass be heated, cracked, and broken. The resulting fragments are joined together in the window to create a new, complete composition of varied colors and shapes that is illuminated by the sunlight. Similarly, the saint’s mortal body was broken and fragmented through torture and through the division of the body into relics. These fragmented bodies are, however, made whole, perfect, and radiant in heaven. The symbolic values associated with glass and the material’s interactions with light, frequently cited in scholarship on the medium, including Herbert Kessler, relate to properties shared by the saints in heaven and by another material, gemstones.33 Medieval writers refer to saints, glass, and gemstones in terms of their preciousness and radiance.34 Hagiographers likened the virtues of saints to gemstones, describing saints as pearls and their relics as jewels.35 Victricius of Rouen, in his late 4th-century sermon on relics, In Praise of the Saints, stated that “in each precious stone [that is each relic] Kessler, “Vitreous arts as typology”, p. 61. Hahn, Strange Beauty, p. 33 discusses smelting as an extended metaphor for the purification of a saint. 33 See Kessler, Ch. 9 in this volume; Kessler, Spiritual Seeing, pp. 190–205. There is much work, for example, on Abbot Suger, light, and the stained-glass windows of the abbey church of Saint-Denis. See Gage, “Gothic glass”; Grodecki, “Fonctions spirituelles”, pp. 39–45; Kurmann-Schwarz, “Das Immaterielle materiell darstellen”, pp. 170–72; Lillich, “Monastic stained glass: patronage and style”; Schiffhauer, “Wunderbare Glasfenster”; Speer, “ ‘Lux mirabilis et continua’ ”; von Simson, The Gothic Cathedral, pp. 114–30; Westermann-Angerhausen, “Glasmalerei und Himmelslicht”, pp. 98–102. For a recent assessment of scholarship that privileged stained glass’ symbolic meaning and atmospheric effects, see Cothren, “Some personal reflections”. 34 Glass and gemstones are linked to the Christian metaphor of God as light, and of the church as the heavenly Jerusalem: William Durand, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, trans. Thibodeau, pp. 14– 15, 18; Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, Preface to Book 3. See also Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “[…] et faciunt inde tabulas saphiri pretiosas”, p. 265; Westermann-Angerhausen, “Glasmalerei und Himmelslicht”, p. 99. 35 Buettner, “From bones to stones”; Bynum, Christian Materiality, p. 182; Hahn, Strange Beauty, pp. 33–40; Victricius of Rouen, In Praise of the Saints, trans. Buc, p. 44. The vita of St. Martin of Tours recounts an episode in which the saint’s raised arms were miraculously covered with golden armbands studded with jewels during his celebration of the mass, visibly linking gemstones and sanctity. Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. Granger Ryan, p. 683.
one of these [saintly] virtues is inscribed and expressed. The Savior crafted and adorned the martyrs’ crowns with these spiritual gems”.36 Margaret’s hagiographers directly associated her with precious stones as her name in both Greek (margarites) and Latin (margarita) means pearl. In the most widespread Latin vitae of Margaret in the 13th century, the so-called Mombritius version, the saint explicitly refers to her virtue as a pearl.37 Similarly, in his 13th-century compilation of saints’ lives, The Golden Legend, Jacobus de Voragine began his life of St. Margaret with an etymology of her name, noting the characteristics shared between the saint and the pearl.38 Jacobus explains that just as the pearl is small and white, so too Margaret was small in her humility and white through her virginity.39 The connections between gemstones and saints coalesce when those forms are depicted in stained glass, as in the 13th-century Margaret windows at Auxerre Cathedral and at the church of St. Margaret at Ardagger Abbey in Lower Austria. In both windows, pearls ornament scenes from Margaret’s life (Figures 14.1 and 14.2). The Ardagger window depicts Margaret’s passion in medallions that are encircled by strings of pearls, and set against a background depicting a golden band set with red and blue gemstones. The glass illuminates both the represented stones and the saint through the passage of light, drawing these motifs together and reinforcing the connections between saints, glass, and gemstones. 3
Relics and Reliquaries
These correlations are further extended when relics and reliquaries are brought into the equation. Like windows depicting saints’ lives, reliquaries coordinated the symbolic properties of gemstones with images of saints to transform earthly relics into heavenly visions. Reliquaries visually elevate fragmented relics and remind the beholder that the relic is the saint, in the words of Thomas 36
Victricius of Rouen, In Praise of the Saints, trans. Buc, pp. 46– 47. An anonymous 10th-or 11th-century poem Civis celestis patrie links each material of the Heavenly Jerusalem with a saintly virtue, sapphire for an innocent heart, for example: quoted in Hahn, Strange Beauty, p. 42. 37 Dresvina, The Cult of St. Margaret of Antioch, pp. 18, 219; Laverock, The Visual Hagiography of St. Margaret of Antioch, p. 12; Boninus Mombritius, Sanctuarium, eds. Duo monachi Solesmenses, p. 190. The Mombritius version of Margaret’s life (named for its 15th-century publisher) dates from the 9th century and is extant in over 100 extant manuscripts. 38 Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. Granger Ryan, p. 368. 39 Ibid.
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Aquinas, “by identity of matter, which is destined to be reunited with its form” in heaven.40 This is precisely what hagiographic windows do. They visibly reassemble, reanimate (through liturgy, lights, prayers), and exalt the saint, pointing towards the final resurrection. At Ardagger Abbey, the window of St. Margaret resembles a reliquary through its depictions of gold, pearls, and other colorful gemstones surrounding images of the martyr.41 Like a reliquary, the window translates Margaret’s mortal bloody flesh into hard, shiny glass enclosed within a radiant frame. As Caroline Walker Bynum puts it, such representations call attention to the “paradox of life and death, grief and triumph” that they represent.42 The window reinforces the saint’s ascension to heaven through its luminosity and representations of precious stones that call to mind the materials of the Heavenly Jerusalem.43 Reliquaries could also be consciously shaped like contemporary Gothic churches, such as the shrine of St. Elizabeth of Hungary (1207–31) (completed after her canonization in 1235), which includes images on its roof that are similar in form and content to hagiographic windows. The shrine was likely on display at the main altar in the east choir of the church of St. Elizabeth, in Marburg, Germany, a short distance from a contemporaneous stained-glass window depicting scenes from Elizabeth’s life in the northern apse, where the saint’s tomb is located.44 The window and the reliquary reference each other through nearly identical subject matter and similar compositions. For example, a scene depicting St. Elizabeth reaching out from a doorway to receive her deceased husband’s remains is rendered with similar postures and details on both the stained glass and the reliquary. 40 Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, ed. Busa, pp. 808–09. 41 Bynum, Resurrection of the Body, pp. 200–25, 318–29; Dahl, “Heavenly images”. Conversely, glass and rock crystal are sometimes used on reliquaries to look like gemstones. For example, the reliquary of Thomas Becket’s blood (c.1173– 1180) includes a simulated jewel made from glass and red foil that evokes the redness of both blood and rubies: Bynum, Christian Materiality, p. 71. 42 Bynum, Christian Materiality, p. 62. 43 Bynum, Resurrection of the Body, pp. 200–25, 318–29; Dahl, “Heavenly images”; Schiffhauer, “Wunderbare Glasfenster”, pp. 98–99. 44 The window of St. Elizabeth was moved to the main choir in the 18th century. Bierschenk, Glasmalereien der Elisabethkirche in Marburg; Köstler, Die Ausstattung der Marburger Elisabethkirche, pp. 28–36; Kroos, “Zu frühen Schift-und Bildzeugnissen”, p. 215; Martin, “Die heilige Elisabeth in der Glasmalerei”; Parello, Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Marburg und Nordhessen, pp. 339–44, 404–06.
In medieval churches, where the relics of saints were not often visible, a window could create a palpable presence for the saint.45 Images in stained-glass windows could call attention to the presence of a relic held in the church in addition to functioning as a relic itself, or as a stand-in for a relic.46 The Sainte-Chapelle, for example, which appears as a monumental reliquary for the Passion relics, reinforced the presence of these relics through their depictions in the stained-glass windows.47 At Chartres Cathedral, as Claudine Lautier has shown, nearly two-thirds of the windows’ subjects correspond to saints whose relics were held in the cathedral, St. Margaret included.48 The St. Margaret window at Ardagger Abbey may have functioned as a locus of the saint’s power, mediating between the saint in heaven and the beholder.49 Margaret’s patronage at Ardagger comes from a foundation legend in which the Empress Agnes (1025–77), lost in the nearby woods and in labor, saw a vision of Margaret and was granted a safe childbirth.50 That the window offers a similar vision of the saint imbues the glass with intercessory potential. In a posthumous miracle story of St. Thomas Cantilupe (d. 1282), recorded as part of his canonization process, the connection between the saint, his intercessory power, and glass is explicit when Thomas exits Hereford Cathedral, where his tomb is located, through a glass window after restoring sight to a blind boy.51 Images of relics in stained-glass windows made the saint’s presence even more explicit. A relic window, as Mary Shepard has explained, focuses on the history of relics at a specific site thereby creating “a shared communal history” and expressing what saints, objects, and ideas a community privileged.52 At Troyes 45
For the problem of the invisibility of reliquaries and relics, see Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Reliquie und Skulptur im Glasfenster”. See also Hahn, “What do reliquaries do for relics?”, pp. 305–06; Shortell, “Dismembering Saint Quentin”, pp. 41–43. 46 Jordan, Visualizing Kingship; Lautier, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, p. 4. 47 Jordan, Visualizing Kingship. 48 Lautier, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, p. 4. 49 Hahn, “What do reliquaries do for relics?”, p. 291. 50 St. Margaret was known for her effective intercessory powers in childbirth, ensuring the health and safety of the mother and infant, a benefit she extended to devotees in her prayer just before her beheading. A range of valid forms of veneration of Margaret are described in her final intercessor prayer: Boninus Mombritius, Sanctuarium, eds. Duo monachi Solesmenses, p. 195; Kronbichler, “Stift Ardagger: Die Gründung”, pp. 10, 15. 51 Schiffhauer, “Wunderbare Glasfenster”, pp. 341–42. 52 Shepard, “Power windows”, p. 75, 81, 83. See also Shepard, “The relics window of St. Vincent of Saragossa at Saint-Germain des
232 Laverock Cathedral, Margaret is depicted holding the remains of her foot in a window showing a procession of relics (acquired from Constantinople after the Fourth Crusade in 1204) within the south choir clerestory (Bay 210), dating between 1228 and 1235 (Figure 14.3).53 Margaret stands, facing left, wearing a long brown garment tied at the waist with a white cord. She holds her foot relic in front of her, cradled in a red cloth. Margaret’s left foot emerges from beneath her robe, forming a connection between the saint’s body and the relic she holds, and conflating her remains on earth with her presence in heaven. Margaret’s foot relic is transformed from desiccated flesh to hard glass that gleams like a jewel, visualizing the metaphor of relic as jewel that hagiographers employed.54 Victricius of Rouen, for example, refers to relics as “gems” that function as “battle standards of eternity”, which emit light to “show us the path of Truth”.55 Accompanying Margaret in the procession are other saints bringing their relics into the church, including St. Peter carrying his tooth, and St. Philip with the relic of his head. The relics depicted in this window express those saintly remains held within the cathedral that were celebrated on the feast of the Holy Relics.56 On the feast day, these relics were processed through the church and the list of relics, the “Elenchus reliquiarum”, was read aloud.57 The relic window, thus not only signaled the saint’s physical presence within the cathedral, but also reinforced the celebration of these relics within the church as “vessels of resurrection” that the church “hoards” as pearls.58 By depicting each saint in both part and whole, the window Prés”. Pastan, “Charlemagne as Saint?” has considered how the window of Charlemagne at Chartres could have functioned as a genealogy of the sancta camisia, the cathedral’s prized relic. 53 Grodecki, “Nouvelles découvertes sur les vitraux de la cathédrale de Troyes”; Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux, pp. 458–63. 54 Victricius writes that, “We behold small relics and a little blood. But Truth sees that these small fragments shine more than the sun”: Victricius of Rouen, In Praise of the Saints, trans. Buc, p. 44. 55 Victricius of Rouen, In Praise of the Saints, trans. Buc, pp. 41, 47. See also Bynum, Christian Materiality, pp. 179–80. 56 Nicolas Camusat, Promptuarium sacrarum antiquitatum Tricassinae diocesis, fols. 120v- 121v; Lalore and Nioré, Collection des documents inédits, p. cx; Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux, p. 262, citing Camusat, and Lalore and Nioré. The feast is held on the Sunday of the octave of the Ascension. 57 Nicolas Camusat, Promptuarium sacrarum antiquitatum Tricassinae diocesis, fol. 121. The reference to Margaret’s relic reads: “et pedem cum aliis reliquiis B. Margareta virginis”. Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux, p. 262. 58 Peter the Venerable, Sermo cuius supra in honore sancti illius cuius reliquiae sunt in presenti, ed. Constable, pp. 265–70.
reminds viewers that each relic embodies the saint’s full presence, collapsing the distance between heaven and earth, saint and relic. At Troyes, the relic window bridges the church community, relic, and saint, bringing all three together in one image.59 The presence of the saint can also be asserted in stained glass through the depiction of the saint’s tomb. In a late 13th-century window narrating Margaret’s life at Clermont-Ferrand Cathedral (Figure 14.4), male and female pilgrims are depicted crowding around Margaret’s tomb.60 This scene follows Margaret’s soul ascending to heaven after her death, making the saint’s dual presence clear: she is at once in heaven and in her earthly tomb, where her intercessory powers could be accessed. Similarly, at Canterbury Cathedral stained-glass windows depicting the miracles of Thomas Becket show the saint emerging from his tomb to engage with devotees. These scenes visualize the locus of power (the saint’s tomb) in direct proximity to it, reinforcing the site-specific nature of hagiographic glass and creating a miracle book in monumental form.61 The stained-glass windows at Troyes and Clermont- Ferrand make explicit connections between the saints, their relics, and stained glass, but they are also sources for the liturgies of particular saints. The subject matter of glass often corresponds to saints celebrated within the church, suggesting that liturgies may have provided impetus to represent a specific saint. The opposite is equally as likely: the existence of a window could promote a saint’s cult and encourage the celebration of that saint.62 For example, the chronology of Margaret’s presence in texts and images at Chartres Cathedral raises questions about the role stained glass may have played in encouraging devotion to the saint. At Chartres, a relic of Margaret was included along with relics of the milk of the Virgin, wood from St. Peter’s cross, and bones of other biblical saints within a composite reliquary that likely arrived from Byzantium with the spoils of the Fourth Crusade.63 The presence of Margaret’s relic at Chartres could have encouraged the saint’s representation in a stained-glass window in the southern choir chapel
59 60 61 62 63
See also Victricius of Rouen, In Praise of the Saints, trans. Buc, p. 39, who writes about his collection of relics as a “multitude of citizens of heaven”. Shepard, “Power windows”, p. 83. Boulanger, “Clermont-Ferrand, cathédrale”, pp. 123–24, 140. See Caviness, The Early Stained Glass of Canterbury; Harris, “Pilgrimage, performance, and stained glass”. Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 32–33, 75–78. Lautier, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, p. 62. Lautier states that the images that correspond to relics held in the church demonstrate that the relics were present at Chartres at the very latest by 1215, the date of the Fourth Lateran Council,
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(Figure 14.5). That stained-glass representation, in turn, may have provided impetus for new liturgies for Margaret.64 Margaret is not recorded in the 1225–35 redaction of the cathedral’s Ordinary,65 suggesting that there was no liturgy for Margaret at Chartres at the moment of the window’s production.66 However, Margaret is mentioned in a later addition to a 12th-century legendary at Chartres,67 and her feast day came to be celebrated during the course of the 13th century.68 The window of Margaret and the presence of her relic in the cathedral, therefore likely helped to establish official devotion to her at Chartres.69 Scholars have explored interactions between stained glass and saints’ cults in the context of the rituals and liturgies of the church.70 In processions, chapels with windows functioned as stations or destinations for feast day celebrations. The St. Margaret window at Chartres, for example, is situated in a chapel that functioned as a station during the liturgical procession on the feast day of St. Nicholas, placing Margaret in proximity to the celebrations of that saint.71 4 Narratives and the Church’s Sacred Topography Hagiographic windows, relics, and liturgies are also integrated into the physical fabric of the church. The location of a window matters within the church’s sacred topography. Cardinal orientation, proximity to altars, and surrounding subjects in glass and sculpture, all when the acquisition of undocumented relics was halted. Lautier, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, p. 28. 64 Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 32–33, 75–78. 65 Chartres, Bibliothèque municipale, ms. 1058 [H. I. 32]. 66 Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 42, 256; Delaporte, L’ordinaire chartrain, pp. 23, 223; Lautier, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, p. 18; Manhes-Deremble, Les vitraux narratifs, pp. 76, 96. In the Ordinary, folio 281v begins “Sancte Margarete virginis lectio prima. Beata siquidem Margareta, patre gentili Theodosio nomine”. Unfortunately, this manuscript was destroyed on 26 June 1944. No date is given by any of the previous scholars for the addition which includes Margaret’s life. 67 Chartres, Bibliothèque municipale, ms 500, fol. 281v. 68 Delaporte, Les vitraux, pp. 42; Delaporte, L’ordinaire chartrain, pp. 23, 223. 69 Similarly, Geary “St. Helen of Athyra”, has considered how a window may have been used to promote a particular cult, or even create one from nothing, in the case of St. Helen of Athyra at Troyes Cathedral. 70 Caviness, “Stained glass windows”; Harris, “The performative terms of Jewish iconoclasm”; ead., “St. Nicholas in context”. 71 Caviness, “Stained glass windows”, p. 142.
affected how a window fashioned the saint into a unique presence with a site-specific meaning. For example, at Chartres, stained glass in the axial chapel comprises the apostles, who lived in proximity to Christ and were charged to spread Christianity, subjects that reinforced the church’s institutional hierarchy. Two additional chapels in the choir are dedicated to different categories of saints: martyrs (in the north) and confessors (in the south). The grouping of saints according to their type at Chartres is also expressed in the Golden Legend where Jacobus lists the categories of saints, which includes confessors and martyrs, and describes their unique characteristics.72 At Chartres, Margaret shares a window with St. Catherine of Alexandria, and is surrounded by windows depicting the confessor saints Remi and Nicholas and the contemporary bishop-martyr Thomas Becket, leading some scholars to note that the grouping seems incoherent.73 Close analysis of the window, however, reveals that the female saints’ narratives are tailored to align with the surrounding imagery. The window omits Margaret’s and Catherine’s corporeal suffering (normally a key element of a martyr’s narrative) and instead highlights their abilities to cast out demons and create new Christian converts.74 This narrative emphasis fashions Margaret (and Catherine) as more similar to the surrounding confessor saints, who also triumphed over demons and converted non-Christians, than to the early Christian martyrs (located in the chapel across the choir), and expresses the malleability of saints’ lives in windows. A different emphasis emerges from the placement and subject matter of the St. Margaret window at Ardagger Abbey. There, Margaret is placed in the easternmost aperture of the choir, a space usually reserved for Christological subjects.75 The prime location of the window expresses the significance that the saint had at this site, regardless of whether the window was originally situated there or was moved at a later date.76 In the Ardagger window, Margaret’s life is shaped by the inclusion of unique Latin verse inscriptions that surround each medallion (Figure 14.2).77 The inscriptions encourage the viewer’s prolonged interaction as the 72
Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. Granger Ryan, p. 661. 73 Some have hypothesized that the window was moved: Kurmann and Kurmann- Schwarz, “Chartres Cathedral”, pp. 135– 36; Maines, “A figure of Thomas Becket”, p. 169. 74 Laverock, The Visual Hagiography of St. Margaret of Antioch, pp. 109–51. 75 Ibid., pp. 161–63. 76 Ibid., pp. 158–60. 77 Ibid., pp. 177–78.
234 Laverock circular arrangement of the text requires the beholder to navigate upside-down and sideways words; these words also become less legible in the uppermost scenes. While the images highlight Margaret’s physical body and her torments, fashioning her as an archetypal female martyr, the inscriptions nuance the narrative by providing insight into the emotions of the characters and offering explanations for the scenes.78 Together, text and image highlight the saint’s virtues, namely her fidelity to Christ, and elicit the beholder’s empathy. The second medallion, which depicts the pagan magistrate Olybrius abducting Margaret, illustrates the role of inscription within the window. The inscription provides information about Margaret’s emotional state and gives a spiritual explanation for the imagery. The scene depicts Margaret, somber and reserved, on horseback accompanied by a soldier. Olybrius, riding on a horse in front of her, reaches back to grasp her chin, a gesture that is sometimes referred to as one of affection, but here indicates physical violation.79 The Latin inscription reads “Gaudet quod capta sit XPI legibus apta” (She rejoices, that in being captured she might be bound by the commandments of Christ). The description of Margaret as rejoicing contrasts with the serene image of the saint. Observing the image alone fashions Margaret as a victim, but when joined with the inscription she emerges as a victor, rejoicing at her martyrdom for Christ. In this sense, Margaret is complicit in her capture, allowing her body to be taken because her mind and spirit are beholden to Christ. The role of the inscription is further reiterated in the sixth medallion, which depicts Margaret’s punishment. Margaret is depicted naked from the waist up, arms outstretched in a cruciform, and flanked by two torturers who scrape her flesh.80 The encircling text reads: “The beloved of Christ remains undaunted though mangled” (XPI dilecta manet inp[er] territa secta). The cruciform appearance of Margaret’s body demonstrates her imitation of Christ’s Passion, while the inscription informs the viewers of her steadfast devotion, revealing that her mind remains unmoved even as her body is destroyed. While the images at Ardagger highlight Margaret’s body, the inscriptions focus on her spiritual virtues and emotions. 78 79
80
Ibid., p. 175. This term was coined by Leo Steinberg in his article “The sexuality of Christ in Renaissance art and in modern oblivion”, p. 3. Seidel discusses the “chin-chuck” in relation to a capital depicting Salome at St-Étienne, Toulouse: Seidel, “Salome and the canons”, pp. 55–56. In this medallion the torso and head of Margaret are modern: Frodl-Kraft, “Ardagger Stift”, p. 20.
Saints populate windows not only in narrative form, as seen in the Margaret windows at Chartres, Auxerre, and Ardagger, but also as static figures within groups of saints. At Strasbourg Cathedral, for example, Margaret appears in two 13th-century lancet windows in the south clerestory of the nave,81 as one among the gathering of saints in heaven, or as Peter Damien wrote (on St. Romuald) one “pearl of heaven” who “shines ineffably among the living stones of the celestial city” (Figure 14.6).82 In both windows at Strasbourg, Margaret is depicted as a frontal facing figure holding a palm frond and wearing a crown, indicating her sanctity and her presence in heaven.83 These attributes are shared by the surrounding female saints, each identifiable by an inscription rather than by a telling attribute (such as Margaret’s dragon). In Bay SI, Margaret is one among 11 female saints who are accompanied by the Virgin and Child. This window reinforces the church as a mirror of heaven by offering a celestial vision of the saints who provide intercession on behalf of believers. Here, Margaret’s individual identity is less crucial than her corporate identity as one among the intercessors in heaven. As a saintly collective, this window recalls the Litany and Suffrages of Christian devotion, functioning as a visual list of saints a believer could call upon. The location of this window reinforces its function. Situated in the nave (the space of lay devotees) and, more specifically, in the clerestory, the window is positioned in an intermediary space between heaven and earth. Located high above beholders, the window visualizes the enduring presence of the saints in heaven and their proximity to the Virgin and to Christ. Stained-glass windows can also express the changes in a saint’s cult and significance across time. While Margaret is portrayed in a variety of ways in 13th-century narrative windows, each with a different focus and thematic emphasis, by the late 14th century Margaret’s connection to the dragon is prioritized.84 Considering how hagiographic stained glass contributed to and expressed cultic changes across time, this points towards the dynamism of the cult of saints. The contributions that stained glass makes to the cult of saints are not fixed. The moment of construction is one point along the life of a window. The dynamic spaces into 81 Bay SI, c.1250, and Bay S V, c.1270. 82 Bynum, Christian Materiality, p. 183; Dahl, “Heavenly images”, p. 184. 83 For Strasbourg see Beyer, Wild-Block, Zschokke, and Lautier, Les vitraux de la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Strasbourg, p. 314. 84 For example, a 14th-century English tracery light, currently in the Loyola University Museum of Art, Chicago, depicts the saint emerging from the back of a dragon, hands clasped in prayer.
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which hagiographic windows are set were seen by successive generations in the context of changing iconography, liturgies, ceremonies, and concepts of sanctity. The endurance of stained glass raises questions about how saints’ representations in glass were understood across time. How long does stained glass continue to function after devotion to the saint wanes? How do renovations that alter the surroundings of a window affect the understanding of the saint depicted? How has damage and/or restorations to windows affected the beholder’s understanding of the represented saint? How can we understand the significance of a window whose subject matter has been misidentified or lost across time? Scholars have begun to explore such complicated questions. Karine Boulanger has called attention to the window of St. Privat at Clermont-Ferrand, noting that the original subject was not Privat but St. Caprais, leading to questions about the transformation of the saint’s identity for local audiences in the centuries after the window’s creation.85 Inquiries into the role of a window across time are also appropriate at Ardagger, where the Margaret window is the only remaining medieval window at the site. During the 17th century, a Baroque renovation of the church included new stucco imagery and fresco decorations that created a new visual context for the Margaret window in completely different styles and media. One must ask how the new Baroque setting may have affected or altered devotion to Margaret at that time and how 17th-century parishioners and canons would have understood the Margaret window.86 The Baroque paintings in the choir reinforced the theme of female martyrdom found in the Margaret window through a second representation of Margaret’s death, while texts and images within a vault fresco added new references to Margaret’s role in the foundation of the church, drawing attention to the medieval origins of both the church and the stained glass.87 5 Conclusion Stained glass was a particularly potent visual vehicle for the cult of saints. Expanding beyond textual vitae, 85
Boulanger, “Clermont-Ferrand, cathédrale”, p. 124. In other windows, the identification of the subject matter may be purposely ambiguous. See Cothren, “Who is the bishop?”. 86 Laverock, The Visual Hagiography of St. Margaret of Antioch, pp. 200–09. Mary Shepard has considered how stained glass functioned when incorporated into new spaces in her study of the Belle-Verrière at Chartres: Shepard, “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”. 87 Laverock, The Visual Hagiography of St. Margaret of Antioch, pp. 204–06.
stained-glass narratives were forged from a wide range of factors, which allowed each hagiographic window to function as a powerful extra-textual source in its own right. The medium amplified and reinforced notions of sanctity through qualities shared with gemstones, saints, and relics. The iconographic, liturgical, and architectural contexts of each window crafted individual saints as site-specific iterations. Stained-glass windows depicting saints are also dynamic sources, whose reception, significance, and function can be read at different points across time. The multiple ways in which hagiographic windows functioned and the range of ways in which these windows can, and should, be studied provides numerous avenues for further research into the medieval cult of saints. Bibliography Primary Sources
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Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, Malden, 2006, pp. 65–85. Cothren, M.W., “The iconography of Theophilus windows in the first half of the thirteenth century”, Speculum 59-2 (1984), 308–41. Cothren, M.W., “Who is the bishop in the Virgin Chapel of Beauvais Cathedral?”, Gazette des Beaux-arts 125 (1995), 1– 16. Cothren, M.W., “Some personal reflections on American modern and postmodern historiographies of Gothic stained glass”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), From Minor to Major: the Minor Arts in Medieval Art History (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 14), Princeton, 2012, pp. 255–70. Dahl, E., “Heavenly images: the statue of St. Foy of Conques and the signification of the medieval “cult-image” in the West”, Acta ad archaeologiam et atrium historiam pertinentia 8 (1978), 175–91. Delehaye, H., The Legends of Saints: an Introduction to Hagiography, trans. V.M. Crawford, Brussels, 1907 (repr. Notre Dame, Ind., 1961). Dresvina, J., The Cult of St. Margaret of Antioch in Medieval England (Unpublished PhD, University of Cambridge, 2007). Farmer, S., Communities of Saint Martin: Legend and Ritual in Medieval Tours, Ithaca, 1991. Frodl-Kraft, E., “Ardagger Stift –Pfarrkirche St. Margareta”, in ead., Die Mittelalterlichen Glasgemälde in Niederösterreich, part 1: Albrechtsberg bis Klosterneuburg (CVMA Österreich, 2), Vienna, 1972, pp. 9–21. Gage, J., “Gothic glass: two aspects of a Dionysian aesthetic”, Art History 5-1 (1982), 36–58. Gaposchkin, C., “Portals, pilgrimage, processions, and piety: Saints Firmin and Honoré at Amiens”, in Tekippe and Blick (eds.), Art and Architecture of Late Medieval Pilgrimage, pp. 218–42. Geary, P.J., “Saint Helen of Athyra and the cathedral of Troyes in the thirteenth century”, in id., Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages, Ithaca, 1994, pp. 221–42. Grodecki, L., “Fonctions spirituelles”, in M. Aubert et al. (eds.), Le vitrail français, Paris, 1958, pp. 39–45. Grodecki, L., “Nouvelles découvertes sur les vitraux de la cathédrale de Troyes”, in P. Bloch (ed.), Intuition und Kunstwissenschaft: Festschrift für Hanns Swarzenski, Berlin, 1973, pp. 191–203. Hahn, C., “The voices of the saints: speaking reliquaries”, Gesta 36-1 (1997), 20–31. Hahn, C., Portrayed on the Heart: Narrative Effect in Pictorial Lives of Saints from the Tenth through the Thirteenth Century, Berkeley, 2001. Hahn, C., “What do reliquaries do for relics?”, Numen 57 (2010), 284–316. Hahn, C., Strange Beauty: Issues in the Making and Meaning of Reliquaries, 400 –circa 1204, University Park, Penn., 2012.
Saints’ Lives and Stained Glass Harris, A., “Pilgrimage, performance and stained glass at Canterbury Cathedral”, in Tekippe and Blick (eds.), Art and Architecture of Late Medieval Pilgrimage, pp. 243–81. Harris, A., “Saint Nicholas in context: stained glass and liturgical drama in the Archbishopric of Sens”, in Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext, pp. 89–99. Harris, A., “The performative terms of Jewish iconoclasm and conversion in two Saint Nicholas windows at Chartres Cathedral”, in M.B. Merback (ed.), Beyond the Yellow Badge: New Approaches to Anti-Judaism and Anti-Semitism in Medieval and Early Modern Visual Culture (Brill’s Series in Jewish Studies, 37), Leiden, 2007, pp. 119–41. Head, T., Hagiography and the Cult of Saints: the Diocese of Orléans, 800–1200, Cambridge, 1990. Hediger, C. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “ ‘[…] et faciunt inde tabulas saphiri pretiosas ac satis utiles in fenestris’: die Farbe Blau in der “Schedula” und in der Glasmalerei von 1100–1250”, in A. Speer, M. Mauriège, and H. Westermann- Angerhausen (eds.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst: die “Schedula diversarum atrium” (Miscellanea Mediaevalia, 37), Berlin, 2014, pp. 256–73. Hediger, C. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Reliquie und Skulptur im Glasfenster. Intermediale Auratisierung am Beispiel von Notre-Dame la Belle-Verrière”, in U.J. Beil, C. Herberichs, and M. Sandl (eds.), Aura und Auratisierung in medialer Perspektive (Medienwandel –Medienwechsel –Medienwissen, 27), Zürich, 2014, pp. 136–60. Hume, D., The Natural History of Religion, 1757 (repr. eds. A.W. Colver and J.V. Price, Oxford, 1976). Jordan, A., Visualizing Kingship in the Windows of the Sainte- Chapelle (Publications of the International Center of Medieval Art, 5), Turnhout, 2002. Jordan, A., “Rhetoric and reform: the St. Thomas Becket window of Sens Cathedral”, in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing, pp. 547–64. Kemp, W., The Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, trans. C.D. Saltzwedel, Cambridge, 1997. Kessler, H.L., Spiritual Seeing: Picturing God’s Invisibility in Medieval Art, Philadelphia, 2000. Kessler, H.L., ““They preach not by speaking out loud but by signifying”: vitreous arts as typology”, Gesta 51-1 (2012), 55– 70. Köstler, A., Die Ausstattung der Marburger Elisabethkirche. Zur Ästhetisierung des Kultraums im Mittelalter, Berlin, 1995. Kronbichler, J., “Stift Ardagger: die Gründung”, in E. Pröll (ed.), Stift Ardagger: Festschrift zum Abschluss der Restaurierungsarbeiten an Kirche und Kreuzgang, St. Pölten, 1996, pp. 9– 28. Kroos, R., “Zu frühen Schrift-und Bildzeugnissen über die heilige Elisabeth als Quellen zur Kunst-und Kulturgeschichte”, in C. Graepler, F. Schwind, and M. Werner (eds.), Sankt Elisa beth: Fürstin, Dienerin, Heilige: Aufsätze, Dokumentation, Katalog, Sigmaringen, 1981, pp. 180–239.
237 Kurmann, P. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Chartres Cathedral as a work of artistic integration: methodological reflections”, in V.C. Raguin, K. Brush, and P. Draper (eds.), Artistic Integration in Gothic Buildings, Toronto, 1995, pp. 131–52. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Das Immaterielle materiell darstellen. Überlegungen zur Materialität der monumentalen Glasmalerei des Mittelalters”, in H. Hubach, B. von Orelli- Messerli, and T. Tassini (eds.), Reibungspunkte. Ordnung und Umbruch in Architektur und Kunst, Festschrift für Hubertus Günther, Zürich, 2008, pp. 169–74. Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Lautier, C., “Recherches récentes sur le vitrail médiéval, 1998–2009, 1re partie”, Kunstchronik 63–6 (2010), 261–84. Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Lautier, C., “Recherches récentes sur le vitrail médiéval, 1998–2009, 2e partie”, Kunstchronik 63–7 (2010), 313–38. Lane, E.S. E.C. Pastan, and E.M. Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing: Approaches to Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Farnham, 2009. Lautier, C. “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres. Reliques et images”, special issue of Bulletin monumental 161-1 (2003), 3–96. Lautier, C., “The sacred topography of Chartres Cathedral: the reliquary chasse of the Virgin in the liturgical choir and stained-glass decoration”, in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing, 2009, pp. 174–96. Laverock, A., The Visual Hagiography of Saint Margaret of Antioch in Thirteenth-Century Stained Glass in Europe, (Unpublished PhD, Emory University, 2016). Lillich, M.P., “Monastic stained glass: patronage and style”, in T. Verdon (ed.), Monasticism and the Arts, Syracuse, New York, 1984, pp. 207–54. Manhes-Deremble, C., Les vitraux narratifs de la cathédrale de Chartres. Étude iconographique (CV France, Études, 2), Paris, 1993. Maines, C., “A figure of Thomas Becket at Chartres”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 36 (1973), 163–73. Mâle, E., L’art religieux du XIIIe siècle en France: étude sur l’iconographie du Moyen Âge et sur ses sources d’inspiration, 3rd ed., Paris, 1910. Mâle, E., Religious Art in France, the Thirteenth Century: a Study of Medieval Iconography and its Sources, ed. H. Bober, trans. M. Mathews (Bollingen series, 90.2), Princeton, 1984. Martin, F., in D. Blume (ed.), Elisabeth von Thüringen: eine europäische Heilige, Petersberg, 2007, pp. 293–308. Pastan, E.C., “Charlemagne as Saint? Relics and the choice of window subjects at Chartres Cathedral”, in M. Gabriele and J. Stuckey (eds.), The Legend of Charlemagne in the Middle Ages: Power, Faith, and Crusade (The New Middle Ages Series), New York, pp. 97–135. Pastan, E.C. and Balcon, S., Les vitraux du chœur de la cathédrale de Troyes (XIIIe siècle) (CV France, 2), Paris, 2006.
238 Laverock Pastan, E.C. and Shepard, M.B., “The torture of Saint George medallion from Chartres Cathedral in Princeton”, Record of the Art Museum Princeton University 56 (1997), 10–34. Pastan, E.C. and Shepard, M.B. (eds.), “Introduction. Stained glass: collaborations, analogies, and investigations”, Journal of Glass Studies 56 (2014), 231–35. Parello, D., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Marburg und Nordhessen (CVMA Deutschland, 3-3), Berlin, 2008. Raguin, V.C., Stained Glass in Thirteenth-Century Burgundy, Princeton, 1982. Schiffhauer, A., “Wunderbare Glasfenster. Zur Frage der Wahrnehmung gläserner Bilder in mittelalterlichen Heiligenviten”, in C. Dauven-van-Knippenberg, C. Herberichs, and C. Kiening (eds.), Medialität des Heils im späten Mittelalter (Medienwandel –Medienwechsel –Medienwissen, 10), Zürich, 2009, pp. 317–50. Seidel, L., “Salome and the canons”, Women’s Studies 11-1/2 (1984), 29–66. Sheingorn, P., “ ‘The wise mother’: the image of St. Anne teaching the Virgin Mary”, Gesta 32-1 (1993), 69–80. Shepard, M.B., “The relics window of St. Vincent of Saragossa at Saint-Germain des Prés”, Gesta 37-2 (1998), 258–65. Shepard, M.B., “Power windows: relic windows and the context of collective remembering”, in Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext, pp. 75–88. Shepard, M.B., “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), Romanesque Art and Thought in the Twelfth Century: Essays in Honor of Walter Cahn (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 10), Princeton, 2008, pp. 291–304.
Shortell, E.M., “Dismembering Saint Quentin: Gothic architecture and the display of relics”, Gesta 36-1 (1997), 32–47. Simson, O. von, The Gothic Cathedral: Origins of Gothic Architecture and the Medieval Concept of Order, New York, 1956. Smith, J.H., “The problem of female sanctity in Carolingian Europe, c.780–920”, Past and Present 146 (1995), 3–37. Sobczyk, A., “Langue, texte, image. L’enfant muet dans les recueils et le vitrail des Miracles de Notre-Dame de Chartres”, Cahiers de civilisation médiévale Xe-XIIe siècle 58 (2015), 113–21. Speer, A., “ ‘Lux mirabilis et continua’. Remarques sur les rapports entre la spéculation médiévale sur la lumière et l’art du vitrail”, in J.-F. Luneau (ed.), Le vitrail roman et les arts de la couleur. Nouvelles approches sur le vitrail du XIIe siècle (Transactions of the Colloquium organized by the Centre Georges Duby, Issoire; Revue d’Auvergne 570), Clermont- Ferrand, 2004, pp. 85–97. Steinberg, L., “The sexuality of Christ in Renaissance art and in modern oblivion”, October 25 (1983), 1–198, 204–22. Tekippe, R.W. and S. Blick (eds.), Art and Architecture of Late Medieval Pilgrimage in Northern Europe and the British Isles (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Traditions, 104), Leiden, 2004. Westermann- Angerhausen, H., “Glasmalerei und Himmelslicht –Metapher, Farbe, Stoff”, in ead., C. Hagnau, C. Schumacher, and G. Sporbeck (eds.), Himmelslicht. Europäische Glasmalerei im Jahrhundert des Kölner Dombaus (1248–1349) (Exhibition catalogue: Cologne, Josef- Haubrich-Kunsthalle), Cologne, 1998, pp. 95–102.
c hapter 15
Female Donors of Medieval Stained-Glass Windows Christine Hediger Gender-conscious research in the field of art history has to date principally dealt with the working conditions and output of female artists, and, with few exceptions, has concerned itself with eras for which information is not as scarce as it is for the Middle Ages. Yet, an impressive number of medieval female donor portraits survive, as donation clearly constituted a field in which the activities of women were both tolerated and recorded. The present chapter brings together images and documentary evidence about female donors of windows, and discusses them in relation to women’s social class and civil status. In studies concerned with medieval donor images in stained glass, the question of the gender of the donor is generally not posed. Heinrich Oidtmann does not address the issue in his detailed chapter dealing with donors and representations of them in his book on Rhenish glass painting.1 Rüdiger Becksmann goes into the class affiliation of donors and developments over the course of the Middle Ages in his foundational study Vitrea dedicata, but he does not address the issue of gender, even though he discusses numerous representations of female donors.2 The work of Richard Marks constitutes an exception, because in his book Stained Glass in England, he explicitly notes that, compared with male donors of stained glass, female donors are in the minority numerically speaking, and are seldom represented without their husbands.3 However, this observation needs to be nuanced in relation to the sum total of extant representations, for, even if female donors are in fact in the minority compared with men, images of female donors survive remarkably often (see Figures 15.1-15.10). Moreover, images of female donors turn out to be extremely significant against a background of otherwise very sparse evidence for women’s agency in other spheres of activity. One such remarkable representation survives in a coloured glass panel in the Cistercian monastery in Doberan (Figure 15.1).4 In this panel, which was integrated into the axial window of the abbey church in the 19th century, the standing figure of a woman presents an ornamental 1 Oidtmann, Die rheinischen Glasmalereien, pp. 234–38. 2 Becksmann, Vitrea dedicata, pp. 65–85. 3 Marks, Stained Glass in England, p. 11; also id., “Wills and windows”. 4 Von Fircks, “Zwischen dynastischer Inszenierung”, p. 118; Drachenberg, Mittelalterliche Glasmalerei, pp. 18–22, nos. 14–15.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 19
grisaille window, which refers, self-reflexively, to the kind of window in which the image of the donor herself would have appeared. The magnificent long dress and head covering characterize this elegant figure as female. The attribute of the window, which the woman presents, suggests that she played a particular role in its genesis. There are no inscriptions or coat of arms by which the woman can be identified with certainty. The donor figure in Doberan has been identified by Christa Richter as a portrait of Margaret of Denmark, as her clothing corresponds very closely to that of a tomb figure in the same church representing Queen Margaret (also known as Margaret Sambirias, c.1230–82/83). Margaret was the daughter of Sambor ii, Duke of Pomeralia, and Mechthild von Mecklenburg, and was married to Christopher, King of Denmark. After her husband’s death in 1259, she served as regent for her son, Erich Glipping, until 1264. In her widowhood she had her seat on the island of Falster, she supported the Abbey of the Holy Cross at Rostock, and was buried at the nearby Cistercian monastery of Doberan.5 However, the identification of the figure as Margaret of Denmark has been questioned by Uwe Gast, as she lacks a royal crown. He proposes to identify the female donor with a member of the Mecklenburg family who was closely associated with the monastery, such as Anastasia, wife of Henri i of Mecklenburg and mother of Henri ii the lion, known to have donated glass windows for the Franciscan church of Wismar.6 The representation of the Doberan donor is in many respects typical of female donors of windows. Firstly, her portrayal barely differs, formally, from representations of male donors, and employs similar conventions. In general, female donors of windows adopt the same representational norms, postures, and attributes as images of male donors. Both women and men are depicted standing as well as kneeling, with hands raised in prayer, or prostrate, and usually in three-quarter view. Both offer the object of their donation, and heraldic shields are often present, even though they originally formed part of the exclusively male armory. Secondly, the vitreous representation of the donor typifies how gender is visualized, by her clothing, head covering, and hair 5 Von Fircks, “Memoria”, pp. 112–25; von Fircks, “Zwischen dynastischer Inszenierung”, pp. 101–21. 6 Gast, “ Die Glasmalereien des Doberaner Münsters”, p. 164.
240 Hediger style. Generally speaking, we can say that in donor images married women can be identified by the fact that they have a head covering, and unmarried women by their long, uncovered tresses, while male donors routinely wear their half-length or short hair uncovered. Furthermore, women always wear long garments, while men sometimes have shorter garments or wear armour. Thirdly, the donor from Doberan recalls how little we actually know about the roles of women in the production of medieval windows. Did the noble woman just donate money to the Cistercians for a window? Did she exercise influence on the execution and location of the window as well? Or did the Cistercians themselves take the initiative in order to augment the prestige of the monastery by presenting its noble benefactress? The images alone do not allow us to decide the extent of a donor’s involvement in the production of the window.7 What reason then is there for considering representations of female donors as a meaningful subset, if the pictorial conventions that apply to them are barely distinguishable from those for men; if the differences between representations of men and women can only be determined by their clothing; and if the role of women in the production process remains just as obscure as with male donors? In an era that is perceived as being largely dominated by men, women are otherwise only rarely visible, thus the number of images of medieval female donors of windows are remarkable for their very existence. Women are underrepresented, and even silenced as Madeline Caviness has established, in medieval visual and textual sources alike.8 Yet, donation was one of the few arenas in the Middle Ages where the independent operation and public participation of women was tolerated.9 It can therefore come as no surprise that we have far more information about female donors than about female artists in the Middle Ages, with the result that research in the field of patronage –or matronage – promises to be especially fruitful, especially because the numbers of representations of female donors that survive in stained glass are particularly high.10 Nonetheless, the issue voiced by Britta-Juliane Kruse in her work on widows in the Middle Ages still obtains, namely that a comprehensive assessment of the numerous representations of female donors remains to be accomplished.11 7
See the examples of widows who led glass workshops cited in Lillich, “Gothic glaziers”. 8 Caviness, “Rationalization of sight”. 9 McCash, The Cultural Patronage, p. 1. 10 Caviness, “Anchoress, abbess and queen”; Kurmann-Schwarz, “Gender and art”, esp. p. 138; Schraut, Stifterinnen und Künstlerinnen. 11 Kruse, Witwen, p. 412.
The extant images of donors in glass correspond to a cultural conception of manhood and womanhood, each of which can only be understood in terms of its actual historical context.12 These images come into focus when considered together with textual sources and research into the historical context. In order to be able to assess representations of female donors, the researcher must therefore be familiar with the mentality of the time, and know what kinds of legal, social, economic, religious, and cultural status women possessed at a particular period.13 Women’s status cannot be defined for the Middle Ages as a whole; rather, their status varies considerably according to class affiliation, region, and period. This places great demands on gender research: only when period- specific images of women’s roles become available are we able to determine the degree to which female donors and the images of them conform to these conceptions of gender, or consciously deviate from them. 1
Gender and Class Affiliation
As we have established, gender is represented conventionally in works of art through clothing and attributes. The figures’ clothing, however, is a complex symbol that additionally determines the person’s civil status and social position, and indicates his or her social class. Numerous female donors, in accordance with their social standing, wear sumptuous, fur-trimmed clothing, which had long been a prerogative of privileged, noble elites. Sometimes the different associations of clothing end up coming into conflict with one another. In donor representations, for example, widows often had themselves depicted in splendid, colourful clothes with fur trims, even though medieval manuals for widows advise that they should demonstrate their remembrance of their husbands by adopting appropriate mourning dress; the latter was not, however, codified, but was marked by a general lack of finery, often a sober white or black.14 However, it was often more important for women of high rank to show their status through their clothing than to have themselves depicted as widows in accordance with societal conventions (see Figures 15.7, 15.8 and 15.10).15 It is only through documents or historical context that we are able to identify women dressed in unusually splendid clothing as widows.
12 13 14 15
Kurmann-Schwarz, “Gender and art”, p. 129. Kurmann-Schwarz, “Gender and art”, pp. 128–29. Cf. Opitz, “Emanzipiert oder marginalisiert”, pp. 165–66. Kurmann-Schwarz, “Gender and art”, p. 137, with reference to Goetz, Moderne Mediävistik.
241
Female Donors of Medieval Stained-Glass Windows
That even women of modest social classes could contribute to window donations is shown by the Bern Cathedral register, compiled by its church administrator Thüring von Ringoltingen (himself a generous window donor; see Figure 15.4 below), which names three wealthy women and a domestic servant. Besides mentioning Thoman Vischer’s wife, the wealthy widow Lucia Baamerra, and the wife of shopkeeper Götz (who gifted four silver vessels for the windows), this document also mentions one Gret Müllerin of Utzistorff, a young domestic servant of the Bern patrician von Ringoltingen family, who contributed one guilder to a window. Gret was probably encouraged to make this modest gift by Thüring himself; of course, this gift did not give her the right to be represented in the window, but her name was transmitted to posterity in the register. Related to this issue is the interesting case of the prostitutes of Paris, mentioned by both Pierre de Corbeil (d.1222) and Thomas Chobham (documented c.1200–33). They report that the prostitutes wanted to donate a window to the cathedral of Notre-Dame of Paris, but that the bishop had no choice but to decline the donation, or receive their monies in secret. In this instance, the problem was that in receiving the donation publicly the bishop might have legitimized these working women’s way of life.16 Among the representations of donors in scenes of craft production in 13th-century France, women are rare. When they appear, as for example in the bakers’ and tanners’ windows in Bourges Cathedral (windows 22 and window 5, respectively), they are probably wealthy customers, rather than tradeswomen.17 This situation changes over time, however. With the growing influence of urban middle-class society and the need to find those prepared to give money for expensive church windows in such circles, the societal background of the female donors represented was becoming more diverse. After the 13th century we find well-to-do, middle-class women accompanying their husbands and children in windows; representations of women alone do not occur, however. Further, the fact that one had to raise the funds for a window in order to be represented, or to be cited in a document, limited the circle of possible female donors considerably. Focusing on gender when examining medieval donor images also serves to bring to our attention how diverse medieval women’s understanding of self was, and what the possibilities for them were. Depending on which women and which specific situations one considers, 16 Hareau, Notices, vol. 2, p. 10; Thomas of Chobham, Summa confessorum, ed. Broomfield, p. 350; Kemp, Sermo corporeus, pp. 222–23; Ennen, Frauen im Mittelalter, pp. 174–75; Caviness, “Anchoress, abbess and queen”, p. 138. 17 Les vitraux du Centre, pp. 170 and 174.
research offers diametrically opposed assessments of medieval women’s potential to exert influence. In privileged circumstances, female donors could exercise considerable influence, as Loveday Lewes Gee has argued,18 even though in normal circumstances, and particularly when their economic means were modest, there were only a few spheres in which they might be active, as Caviness emphasizes.19 Generalizing statements about the situation of women in the Middle Ages are therefore as lacking in usefulness as generalizations about men in the same era. 2
Gender and Civil Status
On one point, however, there is a clear distinction between the circumstances of women and men in the Middle Ages, namely the influence exerted on their living circumstances by their civil status. Whether a man was married was of less significance, while for women on the other hand it was decisive as regards their ability to operate. Married women were under the spousal guardianship of their husbands, and needed the agreement of their husbands in order to be able to access their own assets, but the law books of the 13th century in theory concede considerable decision-making rights to unmarried women of age, and widows.20 The deciding factor in women’s potential to exert influence was property.21 As Claudia Opitz has observed, “Where there are fundamental rights for women who hold title over land and goods, women cannot be completely banished from ‘public life’ ”.22 Married women were able to have control over their possessions by selling their moveable goods (such as jewellery, clothing and furniture), and even in cases in which the family took care that women did not touch their land ownings, they generally could freely exercise control over the revenues generated by this capital.23 An unmarried woman or a widow who inherited a fief could take over the role of presiding at meetings of vassals, and was allowed to stand in for the seigneur responsible for her area at fief gatherings. Although in reality, it must have usually been almost impossible for young women to remain unmarried for any length of time, and widows were often subjected to considerable pressure to remarry, the improvement in the legal position of women in the 13th century laid the foundations for activity on the part of an independent donor, particularly for 18 Gee, Women, Art and Patronage. 19 Caviness, “Anchoress, abbess and queen”, p. 143. 20 Opitz, “Emanzipiert oder marginalisiert”, pp. 29 and 32. 21 Caviness, “Anchoress, abbess and queen”, p. 107. 22 Opitz, “Emanzipiert oder marginalisiert”, p. 33. 23 Ibid., pp. 40–41.
242 Hediger privileged and wealthy women. Under favourable circumstances, it was, in principle, possible for unmarried, married, and widowed women to raise the funds to donate a window, but it was clearly widowed women who actually enjoyed the greatest freedom to operate. A prerequisite for the practice of donation among women was their power to control sufficient resources. In theory, the medieval law books granted women the power to control their resources, but this power was often limited in practice by their fathers, in the case of unmarried women, or by their husbands, in the case of married women. Widows in turn were relatively free to control the personal wealth that they had brought into the marriage, and they thereby had a relatively large sphere in which they could operate, even though any sons they had could make their influence felt.24 If widows had assets, they were able to endow foundations and donate windows, if their philanthropic activities were pursued within a societally approved framework. Indeed, this was even expected of them, since, as Britta- Julianne Kruse among others describes, it was one of the most important tasks of a widow to assist in the salvation of the souls of her deceased husband and other relatives through penitential acts undertaken on their behalf, and the performance of charitable and good works.25 When one attempts to analyse the images themselves, it is apparent however that donations from married and widowed women can often only be distinguished from one another with difficulty, since, as noted above, widows were often represented in splendid clothing instead of in restrained widow’s garb. In any case, because women from influential families were often married several times, and their periods of widowhood were therefore temporary, the donation of a window is difficult to associate with a single point in time. We cannot deduce from the pictorial representations themselves whether the husbands of the women represented were alive. For these reasons, the categories of female donors –unmarried women, nuns, married women, and widows –discussed below are not absolute, but they nonetheless allow us to focus attention on the different spheres of influence in which medieval women could operate. As will become apparent, these too are governed by pictorial conventions around issues of class and civil status discussed above. 3 Unmarried Women The rarest images are those of unmarried women, who only appear in the context of family portraits. Here they 24 Ibid., p. 32. 25 Kruse, Witwen, p. 410.
are usually placed, together with other female members of the family, symmetrically opposite the male members of the family. In these images, unmarried women are designated by their uncovered hair. Thus Yolande, the daughter of Pierre Mauclerc (Figure 15.2), in the southern rose at Chartres (window 122), is one of these exceptional images. She appears on the left with her mother, Alix de Thouars, who brought Brittany into the house of Dreux through her marriage to Pierre. Yolande appears with long, uncovered hair, and can thereby be identified as an unmarried girl.26 Jeanne, the daughter of Philipp Hurepel, in window 125 of the choir at Chartres, is likewise represented with long, unbound hair, which she wears uncovered, while her mother wears a wimple as a sign of her married state.27 4 Nuns Representations of nuns in conventual contexts depict women who were the offspring of influential and wealthy families; they are often abbesses, and usually appear as individual independent figures. Their ecclesiastical and social status afford them a pictorial prominence that is otherwise only achieved by widows. One example is in the axial window of the Cistercian abbey at Heiligkreuztal, which was donated by the abbess Elisabeth von Stöffeln (Figure 15.3) who died in 1312, though the window was not made until 1320. Elisabeth, who is identified by an inscription at right, kneels in the lower right-hand corner of the window and looks up at the Virgin and Child; the Virgin is nearly four times her size.28 Another example is found in the donor panel of Kunigunde von Meynwelt, who is shown in the habit of a Poor Clare, which probably also stems from the first quarter of the 14th century, and whose provenance is still unclear.29 Lastly, a donor panel from the Cistercian abbey at Seligenthal in the Landshut district, from the first quarter of the 14th century, depicts Elizabeth (d.1314), the daughter of Henry viii, Duke of Lower Bavaria, in the habit of a Cistercian nun.30 Although she 26 Delaporte, Les vitraux, vol. 3, pl. 433; Brenk, “Geschichtsverständnis”. 27 This image is only attested in a 1696 drawing by Roger de Gaignières; on this, see Perrot, “Le vitrail”, pp. 109–30, fig. 30. 28 Westermann-Angerhausen, Himmelslicht, cat. no. 47, pp. 234–36. 29 Westermann-Angerhausen, Himmelslicht, pp. 248–49; Lymant, Die Glasmalereien, pp. 49–56. Now housed in the Schnütgen Museum, Cologne, inv. no. M.520 and M.580. 30 Now housed in the Bavarian National Museum, Munich, inv. no. G. 914–923.
243
Female Donors of Medieval Stained-Glass Windows
is represented in the habit of her Order, her standing, frontal positioning reveals her as belonging to the noble founding family, or as being a particularly important donor.31 An inscription identifies the woman represented, and also gives her title: “DOMINA ELIZABET DUCISSA BAWARIE” (“Lady Elizabeth, Duchess of Bavaria”). The images cited here allow us to appreciate that nuns had the possibility of operating independently, even though, as nuns, they were of course in principle under the supervision of male clerical authorities.32 Representations of nuns outside their conventual environment are rare, and in these cases they assumed a less prominent role. Thus, the nun Barbara von Ringoltingen is represented only covertly in the window donated by her brother, Thüring, in the choir of the Minster at Bern (Figure 15.4). Their parents and siblings are all represented by means of alliance arms, which would not have been possible for her as an unmarried woman. Barbara is therefore made present in the window, next to the arms of her parents and siblings, by means of a statue of her name saint, St. Barbara; the accompanying von Ringoltingen arms on the socle of the statue indicate that the representation is of more than just the Christian saint.33 5 Married Women Married women in donor images can be identified by the fact that their heads are covered. As with unmarried women, the married woman is not presented as an autonomously operating subject, but is shown rather in familial contexts, together with her husband, and her activity as a donor is usually defined and subordinated in relation to her spouse. Yet, the fact that wives appear in these donor representations at all is already significant, and speaks of their great importance within the family structure. The presence of wives beside their husbands can sometimes be an indication that the woman was substantially involved in the donation, or even that she was responsible for it. It is worth remembering this possibility, for too often later historians have construed the gender hierarchies contained in these images too literally, such that the women’s contribution to the donation has been broadly denied.34 In this respect, 31 On this, see Oberhaidacher, “Fundator oder Stifter”. 32 McCash, The Cultural Patronage, pp. 12–13. On the liberties that the status of nuns opened up for women, see also Griffiths, Garden of Delights. Griffiths provides an excellent study of the education and spirituality of women, but is weaker in her art- historical assessment of the Hortus deliciarum. 33 See Hediger, “Die Berner Familie der Ringoltingen”, pp. 339–40. 34 See McCash, The Cultural Patronage, p. 14, and the examples cited in Schleif, “Forgotten roles”, pp. 139–40.
later generations have contributed to a distorted image of donors in the Middle Ages, by lumping all donations made by married couples together, and by focusing, one-sidedly, on those donations in which women are not in fact identified by name in the inscriptions, but are characterized solely as spouses by the formula “uxor sua” (“his wife”). Portraits of married couples fall into two main pictorial types: one places the husband and wife one behind the other in a row, the other has the couple facing each other. The first type, with the couple aligned in a row, is rarer; here the woman is represented behind her husband. This establishes a hierarchy, because a consequence of this ordering is that the woman behind the man is also further away from the saintly recipient. This spatial distribution accords with the division of church space into areas for women and men, one result of which is that women were further away from the altar.35 Justification for this spatial arrangement is found as early as the Syrian Didaskalia, which refer to St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians (1 Cor. 11.3): “But I want you to understand that the head of every man is Christ, the head of a wife is her husband, and the head of Christ is God”. In the Middle Ages, this argument is found in liturgists, such as Sicard of Cremona: “Men [should be] in the front part, women in the back part; for the man is the head of the women, and is therefore her leader”.36 An example of this row-type of representation is found in window 29b in the choir of Chartres Cathedral, where a married couple is depicted adoring a statue of Mary (Figure 15.5).37 The principal donor of this window was the canon Stefanus Cardinalis, who is represented in an image on another panel and identified by an inscription. In the case of this lay couple, we are probably therefore dealing with relations of the canon.38 They are both represented in the left-hand half of the panel, with their hands clasped together; their bodies are set almost frontally, and the couple faces to the right towards the statue of the Virgin and Child. The body and head of the woman, dressed in a green garment and a red, probably fur-lined, mantle, as well as a wimple that covers her hair, are turned slightly to the right, while her husband is presented almost in profile. Thus, the husband is not only nearer to the object of their veneration through his 35 36
37 38
Signori, “Links oder rechts”. Sicard of Cremona, Mitrale, col. 39B: “viri in parte anteriori, mulieres in posteriori; vir nam est caput mulieris; ideoque dux ejus”. On this panel, see Delaporte, Les vitraux, plates, vol. 3, pls. 366–70. Lautier, “The canons of Chartres”, p. 107.
244 Hediger position, but has more direct contact with the statue of the Virgin through his gaze.39 Images of married couples of the second type, with the spouses arranged symmetrically around an axis, are more frequent than the row type discussed above. In these images the donors kneel or stand, turned towards each other and towards the recipient of the donation (who is usually placed somewhat higher up), in similar posture, or they present their window jointly. It is not physical proximity that designates the two figures represented as a couple, but their symmetrical alignment. The oldest example of this image type is found in the axial window of Poitiers Cathedral (between 1166 and 1173/74: Figure 15.6), which is in fact the oldest extant donor image.40 Here the donors, Eleanor of Aquitaine and her husband Henry ii of England, present their window, while gazing upwards in the direction of St. Peter, the patron saint of the church, and the figure of Christ depicted above. What is unusual here is that Eleanor, as a woman, is depicted to Christ’s dexter, the heraldic right side, which means, she is kneeling to the right of Christ.41 In axial compositions the man is usually shown to dexter, the privileged side, in order to highlight his superior status. In this respect, these images are usually in conformity with the regulations of the Ordines romani concerning the dividing up of the sexes in the space of the church: “masculi ad dexteram, feminae ad sinistram” (men to the right, women to the left), though exceptions may be found.42 The donor representation of Matthew and Dionysia in window 202 of Tours Cathedral (third quarter of the 13th century) follows this 39
40
41 42
Other examples include: the donor image in the St. Stephen window in Saint-Quentin: Shortell, “ ‘The widows’ money’ ”, p. 226; and the abbey church of Cistercians nuns at Lichtental (nII in the choir, now in the Baden State Museum, Karlsruhe, inv. no. 95/919: c.1300), where Kunigunde von Eberstein kneels behind her husband, Rudolf I, Margrave of Baden: Westermann-Angerhausen, Himmelslicht, pp. 228–29. Perrot, “Le portrait d’Aliénor”, pp. 180–85; see Granboulan, Ch. 3 in this volume. From early descriptions, we know that Agnes of Braine and Robert de Dreux were depicted in a similar way at the feet of the Virgin in the axial window of the abbey church of Braine. They were accompanied by inscriptions that gave both of their names and titles: “Robertus Comes” (“Count Robert”), and “Agnes Comitessa” (“Countess Agnes”). The two donors were represented symmetrically, to either side of the Virgin, and presented together with the saint in the church they had funded. Although the donor representation thus showed a married couple, it was Agnes who was the principal benefactor of the construction and the donor of the window, created after the death of Robert I de Dreux (d.1188). See Caviness, Sumptuous Arts, pp. 66–70, and pp. 88–89. On heraldic left and right, see Schleif, “Men on the right”. See Signori, “Links oder rechts”, p. 351.
arrangement.43 The man stands to the viewer’s left of the Jesse Tree that sprouts above the donor couple in the central light, which is the heraldic right, and is thus the first image the beholder sees in reading from left to right. The woman is identified in the inscription in relation to her husband as “Dionisia uxor sua” (Dionysia his wife), further affirming the husband’s primacy. The oldest extant donor representation of a married couple outside French-speaking lands also belongs to this symmetrical type: the panel with Sts. Augustine and Nicholas.44 Here the man is similarly shown to dexter, with the woman to sinister. They are positioned symmetrically, kneeling, and present their donation jointly. The husband is here distinguished in relation to his wife simply by the more expansive positioning of the arms.45 Further typical examples of axially arranged representations of donor couples are found in the Cologne panels of the Dormition and the Coronation of the Virgin.46 The donors Philip and Agnes, as well as Theodore and Gertrude, are identified by inscriptions and depicted at the feet of the Marian scenes. The demi-figures of the donors are arranged symmetrically, with the man shown each time to dexter, with the woman appearing to sinister.47 In the donor image of c.1280 of the Stainhövel couple in the church of Saint Dionysius in Esslingen (choir, i, 1 a),48 the husband appears to dexter in the pendentive below the picture medallion; he gazes towards the sacred events playing out above him, while his wife looks at her husband, with the result that the man here functions as a mediator between his wife and the sacred figures depicted above. There are numerous exceptions to the proposed “rule” whereby the man should appear to dexter and the women to sinister.49 In many cases, however, unusual placement was intended to subtly highlight the women. In individual cases it may offer a discreet indication that it was the women who was active as donor, while the husband placed on the sinister side was simply a passive 43 44
Les vitraux du Centre, p. 126. Now in the Hessen State Museum, Darmstadt, inv. no. Kg 31: 22b; c.1250. 45 Westermann-Angerhausen, Himmelslicht, pp. 152–53; Lymant, Die Glasmalereien, pp. 26–27. 46 Now in the Museum Schnütgen, Cologne, inv. no. M 1: c.1250/ 60. 47 Westermann-Angerhausen, Himmelslicht, pp. 136–73; Becksmann, Vitrea dedicata, p. 69; Lymant, Die Glasmalereien, pp. 11–15, 17. 48 Becksmann, Von der Ordnung der Welt, pp. 56–57. 49 Kurmann-Schwarz, Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien, pp. 210–14; Gast, Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien, pp. 288, 299; Signori, “Links oder rechts”; Schleif, “Men on the right”, p. 230.
245
Female Donors of Medieval Stained-Glass Windows
beneficiary, or appeared there simply as the guarantor for the donation. Madeline Caviness, for example, has discussed the unusual arrangement of the principal figures in the axial window at Poitiers, in which Eleanor is represented on the dexter side, while Henry ii of England appears on the sinister side (Figure 15.6).50 The reason for this could lie in the fact that Poitiers constituted part of Eleanor’s dominion, which she brought to the marriage, and that, as a result, she had herself represented on the heraldic right in territory over which she herself had sway. Alternatively, it is also possible that she was, in addition, the actual principal donor of this Crucifixion window, in much the same way as she had probably supported the construction of the cathedral.51 On the one hand, a passage in the Annales d’Aquitaine (“Annals of Aquitaine”) by Jean Bouchet describes in typical manner Eleanor’s role as the actual first instigator of the new Gothic building, while denying her the title of founder, and ascribing the active role of commissioner and founder to the king: “At the same time, at the request of Lady Eleanor his wife, the same Henry had work begun on the beautiful and sumptuous building of the cathedral of St. Peter in Poitiers”.52 Caviness discusses a similar representation, of Queen Ælfgifu, as donor of the cross for the Old Minster at Winchester. The representation in the Liber vitae of 1031 shows the queen and King Cnut in the act of placing the cross they have donated on the minster’s altar.53 Caviness has argued that the queen is shown on the dexter side, because in Winchester she was in her own territory.54 During her husband’s absence, the queen appears to have exercised power of control over finances, and it is therefore possible that she was effectively the donor of the cross.55 One should always ask –particularly with representations of married women made according to conventional models, that depict men and women in hierarchical arrangements –whether the women did in fact play the 50 51
Caviness, “Anchoress, abbess and queen”, p. 131. Perrot, “Le portrait d’Aliénor”, p. 182; Caviness, “Anchoress, abbess and queen”, pp. 127–29. 52 “En mesme temps le dict Henry, a la requete de madame Alienor son espouse, fist commancer le beau et sumptueux edifice de l’Eglise cathedrale de S. Pierre de Poitiers”, cited after Blomme, Poitou gotique, p. 247. 53 London, British Library, Stowe MS 944, fol. 6. 54 Caviness, “Anchoress, abbess and queen”, p. 127; Pastan, “Patronage”, pp. 342–43. 55 Schleif, “Men on the right”, pp. 231–33, describes a sandstone relief with a similar arrangement from the chapel in the palace in Munich of Holy Roman Emperor Ludwig of Bavaria and his wife Margaret I, Countess of Holland, where it seems probable that Margaret was the actual donor both of the relief and of the chapel.
subsidiary role that the image appears to assign to them. In examples in which the rule of placing male donors on the dexter side is not observed, one has to consider the possibility that the donation was actually given by the wife. 6 Widows Apart from nuns, widows were the only women who had themselves represented as independently operating subjects, unaccompanied by men.56 They could also, however, choose more traditional models, and have themselves represented with their deceased husbands, or within the circle of their wider family. Thus, Marguerite of Lèves, depicted in window 16 at Chartres, probably donated her window when she became a widow (Figure 15.7),57 even though she did not have herself represented as an autonomous donor acting alone, but appears in the window accompanied by her husband Guérin de Friaize and her brother-in-law Hugues de Meslay. In all likelihood, this is a memorial donation on behalf of both men. The donor was probably Marguerite, however, because she is represented kneeling in prayer with her hands raised (that is, in traditional donor pose) before the Mother of God, while the men who accompany her stand in a second medallion further away from the Virgin. Marguerite of Lèves’ identity can be deduced thanks to the shield of arms and the knight depicted behind her. Both of the male figures were originally also identified by an inscription, the remains of which can be reconstructed after Delaporte, as “[H.DE MEL]E [:]GARIN(US)DE F[RIESE]” (Henri de Mele and Garinus de Friese). However, if both men were therefore originally identified by arms as well as inscriptions, Marguerite can only be identified indirectly, by means of the individuals she has caused to be depicted, and by taking into consideration the figure of St. Margaret, who is depicted above her.58 Marguerite wears her hair largely covered by a greenish cloth, and she is dressed in a red-brown garment and a red, fur-trimmed cloak, which conflicts with the dress recommendations for widows. A particularly prominent example of a complex founded by a widow is the monastic church at Königsfelden.59 56 This is consistent with McCash’s observation that nuns and widows had greater freedoms than other female donors: McCash, The Cultural Patronage, p. 13. 57 Delaporte, Les vitraux, vol. 2, pls. 254–56; Kurmann and Kurmann-Schwarz, “Chartres”, p. 134 and n. 17. 58 Delaporte, Les vitraux, vol. 3, pl. 256. 59 Kurmann-Schwarz, Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien, pp. 29– 41; Kurmann- Schwarz, “Die Stiftung”; Kurmann- Schwarz, “Die Sorge”.
246 Hediger Documents report that only a year after the murder of her spouse, the widowed Queen Elisabeth wished to build a monastery at the site of the crime.60 She and her daughter Agnes subsequently adapted this site as a memorial for the whole family. Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz has deduced that, as founders, Elisabeth and Agnes must have been originally represented in the windows at the termination of the choir, together with their husbands King Albrecht and King Andreas iii of Hungary, surrounded by the representations of the family members in the side windows of the choir still in situ.61 We know that Elisabeth and Agnes were also represented in the portrait cycle of members of the Habsburg family in the nave windows, executed c.1360 while Queen Agnes was still alive. Only two male portraits have come down to us, but we can get a glimpse of the original cycle from a series of 16th-century drawings: Queen Elisabeth and Queen Agnes of Hungary (Figure 15.8) were depicted in similar compositions, dressed in splendid fur mantles, and with a model of the abbey church founded by them in their hands. Sophia Overstolz too was probably already a widow when she commissioned the window in which she and her husband Gobelinus von den Schafportzen are represented as donors.62 The panels, which probably come from the Saint Agnes Hospital on the Neumarkt in Cologne (Figure 15.9), show the donor couple beneath a Crucifixion scene. The hospital on the Neumarkt was founded in 1308, and a donation made by the couple depicted is documented for the year 1313. In the window the donor figure of Sophia Overstolz is depicted on the dexter side, while her husband Gobelinus von der Schafportzen takes up position on the sinister side. This unusual arrangement perhaps mirrors the fact that Sophia came from a wealthy and influential family, while Gobelinus had a relatively modest family background. Further, Gobelinus died in 1313, and may no longer have been alive at the time the window was executed; this may be the reason that his wife Sophia, who is demonstrably active as a donor until 1335, appears on the dexter side.63 At the same time, the representation of Sophia here on the dexter side, emulates the position of the Virgin, who is represented above her, to Christ’s right; like the Virgin, Sophie wears a white headcloth and a yellow garment. Lastly, we come to what is probably the oldest panel in which a female donor of a window is depicted without 60 61
Kurmann-Schwarz, “Die Sorge”. Kurmann-Schwarz, Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien, pp. 211–12. 62 Westermann-Angerhausen, Himmelslicht, pp. 246–47; Beeh- Lustenberger, Glasmalerei, pp. 81–83. 63 Gast, Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien, p. 99.
being accompanied by a man. This is the St. William lancet (in window 102) in the choir of Bourges Cathedral, where Mathilde de Courtenay appears at the feet of the saint (Figure 15.10).64 Mathilde (c.1180–1257) was the only daughter of Pierre ii de Courtenay and Agnès ii de Nevers. Mathilde’s first marriage, to Hervé iv de Donzy, an opponent of her father’s, took place in 1195, forced on the couple by the king after a conflict. Hervé died in 1223, and Mathilde married a second time, in 1226; at Bourges she is represented without a husband, so the window is most likely to have been executed between 1223 and 1226, the years of her widowhood.65 These dates agree with those of other, documented donations of 1223 and 1225, made by Mathilde in the name of St. William, whom she refers to as her uncle. The donor kneels in the window with a model of the window she had donated bearing the inscription “MATILDIS COMITIS” (“[The gift] of Countess Mathilde”). In addition, she does not abide by the dress recommendations for widows; rather, she wears a splendid red dress with narrow sleeves. Her shoes, girdle and fur-lined mantle are green. The fur is depicted as pied by means of a finely drawn wavy line. Windows that show lay women as donors unaccompanied by men were probably donated by widows. One example of this is the panel already discussed above from Doberan, with the representation of Margaret of Denmark (Figure 15.1). In cases like this, we are able to extrapolate the status of the woman represented from the historical context. Towards the end of the Middle Ages, documents that describe the donation activity of women in greater detail become more common. Thus, for example, the donations made by the pious Basel widow Margarethe Brand (d.1474) are well documented, even though the windows she donated have not survived. Margarethe was a generous benefactress to the charterhouse of St. Margaret in Basel, to which she donated altar furnishings, money, natural produce, and also three windows.66 An especially well documented, though sadly not extant, complex of donations by a widowed nun has been brought to our attention by Corine Schleif and Volker Schlier.67 Here, the wealthy Nuremberg widow Katerina Lemmel (1466–1532), the daughter of Paulus and Ursula Imhoff, contributed significantly to the rebuilding of the 64 Les vitraux du Centre, p. 175. 65 Ribault, Un chef-d’œuvre, p. 66; Hediger, “Uxor sua”, p. 97 and n. 39. On Mathilde de Courtenay, see Boulanger, Ch. 18 in this volume. 66 Kruse, Witwen, p. 411; Rapp Buri and Stucky-Schürer, “Die Brandin”. 67 Schier and Schleif, Katerina’s Windows; Schier and Schleif, “Views and voices”; Schleif, “Forgotten roles”.
Female Donors of Medieval Stained-Glass Windows
Brigittine convent of Maria Mai. On entering the convent upon the death of her husband, she invested parts of her money in the dilapidated buildings, and organized other improvements, which included the windows in the newly erected cloister. The Imhoff family arms, set up by her in a prominent location in the cloister, made reference simultaneously to her relatives, who had donated a window, but also of course to herself and her immediate family. Here is the case of a woman who was able to do considerably more than finance a window, and indeed oversaw production and installation, and acted as the designer of the iconographic programme. 7
Invisibility, Marginalization, Erasure
Even when the agency of women can be incontrovertibly proven by documents, the tendency to misrepresent women as exceptional or marginal figures persists. Fiona Griffiths’ exemplary research on the Hortus deliciarum (“The Garden of Delights”) has shown that our preconceived notions of an era long past can sometimes clutter our understanding.68 While previously it had always been taken as a given that women played no role in the reform movement of the 12th century, Griffiths’ meticulous study of the Hortus deliciarum shows that the nuns of Hohenbourg played an active role. The intellectually sophisticated texts of the Hortus reflect the current concerns of the reform movement. The book, which was written exclusively by a woman for women, seemingly reveals an unclouded image, because it did not have to make any compromises or adaptations with regard to the expectations of the male gaze. This is also apparent in the fact that, unlike works written by other women, it was not considered necessary in the book to justify the fact that the work’s author was female. The perception of the Middle Ages as a male era is mirrored in the difficulties encountered in dealing with terminology. The terms “patron” and “patronage”, used in reference to donation, are derived from the Latin pater (“father”), while the equivalent term “matron” has a completely different connotation.69 Similarly, women and their operations were often concealed, erased, and rendered invisible in post-medieval historiography.70 Art historical studies can contribute to making medieval women visible, thereby embedding in our consciousness 68 Griffiths, The Garden of Delights, pp. 8–16 and 213–23. 69 Caviness, “Anchoress, abbess and queen”, p. 106; Schleif, “Seeking patronage”, pp. 208–09; Pastan, “Patronage”, pp. 340–41. 70 There is an illustrative example in Caviness, “Anchoress, abbess and queen”, p. 125.
247 the possibility that there were women who operated independently in the Middle Ages. A particularly notable example of women who have been literally erased, is described by Ellen Shortell in her work on the windows of the church of Saint- Quentin. The Glorification of the Virgin window in the axial chapel at Saint-Quentin shows women in the act of placing money for their donations in the offertory box, and contains the inscription “AES VIDVARUM” (“The widows’ money”). Before restoration, all four donor figures had female heads, and thus it was the restorers who subjected the two figures on the right to a “sex change”.71 To the left of the group of widows described, in the same window, two further women bring a window to the altar. The scene is labelled with the short inscription “ISTA VITREA” (“this window”), which relates the two donors’ gift to the stained glass in which they are represented. The sources for Saint-Quentin mention two women as founders of the chapel: Rassendis Crassa and Rassendis Waukins. We further know that Rassendis Crassa bequeathed to the chapter a house with garden and fields, as well as the income from other seigneuries. Ellen Shortell has therefore posited that these figures depicted were widows who, by transferring their wealth to the church, escaped the pressure to remarry exerted on them by their relatives, and that they may have lived together as a community, similar to the Beguines. The female donor figures in the Glorification of the Virgin window in the axial chapel of Saint-Quentin, to which the inscription makes explicit reference, were given male heads by their 19th-century restorers, because, in their minds, a donor could only be male.72 The act of rendering a medieval woman invisible did not always occur at a later date, however. The case of the Bremen widow Alheiyt Groningh provides an instructive example. We know from documents that, in 1391, the widow Alheiyt donated a chalice; the inscription on it does not mention her as donor, but identifies her as wife in relation to her husband: “Orate p(ro) Hinric Fronihgh et uxor e(ius) [sic]” (Pray for Hinric Fronihgh and his wife), with the result that one would presume that this was the donation of a couple.73 In this case, only the documents tell us that Alheiyt made the donation as a widow, and so was acting without her husband.
71 Shortell, “ ‘The widows’ money’ ”; Shortell, “Erasures and recoveries”. 72 Shortell, “ ‘The widows’ money’ ”; Shortell, “Erasures and recoveries”. 73 Kruse, Witwen, p. 410.
248 Hediger 8 Conclusion Despite the work of numerous gender-conscious researchers, who over recent decades have considered medieval women and the active role they played in donation, we generally still implicitly presume –where there are no documents, inscriptions, or exclusively female donor imagery to indicate to the contrary –that a donor is male.74 Focusing on the numerous images of female donors that survive can contribute to creating different expectations, even within the fragile medium of stained glass. Bibliography Primary Sources
Hareau, B., Notices et extraits de quelques manuscrits latins de la Bibliothèque nationale, vol. 2, Paris, 1890. Sicard of Cremona, Mitrale, in Patrologia Latina, vol. 213, col. 13A-433A. Thomas of Chobham, Summa confessorum, ed. F. Broomfield (Analecta Namurcensia, 25), Louvain, 1968.
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Becksmann, R., Vitrea dedicata. Das Stifterbild in der deutschen Glasmalerei des Mittelalters, Berlin, 1975. Becksmann, R., Von der Ordnung der Welt. Mittelalterliche Glasmalereien aus Esslinger Kirchen (Exhibition catalogue: Esslingen, Franziskanerkirche), Esslingen, 1997. Beeh-Lustenberger, S., Glasmalerei um 800–1900 im Hessischen Landesmuseum in Darmstadt, Darmstadt, 1967. Blomme, Y., Poitou gotique (Les monuments de la France gothique), Paris, 1993. Brenk, B., “Bildprogrammatik und Geschichtsverständnis der Kapetinger im Querhaus der Kathedrale von Chartres”, Arte Medievale 5 (1991), 71–95. Caviness, M.H., Sumptuous Arts at the Royal Abbeys in Reims and Braine. Ornatus elegantiae, varietate stupendes, Prince ton, 1990. Caviness, M.H., “Anchoress, abbess and queen: donors and patrons or intercessors and matrons?”, in J.H. McCash (ed.), The Cultural Patronage of Medieval Women, Athens, 1996, pp. 105–54. Caviness, M.H., “The rationalization of sight and the authority of visions? A feminist (re)vision”, Museu National d’Art de Catalunya (ed.), Miscellània en Homenatge à Joan Ainaud de Lasarte, vol. 1, Barcelona, 1998, pp. 181–87. Delaporte, Y. and Houvet, E., Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres. Histoire et description, 4 vols., Chartres, 1926.
74
Martin, “Exceptions”, p. 20.
Drachenberg, E. (ed.), Mittelalterliche Glasmalerei in der Deutschen Demokratischen Republik (Exhibition catalogue: Erfurt, Angermuseum), Berlin, 1989. Duby, G. and Perrot, M. (eds.), Histoire des femmes en Occident, vol. 2: Le Moyen Âge, Paris, 1991. Ennen, E., Frauen im Mittelalter, Munich, 1994. Fircks, von J., “Zwischen dynastischer Inszenierung und Stif tergedenken”, in G. Eimer, E. Gierlich, and M. Müller (eds.), Ecclesiae ornatae. Kirchenausstattungen des Mittelalters und der frühen Neuzeit zwischen Denkmalwert und Funktionalität, Bonn, 2009, pp. 101–21. Fircks, von J., “Memoria und politische Repräsentation. Das Grabmal Königin Margarethes von Dänemark (†1282) in der Zisterzienserkirche Doberan”, in G. Siebert (ed.), Der Naumburger Meister, Bildhauer und Architekt im Europa der Kathedralen, vol. 3, (Transactions of the International Colloquium in Naumburg), Petersberg, 2012, pp. 112–25. Gast, U., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Oppenheim, Rhein-und Südhessen (CVMA Deutschland, 3,1), Berlin, 2011. Gast, U., “Die Glasmalereien des Doberaner Münsters –zu Geschichte, Rekonstruktion und Datierung des hochgotischen Scheibenbestands”, in G. Weilandt and K. von Cossart (eds.), Die Ausstattung des Doberaner Münsters. Kunst im Kontext, Petersberg, 2018, pp. 152–67. Gee, L.L., Women, Art and Patronage from Henry III to Edward III, 1216–1377, Woodbridge, 2002. Gerber, R., “Stifterinnen und Stifter”, Berner Zeitschrift für Ge schichte, 79-2 (2017), 38–56. Goetz, H.-W., Moderne Mediaevistik. Stand und Perspektiven der Mittelalterforschung, Darmstadt, 1999. Griffiths, F.J., The Garden of Delights. Reform and Renaissance for Women in the Twelfth Century, Philadelphia, 2007. Hediger, C., “Die Berner Familie der Ringoltingen im Spiegel ihrer Stiftungen”, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Kunst und Denkmalpflege 66 (2012), 332–43. Hediger, C., “ ‘Uxor sua’ und ‘Aes viduarum’: Zeichen der Abhängigkeit und Zeichen der Selbständigkeit in mittelalterlichen Darstellungen von Glasfensterstifterinnen”, in K. Georgi, B. von Orelli-Messerli, E. Scheiwiller-Lorber, and A. Schiffhauer (eds.), Licht(t)räume. Festschrift für Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz zum 65. Geburtstag, Petersberg, 2016, pp. 93–101. Hourihane, C. (ed.), Patronage. Power and Agency in Medieval Art (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 15), Princeton, 2013. Kemp, W., Sermo corporeus. Die Erzählung der mittelalterlichen Glasfenster, Munich, 1986. Kruse, B.-J., Witwen. Kulturgeschichte eines Standes im Spätmittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, Berlin, 2007. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., Die Glasmalereien des 15.-18. Jahrhunderts im Berner Münster (CVMA Schweiz, 4), Bern, 1998.
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249
Kurmann- Schwarz, B., “Die Sorge um die Memoria. Das Habsburger Grab zu Königsfelden im Lichte seiner Bild ausstattung”, Kunst und Architektur 50 (1999), 12–23. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Die Stiftung der Königin Agnes: die Glasmalereien des Klosters Königsfelden”, in C. Gutscher- Schmid, N. Gramaccini, and R. Schwinges (eds.), Berns mutige Zeit. Das 13. und 14. Jahrhundert neu entdeckt, Bern, 2003, pp. 143–50. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Gender and art”, in C. Rudolph (ed.), A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, Malden, 2006, pp. 128–50. Kurmann, P. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Chartres Cathedral as a work of artistic integration: methodological reflexions”, in V.C. Raguin, K. Brush, and P. Draper (eds.), Artistic Integration in Gothic Buildings, Toronto, 1995, pp. 131–52. Lautier, C., “The canons of Chartres: their patronage and representation in the stained glass of Chartres Cathedral”, in Hourihane (ed.), Patronage. Power and Agency, pp. 99–118. Lillich, M.P., “Gothic glaziers: monks, Jews, taxpayers, Bretons and women”, Journal of Glass Studies, 27 (1985), 72–92. Lymant, B., Die Glasmalereien des Schnütgen-Museums. Bestandskatalog, Cologne, 1982. McCash, J.H., The Cultural Patronage of Medieval Women, Athens, 1996. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England during the Middle Ages, London, 1993. Marks, R., “Wills and windows: documentary evidence for the commissioning of stained glass windows in late medieval England”, in H. Scholz, I. Rauch, and D. Hess (eds.), Glas, Malerei, Forschung. Internationale Studien zu Ehren von Rüdiger Becksmann, Berlin, 2004, pp. 245–52. Martin, T. (ed.), Reassessing the Roles of Women as “Makers” of Medieval Art and Architecture, 2 vols, Leiden, 2012. Martin, T., “Exceptions and assumptions. Women in medieval art history”, in Martin (ed.), Reassessing the Roles of Women, vol. 1, pp. 1–33. Oberhaidacher-Herzig, E., “Fundator oder Stifter? Ein Bei trag zur Stifter-Ikonographie in der Glasmalerei des späten 13. Jahrhunderts”, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Kunst und Denkmalpflege 47 (1993), 138–43. Oidtmann, H., Die rheinischen Glasmalereien vom 12. bis zum 16. Jahrhundert, Düsseldorf, vol. 2, 1929. Opitz, C., “Emanzipiert oder marginalisiert?: Witwen in der Gesellschaft des späten Mittelalters”, in B. Lundt (ed.), Auf der Suche nach der Frau im Mittelalter, Munich, 1991, pp. 25–48. Pastan, E.C., “Patronage: a useful category of art historical analysis?”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), The Routledge Companion to Medieval Iconography, London, 2017, pp. 340–55. Perrot, F., “Le vitrail, la croisade et la champagne: réflexion sur les fenêtres hautes du chœur à la cathédrale de Chartres”, in Y. Bellenger (ed.), Les Champenois et la croisade, Paris, 1989, pp. 109–30.
Perrot, F., “Le portrait d’Aliénor dans le vitrail de la Crucifixion à la cathédrale de Poitiers”, in M. Aurell (ed.), Aliénor d’Aquitaine, Revue 303 Arts, recherches et creation (2004), pp. 180–85. Rapp Buri, A. and Stucky-Schürer, M., “Die Brandin. Vergabungen und religiöse Stiftungen einer frommen Witwe”, in H. Wunder (ed.), Eine Stadt der Frauen. Studien und Quellen zur Geschichte der Baslerinnen im späten Mittelalter und zu Beginn der Neuzeit (13.-17. Jahrhundert), Basel, 1995, pp. 49–66. Ribault, J.-Y., Un chef-d’œuvre gothique: la cathedrale de Bourges, Arcueil, 1995. Richter, C., “Die Grisaillemalerei im Doberaner Münster und ihre Stifterin”, in E. Drachenberg and M. Flügge (eds.), Neue Forschungen zur mittelalterlichen Glasmalerei in der Deutschen Demokratischen Republik, Berlin, 1989, pp. 52–62. Richter, C., “The Cistercian stained glass of Doberan”, in M.P. Lillich (ed.), Studies in Cistercian Art and Architecture, vol. 4, Kalamazoo, 1993, pp. 161–83. Schier, V. and Schleif, C., “Views and voices from within: Sister Katerina Lemmel on the glazing of the cloister at Maria Mai”, in R. Becksmann (ed.), Glasmalerei im Kontext. Bildprogramme und Raumfunktionen (Transactions of the 22nd International Colloquium of the CV in Nuremburg and Regensburg), Nuremberg, 2005, pp. 211–228. Schier, V. and Schleif, C., Katerina’s Windows. Donation and Devotion, Art and Music; as Heard and Seen in the Writings of a Brigittine Nun, University Park, 2009. Schleif, C., “Forgotten roles of women as donors: Sister Katerina Lemmel’s negotiated exchanges in the care for the here and the hereafter”, in A. van Bueren and A. von Leerdam (eds.), Care for the Here and the Hereafter. Memoria, Art and Ritual in the Middle Ages, Turnhout, 2005, pp. 137–54. Schleif, C., “Men on the right –women on the left: (a)symmetrical spaces and gendered places”, in V.C. Raguin and S. Stanbury (eds.), Women’s Space: Patronage, Pace and Gender in the Medieval Church, Albany, 2005, pp 207–49. Schleif, C., “Seeking patronage: patrons and matrons in language, art and historiography”, in Hourihane (ed.), Patronage. Power and Agency, pp. 54–75. Schraut, E., Stifterinnen und Künstlerinnen im mittelalterlichen Nürnberg (Exhibition catalogue: Nuremburg, Stadtbibliothek), Nuremberg, 1987. Shortell, E.M., “ ‘The widows’ money’ and artistic integration in the Axial Chapel of St.-Quentin”, in E.S. Lane, E.C. Pastan, and E.M. Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing. Essays on Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Farnham, 2009, pp. 217–38. Shortell, E.M., “Erasures and recoveries of women’s contributions to Gothic architecture: the case of Saint-Quentin, local nobility and Eleanor of Vermandois”, in Martin (ed.), Reassessing the Roles of Women, pp. 129–74.
250 Hediger Signori, G., “Links oder rechts? Zum ‘Platz der Frau’ in der mittelalterlichen Kirche”, in S. Rau and G. Schwerhoff (eds.), Zwischen Gotteshaus und Taverne. Öffentliche Räume in Spätmittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, Cologne, 2004, pp. 339–82. Les vitraux du Centre et des Pays de la Loire (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 2), Paris, 1981.
Westermann-Angerhausen, H., Hagnau C., Schumacher C., and Sporbeck G. (eds.), Himmelslicht. Europäische Glasmalerei im Jahrhundert des Kölner Dombaus (1248–1349) (Exhibition catalogue: Cologne, Josef-Haubrich-Kunsthalle), Cologne, 1998.
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f igure 10.2 Miracle of the host, stained-glass panel from the Life of St. Edward the Confessor window (c.1310). Fécamp (Seine-Maritime, France), former abbey church, window 1.
f igure 10.1 St. Margaret’s window (early 13th century). Stained-glass window behind a BaroqueCrucifixionaltarpieceinthecollegiatechurchof St.Margaret,Ardagger,Lower Austria, bay i.
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f igure 10.3 Crucifixion and entombment with Old Testament types, lower part of the Redemption window. (c.1215–20). Canterbury, Christ Church Cathedral, Corona Window, i.
f igure 10.4 The Baptism of Christ, stained-glass panel from the central west window (c.1145–55). Chartres Cathedral, window 50.
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f igure 10.6 The Seven Sacraments, panel of a window in the nave (c.1466–75). Melbury Bubb, St. Mary’s Parish Church, North Window.
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f igure 10.5 Window of John the Baptist baptizing Christ and other scenes from his life (1500–10). Conches-en-Ouche (Eure, Normandy, France), Church of Saint-Foy, bay 20.
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f igure 10.8 John Thornton of Coventry, Angels singing sanctus, sanctus, sanctus from Revelation 4, 2–5, 8 (1405–08). York Minster, East Window, 11h.
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f igure 10.7 The Seven Sacraments with Christ window from Doddiscombsleigh (late 15th century). Stained-glass window with restored figure of Christ in St. Michael’s church, Doddiscombsleigh (Devon), East Window.
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f igure 11.1 Cure of Roger of Valognes(?) and Godwin of Boxgrove, large medallion from St. Thomas Becket Miracle Window (c.1215). Canterbury Cathedral, Trinity Chapel, Bay N. iii.
f igure 11.2 St. Nicholas iconia legend, detail of the Saints Eloi and Nicholas Window (c.1230–50). Auxerre Cathedral, bay 18.
f igure 11.3 Shoemakers offering a stained-glass window, detail of the Good Samaritan window (c.1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, bay 44.
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f igure 11.4 Legend of St. Lubin window (c.1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, bay 45.
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f igure 11.5 Legend of Charlemagne window (c.1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, bay 7.
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f igure 12.1 Sculptors at work, two stained-glass panels from the St. Cheron window (c.1220). Chartres Cathedral, bay 15.
f igure 12.2 Shoemakers presenting a window on an altar, panel of a window with the Life and Relics of St. Stephen (c.1220). Chartres Cathedral, bay 13.
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C
f igure 13.1 Portions of lancets from the three windows in the Virgin Chapel: a) Bishop Saint Window; b) Infancy Window; c) Theophilus Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, bays 0, 1 and 2.
f igure 13.2 Presentation in the Temple, detail from the Infancy Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, Virgin Chapel, bay 0.
f igure 13.3 Bishop Saint Giving or Receiving a Sheaf of Grain, detail from the Bishop Saint Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, Virgin Chapel, bay 1.
f igure 13.5 Four Jesse Tree Prophets, from the Infancy Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, Virgin Chapel: a) and c) painted by the “Hard Hand”; b) and d) painted by the “Trough Hand”.
f igure 13.4 Theophilus entering the Virgin’s Chapel, detail from the Theophilus Window (c.1245). Beauvais Cathedral, Virgin Chapel, bay 2.
f igure 13.6 Two clerestory figures: a) Saint John from the choir (1340s); b) Saint Paul from the hemicycle (c.1255–65). Beauvais Cathedral.
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f igure 14.1 Legend of St. Margaret window (1230–35). Auxerre Cathedral, bay 15.
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f igure 14.2 Reconstruction of the original program of the stained-glass window of St. Margaret (1230– 40). Ardagger (Lower Austria), former collegiate church of St. Margaret, bay i.
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f igure 14.4 Martyrdom and death of St. Margaret, detail of the Legend of St. Margaret window (1280–1300). Clermont-Ferrand Cathedral, bay 16.
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f igure 14.3 St. Margaret from the Procession of the Relics window (c.1228–35). Troyes Cathedral, detail of bay 210.
f igure 14.5 Four scenes of the life of St. Margaret, detail of the St. Margaret and St. Catherine window (c.1220–27). Chartres Cathedral, bay 16.
262
Figures for Part 3
f igure 15.1 Female Donor offering a window, panel of a stained- glass window (last quarter of the 13th century). Doberan (Mecklenburg-West Pomerania, Germany), church of the former Cistercian abbey, bay n xiv.
f igure 14.6 St. Margaret, detail from the window with eight female saints (1265–75 and 1891). Strasbourg Cathedral, bay 210.
f igure 15.2 Yolande, daughter of Pierre Mauclerc, detail of the left light under the south rose (c.1230). Chartres Cathedral, bay 122.
Figures for Part 3
263
f igure 15.4 Saint Barbara representing the nun Barbara von Ringoltingen from the stained-glass window with the legend of the Magi (c.1451–55). Bern Minster, choir window n iii, 2a.
f igure 15.3 Virgin and Child with Abbess Elizabeth von Stöffeln, detail of two stained-glass panels (c.1320–30). Heiligkreuztal, church of the former Cistercian convent, choir window i.
264
Figures for Part 3
f igure 15.5 Anonymous donor couple before a statue of the Virgin, panel from the Miracles of St. Nicholas window (c.1210–20). Chartres Cathedral, bay 29b.
f igure 15.6 Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry ii of England as window donors, panel from the Crucifixion Window (c.1165). Poitiers Cathedral, bay 0.
Figures for Part 3
265
f igure 15.7 Marguerite of Lèves praying in front of the image of the Virgin, panel from the Saints Margaret and Catherine window (c.1220). Chartres Cathedral, bay 16.
f igure 15.8 Donor image of Queen Elizabeth (d.1313), miniature after a lost window from the nave of the double monastery of Königsfelden in the Ehrenspiegel des Hauses Habsburg (c.1555). Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 8614*, fol. 233r.
266
Figures for Part 3
f igure 15.10 Countess Mathilde offering a window, from the St. William window (c.1223–26). Bourges Cathedral, bay 102.
f igure 15.9 Sophia Overstolz and her husband Gobelinus von der Schafportzen, stained-glass panels probably from the St. Agnes Hospital on the Neumarkt in Cologne (c.1313–35). Darmstadt, the Hessen State Museum, Inv. no. Kg 34: 10a, b.
Pa rt 4 Types of Glass
∵
c hapter 16
Regarding the Early Rose Window Elizabeth Carson Pastan Rose windows are large circular apertures designed to contain stained glass. Located high on the wall and visible from afar, their wheel-like stone traceries present with diagrammatic clarity on the exterior, while from the interior, rose windows may appear as great blazes of light.1 They are found on the terminal ends of medieval churches, as beautifully exemplified by the western rose window in the entrance façade of Chartres Cathedral of c.1205–10 (Figure 16.1). The cathedral’s three extant medieval roses also convey an idea of the scale of this window type: they range from 10 to 12 m in diameter, and hover over 20 m above the pavement of the building.2 If the human body and its sensory apparatus anchor every system of materials, then a rose window is supra-natural in dimension. When you look at a large rose, its importance is signaled by its height and its size. These qualities are further enhanced by the rose window’s relative isolation on the flat terminal arms of a building; because these arms generally serve as portals for entrance and egress, the roses distinguish these areas, even from afar. As the beholder moves through space, from exterior to interior, from nave to choir, rose windows serve as fixed points of reference, fulcrums in the busy profusion of lancet windows. In one of the few medieval allusions to rose windows, verses in the early 13th-century Metrical Life of St. Hugh discuss the northern and southern transept roses of Lincoln Cathedral (Figure. 16.3):
“The twin windows that impart a circular radiance are
the two eyes of the church. Rightly, the greater of these is seen to be the Bishop, the lesser the Dean. The devil is the north, the Holy Spirit is the south; the two eyes look in those directions. … With these eyes, the face of the church carefully considers the lamps of heaven and the shades of hell.”3 1 Frankl, Gothic Architecture, pp. 67–68 and 266–68. 2 Delaporte, Vitraux de la cathédrale, vol. 1, pp. 431–36 (northern rose), 493–99 (southern rose), and 519–21 (western rose); Les vitraux du Centre, pp. 39–40 and 43 (baies 121, 122 and 143, respectively). 3 For the complete text, see Anonymous (Henry of Avranches?), Life of St. Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, trans. Garton; for the translation used here, see Gerald of Wales, Life of St. Hugh, ed. and trans. Loomis, pp. 90–91(Latin) and 94 (English).
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 21
The Lincoln verses draw upon the contrasts in luminosity within an oriented building,4 with the darker northern windows offering contrast to the bright southern ones, a juxtaposition that serves as inspiration for the poem’s allusions to the dean and bishop, and the devil and the Holy Spirit. Notice, however, the curious kind of ventriloquism revealed in these verses, because the roses are imagined as eyes facing outwards,5 but who is looking at these rose windows and what are they seeing? This discussion of rose windows will be structured thematically around evidence not often joined in the same conversation: the windows’ engineering, legibility, and etymology, along with the more traditional considerations of their content and design. We will also examine two medieval illuminated manuscripts, the Hortus Deliciarium from the end of the 12th century and the Rothschild Canticles from the early 14th century, which help gauge some of the associations that rose windows may have held for their most learned beholders. These varied kinds of materials will allow us to consider the reception of rose windows from the level of artisanal practice, and everyday terms of reference, as well as their elite viewership. 1 Chronology Rose windows flourished between the mid-12th to the mid-16th centuries, concomitant with the development of Gothic architecture. While a wide variety of circular openings in architectural settings were known before the 12th century,6 it is the large size and grooved stone framework for inserting stained glass that distinguish the form we know as the rose window.7 The earliest 4 Mâle, Religious Art in France, p. 7. 5 See Dell’Acqua, Ch. 2 in this volume, where she establishes that the metaphor of windows as eyes is an ancient topos. In these 13th-century verses, however, the reference to the rose windows in Lincoln Cathedral is more specific. 6 See Dow, “Rose-window”, pp. 249–57; Franz, “Die Fensterrose und ihre Vorgeschichte”; id., “Les fenêtres circulaires de la cathédrale de Cefalù”; Topic-Mersmann, Rosenfenster, pp. 15–47. 7 For definitions, see: Viollet-le-Duc, “Rose”, p. 39; Dow, “Rose- window”, p. 253; Kobler, “Fensterrose”, p. 65; Cowen, Rose Window, p. 15. For early rose windows, see Hardy, “La fenêtre circulaire au XIIe”. For oculi, or circular stained-glass windows without tracery, see Caviness, “Glazed oculus.” For small, earlier apertures that
270 Pastan identified rose is in the western façade of the abbey of Saint-Denis of c.1140, an aperture just under 4 m in diameter.8 Within a century the rose window had tripled in size, to become “the most assertive feature in the facade”,9 mushrooming into wall compositions of the type represented by Saint-Nicaise of Reims (Figure 16.2). This example serves as Erwin Panofsky’s “final solution” to the problem of the rose, which he famously argued was a design issue of how to incorporate a round form into the rectangular setting of the wall harmoniously.10 For Panofsky, the problem of the rose was resolved by fitting it within the arched framework of a large window-wall composition, without reference to its stained glass. Viollet-le-Duc’s foundational study of rose windows drew attention to engineering concerns in French windows’ ever larger and more skeletal designs, but he was too cognizant of regional variations to impose an absolute chronology on the windows’ growth and development.11 In contrast, Robert Suckale considered the chronology of rose windows from the perspective of their content, observing that, while the pictorial imagery of early rose windows was intimately connected to the iconographic program of the adjacent portal decoration, in large rose compositions, from the mid-13th century onwards, the windows became showpieces, designed to “astonish, disconcert and enchant.”12 Suckale’s fundamental distinction has determined the chronological parameters of this study, which will focus on the reception of early rose windows before the mid-13th century. 2 Historiography Traditionally, the literature on rose windows has been dominated by three broad trends: monographic studies focused on the windows’ occurrence at a given site;13
were not glazed, see Hardy, “Les roses dans l’élévation de Notre-Dame”. 8 Crosby, Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis, pp. 167–79; Grodecki, Vitraux de Saint-Denis, p. 25; Topic-Mersmann, Rosenfenster, pp. 51–67; Pastan, “ ‘Familiar as the rose in spring’ ”. 9 Dow, “Rose-window”, p. 248. 10 Panofsky, Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism, p. 74; also see Viollet-le-Duc, “Rose”, pp. 59–62 and his Fig. 10. 11 Viollet-le-Duc, “Rose.” 12 Suckale, “Thesen”, p. 285. While Suckale’s general argument is wholly persuasive, for his mid-13th century example of the western rose window at Reims Cathedral, see Kurmann, “Le couronnement de la Vierge.” 13 At Chartres, for example, besides Delaporte cited above, studies of its rose windows include James, “Medieval geometry”; Brenk, “Bildprogrammatik”; and Lautier, “West rose”.
developmental studies charting their growth, engineering, and design over time;14 and studies focused on symbolism. These latter analyses, in seeking to identify “the” symbolism for the rose window, have provoked, but also stymied debate. Among other things, the window was interpreted without reference to the imagery of its stained glass as a solar disk, the heavenly cosmos, Ezekiel’s Wheel, the eye of God, the Wheel of Fortune, and a Eucharistic wafer.15 While any of these associations might be meaningful in a given setting, no one of them can be described as the raison d’être, or singular meaning of the rose window. Each early rose window participated in, and was contingent upon, the themes and emphases of its site.16 Indeed, any totalizing interpretation of the rose window that would determine its meaning based on one of the many circular pictorial forms it resembles –or for that matter, one of the many biblical verses or medieval exegetical texts mentioning wheels or orbs –17 is unlikely to account for the different physical settings and thematic emphases of the programs where rose windows occur.18 As Suckale observed, older interpretations of the rose window that are based on the window’s shape – such as the sun, the eye, or the Host –mistake an ordering principle for a representational image.19 Similar conclusions emerge from the seven circular forms in Villard de Honnecourt’s Portfolio, from the early 13th century, of the Perpetual Motion Device, Labyrinth, Hand Warmer, two Rose Windows, Pinwheel of Masons, and Wheel of Fortune.20 The images and the terms Villard used to describe each, suggest that he was well aware of the potential reciprocity of circular elements within a church setting, while easily distinguishing them by context and use. 14
Viollet-le-Duc, “Rose”; Dow, “Rose-window”; Suckale, “Thesen”; Topic-Mersmann, Rosenfenster; Lillich, “Observations on the Gothic rose window”; and Cowen, Rose Window. 15 An approach most associated with Sedlmayr, Enstehung der Kathedrale, pp. 144–48 and 296–99; Topic-Mersmann, Rosenfenster; and Dow, “Rose- window.” Also Baltrusaitis, “Quelques survivances de symboles solaires”; id., “L’image du monde céleste”. 16 See Lautier, “Les vitraux de la cathédrale,” esp. pp. 32, 44, and 59 for the three roses within the glazing program of Chartres Cathedral. 17 Dow, “Rose-window”, esp. pp. 268–90. 18 For a thoughtful discussion of the notion of program, see Pastoreau, “ ‘Programme’ ”; for the program at Chartres, see Kurmann-Schwarz, “Récits, programme”. 19 Suckale, “Thesen”, pp. 264–66. As Suckale points out, medieval authors such as Isidore of Seville (c.560–636) used a variety of circular compositions for organizing very different kinds of materials. 20 See Barnes, Portfolio, fols. 5r, 7v, 9r, 15v, 16r, 19v, and 2v, respectively. For dating, see ibid., pp. 226–29.
271
Regarding the Early Rose Window
3
Designing the Rose
The physical means by which early rose windows were incorporated into large-scale buildings are instructive. Rose windows involve sophisticated design considerations, beginning with the fact that they must be conceived on two planes, since they are visible on both the exterior and interior of a building (see Figures. 16.1 and 16.4).21 In addition, structural issues must be attended to when inserting a large glazed aperture high in a wall, where wind speeds increase greatly. The scale of the vitreous segments within a rose window is generally not significantly larger than the elements making up the lower windows, resulting in a constellation of relatively small parts. Stone traceries secure these smaller stained-glass elements into the wall and stabilize them against wind shear –whether by means of the wide flat panels of stone known as plate tracery, that accommodate insertions of glass, or the slender segments of masonry known as bar tracery, that create a spidery network of stone supports throughout the window (contrast the plate tracery in Figure 16.1 to the bar tracery in Figure 16.2). Other variables in the structural integrity of a rose window include the nature of the adjacent vaults, the thickness of the wall around the rose, and the depth of the window tracery.22 In analyzing the bar tracery in the south transept rose of Notre-Dame of Paris of c.1257, which is nearly 13 m in diameter, Viollet-le-Duc observed: “Although the composition of the tracery has a pleasing aspect, it is the knowledge of its construction that is truly impressive. Because, in these great armatures of stone, the effects of wind pressure are calculated with rare skill.”23 He added that when a modern engineer takes the effects of wind loading into account in designing a bridge, he returns to those principles in designing a rose window established six centuries earlier. Nonetheless, some rose windows pushed the limits of the stone to glass ratio too far, such as the so-called Dean’s Eye, the rose of c.1220 in the north transept of Lincoln Cathedral (Figure 16.3), which was mentioned in the medieval verses about the cathedral quoted above. At 7.5 m in diameter, it is not a particularly large 21 Frankl, Gothic Architecture, pp. 82, 86; and Leyerle, “Rose- wheel design”, pp. 285–88. 22 Beretz, “Adjustments for the innovative”, pp. 17–20; Heyman, “Rose windows”; and Smith, “Flowers of fragility.” Viollet-le- Duc, “Rose”, pp. 59–66 noted variations in window traceries ranging from 0.13 m in depth (at the 12th-century Burgundian church in Montréal: Viollet-le-Duc’s Fig. 13) to 0.82 m (in the western rose of Reims Cathedral: his Fig. 10). 23 Viollet-le-Duc, “Rose”, p. 52, and his Fig. 7, p. 51.
rose, and the medallions around the window’s perimeter are within normal range for lower panels, at 0.78 m in diameter each.24 But, the four very large ovals of glass that form a kind of cloverleaf at the window’s center are unsupported by stone traceries,25 creating a composition that required multiple repairs, as the discontinuity of borders and the varied shapes and contents of the scenes within these ovals, suggest. Despite such experiments in structural daring, the use of relatively small units within the rose composition is found even in later Curvilinear and Flamboyant rose windows, where the increasingly complex tracery designs continue to frame relatively small individual elements.26 It follows from these considerations that rose windows required specialized templates and precise measurements. The difficulty of integrating rose windows into buildings is reflected in the extant architectural designs at many Gothic sites, including Bourges, Clermont-Ferrand, and Soissons.27 At least 25, full-scale designs from the late 12th and early 13th centuries have been discovered to date, incised into the paving stones of Gothic buildings.28 What has not been observed previously about these designs is that they often involve circles, reflecting the need for a detailed plan where a circular form is to be integrated into horizontal courses of masonry. Known in French as épures, or working drafts, these scale designs are located close to the site of their intended installation, such as the crypt, adjacent terraces, or tower floors. They must have served to organize human labor by facilitating the manufacture of standardized templates during production. In addition, these épures furnish a check on the accuracy of stones cut, offer a dry-run for the assembly of glass panels prior to installation, and provide an archive of key building elements.29 In short, épures helped to coordinate the collaborative process of building Gothic structures, and the potentially risky enterprise of incorporating large rose windows high up in their walls. In addition, there are approximately 20 small-scale designs, usually found on walls, such as the partial design for the rose window of the Cistercian abbey of Byland from the late 12th century; it corresponds precisely 24
Dimensions in Lafond, “Stained glass decoration of Lincoln”, cat. no. 1, p. 123. The medallion of Adam Delving and Eve Spinning from the north rose was discussed by Allen, “Panel of the month”: https://vidimus.org/issues/issue-28/panel-of-the- month/(last accessed 23 November 2018). 25 Smith and Willis, “The Dean’s Eye”. 26 Smith, “Flowers of fragility”; Cowen, Rose Window, pp. 123–53. 27 Cowen, Rose Window, pp. 258–59 with images from Byland and Bourges. 28 Schöller, “Ritzzeichnungen”; id., “Le dessin d’architecture à l’epoque gothique”; Scheller, Exemplum. 29 Davis, “On the drawing board”, pp. 185–86.
272 Pastan to the 1.52 m in diameter, central element in the abbey’s nearly 5 m western rose, as discoveries of tracery fragments have now confirmed.30 Further, as exemplified by the two small rose designs in the south transept of Soissons Cathedral that were ultimately not used, these wall designs must have also afforded a last chance to play out an idea that had seemed interesting at one time.31 4 “Reading” a Rose For some, Suckale’s emphasis on the content of rose windows might seem misleading: after all, who can really see all the individual elements in a rose window over the distance and steep angle of elevation at which they are viewed? To date, scholars have considered the reception of medieval glazing programs primarily through the investigation of the lower lancets closest to the viewer.32 However, Louis Grodecki alluded to the issue when he described Duccio’s large, untraceried circular window in Siena Cathedral as “the first modern stained glass window” because of its clarity of presentation.33 The question of the legibility of rose windows is rarely addressed directly in the literature, although several largely implicit approaches may be discerned. The first is the notion that the images within a rose were not legible, and primarily contributed to the overall atmosphere of sacred topography.34 A second approach is to view the rose as a statement in itself, like a long content footnote that may not be read, but is meaningful for those who oversaw its iconographic program.35 A third is to consider the subjects of a rose under great magnification and through diagrams to learn about their facture and imagery.36 These approaches are not mutually exclusive, as we shall see. Any discussion of the legibility of a rose window, however, must first address the crucial issue of its preservation. Many medieval windows are difficult to discern now because they have not been cleaned or maintained, which allows external weathering crusts to build up that impede light from penetrating through the 30 31
Harrison and Barker, “Byland Abbey”, p. 142. Barnes, “Gothic architectural engravings”; Schöller, “Eine mittelalterliche Architekturzeichnung”. 32 On reception, see Caviness, “Reception of images”; ead., “Biblical stories in windows”. Pastan, “Glazing medieval buildings”, does not mention rose windows, although they will appear in the revised second edition. 33 Grodecki, Gothic Stained Glass, p. 227; Caviness, “Glazed oculus”; Burnham, “Glazing Siena Cathedral”, with further bibliography. 34 Sowers, “12th-century windows in Chartres”, p. 172. 35 Lillich, Reims Cathedral, p. 138. 36 Viollet de Duc, “Rose”.
panes.37 After the cleaning of the western rose of Chartres Cathedral, undertaken in 2012, the analysis of the window’s state of preservation, or critique d’authenticité, established that the rose retains an astonishing 95% of its original glass, allowing it to serve as a useful point of reference for discussing how rose windows would have appeared to their medieval viewers (Figure 16.4).38 Examination of the western rose of Chartres of c.1205–10,39 which portrays the Last Judgment, reveals its astute use of the constellation of 36 individual elements within its circular field. Scenes involving angels, who are shown with the implements of the Passion and sounding the trumpets for the final reckoning, dominate the upper field; while scenes involving the afterlife, such as the Separation of the Damned and Weighing of Souls, are shown in the lower portion.40 The largest single medallion is reserved for Christ, who is shown at center inscribed within a red quatrefoil, emphasizing the cross- like position of his outreached arms. The imagery itself is boldly painted, and each panel contains no more than five figures, thereby allowing the contours of the forms to aid in the discernment of the scenes (Figure 16.5). The scene of the Dead Rising from their Tombs is a characteristic example, which appears in four medallions from the lower lateral rosettes (in the view shown here, the left medallion, corresponding to the 9 o’clock position, is blocked by scaffolding).41 Each scene contains just two figures, a male and a female nude, who emerge from their tombs with outstretched limbs and pronounced gestures, and the coffin lid they have thrown off creates a dynamic diagonal across the composition. Nonetheless, if the composition and paint handling of the individual scenes within the western rose of Chartres show how artists sought to adjust the imagery of the stained glass to the conditions under which it would be viewed, it is undeniable that one still cannot see the scenes in the detail with which they were 37
On these weathering crusts, see Pallot-Frossard, Ch. 26 in this volume; Frenzel, “Restoration of medieval stained glass”, pp. 128–29. 38 Lautier, “West rose”, pp. 128–32. 39 The French CV volume, Les vitraux du Centre, p. 44 had dated the window to c.1215; Lautier, “West rose window”, p. 133 now dates the window to c.1205–10. 40 See the diagram outlining the rose’s subjects in Delaporte, Vitraux de la cathédrale, vol 1, p. 520, Fig. 67; useful visual aids are available on the websites compiled by Painton Cowen http:// w ww.therosewindow.com/ p ilot/ C hartres/ w 143- Frame.htm and Alison Stones http://www.medart.pitt.edu/ image/France/Chartres/Chartres-Cathedral/Windows/West- windows/143-Rose/chartres-143WRose-main.html (both last accessed 15 September 2017). 41 Delaporte, Vitraux de la cathédrale, p. 519, identifies two cartoons which were adapted for the four scenes of the Dead Rising.
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Regarding the Early Rose Window
created. Even Canon Yves Delaporte, writing in 1926, before automotive exhaust fumes further exacerbated the decomposition and weathering of the cathedral’s windows, suggested that the western rose of Chartres was best viewed from the organ loft or triforium level.42 New evidence from the recent conservation of the building fabric of Chartres Cathedral is also helpful in understanding how this well-preserved structure’s rose windows worked within the building. The walls immediately surrounding all three chartrain roses, as well as the smaller rosettes in the clerestory compositions throughout the building, were painted white in contrast to the light ocher-colored walls, effectively highlighting the roses, and increasing both their legibility and their illumination of the area that immediately surrounded the rose.43 In addition, wall paintings of the Elders of the Apocalypse adorn the two interior bays of the nave on either side of the cathedral’s western rose window, thus continuing and expanding upon the themes of the Last Judgment within the rose.44 Rose windows compensated for the challenges posed by their distance in other ways. The first was through relative consistency in the thematic placement of rose windows. The subjects were not employed in a dogmatic way, but nonetheless general tendencies in the location of characteristic themes must have helped the beholder in discerning the rose windows’ subject matter. The eastern apertures consistently transmit the brightest light, underscoring the devotional importance of the choir, and roses with Marian and Christological subjects are most frequently placed in the east.45 Windows in the west are more muted in luminosity, and because of this often have eschatological subjects such as the Last Judgment, as is the case for the western rose at Chartres (Figures. 16.1 and 16.4).46 Contrasting pairs of themes are featured in the transept roses, as the verses from Lincoln Cathedral emphasize. Rose windows also employ a more limited range of subjects than other types of stained-glass windows. These include the Last Judgment, the Glorification of the Virgin and Christ, the Apocalypse, the Creation, the Liberal Arts, the Virtues and Vices, and cosmological imagery known as the Imago Mundi.47 Conspicuous by their absence are the vivid hagiographic narratives and complex biblical 42 Delaporte, Vitraux de la cathédrale, p. 521. 43 Lautier, “West rose window”, p. 123. 44 Lautier, “West rose window”, pp. 126–27, and Fig. 7.4 and pl. 20. 45 When a flat-ended choir permitted the introduction of a rose window. For the eastern rose at Laon Cathedral, see Kessler, Ch. 9 in this volume. 46 Mâle, Religious Art in France, p. 7. 47 Discussions of rose window themes include Dow, “Rose- window”, pp. 293–95; Grodecki, Gothic Stained Glass, p. 24;
parables found in lower lancet windows.48 The content of rose windows has been described as “encyclical”, alluding to their themes that lend themselves to the refracted portrayal favored by the many small units joined together in a rose’s composition.49 It is also noteworthy that rose windows feature subjects that cannot be seen with human eyes; they are primarily visions from the end of time, or great chart-like presentations of personifications, or the elements that make up the cosmos. Even a subject that might lend itself to a dynamic narrative portrayal, such as the Creation and Fall of Man in the north transept rose of Reims Cathedral of the 1240s, is made less dramatic by its selection and arrangement of themes drawn from Genesis.50 As Meredith Lillich has shown, the northern rose’s scenes are isolated from one another by their presentation as framed medallions on rich ornamental grounds, and by the addition of an unusual array of creatures from bestiaries. The whole thus provides an exemplary exposition of mankind’s fall from Grace, and its meaning was further enhanced by its juxtaposition to the pendant southern rose window, which originally featured a Last Judgment.51 It stands to reason that one cannot “read” a rose in the way one would read a lower narrative window.52 Rose windows have their own kind of visual language, conveyed not only through their size and segregation on the arms of a building, but also by means of their distinctive compositions, customary placement, and characteristic content. 5
A Rose by any other Name
The large glazed circular aperture with tracery commonly known as the rose window –and referred to as such in the literature and throughout this essay –was not called by that name before the late 14th century.53 In the early centuries of their existence, rose Perrot, “Rose de l’église de Donnemarie-en-Montois”, p. 59; Lautier, “Rose de la cathédrale de Lausanne”, pp. 57–60; and Cowen, Rose Window, pp. 195–239. 48 The eastern oculus from the church of Saint-Vincent in Saint- Germain-lès-Corbeil of c.1225, is one of the few examples to include hagiographic subjects. See Cowen, Rose Window, pp. 30, 228–29. 49 Grodecki, Gothic Stained Glass, p. 24. 50 See Kühnel, End of Time, p. 160 for her emphasis on how the relationships between the various components are paramount in medieval diagrams. 51 Lillich, Reims Cathedral, pp. 115–38, and Figs. 111–14. 52 On the distinctive strategies for “reading” medieval narrative windows, see Kemp, Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, pp. 3– 88; Caviness, “Bible stories in windows”, pp. 122–27. 53 The Oxford English Dictionary traces the use of the term rose window only to the 18th century: OED sv rose, p. 794, 18A.
274 Pastan windows were described as round, O-shaped, or wheel windows. In his Portfolio compiled in the 1230s, Villard de Honnecourt drew the form he described in the vernacular as the round stained-glass window (“une reonde veriere”) from Lausanne Cathedral.54 The inscription in the labyrinth of Reims Cathedral referred to its western rose of the later 13th century as an O,55 and this was the way the western rose of Metz Cathedral of c.1390 was identified in contracts with Herman de Munster.56 Writing in the early 14th century, Jean de Jandun referred to the transept roses of Notre-Dame of Paris as taking the shape of the “fourth vowel”.57 Several examples of large circular windows, beginning with the north transept rose of Saint-Étienne of Beauvais of c.1150,58 adorn the exterior frame of the rose with sculptures of the Wheel of Fortune, thus using its circular field as the basis for iconographic enhancement.59 As a result, Camille Enlart postulated that “rose” is a deformation of the Latin word rota, or wheel. Some of the vernacular terms for wheel, such as the Old French roe, or roes in the plural, make the connection even more plausible.60 Italian architectural inscriptions provide the most complete evidence of when the term came into existence; whereas the rose of Cremona Cathedral has an inscription at its base dated 1274 referring to it as a “rota”, the inscription plaque accompanying the round traceried window from Santa Maria della Tomba in Sulmona of 1400, refers to its “rosa”.61 By definition, as the medieval exegete William Durand recognized, the circular form is a symbol of infinity 54 Barnes, Portfolio of Villard de Honnecourt, f. 16r, and pp. 101–03. 55 Branner, “Labyrinth of Reims Cathedral”, p. 19. 56 Pelt, Etudes sur la cathédrale de Metz, no. 36, p. 14 (1381); no. 50, p. 18 (1385). 57 Jean de Jandun, Tractatus de laudibus parisius, eds. Le Roux de Lincy and Tisserand, pp. 46–47. 58 Henwood-Revedot, Saint- Étienne de Beauvais, pp. 90–96, and 113–14 established that its rose cannot be earlier than c.1150. For more on the Beauvais rose, see Henwood-Revedot, L’église Saint-Étienne, pp. 123–32; Beretz, “Adjustments for the innovative”; McGee, “Wheel of fortune?”; and Esmeijer, “Viri religiosi”. 59 Rose windows with Wheel of Fortune sculptural elements include: Verona, Metz, Basel, Trent, and Amiens. See Cowen, Rose Window, pp. 203–05, including splendid illustrations. On the wheel of fortune theme, see Pickering, Literature and Art in the Middle Ages, pp. 168–222; Leyerle, “Rose-wheel design”. 60 Enlart, Manuel d’archéologie française, p. 329; discussed in Dow, “Rose- window”, pp. 268– 69; Suckale, “Thesen,” p. 264, n. 7. 61 Ranke, Frühe Rundfenster in Italien, pp. 72–73. Also helpful is Winston, “Tracing the origins of the Rosary”.
and perfection.62 But throughout the Middle Ages, the most common association with this shape was the circular diagram known as the “rota”. As scholar Michael Evans summarized, “in the Middle Ages [the rota] would have been as familiar a part of the educated man’s visual experience as the graph is of the modern reader’s”.63 For that reason, the rose window has long been regarded as a “rota diagram writ large within the fabric of the building”, a connection which the etymology supports.64 But it is interesting to speculate about how this analogy played out, at least for those imbued with a scholarly frame of reference. Rotae served as concise visual restatements of complex arguments; they were instruments of medieval learning, involving the reader’s reasoning to actively connect disparate arguments and synthesize them into a single memorable form (or contrasting pair of forms).65 Isidore of Seville’s De Natura Rerum, the most important school text throughout the Middle Ages, was commonly referred to as the Liber Rotarum because of Isidore’s frequent recourse to the rota, to summarize visually what he had explained in pages of text.66 The rota thus functioned as both a tool and an emblem of medieval learning, involving as it did the reader’s inferences among disparate parts, and the expression of their synthesis. As such, it carried connotations of authority and certitude.67 This is demonstrably the role of the circular typological diagrams that appear on the front and back of folio 67 in the Hortus Deliciarum, the learned textual and visual compendium that Herrad of Hohenbourg had made in the final decades of the 12th century for the nuns of her convent.68 Their geometric forms of 12-spoke wheels 62
63
64
65 66
67 68
See William Durand’s description of why the Eucharistic wafer is round (“Hostia autem formatur rotunda”): William Durand, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, 4.30.8 (eds. Davril and Thibodeau, pp. 382–83). Evans, “Geometry of the mind”, p. 43. Although wheel diagrams were the most popular, they were one of several different types of medieval diagrams, including trees, towers and ladders. See Evans, “Geometry of the mind”, pp. 35–43. Hamburger, “Haec figura demonstrat”, p. 9. Among others, Ranke, Frühe Rundfenster in Italien, pp. 72–76 and Suckale, “Thesen”, pp. 280–84 have noted the similarity of rose windows to rota diagrams. Bober, “Medieval school-book”, p. 81. Frequently noted: Bober, “Medieval school-book”, p. 85, n. 43; Evans, “Geometry of the mind”, pp. 42–43; also see Wallis, “What a medieval diagram shows”, esp. pp. 1–4, and p. 37, n. 35. Evans, “Geometry of the mind”, p. 47. Green et al., Hortus Deliciarum, no. 98, vol. 1, pp. 131–32; vol. 2, pp. 11–12, plates 46 and 47. While the original volumes were destroyed in 1870, copies and tracings of the manuscript from at least as early as 1812 allowed teams from Princeton and the Warburg to reconstruct the volume.
275
Regarding the Early Rose Window
solicit the beholder’s active comparison between their corresponding parts, and the discernment of their differences. Key to understanding the typological relationship between the forms is the position of these rotae in the Hortus Deliciarum text.69 The inscriptional program of the first rota is elaborated in texts focusing on Old Testament notions of sacrifice that precede it, to which the central figure, a conjoined image of Moses and Christ, looks back.70 The reader then turns the page, to reveal the New Covenant rota on the verso of the page, where Christ, crowned king and priest, looks forward or right to the analysis of New Testament themes that follow. The Hortus’ images are also the direct inspiration behind the small, side by side roses of 4.65 m in diameter each, in the south transept of Strasbourg Cathedral of c.1228–35 (Figure 16.6).71 Attesting to their origin in a scholarly context, the roses have an unusually large number of inscriptions identifying the personifications within, which match those in the Hortus Deliciarum word for word.72 Longer inscriptions are placed around the perimeter of each rose: for the Old Alliance rose at Strasbourg the inscription reads, “the rite of the Law and the blood of the animals teaches us that the world must be cleansed of its sins”, while the inscription for the New Alliance rose begins “the king and the cross are light”.73 The Strasbourg roses thus exemplify the trajectory identified by Bianca Kühnel, wherein rota diagrams moved steadily “from the ‘minor,’ learned, liturgical medium of illuminated manuscripts … to the representative, distant, larger than life, monumental arts”.74 The rota diagrams’ adaptation to the cathedral setting in Strasbourg begins with positioning; the New Alliance rose is placed to the right, so that its central figure of Melchisidek, with his upraised chalice, can face east; while the Old Alliance’s central conjoined figure of Moses and Christ on the left, faces west, away from the choir.75 Each medium thereby articulates content according to its 69 Griffiths, Garden of Delights, pp. 119–23 and 185–86. 70 Krüger and Runge, “Lifting the veil”, p. 6, notes 12–14. 71 Walter, “Les deux roses du transept sud”; Beyer et al., Les vitraux de la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Strasbourg, pp. 123–40; Meyer and Kurmann- Schwarz, Cathédrale de Strasbourg, pp. 251–70. 72 Meyer and Kurmann- Schwarz, Cathédrale de Strasbourg, p. 266. 73 Beyer et al., Vitraux de la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Strasbourg, pp. 125–26. 74 Kühnel, End of Time, pp. 258–59. 75 See Meyer and Kurmann-Schwarz, Cathédrale de Strasbourg, pp. 255, 266–69, further discussing how the glass was adapted from the miniatures. In the first instance, they discuss how modeling washes were eliminated for greater legibility, and in the second, they discuss the simplification of the content for adaptation to a monumental setting.
nature: whereas it is the reader’s action of turning the page that metaphorically recalls the lifting of the veil of the Old Temple to reveal the new dispensation, the windows emphasize typology through their positioning, in facing east towards the light or west away from it.76 Like the rotae of the Hortus Deliciarum, it is striking how often medieval school diagrams appear in pairs that encourage active comparison. This pairing has a routine monumental counterpart in the contrasts that underlie the northern and southern transept rose windows in an oriented medieval building, as we saw in the medieval verses about Lincoln Cathedral. Similarly, the transept roses at Chartres are a pair that complement one another: the typological Glorification of the Virgin in the north faces the Glorification of Christ in the southern rose opposite (see Figure 9.2); at Reims Cathedral the Creation and Fall of Man in the northern rose once faced the Last Judgment in the southern rose.77 These examples demonstrate how the rose formed part of a network of associations with the other window themes on site, the meanings of which are produced by the contrasts, similarities, and complementary pairings within the whole. Within this network, rose windows are the culmination of themes elaborated throughout the building, including the lower narrative windows, and in this sense are wholly comparable to the synthetic role of rotae in scholarly texts. 6
Restoring the Rose
The inherent fragility of stained glass led the 13th- century poet Gottfried of Strasbourg (d.1210) to liken its vulnerability to the arbitrariness of fortune.78 Rose windows in particular required frequent repairs and replacement because of the size of the apertures and the wind shear they were exposed to. None of the earliest extant rose window apertures retains medieval stained- glass within their traceries –including key examples at Saint-Denis c.1140, Saint-Étienne of Beauvais c.1150, the eastern facade rose of the treasury of Noyon Cathedral c.1170–75, the north transept rose of Saint-Yved of Braine c.1185–95, and the north transept rose of Saint-Michel- en-Thiérache c.1190.79 76 Krüger and Runge, “Lifting the veil”, pp. 19–21. 77 Delaporte, Vitraux de la cathédrale, pp. 431–36, and 493–99; Lillich, Reims Cathedral, pp. 135–38. 78 Gottfried von Strasbourg, Das Gläserne Glück, eds. Killy and de Boor, p. 717; Pickering, Literature and Art, p. 216. 79 For more on early rose apertures, see Hardy, La fenêtre circulaire au XIIe; Esmeijer, “Viri religosi”; Hardy, “Rose de Notre-Dame de Noyon”; Pastan, “ ‘Familiar as the rose in spring’ ”; Cowen, Rose Window, pp. 57–67. There is good reason to suppose that all these apertures were once glazed.
276 Pastan There are numerous documented instances of early rose windows that had to be replaced in the later Middle Ages, at sites including Amiens, Laon, Lincoln, Palma, Tours, and Troyes.80 These restored roses are predominantly windows whose meaning and content remained unchanged, underscoring how integral their contribution to the overall program was.81 When the glass painter André Robin replaced the north transept rose at Angers Cathedral after a fire in 1451, he was charged to remake the window “as it had once been” (“comme autresfoiz a esté”).82 The new western rose window of the Sainte- Chapelle in Paris, begun c.1485, was placed only 0.91 m to the west of the earlier rose it replaced, which was in ruinous condition, thus allowing the composition of the earlier rose to inform its successor.83 7
Learning from Lausanne
One of the rose windows most frequently mentioned in the literature is the Imago Mundi rose in the south transept of Lausanne Cathedral (Figure 16.7), now dated c.1200–10.84 Its importance stems from the fact that its contents bear a striking resemblance to late antique and medieval cosmological rota diagrams. The Lausanne rose combines images of the 12 months of the year, 12 signs of the Zodiac, four elements, four seasons, four rivers of paradise, along with the monstrous races and winds, in Henwood-Reverdot, Saint-Étienne, p. 232 noted that in 1858 Baron Guilhermy saw a lamb carrying a cross at the center of the northern rose of Saint-Étienne of Beauvais, and he dated this glass to the 16th century; Caviness, Sumptuous Arts, pp. 78–82 and 353, has identified medallions from the perimeter of the north rose of Saint-Yved of Braine that were reused as replacement elements in the late 19th-century restorations of the clerestory windows of nearby Soissons Cathedral. 80 Cowen, Rose Window, pp. 260–61. For the south transept rose at Troyes, see Pastan, “Restoring the stained glass.” On issues of reuse in glass, see Lillich, “Remembrance of things past”; Shepard, “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”. 81 For important insights, discussing the issue of replacing windows when their meaning remains unchanged, see Shepard, “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”, pp. 296–98. 82 Boulanger, Vitraux de la cathédrale d’Angers, pièce justificative no. 22, p. 515, and pp. 286–301, and 321. 83 Perrot, “Rose de la Sainte-Chapelle”, p. 202; ead., “Prolégomènes à l’étude de la rose”. 84 See the foundational studies by Beer, Die Rose der Kathedrale von Lausanne; ead., Die Glasmalereien der Schweiz, pp. 23–72. For its condition following its conservation in 1993, now see Amsler et al., Rose de la cathédrale de Lausanne, with further bibliography. Also see Barnes, Portfolio, pp. 101–05 for Villard de Honnecourt’s image after it. For its revised dating, see Stöckli, “Les structures lapidaires”.
a striking composition based on the principle of quadrature, or squaring the circle, by a series of squares rotated 90 degrees within the circular field. Its composition neatly lays out the numerological and thematic relationships among the component parts, the whole forming a distinctive cross-shaped design.85 The Lausanne rose thereby conveys a Christian understanding of the ordering of the universe,86 which is underscored by its placement in the transept of the cathedral, directly to the south of the canons’ choir stalls, and in full view of the canons when they entered the choir through a door in the north transept.87 Many discussions of the Lausanne rose, however, focus solely on its antique personifications, or hypothesize about the missing medieval component at the rose’s center, and thus arguably overemphasize the window’s continuity with “secular” diagrams at the expense of understanding it within the context of the cathedral.88 As Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz remonstrated, “It can hardly be postulated that the transept of the cathedral served as a classroom”.89 The diagrams through which scholars argue their hypotheses about the Lausanne rose window, recall Georges Didi-Huberman’s critique that art historians can become so determined to relay information in an authoritative fashion –which he compares to doctors providing a medical diagnosis –that they neglect the work of art itself. Didi-Huberman turns instead to the materiality of medieval windows, and suggests that the beholder experiences the colored light streaming from the window as a kind of revelation, which he likens to the Incarnation.90 8
Seeing without Seeing
A rose window could also serve as a kind of mandala for meditation. When ecstatic religious experiences were 85
86 87
88
89 90
On numerological symbolism, see Beer, “Nouvelles reflexions”; Esmeijer, Divina Quaternitas, pp. 30–58; and Caviness, “Geometric order”. For more on this theme, see Kühnel, End of Time. Kurmann-Schwarz, “Die Rose in der Südquerhausfassade”, esp. p. 55, citing the investigations of Jaton and Stöckli, “Les fouilles archéologiques au nord de la cathédrale”. See Kurmann-Schwarz, “Die Rose in der Südquerhausfassade”, p. 56, with further bibliography on recent speculations about what the central medaillion might have been. Similarly, Kühnel, End of Time, esp. pp. 18–20, 66–67, 258–59 has observed that medieval computisical rotae are often taken out of context, out of a mistaken effort to separate medieval science and Christian eschatology. Kurmann-Schwarz, “Die Rose in der Südquerhausfassade”, pp. 54–55. Didi-Huberman, Devant l’image, p. 40, trans. Goodman, Confronting Images, p. 34.
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Regarding the Early Rose Window
represented graphically, they often employed motifs culled from cosmological diagrams and rose windows.91 The illuminations of the early 14th-century manuscript known as the Rothschild Canticles are helpful in visualizing the process.92 Within the manuscript, the growing abstraction of the 20 Trinitarian miniatures contrasts with other sections of the manuscript where figural imagery is dominant. Each opening has a beholder pictured within the text at left, who encourages the reader to respond to the miniature at right as if it were a vision (Figure 16.8). Jeffrey Hamburger has argued that, together, the texts and illuminations in the Trinitarian section of the Canticles offer a sustained theological argument about how imagery can be used to portray the ineffable. Observing the varieties of circular forms defined in gold within these Canticles miniatures, one can follow the progressive movement of the imagery from the relatively figural to the nearly abstract. In earlier Trinitarian images the three figures of the Godhead are depicted separately; one miniature (f. 75r) resembles a stork with a set of fraternal twins. In the next opening, however, the text signals a new direction: “Even if by the power of your imagination you magnify the light of the sun in your mind as much as you are able, either that it may be greater or that it may be brighter, a thousand times as much or innumerable times, yet even this is not God”.93 Subsequently, the images begin to close in on themselves, in an “extended drama of revelation and concealment”, using interwoven forms of veils, suns, flames, and clouds, as the persons of the Godhead disappear into ever tightening knots. In a poetic counterpart to the images, the text prompts the beholder to think beyond this world, using paradoxical phrases such as “O Lord, lead me … into the darkness of your light”.94 Hamburger compared the partial limbs visible in later images of the Trinitarian cycle –which resemble a view into a clothes dryer –to body parts found in rota diagrams of the winds, known as wind roses.95 But it is also possible 91
Evans, “Geometry of the mind”, p. 47; Hamburger, Rothschild Canticles, pp. 129–32. For the distinctive circular imagery associated with Hildegard of Bingen, see Suzuki, Bildgewordene Visionen, and Caviness, “Hildegard as designer”, with further bibliography, esp. pp. 34–36. 92 New Haven, Beinecke MS 404. Hamburger, Rothschild Canticles, pp. 118–42; and the website: https://brbl-dl.library.yale.edu/ vufind/Record/3432521?image_id=1011481 (last accessed 7 April 2019). 93 Hamburger, Rothschild Canticles, p. 122, quoting f. 76v. 94 Ibid., p. 135, quoting f. 105v. 95 Ibid., p. 130; also see Obrist, “Wind diagrams”.
to compare the Rothschild Canticles’ imagery to the experience of viewing rose windows from afar, where the panes are revealed by the kinetic action of light as it circumnavigates a building in the course of a day, here illuminating a motif with sudden clarity, there bringing up the hues of certain panes with particular intensity, sometimes appearing as a wheel of light (Figure 16.8).96 My purpose here is not to posit stained-glass windows as a direct source for the Rothschild Canticles; rather, it is to draw an analogy between the ways that the illuminations provoke “seeing by not seeing” and the experience of viewing rose windows that are far above us, both physically and cognitively. In the Canticles’ mystagogic illuminations, as well as in rose windows, the forms are not aniconic, but in the dynamics of what they withhold and disclose, they point beyond themselves. The Rothschild Canticles’ Trinitarian images, and the parallel they offer to the experience of beholding medieval stained glass, helps to get at something essential about rose windows. Like the illuminations, the pictorial imagery of a large rose window may be only partially glimpsed. The rose windows’ subjects may be inferred by customary association, evoked in a sermon, or recalled in a reading from scripture, but the main impression may be that of an incandescent wheel. As the verses of the Metrical Life of St. Hugh had counselled, the rose windows “are certainly great in themselves, but they symbolize greater things”.97 9 Conclusion In discussing rose windows in this chapter, I have sought to link technology, theology, and effect. We have acknowledged the limited legibility of these luminous membranes at the upper limits of Gothic vaults, but noted their thoughtful placement within an oriented building and the resonant juxtapositions among roses. We have remarked upon the declarative instrumentality of the rota- like shape, a form associated with the cumulative reasoning and authority of medieval scholarly diagrams, which may lie behind the window’s etymology. We have also observed the meaningful detail in the rendering of the subjects encompassed within a rose, but found spiritual provocation in the ways this imagery can be glimpsed; for, even when properly conserved, they are not always fully seen. 96 Hamburger, Rothschild Canticles, p. 135. On colors in windows, see Caviness, “Gothic chapels”, p. 141; Lillich, “Rose verte”, pp. 120–22. 97 See Gerald of Wales, Life of St. Hugh, ed. and trans. Loomis, pp. 90 and 93; Anonymous (Henry of Avranches?), Life of St. Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, trans. Garton, pp. 60–61.
278 Pastan In closing, I’d like to turn to a later observer of San Zeno in Verona, who was evidently admiring of the abbey’s 12th-century western rose window, attributed to Master Brioloto (Figure 16.9).98 In his triptych for the church commissioned in 1457, Andrea Mantegna (c.1431–1506) drew on the form of its rose aperture in designing the Virgin’s halo (Figure 16.10).99 Mantegna imagines the Virgin looking heavenward, presumably by means of the real western rose window before her in the abbey’s entrance façade, which is offstage, though strongly implied. Mary herself becomes the ideal beholder of the rose. Mantegna thus creates a continuous loop between his own painted forms and the building’s actual traceries, and enlists the aid of the beholder in connecting the two. Unfortunately, like many early rose windows, San Zeno’s stained glass has not survived, although its extant medieval inscription seemingly alludes to the possibility of loss, “Behold, I Fortuna rule all mortals alike. I raise them up and cast them down: I give good and bad to all”.100 In paying homage to the rose aperture of San Zeno as a distinctive marker of the abbey, and in his depiction of the Virgin’s gaze, which implies that the rose can facilitate a transcendent relationship with the divine, Mantegna’s panel suggests that he had grasped the essential qualities of the rose window and its reception, as I have sought to articulate in this essay. Bibliography Primary Sources
Anonymous (Henry of Avranches?), Life of St. Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, trans. C. Garton, The Metrical Life of St. Hugh, Lincoln, 1986. Gerald of Wales, Life of St. Hugh, ed. and trans. R.M. Loomis, The Life of St. Hugh of Avalon, Bishop of Lincoln 1186–1200, New York, 1985. Gottfried of Strasbourg, Das Gläserne Glück, eds. W. Killy and H. de Boor, Die deutsche Literatur: Texte und Zeugnisse, Munich, 1965, p. 717. Jean de Jandun, Tractatus de laudibus parisius, eds. Le Roux de Lincy and L.M. Tisserand, Paris et ses historiens aux 14e et 15e siècles, Paris, 1867, pp. 1–79. Pelt, J.-B., Études sur la cathédrale de Metz: texts extraits, principalement des registres capitulaires (1210–1790), Metz, 1930. William Durand, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, eds. A. Davril and T.M. Thibodeau, Guillelmi Duranti rationale
98 Leyerle, “Rose-wheel design”. 99 Campbell, “Lo spazio di contemplazione Mantegna”, pp. 170–73. 100 Leyerle, “Rose-wheel design”, p. 283.
divinorum officiorum (Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis, 140), 4 vols., Turnhout, 1995–2000.
Secondary Sources
Allen, J., “Panel of the Month: Adam Digging and Eve Spinning”, in Vidimus 28 (2009): https://vidimus.org/issues/ issue-28/panel-of-the-month/ (last access 23 November 2018). Amsler, C. et al., La rose de la cathédrale de Lausanne: histoire et conservation récente, Lausanne, 1999. Baltrusaitis, J., “Quelques survivances de symboles solaires dans l’art du Moyen Âge”, Gazette des Beaux-Arts 17 (1937), 75–82. Baltrusaitis, J., “L’Image du monde céleste du IXe au XIIe siècle”, Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1938), 137–48. Barnes, C.F. Jr., “The Gothic architectural engravings in the cathedral of Soissons”, Speculum 47 (1972), 60–64. Barnes, C.F. Jr., The Portfolio of Villard de Honnecourt: a New Critical Edition and Color Facsimile, Aldershot, 2009. Beer, E.J., Die Rose der Kathedrale von Lausanne und der kosmologische Bilderkreis des Mittelalters (Berner Schriften zur Kunst, 6), Bern, 1952. Beer, E.J., Die Glasmalereien der Schweiz vom 12. bis zum Beginn des 14. Jahrhunderts (cvma Schweiz, 1), Basel, 1956. Beer, E.J., “Nouvelles reflexions sur l’image du monde dans la cathedral de Lausanne”, Revue de l’art (1970), 57–62. Beer, E.J., “Les vitraux du Moyen Âge de la cathédrale”, in Biaudet et al. (eds.), La cathédrale de Lausanne, pp. 221–55. Beretz, E.M., “Adjustments for the innovation: installing a rose window into the north façade of Saint-Étienne, Beauvais”, AVISTA Forum Journal 14 (2004), 17–24. Beyer, V., Wild-Block, C., Zschokke, F., and Lautier, C., Les vitraux de la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Strasbourg (CV France 9-1), Paris, 1986. Biaudet, J.-C. et al. (eds.), La cathédrale de Lausanne (Bi bliothèque de la Société d’Histoire de l’Art en Suisse, 3), Bern, 1975. Bober, H., “An illustrated medieval school-book of Bede’s ‘De natura rerum’ ”, The Journal of the Walters Art Gallery 19/20 (1956–57), 64–97. Boulanger, K., Les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Angers (CV France, 3), Paris, 2010. Branner, R., “The labyrinth of Reims Cathedral”, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 21 (1962), 18–25. Brenk, B., “Bildprogrammatik und Geschichtsverständnis der Kapetinger im Querhaus der Kathedrale von Chartres”, Arte medievale 5 (1991), 71–95. Burnham, R.K., “The glazing of Siena Cathedral’s fenestra rotunda magna: preliminary observations from a production standpoint”, in E.L. Staudinger, E.C. Pastan, and E.M. Shortell (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing: Approaches to Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Farnham, 2009, pp. 13–29.
Regarding the Early Rose Window Campbell, S.J., “Lo spazio di contemplazione Mantegna, Gregorio Correr e la pala d’altare di San Zeno”, in R. Signorini, V. Rebonato, and S. Tammaccaro (eds.), Andrea Mantegna: impronta del genio (Transactions of the International Conference on Andrea Mantegna), Florence, 2010, pp. 163–81. Caviness, M.H., Sumptuous Arts at the Royal Abbeys in Reims and Braine: Ornatus elegantiae, varietate stupendes, Prince ton, 1990. Caviness, M.H., “Biblical stories in windows: were they Bibles for the poor?”, in B.S. Levy (ed.), The Bible in the Middle Ages: its Influence on Literature and Art (Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 89), Binghamton, 1992, pp. 103–47. Caviness, M.H., “Hildegard as designer of the illustrations to her works,” in C. Burnett and P. Dronke (eds.), Hildegard of Bingen: the Context of her Thought and Art, London, 1998, pp. 29–62. Caviness, M.H., “Stained glass windows in Gothic chapels and the feasts of the saints”, in N. Bock, S. de Blaauw, C.L. Frommel, and H. Kessler (eds.), Kunst und Liturgie im Mittelalter, Rӧmisches Jahrbuch der Bibliotheca Hertziana 33 (Transactions of the International Conference at the Bibliotheca Hertziana and the Dutch Institute in Rome), Munich, 2000, pp. 135–48. Caviness, M.H., “Reception of images by medieval viewers”, in Rudolph (ed.), A Companion to Medieval Art, pp. 65–85. Caviness, M.H., “The glazed oculus, from Canterbury to Siena. composition and context”, in M. Caciorgna, R. Guerrini, and M. Lorenzoni (eds.), Oculus cordis: la vetrata di Duccio, stile, iconografia, indagini tecniche, restauro (Collana di studi e ricerche, 4), Siena, 2007, pp. 119–39. Caviness, M.H., “Geometric order, templates for knowledge, and the schematic armatures in English and French windows of the High Middle Ages”, in Y. Chajes, A. Cohen, and M. Kupfer (eds.), The Visualization of Knowledge, Brill, forthcoming. Cowen, P., The Rose Window: Splendour And Symbol, London, 2005. Crosby, S. McK., The Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis from Its Beginnings to the Death of Suger, 475–1151, ed. and completed by P.Z. Blum, Yale Publications in the History of Art, 37, New Haven, 1987. Davis, M.T., “On the drawing board: plans of the Clermont terrace”, in N.Y. Wu (ed.), Ad Quadratum: the Practical Application of Geometry in Medieval Architecture, Aldershot, 2002, pp. 183–204. Delaporte, Y. Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres: histoire et description, 4 vols., Chartres, 1926. Didi-Huberman, G., Devant l’image: question posée aux fins d’une histoire de l’art, Paris, 1990, trans. J. Goodman, Confronting Images: Questioning the Ends of A Certain History of Art, University Park, Penn., 2005.
279 Dow, H.J. “The rose-window”, The Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 20 (1957), 248–97. Enlart, C., Manuel d’archéologie française: depuis les temps mérovingiens jusqu’à la Renaissance, 3rd ed., Paris, 1927. Esmeijer, A.C., Divina Quaternitas: a Preliminary Study in the Method and Application of Visual Exegesis, Amsterdam, 1978. Esmeijer, A.C., “Viri religiosi vita sicut rota …, Het radvenster van St. Étienne te Beauvais als schema van ‘rota’ en ‘bivium’ ” [Viri religiosi vita sicut rota …, The wheel window of St. Étienne at Beauvais as a ‘rota’ and ‘bivium’ scheme], in A. Horodisch (ed.), De Arte et Libris: Festschrift Erasmus, 1934–1984, Amsterdam, 1984, pp. 77–92. Evans, M., “The Geometry of the mind”, Architectural Association Quarterly 12 (1980), 32–55. Frankl, P., Gothic Architecture, rev. ed. P. Crossley, New Haven, 2000. Franz, H.G., “Die Fensterrose und ihre Vorgeschichte in der islamischen Baukunst”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 10 (1956), 1–22. Franz, H.G., “Les fenêtres circulaires de la cathédrale de Cefalù et le problème de l’origine de la ‘rose’ du Moyen Âge”, Cahiers archéologiques 9 (1956–57), 253–70. Frenzel, G., “The restoration of medieval stained glass”, Scientific American 252 (1985), 126–35. Green, R., Evans, M., Bischoff, C., and Curschmann, M., The Hortus Deliciarum of Herrad of Hohenbourg (Studies of the Warburg Institute, 36), 2 vols., London, 1979. Griffiths, F.J., The Garden of Delights: Reform and Renaissance for Women in the Twelfth Century, Philadelphia, 2007. Grodecki, L., Les vitraux de Saint-Denis: étude sur le vitrail au XIIe siècle (CV France, Études, 1), Paris, 1976. Grodecki, L. and Brisac, C., Gothic Stained Glass, 1200–1300, trans. B.D. Boehm, Ithaca, 1985. Hamburger, J.F., The Rothschild Canticles: Art and Mysticism in Flanders and the Rhineland circa 1300, New Haven, 1990. Hamburger, J.F., “Haec Figura Demonstrat: diagrams in an early-thirteenth century Parisian copy of Lothar de Segni’s De Missarum Mysteriis”, Wiener Jahrbuch für Kunstgeschichte 58 (2009), 7–76. Hardy, C., La fenêtre circulaire au XIIe et debut du XIIIe en Ile-de-France, 2 vols. (Unpublished PhD, Université de Poitiers, 1983). Hardy, C., “Les roses dans l’élévation de Notre-Dame de Paris”, Bulletin Monumental 149-2 (1991), 153–99. Hardy, C., “La rose de Notre-Dame de Noyon et sa place dans la technique et le décor du troisième chantier de la cathédrale”, Revue d’art Canadienne (RACAR) 13 (1996), 7–22. Harrison, S. and Barker, P., “Byland Abbey, North Yorkshire: the west front and rose window reconstructed”, Journal of the British Archaeological Association, 3rd series, 140 (1987), 134–51.
280 Pastan Henwood-Revedot, A., L’église Saint-Étienne de Beauvais: histoire et architecture, Beauvais, 1982. Heyman, J., “Rose windows”, in A. Becchi, M. Corradi, F. Face, and O. Pedemonte (eds.), Essays on the History of Mechanics: in Memory of Clifford Ambrose Truesdell, Berlin, 2003, pp. 165–79. James, J. “Medieval geometry: the western rose of Chartres Cathedral”, Architectural Association Quarterly 5 (1973), 4–10. Jaton, P. and Stöckli, W., “Les fouilles archéologiques au nord de la cathédrale”, in Biaudet et al. (eds.), La cathédrale de Lausanne, pp. 31–41. Kemp, W., The Narratives of Gothic Stained Glass, trans. C.D. Saltzwedel, Cambridge, 1997. Kobler, F., “Fensterrose”, in O. Schmitt (ed.), Reallexikon zur Deutschen Kunstgeschichte, Munich, 1982, vol. 8, pp. 65–203. Krüger, A. and Runge, G., “Lifting the veil: two typological diagrams in the Hortus Deliciarum”, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 60 (1997), 1–22. Kühnel, B., The End of Time in the Order of Things: Science and Eschatology in Early Medieval Art, Regensburg, 2003. Kurmann, P., “Le couronnement de la Vierge du grand portail de Reims: clef du système iconographique de la cathédrale des sacres”, in Y. Christe (ed.), De l’art comme mystagogie. Iconographie du Jugement dernier et des fins dernières à l’époque gothique, (Actes du Colloque de la Fondation Hardt), Poitiers, 1996, pp. 95–104. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Récits, programme, commanditaires, concepteurs, donateurs: publications récentes sur l’icono graphie des vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, Bulletin monumental 154-1 (1996), 55–72. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Die Rose in der Südquerhausfassade der Kathedrale von Lausanne, ein christliches Bild der Zeit und des Raums”, in W. Oechslin (ed.), Wissensformen (6. Internationaler Barocksommerkurs, Stiftung Bibliothek Werner Oechslin, Einsiedeln), Zürich, 2008, pp. 50–59. Lafond, J., “The stained glass decoration of Lincoln Cathedral in the thirteenth century”, The Archaeological Journal 103–4 (1946), 119–57. Lautier, C. “La rose de la cathédrale de Lausanne et le vitrail français”, in Amsler et al., La Rose de la cathédrale de Lau sanne, pp. 57–67. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres: reliques et images”, special issue of Bulletin monumental 161-1 (2003), 3–96. Lautier, C., “The west rose of the cathedral of Chartres”, in K. Nolan and D. Sandron (eds.), Arts of the Medieval Cathedrals: Studies on Architecture, Stained Glass and Sculpture in Honor of Anne Prache, Farnum, 2015, pp. 121–33. Leyerle, J., “The rose-wheel design and Dante’s Paradiso”, University of Toronto Quarterly 46 (1977), 280–308. Lillich, M.P., “Remembrance of things past: stained glass spolia at Châlons Cathedral”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 4 (1996), 461–97.
Lillich, M.P., “Observations on the Gothic rose window with centripetal tracery”, in ead., Studies in Medieval Stained Glass and Monasticism, London, 2001, pp. 155–67. Lillich, M.P., “La rose verte de la cathédrale de Châlons”, Cahiers archéologiques 49 (2001), 117–24. Lillich, M.P., The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims Cathedral, University Park, Penn., 2011. Mâle, E., Religious Art in France, the Thirteenth Century: a Study of Medieval Iconography and its Sources, new ed. by H. Bober, trans. M. Matthews (Bollingen Series, 90, 2), Princeton, 1984. McGee, J.D., “A wheel of fortune?: the north rose at Saint- Étienne in Beauvais”, Grand Valley Review 5 (1989), 11–24. Meyer, J.-P. and Kurmann-Schwarz, B., Cathédrale de Strasbourg choeur et transept: de l’art roman au gothique (vers 1180–1240), Strasbourg, 2010. Obrist, B., “Wind diagrams and medieval cosmology”, Speculum 72 (1997), 33–84. Panofsky, E., Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism, New York, 1951. Pastan, E.C., “Restoring the stained glass of Troyes Cathedral: the ambiguous legacy of Viollet-le-Duc”, Gesta 29 (1990), 155–66. Pastan, E.C., “Glazing medieval buildings”, in Rudolph (ed.), A Companion to Medieval Art, pp. 443–65. Pastan, E.C., “ ‘Familiar as the rose in spring’: the circular window in the west facade of Saint-Denis”, Viator 49-1 (2018), 99–152. Pastoureau, M., “ ‘Programme’: histoire d’un mot, histoire d’un concept”, in J.-M. Guillouët and C. Rabel (eds.), Le programme: une notion pertinente en histoire de l’art medieval? (Cahiers du Léopold d’Or, 12), Paris, 2011, pp. 17–25. Perrot, F., “La rose de l’église de Donnemarie-en-Montois”, Provins et sa région. Bulletin de la Société d’histoire et d’archéologie 124 (1970), 53–70. Perrot, F., “Prolégomènes à l’étude de la rose de la Sainte Chapelle: les panneaux du XIIIe siècle”, in R. Favreau and M.-H. Debiès (eds.), Iconographica: mélanges offerts à Piotr Skubiszewski par ses amis, ses collègues, ses élèves, Poitiers, 1999, pp. 183–85. Perrot, F., “La rose de la Sainte-Chapelle et sa reconstruction”, in C. Hediger (ed.), La Sainte-Chapelle de Paris: royaume de France ou Jérusalem céleste? (Transactions of a Colloquium at the Collège de France in Paris), Turnhout, 2007, pp. 197–210. Pickering, F.P., Literature and Art in the Middle Ages, Coral Gables, Florida, 1970. Ranke, W., Frühe Rundfenster in Italien (Unpublished PhD, Berlin Freie Universität, 1968). Rudolph, C. (ed.), A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe (Blackwell Companion to Art History, 2), Oxford, 2006. Scheller, R.W., Exemplum: Model-Book Drawings and the Practice of Artistic Transmission in the Middle Ages (ca. 900– 1470), trans. M. Hoyle, Amsterdam, 1995.
Regarding the Early Rose Window Schöller, W., “Eine mittelalterliche Architekturzeichnung im südlichen Querhausarm der Kathedrale von Soissons”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 43 (1980), 196–202. Schöller, W., “Ritzzeichnungen: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Architekturzeichnung im Mittelalter”, Architectura 19 (1989), 31–61. Schöller, W., “Le dessin d’architecture à l’epoque gothique”, in R. Recht (ed.), Bâtisseurs des cathédrales gothiques, Strasbourg, 1989, pp. 227–35. Sedlmayr, H. Die Entstehung der Kathedrale, Zurich, 1950. Shepard, M.B., “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), Romanesque Art and Thought in the Twelfth Century: Essays in Honor of Walter Cahn (Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 10), Princeton, 2008, pp. 290–302. Smith, G. and Willis G., “The Dean’s Eye window–the reconstruction of a medieval rose window at Lincoln Cathedral”, Structural Engineer 85 (2007), 40–46. Smith, R., “Flowers of fragility: a discussion of the structure and design of Gothic rose windows”, AVISTA Forum Journal 23 (2013), 52–60. Sowers, R., “The 12th-century windows in Chartres: some wayward lessons from the ‘poor man’s Bible’ ”, Art Journal 28–9 (1968), 166–74. Stöckli, W., “Les structures lapidaires”, in Amsler et al. (eds.), La rose de la cathédrale de Lausanne, pp. 7–20.
281 Suckale, R., “Thesen zum Bedeutungswandel der gotischen Fensterrose”, in K. Clausberg, D. Kimpel, H.-J. Kunst, and R. Suckale (eds.), Bauwerk und Bildwerk im Hochmittelalter: Anschaulich Beiträge zur Kultur-und Sozialge schichte, Giessen, 1981, pp. 259–94. Suzuki, K., Bildgewordene Visionen oder Visionserzählungen: Vergleichende Studie über die Visionsdarstellungen in der Rupertsberger ‘Scivias’-Handschrift und im Luccheser ‘Liber divinorum operum’-Codex der Hildergard von Bingen, Bern, 1998. Topic-Mersmann, W., Rosenfenster und Himmelskreise, Mittenwald, 1982. Viollet-le-Duc, E.E., “Rose”, in id., Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle, Paris, 1869, vol. 8, pp. 38–69. Les vitraux du Centre et des Pays de la Loire (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 2), Paris, 1981. Wallis, F., “What a medieval diagram shows: a case study of Computus”, Studies in Iconography 35 (2014), 1–40. Walter, J., “Les deux roses du transept sud de la cathédrale de Strasbourg”, Archives Alsaciennes d’histoire de l’art 7 (1928), 13–33. Winston, A., “Tracing the origins of the Rosary: German vernacular”, Speculum 68 (1993), 619–36.
c hapter 17
French Grisaille Glass Meredith Parsons Lillich Medieval grisaille glass – Viollet-le-Duc’s tapisserie translucide; Marcel Proust’s douce tapisserie de verre –has a particular silver beauty all its own.1 Because the glass is irregular and because it contains mineral impurities, the most handsome of such windows have a shimmering, ethereal quality. Grisaille (from French gris, gray) is a term with a somewhat different application in medieval stained glass than in other media of art.2 The term refers to uncolored glass, made with no coloring agents added during the melt that produced it. However, trace minerals (chiefly iron oxide) occurring naturally in the ingredients of medieval glassmaking tended to tint the product either greenish or even yellowish, depending upon their regional origin. It has long been assumed that grisaille was less expensive than colored glass. This was true in medieval England, where only uncolored glass was produced locally and colored glasses had to be imported.3 On the continent, evidence is mixed and the question needs study. In late 14th-century Barcelona, uncolored and colored glass (except red) cost the same. A close reading of northern French documents around 1300 suggests that workmanship –such as elaborate leading, designs, painting on the glass, etc. –raised the price whether or not the glass was colored.4 Verre vigneté (grisaille painted with foliage) cost more than plain uncolored glass. At least until the advances in glassmaking around the 1280s,5 if the glass was intended for grisailles of quality and beauty its production required an extra ingredient, and also a more complicated firing procedure during the 1 Viollet-le-Duc, “Vitrail”, p. 452; Proust, À la recherche du temps perdu, vol. 1, quoted in Gatouillat, “Les verrières”, p. 96. 2 The term “grisaille” in stained-glass literature is further complicated by a double usage. The brownish-black glass-paint, made from iron oxide and used to apply line patterns and designs, hatching, etc., on the glass and then fired, is also called “grisaille”. In this study, it is called glass-paint. 3 Marks, Stained Glass, pp. 30–31, 148. 4 Lillich, “Gothic glaziers”, p. 90, document C; verre vigneté et armoié à listres de couleurs is mentioned there in document D. The term verre vigneté occurs as late as 1352: Lafond, Saint-Ouen, p. 27, n. 2. For Barcelona, see Lillich, “Recent scholarship”, p. 248, n. 2. Red glass cost more because it had to be flashed (layered) with uncolored glass in order to pass light. 5 Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, p. 150; Lillich, “Gothic glaziers”, pp. 88–89.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 22
melt. These were needed to counter the usual greenish tone imparted by naturally occurring iron oxide. Manganese, known as “glassmaker’s soap”, was added to the ingredients, while a controlled oxidizing and reducing atmosphere was required in the glass furnace.6 Grisaille was undoubtedly more widely used in northern Europe for the obvious reason that it allows more light to pass. While much has been removed if badly weathered, it survives in quantities useful for study, chiefly in France. The question of how grisaille worked within, or helped to define, its architectural setting is a complicated one, chiefly because so few medieval structures retain their original glazing or Gothic furnishings (altars, choir screens, stalls, etc.).7 Common sense suggests that grisaille would be inserted if light was needed. An early example is the late 12th-century blankglazing of the north tower of Sens Cathedral; coeval grisaille is recorded in the Sens Hôtel-Dieu, and survives in the Hôtel-Dieu of Tonnerre dated a century later (c.1295).8 The grisailles inserted at various 13th-century dates into Chartres Cathedral are all northern apertures, and include bays 25 and 27, where the sacristy blocked lighting, as well as bay 123, the north transept clerestory masked by the left façade-tower.9 Grisaille glazing was chosen for all the transept clerestories of Reims Cathedral, where the coronation ceremony centered in the crossing.10 A spatially sophisticated example is the choir of Tours Cathedral (Figure 17.1). The two flanking band windows (bays 205, 206), surrounded by the heavily colored medallions of the clerestory, do indeed light the location of the Gothic altar. They do more. They light the elegant stone screen fronting the triforium, which frames –and then hides –the striding saints glazing the rear wall of the apse, as the observer below moves within the chevet space. The grisaille activates the 6
Royce-Roll, “Twelfth-century stained glass”, pp. 15, 18, 21, and n. 38; Lillich, “Monastic stained glass”, p. 218. 7 See the discussion of the grisailles in Bourges Cathedral in Boulanger, Ch. 18 in this volume. 8 For the Sens examples, see Gatouillat, “Vitreries”. For Tonnerre: Lillich, The Queen of Sicily, pp. 26, 77–83 passim. 9 Lillich, “A redating”. This study used Delaporte’s bay numbers: CV bay 25 = Del 47–48; CV bay 27 = Del 50–51; CV bay 123 = Del 146–48. 10 Lillich, “Chronological evidence”, pp. 193– 203; ead., The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims, pp. 105–09, fig. 6, and p. 195, fig. 199 (location of high altar).
283
French Grisaille Glass
structure. The architect Gautier de Varinfroy and his master glazier worked in collaboration here.11
rompus, remained in use through the 14th century in Lorraine, Alsace, and the Rhineland.15 By the early 13th century, most grisaille designs –Cistercian or not –were enhanced by vitreous paint, and 1 Cistercian Grisailles occasionally by small bits of colored glass. Vitreous paint, a mixture of finely ground glass with iron or copGrisaille of artistic merit appears first in the late 12th per oxide and flux, is applied to the glass with a brush century, and is primarily associated with the Cistercian and then fired. It produces lines or shading in black or Order, the regulations of whom forbad the use of colored dark brown including cross-hatching, a shaded ground glass.12 The earliest examples –Obazine, La Bénisson- produced by a network mesh of fine straight lines (the Dieu, Pontigny, and Bonlieu –have no painting on the French cage aux mouches). French Cistercian grisaille of glass. (Figure 17.2) This is known as blankglazing. The this type survives from Noirlac and Maubuisson.16 intricate patterns are produced by strapwork: fillets The last Cistercian legislation prohibiting colored which are leaded on both sides. The non-figural designs, glass dates to 1257. By the last third of the 13th century, figachieved solely by this complicated leading, are based ures of saints and donors appear in Cistercian windows on vegetal motifs and/or intricate geometric patterns outside of France.17 The glazing of La Chalade (Meuse) of interlace. While both types have been found on floor consists of handsome grisailles with both clear and tiles and Romanesque sculpted ornament, their choice crosshatched grounds, foliate motifs, including ivy, oak, by the Cistercians has been linked to references in the and acorns, bits of color here and there, and grotesques writings of St. Bernard of Clairvaux.13 Vegetal patterns with leafy bodies. Zakin has dated it between 1307 and of blankglazing appear only in Cistercian houses, while 1314 on the basis of heraldry; the arms of Navarre survive blankglazing of the geometric, interlace type has been in the axial window and were originally accompanied found at non-Cistercian and even non-monastic sites. by France ancien and the Barrois arms. There are no figThese include the cathedrals of Sens, Châlons- en- ures.18 The calamitous 14th century has deprived us of Champagne, and Beauvais (the latter dated c.1270), and later medieval Cistercian glazing in France. Elsewhere, the collegiate church at Mussy-sur-Seine (c.1288–93).14 Cistercian windows follow coeval fashion. A simplified zigzag pattern, known in French as à bâtons 11
Lillich, “The triforium windows of Tours”; ead., The Armor, pp. 63–67, 72–73, 345 nn. 79, 86. However, see Kurmann and von Winterfeld, “Gautier de Varinfroy”. 12 On medieval Cistercian glazing the basic source is Zakin, French Cistercian Grisaille; non- French examples are discussed in her Ch. 5. For other examples outside of France, see Frodl-Kraft, “Das ‘Flechtwerk’ ”; Rauch, “Das Marienstatter Flechtbandfenster”; Scholz, “Glasmalerai”; Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, p. 208, pl. 202; Hayward, “Glazed cloisters”; Lymant, “Die Glasmalerei”; Marks, “Cistercian window glass”; Pressouyre and Kinder, Saint Bernard; Vila-Grau, “Cistercian stained glass”. 13 Zakin, French Cistercian Grisaille, pp. 144–70; Lillich, “Recent scholarship”; ead., “Monastic stained glass”, pp. 218– 22; Reuterswärd, The Forgotten Symbols; Cistercian glass is mentioned specifically in essay 4 (there is no through-pagination). 14 Zakin, French Cistercian Grisaille, pls. 182– 92. An early study is Didron, “Histoire”, pp. 192–200, figs. 1–9. For Sens cathedral: Gatouillat, “Vitreries”, pp. 63–64. Châlons: Lillich, “Remembrance”, pp. 465– 76, 483– 86. Beauvais: Cothren, Picturing, pp. 104–08, 114. Mussy, where the blankglazing may have been recycled within the 13th century: Lillich, The Queen of Sicily, pp.15–20, figs. 10–12. English examples: Marks, Stained Glass, pp. 130 fig. 101, p. 138 fig. 108 (left); http://vidimus.org/issues/issue-91/feature (last accessed 12 December 2016). However, see Klein “Die Kirche von Mussy-sur-Seine”; and Les vitraux de Champagne-Ardenne, pp. 146–49.
2
Early 13th-Century French Grisailles
Grisaille windows have survived from the Gothic period in France in sufficient numbers, quality, and variety to provide scholars with a tool for dating purposes. 15
À bâtons rompus: Lillich, Rainbow, pp. 118– 21; ead., The Queen of Sicily, pp. 17–19, fig. 11 no. 4, fig. 12 left. Uncolored, unpainted bull’s-eyes (small roundels cut from the centers of crown glass sheets, containing the pontil mark) also appear in late German and Italian windows: Day, Windows, p. 286 fig. 235. 16 Zakin, French Cistercian Grisaille, pls. 59, 65; Lillich, “Recent scholarship”, pp. 257–58, pls. v, vi. A fragment of cage aux mouches grisaille has been discovered from the Grand Master’s apartments in the Teutonic Order’s Montford Castle in northern Israel, in use from 1229; see “Gothic Hall with Medieval Stained Glass discovered in Crusader Fortress”, https://vidimus.org/issues/issue-121/ news/#news-17187, last accessed 1 December 2018. 17 Beer, Die Glasmalereien, pp. 79–89, pls. 43, 46–48, color pl. 7; Hayward, “Glazed cloisters”, pp. 99–107; Lillich, “Recent scholarship”, pp. 243–44; Lymant, “Die Glasmalerei”, pp. 352–55, 539– 40, color pls. 13, 17; Marks, “Cistercian window glass”, pp. 213, 217–18; Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, pp. 186–88, pl. 181; pp. 195, 198, pls. 191–92; p. 210, pl. 205; pp. 212–14, pls. 207–08. 18 Zakin, French Cistercian Grisaille, pp. 72–75, pls. 78, 81–91; ead., “Recent restorations”; ead., “Cistercian glass”; Lillich, Rainbow, pp. 100, 219–21; Lautier, “Les vitraux,” p. 388.
284 Lillich Developments reflect not only technological advances in glassmaking and architectural changes in fenestration, as might be expected, but also major shifts in theological argument as well as those of a socio-political nature. There are three general periods of development within the period following the blankglazing of Cistercian type, noted above, and before the revolutionary introduction of silver stain c.1310, which concludes this essay. These three periods, which are most simply defined in relation to the central generation of roughly 1240– 60, will be investigated here, for clarity, in chronological sequence. The earliest group of the three, preceding around 1240, is the most difficult to assess and has proven to be almost impossible to date with assurance.19 In almost all cases the designs are precious survivals; they have often been moved several times within the monuments, are truncated, and are lacking any regional comparisons. Examples of these rarae aves have been identified in the following monuments: at Angers, Saint-Serge, a former Benedictine abbey;20 Orbais, Saint-Pierre, also a former Benedictine abbey (Marne);21 Saint-Jean-aux- Bois, a former Benedictine nunnery (Oise);22 and Troyes 19 20
21
22
See Cothren, Ch. 13 in this volume on the difficulties of dating by style alone. Saint-Serge, Angers, retains three grisailles: bay 11 (blankglazed, complete in its lancet); and bays 9 and 10 (palmettes on crosshatched ground, panels now completed with modern replicas). See Hayward, “The choir windows”, p. 256 figs. 1a-c and Boulanger, La cathédrale d’Angers, p. 253 fig. 168 (bay 12). Customarily dated c.1210–15, Boulanger (p. 254 and n. 70) prefers c.1220. Grisaille related in type to bays 9 and 10 appears in Angers Cathedral, surrounding the Virgin and Child now in bay 129, dated c.1215–20 (Hayward, “The choir windows”, pp. 260–61, fig. 5) or c.1230–35 (Boulanger, La cathédrale d’Angers, pp. 167–69, fig. 91 and pp. 484–89, fig. 326). Whatever the date for the hieratic Virgin and Child, it is unlikely that the grisaille border formed part of it originally. The strapwork circles in the two clearly were not designed to go together. See also Les vitraux du Centre, pp. 295–96. Orbais retains survivals of three blankglazed patterns (Zakin, French Cistercian Grisaille, pls. 184, 184a, 185), as well as numerous later painted grisailles. All have probably been moved and most are incomplete. Kline, The Stained Glass, dates the blankglazing from c.1180 to c.1210–15 (pp. 46–47, 166) and the painted grisailles to c.1250–60 (pp. 57–66, 79, 166). But see Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, pp. 150, 152, pl. 143. See also Les vitraux de Champagne-Ardenne, pp. 377–81. Saint-Jean-aux-Bois preserves at least five grisaille designs of c.1220–30: Kline, The Stained Glass, pp. 200–02; drawings in Day, Windows, p. 138 fig. 105, p. 139 fig. 110, p. 145 fig. 119, p. 322 fig. 161, and p. 401 fig. 300; http://www.therosewindow .com/pilot/StJeanBois/N3.htm (last accessed 12 December 2016). See also N5.htm, Sw1.htm, Sw3.htm. These designs have crosshatched ground and robust palmettes, with no colored elements. The present locations result from several modern restorations. See also Les vitraux de Paris, pp. 207–08.
Cathedral.23 The blankglazed grisailles at the originally Benedictine sites of Angers and Orbais are probably the first of the early 13th-century period. They join the non-Cistercian group of such geometric, non-vegetal blankglazing noted above (Sens, Châlons, Beauvais, Mussy). Because no paint is used, designs are formed of strapwork (the fillets leaded on both sides) in a diagonal “basket-weave” pattern and/or in combinations with interlaced, circular strapwork. The adoption of the use of glass-paint was the most notable development of this period of grisaille. Glass- paint had been in use in colored glazing from the very earliest examples known, for example Le Mans Cathedral and the abbey of Saint-Denis. Its application to grisaille, however, was, like cross-hatching, an embellishment to the ground between the strapwork and abstract palmette ornament. The grisaille designs remain flat, centripetal, and not strictly defined by the irons that hold them but, rather, suggestive of a tapisserie translucide spread across the window opening.24 The patterns at Saint-Jean-aux-Bois provide the best example. All but bay 6 are formed of a dominating grid of diagonal strapwork spreading beyond the irons. Areas of crosshatched ground are small and the idealized vegetal ornament appears inflated and swollen, often ending with a vigorous upward twist. Because of the paucity of survivors in this early 13th- century grisaille group, it is usually assumed that masses of early grisaille have been lost. However, in glass furnaces as described by Theophilus, colors –chiefly red, blue, and green –were the easiest and most reliable glasses to 23
24
The Troyes grisailles are dated to three campaigns in Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du choeur, pp. 133–42; also see Les vitraux de Champagne-Ardenne, pp. 221–22, 230–31. The first campaign, now in bays 17 and 25 (pp. 352–55, figs. 86, 88, 306–09), is there dated c.1200. The Châlons comparison (p. 136, fig. 89) is from the eastern nave, built 1249–61 (Lillich, “St. Memmie”, p. 97 n. 3; Lillich, “Remembrance”, pp. 471–73 passim); the Bonlieu grisaille of c.1200 (Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du choeur, p. 136) has no painting (Zakin, French Cistercian Grisaille, pp. 49–52). The second campaign of Troyes grisaille, in bay 7, is dated c.1210–20 (Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du choeur, pp. 137, 335–36, figs. 87, 90, 288–89). However, the pattern relates to Troyes bays 17 and 25 just discussed; Saint-Jean-aux-Bois, bay 4 (p. 137, fig. 91) is given as a slightly earlier comparison (but see Kline, The Stained Glass, p. 200, pl. 133). The third Troyes grisaille group, in bay 218 and there dated 1235–45, (Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du choeur, pp. 142–43, 366–67, figs. 93–96, 322), is typical of 1250–75; such colored strapwork appears at Fécamp, Sées, and Sainte-Radegonde, Poitiers: Lillich, The Armor, pp. 110, 200, fig. vi.22, pls. 25, 46A. Viollet-le-Duc, “Vitrail”, p. 452. French grisaille never develops the sense of layering that is sometimes seen in English grisailles: Marks, Stained Glass, pp. 129, 131 fig. 102b, 132 fig. 104c.
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produce.25 Moreover, the Bernardine (and Augustinian) preference for light and white was not, as yet, the general, current theological position. On the contrary, the concept of Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite reigned well beyond the 12th century, presenting a “negative theology” wherein God inhabits a divine darkness.26 In other words, grisaille was still difficult to produce and may not yet have been generally popular. By 1240 grisaille was in more frequent use, and by 1260 its popularity was assured, and new color/grisaille combinations were being introduced, as well as new trends in the design of grisaille itself. Before detailing the what, where, when, and how of these art historical shifts, it will be useful to speak of the why. 3 The Transitional Years c.1240–60: the Introduction of Grisaille Life and art are always in flux, but their directions change infrequently.27 French arts in the 1240s were changing direction, from the tenebrous interiors of Chartres and Bourges to the elegant cages of light of Rayonnant Gothic. This shift introduced great interest in grisaille and its combinations with color. The bridge occurs between 1240 and 1260. In the early 1240s the syntax of the color-saturated Sainte-Chapelle, though old-fashioned, was clearly not archaic or obsolete, as its success in reinvigorating the medallion style attests. By the 1260s an ensemble without grisaille is rare. Reasons for the interest in grisaille have traditionally been three: economy; lighting of the new Rayonnant interiors; and artists’ eternal desire for something new. The Gothic aesthetic, unquestionably, was undergoing a fundamental permutation: but why? A fourth reason provides the impetus for the new aesthetic: the shift in theological underpinnings of the metaphysical concept of God as Light. The 12th century, excluding St. Bernard, generally preferred the oriental mysticism of Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite, a divine radiance incomprehensible, unapproachable. But Augustinian Neoplatonism, gaining strength, took to the attack: in 1210, against the Amauriciani; in 1215, against Joachinism and the Porretani; in 1225 against Dionysius’ translator, Erigena; and conclusively in the Ten Propositions/Condemnations of 1241–44, rocking the Sorbonne theologians’ world. After the Ten Propositions, Light is light; Augustine is victor. 25 26 27
Royce-Roll, “The colors of Romanesque stained glass”, esp. pp. 78–80. Lillich, “Monastic stained glass”, pp. 222–25. For this discussion, see Lillich, The Armor, pp. 6, 327. For Paris dictating the new aesthetic, see pp. 7–8, 170; ead., “Monastic stained glass”; Cothren, Picturing, pp. 112–13, 123.
St. Louis’s court chapel has not yet caught up with the university doctors in this regard; the Sainte-Chapelle glass is truly the swan song of a philosophy, not merely an artistic fashion. The theological pronouncements of Paris may or may not have influenced the growing preference for grisaille beyond the city walls, but the prestige of the monuments of the French king’s capital certainly did. Two aspects of grisaille development will be outlined below: the various methods employed to combine grisaille with color; and the changing designs of the painted grisaille itself. Even for the Cistercians, bits of color had sometimes been added to enliven grisaille design.28 In the transitional period under discussion here, colored strapwork and borders are introduced. As noted by Viollet-le-Duc: “For the glazing of broad mullioned bays, like those of our mid-13th-century monuments, glaziers forego colorless grisaille; they introduce red or blue fillets, add rosettes, and enclose it within colored borders”.29 The two earliest grisailles inserted at Chartres have such colored fillets: bay 19 (2.17 m wide) and bay 25B (1.94 m wide) (Figure 17.3).30 As Rayonnant Gothic lancets narrow and multiply, such color becomes common in grisailles throughout the late 13th century. However, because grisaille is non-figural,31 for most Christian purposes the inclusion of the religious figures and scenes of colored glazing was vital. A number of combinations of figural glazing with grisaille were introduced in the transitional period with differing success. One type placed colored figures directly on a grisaille field, a design reappearing sporadically 28
29 30
31
An early Cistercian window including bits of red and blue is bay 103 at La Bénisson- Dieu (Loire): Pressouyre and Kinder, Saint Bernard, p. 254, ill. 147; http://www.therosewindow.com/pilot/bennisons/table.htm (last accessed 12 December 2016). Viollet-le-Duc, “Vitrail”, p. 455 (author translation). Lillich, “A redating”, pp. 12–14; http://www.therosewindow .com/pilot/Chartres/w19-44.htm and http://www.therosewindow.com/pilot/Chartres/w25a-47.htm (both last accessed 12 December 2016). My article uses Delaporte’s bay numbers: CV bay 19 = Del 44; CV bay 25B = Del 47. Bay 25B is dated 1259, when it replaced colored glazing of the life of Saint Lawrence. I dated bay 19 to c.1235–40 because it combines old and new design practice. Old: the tapestry-like spread of the design, ignoring the irons; new (as discussed below): strapwork painted rather than leaded on one side, lean, somewhat anemic palmettes. Kurmann-Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, pp. 184–85, 192, date bay 19 with the group “Peu avant ou après 1220/1230”. We can agree on “après 1230”. Grisaille figures are rarissime. The Canon Thierry glazing (Chartres bay 36, dated 1328) employs silver stain: Kurmann- Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, p. 232 and col. ill. 74; Lautier, “Un vitrail parisien”.
286 Lillich through the 14th century.32 Several more successful combinations can be traced to Parisian origins. A color/ grisaille design particularly useful for the broad lancets of the High Gothic placed standing figures (under canopies) within an encompassing field of grisaille. This solution, I believe, first appeared in the glazing of the new choir clerestories of Notre-Dame Cathedral, rebuilt around 1225–30.33 Surviving examples remain in regional churches at Saint-Merry, Linas (Essonne),34 Brie-Comte-Robert (Seine-et-Marne),35 and Villers- Saint-Paul (Oise),36 as well as the cathedrals of Auxerre37 and Reims.38 That its usefulness related to broad lancet-width seems clear from a unique late example at Beauvais (c.1260–65): clerestory bay 305 (niv), which has lancets 50 cm wider than those of the other turning bays.39
32
An example dated c.1250 is from Saint-Laurent in Primelles (or Prémilles, Cher): Beer, Die Glasmalereien, p. 95, Vergleichsabb. 33. Later 13th-century examples include Saint- Germain-Village (Eure), sacristy bay C (Lafond, “Le vitrail en Normandie”, pp. 334–35, with illus.); Sainte-Radegonde, Poitiers, bay 109 (Lillich, The Armor, pp. 84–96, figs. iv.4-i v.13 passim). For the 14th-century: Chartres bay 26 (Kurmann- Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, p. 238, col. pls. 75–76); and notably the choir clerestory of Saint-Ouen, Rouen (Lafond, Saint-Ouen). A German example (Namedy): Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, p. 187, pl. 181. An English example (St. Denys Walmgate, York): Marks, Stained Glass, frontispiece. 33 Lillich, The Armor, pp. 6–8; ead., “Monastic stained glass”, p. 254 n. 121. I have referred to this type of glazing as figures “swimming in a grisaille surround”, and Michael Cothren describes them as “tipped-in”: Cothren, Picturing, pp. 112–13. 34 Lafond, “Le vitrail en Normandie”, p. 357 n. 3. The remains are in bay 100 (the triforium of the east wall) and were restored in 2010–14: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/ , search: Stained_glass_windows_of_Église_Saint-Merry_de_ Linas (last accessed 27 July 2017). See also Les vitraux de Paris, p. 82. 35 Remains in the clerestories of the south nave: http://www .therosewindow.com/pilot/Brie-CR/table.htm (last accessed 1 December 2018). See especially bay 108, which is incorrectly labeled as bay 107 in Les vitraux de Paris, p. 90. 36 Cothren, “The choir windows”, pp. 57–60, figs. 17–19; Lillich, “Monastic stained glass”, p. 235 fig. 9.15, of c.1240–50. 37 Bays 5 and 6 and most of the choir clerestory (c.1235–45). Lillich, “The band window”, pp. 27–30, with illus.; Les vitraux de Bourgogne, pp. 121–23. A later example in the same region is Villeneuve-sur-Yonne (c.1250–60): Gatouillat, “La vitrerie”, pp. 5–8, with illus.; Les vitraux de Bourgogne, pp. 198–99. 38 Lillich, The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims, pp. 99–103, figs. 99– 111; Les vitraux de Champagne-Ardenne, pp. 388–89. 39 Cothren, Picturing, p. 105, pl. 110; pp. 112–13, 123; on the width measurements, p. 234, n. 72; the width measurements for bays 305 and 306 (Cothren’s niv and siv) are incorrect in Les vitraux de Paris, p. 180.
A color/grisaille combination that was equally adaptable to small and larger structures alike was one that I have called “summer-and-winter”, in which colored glazing is concentrated in the apse and flanked by grisailles on the walls to either side. Such a format is recorded at the Lady Chapel of Saint-Germain-des-Prés (c.1245– 50/55)40 and it seems clear that the Lower Chapel of Louis ix’s Sainte-Chapelle was glazed that way.41 Remnants of such a program survive in the chapel at Saint- Germer-de-Fly (Oise), c.1259–66.42 The format was useful for what might be termed secondary spaces, even those on spectacular scale, for example: the rebuilt nave clerestories of Notre-Dame in Paris;43 then the transept clerestories of Reims (c.1240–50);44 the nave clerestories of Soissons (c.1250);45 and the upper windows of the Bourges nave (c.1250–70).46 The new glazed triforiums of Rayonnant Gothic architecture were an obvious location for such a color/grisaille combination. The first was probably Saint-Denis,47 copied at Tours Cathedral (c.1255) (Figure 17.1),48 and at another Benedictine abbey, Saint-Père, Chartres (c.1260–70).49 40
Lillich, “Monastic stained glass”, pp. 237–38; Shepard, The Thirteenth Century, pp. 282–83. 41 Lillich, “The so-called Sainte-Chapelle windows”, pp. 140–41. 42 Lafond, “Le vitrail en Normandie”, p. 357; Les vitraux de Paris, pp. 206–07. 43 Lillich, The Armor, p. 7 fig. 1.1; p. 327 n. 47. The reconstruction of the nave clerestories and flying buttresses was begun around 1230 and the new openings must have been glazed before Jean de Chelles began work on the north transept around 1245. 44 Lillich, The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims, pp. 104–09; ead., “Chronological evidence”, pp. 199–209. The transept roses form the colored accents between the Reims grisailles. The choir clerestory grisailles at Châlons-en-Champagne were an immediate copy, completed c.1247: ead., “St. Memmie”, pp. 75–77, 94, fig. 2. 45 Lillich, “The so-called Sainte-Chapelle windows”, pp. 138–40. The color focus was the choir clerestory, which included heavily colored ornamental glass in the straight bays. 46 Hayward, English and French, vol. 1, pp. 185–97; Lillich, “Three essays”, pp. 70–73 (these fragments were lost in the flood at Corning in 1972); Les vitraux du Centre,p. 180; see also Boulanger, Ch. 18 in this volume. 47 Lillich, “Monastic stained glass”, pp. 225–33; ead., The Armor, pp. 68–70, figs. iii.11 and iii.12. Reconstruction was begun at Saint-Denis in 1231; in 1241 the hemicycle, chevet, north transept, and crossing were in use and no doubt glazed. 48 Lillich, The Armor, pp. 63–65; see also bays 105, 107, 109, 111, and 113 in http://www.therosewindow.com/pilot/Tours/ tourstable.htm (last accessed 1 December 2018). 49 Like Saint-Denis, the chevet of Saint-Père was of 12th-century construction, the upper stories replaced by a Rayonnant Gothic cage of glass. The triforium of the straight chevet bays contains grisailles of c.1260–70, in terrible condition. The
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French Grisaille Glass
The most successful combination of grisaille and color for the multiple, narrow lancets of Rayonnant clerestories was unquestionably the band window, which also first appeared most probably at Saint-Denis.50 Variations in the early copies indicate that their ecclesiastical patrons (via verbal instructions), and not their glaziers (who probably had not seen the Parisian originals), were responsible: at Tours there are two bands,51 and in the Saint-Père chevet, vertical rather than horizontal banding.52 The band was occasionally located at the bottom of the bays (Vendôme) or near the top (Saint-Urbain, Troyes).53 What became the classic type appears at the cathedrals of Beauvais (c.1255– 60) and Sées (c.1270–85), and a beautiful later example is Saint-Ouen, Rouen.54 In these monuments, chapel and aisle windows also adopt the band-window formula. The many variants found in the earlier examples support the conclusion that clerical patrons, not glazier-artisans, spread the new popularity of grisaille, initiated by the metaphysical battles at the Sorbonne culminating in the early 1240s. The later preference for grisaille in royal/court circles (discussed below) was more likely influenced by hemicycle has the remains of grisailles of c.1300 (campaign of the clerestories above them); in the early 19th century, the three axial bays of the triforium were patched with 16th- century colored fragments from other Chartres churches. See Lillich, The Stained Glass of Saint-Père, pp. 27–28, 40–41 nn. 9–10 (bay numbers refer to the numbered plan at the back of this book); Les vitraux du Centre, p. 50 . 50 Lillich, The Armor, pp. 68–70. Cothren, Picturing, pp. 112–13. The term was introduced in Lillich, “The band window”. 51 Tours, bays 205 and 206 (c.1265) have two bands of figures: Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, p. 137, pl. 128. No other examples survive in France, but some are found in England: Marks, Stained Glass, pp. 148–50, pl. xi, figs. 116, 120, 123. 52 Saint-Père bays 207–16 (c.1260–70) have alternating lancets of colored figures and grisaille; Lillich, The Armor, pp. 67–68, 304– 05 fig. ix.4A-B. The combination is otherwise unknown except at Saint-Père itself, where it was copied c.1305–15 in nave bays 223, 224, 227, and 228: pl. 57 D, J, K, L. Apropos of The Armor, pl. 57: my attempt there to provide readers with a vision of the glorious Saint-Père nave was totally foiled by the Korean printer, who put the south nave below the north nave, and switched K (bay 29, CV bay 228) with F (bay 26, CV bay 225). 53 The clerestory of the chevet of La Trinité, Vendôme, probably had its colored band at the bottom of the lancets: Lillich, The Armor, pp. 223–25; Les vitraux du Centre, p. 158. Later examples are at Cologne cathedral that date to c.1320. The band is near the top at Saint-Urbain, Troyes, c.1270–80; Hayward, “The church of Saint-Urbain”; Les vitraux de Champagne- Ardenne, pp. 281–82. 54 For Beauvais see Cothren, Picturing, pp. 112–13, pls. 15, 104. For Sées: Lillich, The Armor, pp. 169–71, 197–98, figs. vi.1, vi.9; Callias Bey and David, Les vitraux de Basse-Normandie, pp. 227–28. For Saint-Ouen, Rouen: Lafond, Saint-Ouen; see also Gatouillat, Ch. 23 in this volume.
the tastes of Queen Marie de Brabant, who arrived in Paris in 1274 at the age of 20. In any case, the adoption of a color/grisaille glazing format did not impose a similar type of grisaille design. As grisaille became popular and frequent, as architecture provided new window types, and as glassmakers improved their product in clarity and dimensions, glaziers developed new grisaille designs. These also changed in identifiable ways from around 1240, and by the 1260s grisaille design is on a new path.55 4 The Transitional Years c.1240–60: Changes in Grisaille Design The grisaille patterns of c.1240 have centripetal patterns, idealized palmette foliage (often with berries), and cross-hatched grounds. Strapwork still might be leaded on both sides, but as larger glass sheets became available, glaziers could define fillets by paint on one side. The earlier, lush acanthus foliage began to shrivel and dry up;56 naturalistic leafage (ivy, oak with acorns, maple, clover) increasingly replaced it. In broad windows, earlier grisailles spread across the lancet without regard for the irons. The newer multiple lancets eventually emphasized the design and repetition of the panel unit. The earlier centripetal panels could be placed upside- down or often sideways without discomfort to the overall design. Such designs were gradually replaced by patterns rising and often undulating vertically from panel to panel, by naturalistic foliage growing upward from a central stem, and placed on a clear unpainted ground. Later grisailles developed panneautage,57 the design of each panel repeated, thus the panel becoming the module. Development was not at all sudden or consistent and various combinations of old and new features appeared. With the concentration on panel design came an emphasis on central (colored) accents and corner patterns of uniform type, with the leading more and more straightened in between, achieving a panel design that is called “bulged quarries”.58 By the end of the 1260s, grisaille design had been transformed and continued to 55
Lillich, “The so-called Sainte-Chapelle windows”, pp. 282–84; ead., “Chronological evidence”, pp. 199–209. 56 On the shriveling of acanthus palmettes before the introduction of naturalistic foliage, see Gruber, “Quelques aspects”, p. 82. His example is Reims. 57 I adopt this word from Gruber, “Quelques aspects”, p. 83, who introduces it for the treatment of colored figures. For grisailles, it implies that the panel design is a (repeating) module. 58 For explanation of the term see Cothren, Picturing, pp. 239–40, n. 51.
288 Lillich evolve into the repetitious quarry design established at the beginning of the next century. Various examples from this transitional period, made for High Gothic broad lancets, are in the following cathedrals: – Auxerre, bays 3, 5, and 6, c.1240–45: centralized panel design, double-and single-leaded strapwork running in diagonals spreading across panels of the window.59 (Figure. 17.4) – Reims, bays 109–10 and transept clerestories, c.1240– 50: both double-and single-leaded strapwork. The earliest designs (chevet and south transept) spread across the lancet; the latest (north transept, west side) include vertically undulating strapwork and the beginning of panneautage.60 – Soissons, nave clerestories, c.1250: double-and single- leaded strapwork; the beginning of panneautage.61 – Bourges, bays of upper nave, c.1250–70: palmettes increasingly lean and unadorned, some strapwork painted on one side, colored central accent, undulating strapwork.62 – Chartres Cathedral, bays 25 and 27, c.1259–70: lean palmettes, some growing upward from a central stem, undulating strapwork.63 Diverse examples in the tall, narrow lancets provided by Rayonnant buildings: – Tours Cathedral, chevet, triforium and bays 205–06 of clerestory, c.1255–65: centripetal panels, development of “bulged quarries” modules (Figure 17.1).64 – Saint-Martin-aux-Bois (Oise), bays 0–6, c.1260: almost every kind of design (old/new) except naturalistic foliage.65 59 Hayward, English and French, vol. 1, pp. 130–34, color pl. 15; Lillich, “The band window”, p. 27 fig. 2. Similar grisaille is in the chevet of Saint-Père, Chartres (made for the broad lancets of the nave c.1245): Lillich, The Stained Glass of Saint-Père, p. 29, pls. 38, 39. 60 Lillich, “Chronological evidence”, pp. 199– 209; ead., The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims, pp. 100–02, 105–09. 61 Lillich, “The so-called Sainte-Chapelle windows”, pp. 282–84. 62 Hayward, English and French, vol. 1, pp. 185–97. 63 Lillich, “A redating”, pp. 13–14. This article employs Delaporte’s bay numbers: CV bay 25B = Del 47; CV bay 25A = Del 48; CV bay 27B = Del 50; CV bay 27A = Del 51. 64 Lillich, The Armor, pp. 63–65; Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, p. 137, pl. 128; see also the chevet triforium bays and clerestory bays 205 and 206 in http://www.therosewindow.com/ pilot/Tours/tourstable.htm. (last accessed 1 December 2018). The grisailles of c.1255–60 in the north nave aisle at Châlons- en-Champagne (which have been moved about) include similar designs as well as contemporary experiments in foliage rising from a central stem: Lillich, “More stained glass spolia”, pp. 135–36, figs. 4 and 5. 65 A Victorine Augustinian abbey, which supports the theory that Saint-Victor in Paris was a force behind the “grisaille
– Saint-Germer-de-Fly (Oise), bays 0 and 3, c.1259– 66: rising, undulating strapwork but foliage growing up and down; mix of acanthus and naturalistic foliage.66 – Chartres, Saint-Père, bays 213 and 214, c.1260–70: rising, undulating strapwork, acanthus foliage growing up from vertical stems, but no panneautage or central accent.67 – Panels from the chapel of the Château de Rouen, c.1260– 65: both acanthus and naturalistic foliage, both clear and cross-hatched grounds, foliage grows up on a central stem, central panel accent but not yet modular.68 Indeed, it seems that every conceivable combination of old and new can be found in grisailles from these transitional decades. As with the success of the band window, however, by the last third of the 13th century consensus had been reached about what a grisaille should look like. 5
The End of the 13th Century
That consensus held until the advent of the technique of silver stain (discussed at the end of this essay), a novelty that dictated a whole new aesthetic. The evolution of grisaille design in the transitional decades continued apace until then. It can be followed from c.1264–90 in the numerous handsome grisailles of Saint-Urbain, Troyes.69 The earliest of them, which are transitional designs from before the church’s 1266 fire, have crosshatched revolution” there: Les vitraux de Paris, p. 208; Lillich, The Armor, pp. 170–71. See Cothren, Picturing, p. 115 pl. 121b; Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, p. 153, pl. 145; http://www.therosewindow.com/pilot/StMartinAuxBois/table.htm (last accessed 12 December 2016). 66 Lillich, The Stained Glass of Saint-Père, p. 26 fig. 2; http://www .therosewindow.com/pilot/StGermer/w3-whole.htm and http://www.therosewindow.com/pilot/StGermer/w0-Frame .htm (both last accessed 12 December 2016). 67 Lillich, The Stained Glass of Saint-Père, pl. 42, color pl. iv. The grisailles in the tracery lights above have a clear ground: pl. 40. 68 Hayward, English and French, vol. 1, pp. 200–11, color pl. 24; Zakin, “Grisailles”, pp. 86–89, figs. 7–8; Lillich, “Three essays”, pp. 73–75, figs. 6–7 (these fragments were lost in the Corning flood of 1972). The four panels of apostles leaded with these grisailles in the Musée national du Moyen Âge, Paris, are cropped and clearly were not originally from the same lancets. The museum’s recent redating to c.1300, while debatable, does not affect the grisailles. The north nave clerestory of Evreux preserves remnants of similar grisailles of c.1260: Gatouillat, “Les verrières”, pp. 94–98. 69 Hayward, “The church of Saint-Urbain”, esp. pp. 172–73 and 176 n. 52; Zakin, “Grisailles”, pp. 88–90 with notes; Lautier, “Les vitraux”, p. 383 (color ill. of bay 103, c.1270–75: bulged
289
French Grisaille Glass
grounds, scrawny palmettes with a few single berries, rising undulating strapwork, and no modular form.70 In the clerestories, bulged quarries develop. Next followed the lower glazing, completed c.1285 by the extraordinary grisailles of the choir chapels, with rising, intertwined foliage of spiky leaves overlapping the stem and drawn in profile (Figure 17.5).71 In the grisailles of the church’s final medieval bays –those in the transept terminals and nave aisles –ivy, oak, and byrony leaves appear on a clear, unpainted ground. Grisailles surviving from this period are more numerous than before. The modular panel design of bulged quarries was adopted in the chapels of Sées Cathedral (c.1270–85) and wholesale at Dol-de-Bretagne (c.1280).72 These grisailles have cross-hatched grounds, naturalistic foliage (with an occasional palmette), a colored central accent, and repeated patterns at all four corners, the leading increasingly straight. Artists produce variants, of course. The foliage sometimes grows upward not from a central stem but from stems along the sides of the panel. The foliage at Dol has a swollen, puffy quality. It sometimes rises from “flower pots” at the base of the panel, a detail found at Sées and Dol but also at Saint-Gengoult, Toul (Meurthe-et-Moselle), c.1265–79.73 Regional differences, while relatively few, can be noted. The grisailles of Sainte-Radegonde (c.1268–71) and the cathedral of Poitiers have languorous, sinuous stems of acanthus mixed with a variety of more naturalistic leaves.74 In Lorraine, there be monsters.75
quarries, scrawny acanthus growing centripetally on a cross- hatched ground). 70 Hayward, English and French, vol. 1, pp. 211–24. 71 Lillich, “Three essays”, pp. 76–78 (these fragments were lost in the Corning flood of 1972). 72 For Sées: Zakin, “Grisailles”, pp. 84–87, figs. 2–6; Hayward, English and French, vol. 1, pp. 224–30; Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, p. 151, pl. 142; Lillich, The Armor, pp. 198–201, figs. vi.11, vi.19. For Dol: Lillich, The Armor, pp. 150–54, fig. v.12, color pl. 33; Gatouillat and Hérold, Les vitraux de Bretagne, pp. 233–34. 73 Lillich, Rainbow, pp. 36–39, pls. ii.18a-b, ii.19; Gatouillat and Herold, Les vitraux de Lorraine et d’Alsace, pp.65–66, fig. 48. The Saint-Gengoult bays are broad, so the grisaille pattern spreads across the irons. 74 For Sainte-Radegonde: Lillich, The Armor, pp. 89–95 figs. iv.7–13 passim (the earliest), p. 102 fig. iv.17; Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, p.167, pl. 160 (slightly more developed). For Poitiers Cathedral: Lillich, The Armor, p. 105 fig. iv.20; http:// www.therosewindow.com/pilot/Poitiers%20Cathedral/w20 .htm and http://www.therosewindow.com/pilot/Poitiers%20 Cathedral/w21.htm (both last accessed 12 December 2016). 75 Saint-Gengoult, Toul: Lillich, Rainbow, pp. 36–37, pl. 20a-b. La Chalade: Zakin, “Cistercian glass”, pp.142, 144, fig. 7.
One design distinctive to this period is colored latticework. A dense network of colored strapwork, usually studded with colored nails at the conjunctions, is overlaid onto standard grisaille foliage and fillet patterns. Such latticework survives at La Trinité, Fécamp (c.1265); Sainte- Radegonde, Poitiers (c.1268–71); Saint-Urbain, Troyes (c.1270–85); and dominating the clerestory at Sées (c.1270–85).76 Silver stain will completely usurp the role of this colored network. Art during the reign of Philippe le Bel (1285–1314) stressed elegance and refinement, and in that period, glassmaking advanced to produce finer quality sheets of glass; delicate long-stemmed drinking glasses first appear.77 It is a chicken-or-egg question whether the demand for such elegance produced the new refined material or if the new product created the market. At any rate, real advances in glassmaking appear in the 1280s.78 The glass is thinner, clearer and more light-passing, and is produced in larger pieces. In grisaille painting, the bulged-quarries design gradually straightens out into regular, repeated, diamond-shaped quarries or lozenges. Cross-hatching lines become finer and thinner and then totally disappear, leaving a clear unpainted ground. More varieties of recognizable leafage appear, and their depiction becomes more lifelike, with leaves budding, overlapping, in profile, curling over stems. Since the glass itself is thinner and more brilliant, the clear grounds and elegant painting pass more light. Several grisailles of this type replaced colored glass in Chartres, probably in the 1280s. The foliage is naturalistic but somewhat dry and still grows both up and down, while the grounds are unpainted.79 In Beauvais Cathedral, the St. Vincent chapel contains remnants of delicate grisailles of c.1290–95, which still retain cross-hatched grounds.80 All the advances mentioned above appear at: Mussy-sur-Seine 76
Fécamp, bay 5: Lafond, “Le vitrail en Normandie”, p. 344; Lillich, The Armor, pp. 204–05, fig. vi.22; Callias Bey, Chaussé, Gatouillat, and Hérold, Les vitraux de Haute- Normandie, p. 306, fig. 213. Sainte-Radegonde, bay 114 (with heraldic colors): Lillich, The Armor, p. 110, color pl. 25. Saint-Urbain, Troyes, bay 1: Hayward, “The church of Saint-Urbain”, p. 173 and fig. 4. Sées: bay 19 (north choir aisle) and most of the clerestory: Lillich, The Armor, pp. 177, 200–01, color pls. 44, 46. See also the axial chapel of Rouen Cathedral, at note 94 below. 77 Meyer-Rodrigues, “La vie quotidienne”, pp. 409–10, 413–16; Lillich, “Gothic glaziers”, p. 78 n. 26. 78 Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, p. 150; Lillich, “Gothic glaziers”, pp. 88–89. 79 Lillich, “A redating”, pp. 15–17. Delaporte’s bay numbers are used in this article: CV bay 3 = Del 36; CV bay 10 = Del 29; CV bay 123 = Del 146–148. 80 Cothren, Picturing, pp. 136, 138–40, 145; pls. 140, 145, 146. Cross-hatched grounds appear even later in the apse triforium
290 Lillich (Aube), c.1288– 93, and Tonnerre (Yonne), c.1293–95, sites where the patron was a French princess;81 at La Trinité, Vendôme, c.1290, where the patron was another princess;82 and in the ambulatory of Evreux, c.1299–1310, where one of the patrons was a prince.83 Such royal display had probably become introduced and fashionable with the arrival in 1274 of that intriguer of the Capetian court, Queen Marie de Brabant (1255–1322), second wife of Philippe le Hardi.84 Following her coronation, she donated a three-lancet window (known from drawings) to the Dominican church in Louvain, in memory of her parents who were buried there. In addition to images of Queen Marie and her parents, all identified by inscriptions and iced with heraldry, the top half of the bay was glazed in grisailles of bulged quarries.85 Following the birth of her youngest child (around 1279) and before the death of her husband (1285), she gave a similarly lavish and the nave clerestories of Saint-Père, Chartres, c.1300– 15, probably to maintain continuity with the designs of the straight bays of the chevet: Lillich, The Stained Glass of Saint- Père, pp. 55–57, pls. 44–47, 74; ead., The Armor, pp. 319, 321 fig. ix.13. 81 Lillich, The Queen of Sicily, p. 17 fig. 11(5) and pp. 20–21, 41 fig. 22 (Mussy), pp. 21, 77–81, 92–93, figs. 37, 48, 49; (Tonnerre). The patron was Marguerite de Bourgogne (1249?- 1308), sister-in-law of St. Louis, pp. 68–75. See also Les vitraux de Bourgogne, pp. 16, 21, 101, 203, and fig. 7. 82 Lillich, “Monastic stained glass”, p. 229 fig. 9.11; ead., The Armor, p. 224; http://www.therosewindow.com/pilot/ Vendome/w205.htm (last accessed 12 December 2016). The patron was Jeanne de Châtillon (1253?-92), daughter-in-law of St. Louis: Lillich, The Armor, pp. 233–34. Upon her death, her lands of Blois went to her cousin and then to his son Gui de Châtillon. Gui married a niece of King Philippe le Bel in 1311 and was a patron of Evron (Mayenne) thereafter: Lillich, The Armor, pp. 259–61 and notes. Only one Evron window, bay 107, retains its gorgeous grisailles, which are bulged quarries, with naturalistic foliage rising from a central stem, on clear grounds: Lillich, The Armor, p. 257 fig. viii.3.B, p. 274. 83 Gatouillat, “Les verrières”, pp. 104–09 passim. The prince was Louis de France (1276–1319), brother of Philippe le Bel: ead., pp. 104, ill. 106. Also see Gatouillat, Ch. 23 in this volume. 84 On Marie de Brabant: Lillich, The Queen of Sicily, pp. 109–10; ead., “European stained glass”, pp. 47–50 passim. 85 I published the Louvain window from a copy of the drawings published in 1845: Lillich, The Queen of Sicily, pp. 106–07 figs. 53–54; ead., “Heraldry and patronage”, reprint in ead., Studies, pp. 452–53 figs. 6–7. The originals of c.1600 are now available in beautiful color illustrations, strengthening my heraldic arguments: Coomans and Bergmans, “L’église Notre-Dame”, pp. 115–18, figs. 25–26. Brabantine interest in heraldry is well documented. Fragments of 13th-century grisailles and heraldic borders of the Brabantine lion sable have been discovered in the Dominican church at Ghent: De Schryver, Vanden Bemden, and Bral, Gothic Grotesques, pp. 21–25, 35–62 (grisailles), 72–73 (lions).
window, likewise replete with family, inscriptions, and heraldry, to the now destroyed church of Saint-Nicaise in Reims (see Figure 16.2). Her gift was followed by similar windows donated there by the next French queen, Jeanne de Navarre (c.1290–93), Gaucher V de Châtillon (c.1291–99), Countess Jeanne de Toucy (c. 1295), and King Philippe le Bel (1300).86 Witnesses reported that these Saint-Nicaise windows “ressemblent au plus brilliant cristal”, and that “leurs cristaux étaient de couleur naturelle”.87 Queen Marie de Brabant made another such gift in 1312–14, one that was nearly lost, for the so-called Chapelle de Navarre on the south flank of the collégiale Notre-Dame in Mantes-la-Jolie.88 Her favorite residential chateau, following her husband’s death, overlooked this chapel. The chapel’s glass was nearly destroyed in 1794 and has been redone several times in the 20th century. Surviving are grisaille lancet-heads with: oak leaves and acorns on clear ground; canopies (one figure was remade in 1728, all are now lost); and heraldic borders with fleurs-de-lys and lions. Westlake and numerous others, including Jean Lafond, have misidentified these as the arms of France and England:89 France, yes; England, no. The golden lions are rampant and their field is black (sable), identifying them as the arms of Brabant as they appear on Queen Marie’s stained-glass of 1275 in Louvain.90 Also surviving at Mantes is hesitant silver 86
Lillich, “Heraldry and patronage”, reprint in ead., Studies, pp. 441–59 passim. 87 An 1819 color drawing shows two grisaille fragments: Lillich, “Heraldry and patronage”, reprint in Studies, pp. 435 fig. 1, 439–40. The grisailles made for the western nave aisles of Reims Cathedral at around this time may be similar (bulged quarries with naturalistic foliage rising on a cross-hatched ground): Lillich, The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims, p. 217 fig. 229. 88 Plagnieux, “Une fondation”, pp. 110–16, esp. 116 nn. 3–8. In 1983 I connected Queen Marie with this glazing (Lillich, “European stained glass”, pp. 47–52); Plagnieux’s brilliant sleuthing for documentation has firmly established a later date than I hypothesized. Queen Marie, not welcome at court when her stepson Philippe le Bel came to power in 1285, lived mostly in her Mantes château, which lay directly east of the collégiale. She returned to Paris in 1314 when he died. 89 Westlake, A History, vol. 2, pp. 80–81; Lafond, Pratique, p. 56; de Finance, “Les vitraux”, p. 126. 90 Coomans and Bergmans, “L’église Notre-Dame”, p. 117, fig. 26 (color). Queen Marie and her nephew Jean I de Brabant both wear these arms in the frontispiece of the poem Cléomadès by Adenès le roi (Paris, Arsenal, 3142, fol. 1r.), a manuscript made for her: Lillich, “European stained glass”, p. 289, fig.14; http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b55003999w/f13.image (last accessed 12 December 2016). The red glass which, in the borders at Mantes, alternates with the sable au lions d’or, refers to the change in Brabant arms after the conquest of Limbourg in 1290: Lillich, Studies, p. 61.
French Grisaille Glass
stain on the frames of two of the tracery medallions, as well as in a number of the tiny, surviving ecoinçons of the lancet-heads, where the stonework protects the glass from damage.91 At Mantes, silver stain has not yet invaded the grisailles. But a new day is dawning. 6
Jaune d’Argent
In 1313, coeval with Queen Marie’s chapel glazing at Mantes, silver stain (jaune d’argent) appears on the rising naturalistic foliage of grisaille quarries in a “signed and dated” window in Le Mesnil-Villleman (Manche).92 In 1328, another “signed and dated” glazing in Chartres Cathedral –the so-called Canon-Thierry strip inserted into bay 36 –consists entirely of paint and silver stain, on figures, inscription, and grisaille quarries.93 The quarries in the Canon-Thierry strip are absolutely regular, simple repetitions of an isolated, identical floral motif: the work of an apprentice. The end of grisaille as an art form is in sight. The final incarnation of grisaille –that justifies characterizing them as true “artistic creations” –is a series of quarry panels from Rouen Cathedral, with bulged and straight-sided lozenges, exquisitely painted with delicate curling stems, leaves, and flowers, all generously gilt with silver stain. The axial chapel of the cathedral was glazed c.1310–15 with band windows consisting of the early archbishops standing under tall canopies, between these heavily colored grisailles above and below them (Figure 17.6).94 Later insertions, restorations, damage, and the disasters of 1943–44 have reduced the grisailles to a sorry state. All have heavily colored latticework, chiefly of red and blue fillets. In bay 3, this network is 91
92
93
94
De Finance, “Les vitraux”,, pp. 120–23, color illus. These two medallions, found after the restoration of c.1255, are now in storage at the Monuments historiques, Champs-sur-Marne. The ecoinçons are mentioned by Lafond, Pratique, p. 56. Lafond, “Un vitrail du Mesnil-Villeman”, pp. 93–95; Lautier, “Les vitraux”, pp. 390–92, color illus.; Callias Bey and David, Les vitraux de Basse-Normandie, pp. 147–48. On the other hand, the grisailles in the Peter de Dene window in the north nave aisle of York Minster (a window in which the earliest silver stain in England appears, dated 1307–12) have no silver stain. Kurmann-Schwarz and Kurmann, Chartres, pp. 232–33, color pl. 74, see also color pl. 75 (bay 26b); Lautier, “Un vitrail parisien”. Lautier, “Rouen”; Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail, pp. 256– 57, no. 67; Lafond, “Le vitrail du XIVe siècle”, pp. 191–94. Ritter, Les vitraux, published photographs of the grisailles in 1926: pls. 39–42 (bay 7), pls. 46–49 (bay 5), pls. 53–54 (bay 6), pls. 58–60 (bay 8). Restorations since then have relocated some of the surviving panels.
291 bulged and curved; elsewhere it forms a rigid, rectilinear trellis enclosing lozenges painted with wild roses, ivy, strawberry, and oak leaves, mostly rising from a central stem. Only the earliest grisaille has no silver stain. Grisailles from the chapel dedicated to St. Louis that was added off the north nave aisle of Saint-Denis, c.1320– 24, have survived in several museum collections.95 The quarries are bulged and the strapwork defining them is painted black, relieved with rich patterns in yellow stain. Against clear grounds, sinuous stems rise from the bottoms and sides of the panels, stems flowering with abundant buds and five-petaled wild roses of both white and gold –as well as with tiny royal fleurs-de-lis! The chevet of Saint-Ouen, Rouen, was glazed with band windows in both the ground floor and clerestories, that date to c.1320–39. Surviving from the chapels are seven lancets with bulged quarries and 43 with straight-sided lozenges, all painted with elegant foliage rising from a central stem, consisting of wild rose, oak, strawberry, fig, and periwinkle.96 Each grisaille panel has a colored central accent, including heads, grotesques, and elaborately designed and elegantly painted foliage. Some panels have no silver stain on the grisaille at all, others have silver-stained flowers or leaves, and some have stain only defining the fillets which outline the quarries and thus form a yellow latticework. In the clerestories, the massive figures and their identifying inscriptions are set directly against grisailles of absolutely uniform and strict regularity. The colored central bosses have disappeared. Only a few of the clerestory lancets have naturalistic foliage rising from a central stem, on a larger scale than in the chapels below. The great majority are uniform lozenges, each painted with an isolated, repeated floral motif.97 Some quarry patterns are outlined with black paint but no strapwork is silver-stained. Legibility has won the day. At Évreux Cathedral, bay 23 (c.1325–30?) displays lavish grisailles of straight quarries painted with a central golden stem, from which rise branches of yellow and white five-petaled wild roses and heart-shaped leaves. Thereafter at Evreux, silver-stained quarries are regular and repetitious. French grisaille design makes a graceful 95 Hayward, English and French, vol. 1, pp. 243–51, color pl. 26; Lautier, “Les vitraux”, p. 393. See Husband’s chapter in this volume, fig. 19.1 (p. 331). 96 Lafond, Saint-Ouen, pp. 27–29; Hayward, English and French, vol. 1, color pl. 27, vol. 2, pp. 11–25 (grisaille panels from CV bays 10 and 16 = Lafond bays 28 and 34). See also Gatouillat, Ch. 23 in this volume. 97 Lafond, Saint-Ouen, pls. 57, 59, 60 (rising foliage), color pl. vi, and numerous others (repeated quarries); Callias Bey, Chaussé, Gatouillat, and Hérold, Les vitraux de Haute- Normandie, pp.370–72, 378–79.
292 Lillich cadenza of great delicacy with its final coda at Evreux, in the Chapelle du Rosaire (bays 15, 17, and 19, c.1360–70).98 From gilt-touched stems not only grow yellow roses but on their branches sit golden birds. 7 Conclusion Thus, the glory days of French grisaille design begin with the weighty theological abstractions of Cistercian austerity, and culminate in gilt branches flowering with fleurs-de-lis, and inhabited by golden songbirds. The social history of the Gothic era could hardly be encapsulated more succinctly. Bibliography Secondary Sources
Beer, E.J., Die Glasmalereien der Schweiz vom 12. bis zum Beginn des 14. Jahrhunderts (cvma Schweiz, 1), Basel, 1956. Boulanger, K., Les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Angers (CV France, 3), Paris, 2010. Callias Bey, M., Chaussé, V., Gatouillat, F., and Hérold, M., Les vitraux de Haute-Normandie, (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 6), Paris, 2001. Callias Bey, M. and David, V., Les vitraux de Basse-Normandie, (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 8), Rennes, 2006. Coomans, T.S. and Bergmans, A., “L’Église Notre-Dame des Dominicains à Louvain (1251–1276): le mémorial d’Henri III, duc de Brabant, et d’Alix de Bourgogne”, Bulletin monumental 167-2 (2009), 99–125. Cothren, M.W., “The choir windows of Agnières (Somme) and a regional style of Gothic glass painting”, Journal of Glass Studies 28 (1986), 40–65. Cothren, M.W., Picturing the Celestial City: the Medieval Stained Glass of Beauvais Cathedral, Princeton, 2006. Day, L.F., Windows: a Book about Stained and Painted Glass, 3rd ed., London, 1909. Delaporte, Y. and Houvet, E., Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres, histoire et description, 4 vols., Chartres, 1926. De Finance, L., “Les vitraux de la chapelle de Navarre: l’art du vitrail au début de XIVe siècle en l’Ile-de-France,” in A. Erlande-Brandenburg (ed.), Mantes médiévale: la collégiale au coeur de la ville, Paris, 2000, pp. 117–27. 98
Gatouillat, “Les verrières”, pp. 111–13 (bay 23), pp. 130–34 (bays 15, 17, 19). Elsewhere at Evreux the silver-stained quarries are regular and repetitious: ead., “Les verrières”, pp. 117, 119, 122, 125. Quarries appear much longer in English glazing; see the 15th-century examples in Marks, Stained Glass, figs. 14, 15, 43, 73, 80, 82, 154, and pl. IIIa.
De Schryver, A., Vanden Bemden, Y., and Bral, G.J., Gothic Grotesques in Ghent: the Medieval Stained-Glass Fragments found in the Dominican Monastery, Kortrijk, 1991. Didron, E., “Histoire de la peinture sur verre en Europe: vi traux blanc dits ‘incolores’ ”, Annales archéologiques 27 (1870), 188–201. Frodl-Kraft, E., “Das ‘Flechtwerk’ der frühen Zisterzienserfenster: Versuch einer Ableitung”, Wiener Jahrbuch für Kunstgeschichte 20 (1965), 7–26. Gatouillat, F., “Vitreries de type cistercien dans l’Yonne”, in Archéologie, histoire et folklore du nord de l’Yonne (Actes du 56e Congrès de l’Association bourguignonne des Sociétés savants, 1985), Villeneuve-sur-Yonne, 1986, pp. 59–64. Gatouillat, F., “La vitrerie de Notre-Dame de Villeneuve-sur- Yonne au XIIIe siècle”, Études Villeneuviennes 10 (1987), 2–8. Gatouillat, F., “Les verrières de la cathédrale”, in A. Gosse- Kischinewski and F. Gatouillat, La cathédrale d’Évreux, Évreux, 1997, pp. 87–204. Gatouillat, F. and Hérold, M., Les vitraux de Lorraine et d’Alsace, (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 5), Paris, 1994. Gatouillat, F. and Hérold, M., Les vitraux de Bretagne, (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 7), Rennes, 2005. Gatouillat, F. and Hérold, M., Les vitraux d’Auvergne et du Limousin (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 9), Rennes, 2011. Grodecki, L. and Brisac, C., Le vitrail gothique au XIIIe siècle, Fribourg, 1984. Gruber, J.-J., “Quelques aspects de l’art et de la technique du vitrail en France (Dernier tiers du XIIIe siècle, premier tiers du XIVe)”, in Travaux des étudiants du groupe d’histoire de l’art de la faculté des lettres de Paris, Paris, 1928, pp. 71–94. Hayward, J., “Glazed cloisters and their development in the houses of the Cistercian Order”, Gesta 12 (1973), 93–109. Hayward, J., “The choir windows of Saint-Serge and their glazing atelier”, Gesta 15 (1976), 255–64. Hayward, J., with Lillich, M.P. (ed.), “The church of Saint- Urbain at Troyes and its glazing program”, Gesta 37 (1998), 165–77. Hayward, J., with Shepard, M.B. and Clark, C. (eds.), English and French Medieval Stained Glass in the Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (CV USA, 1.1), 2 vols., London, 2003. Klein, B., “Die Kirche von Mussy-sur-Seine –methodische Überlegungen zur französischen Architektur um 1300”, in S. Gasser et. al., Architektur und Monumentalskulptur des 12. –14. Jahrhunderts. Festschrift für Peter Kurmann zum 65. Geburtstag, Bern 2006, pp. 183–205. Kline, N.R., The Stained Glass of the Abbey Church at Orbais (Unpublished PhD, Boston University, 1983). Kurmann, P. and von Winterfeld, F., “Gautier de Varinfroy, ein ‘Denkmalpfleger’ im 13. Jahrhundert”, in L. Grisebach and
French Grisaille Glass K. Renger (eds.), Festschrift für Otto von Simson zum 65. Geburtstag, Berlin, 1977, pp. 101–59. Kurmann-Schwarz, B. and Kurmann, P., Chartres: la cathédrale (Le ciel et la pierre, 5), Saint-Léger-Vauban, 2001. Lafond, J., Pratique de la peinture sur verre à l’usage des curieux, suivie d’un essai historique sur le jaune d’argent et d’une note sur les plus anciens verres gravés, Rouen, 1943. Lafond, J., “Le vitrail en Normandie de 1250 à 1300”, Bulletin monumental 111 (1953), 317–58. Lafond, J., “Le vitrail du XIVe siècle en France: Étude historique et descriptive”, in L. Lefrançois-Pillion (ed.), L’art du XIVe siècle en France, Paris, 1954, pp. 185–238. Lafond, J., “Un vitrail du Mesnil-Villeman (1313) et les origines du jaune d’argent”, Bulletin de la Société nationale des Antiquaires de France (1954), 93–95. Lafond, J., Les vitraux de l’église Saint-Ouen de Rouen (CV France, 4-2), Paris, 1970. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux”, in L’art au temps des rois maudits. Philippe le Bel et ses fils, 1285–1328 (Exhibition catalogue, Grand Palais), Paris, 1998, pp. 377–93. Lautier, C. “Rouen, chapelle de la Vierge de la cathédrale et ses vitraux”, Congrès archéologique de France. Rouen et des Pays de Caux 161 (2003), 173–82. Lautier, C., “Un vitrail parisien à Chartres: la grisaille du cha noine Thierry”, in H. Scholz, I. Rauch, and D. Hess (eds.), Glas, Malerei, Forschung. Internationale Studien zu Ehren von Rüdiger Becksmann, Berlin, 2004, pp. 143–50. Lillich, M.P., “The band window: a theory of origin and development”, Gesta 9-1 (1970), 26–33. Lillich, M.P., “A redating of the thirteenth-century grisaille windows of Chartres Cathedral”, Gesta 11-1 (1972), 11–18. Lillich, M.P., “Three essays on French thirteenth-century grisaille glass”, Journal of Glass Studies 15 (1973), 69–78. Lillich, M.P., The Stained Glass of Saint-Père de Chartres, Middletown, Conn., 1978. Lillich, M.P., “The triforium windows of Tours”, Gesta 19-1 (1980), 29–35. Lillich, M.P., “Monastic stained glass: patronage and style”, in T.G. Verdon (ed.), Monasticism and the Arts, Syracuse, NY, 1984, pp. 207–54. Lillich, M.P., “Gothic glaziers: monks, Jews, taxpayers, Bretons, women”, Journal of Glass Studies 27 (1985), 72–92. Lillich, M.P., “European stained glass around 1300: the introduction of silver stain”, in H. Fillitz and M. Pippal (eds.), Europäische Kunst um 1300 (Transactions of the 25th International Conference of Art History in Vienna), Vienna, 1986, vol. 6, pp. 45–60. Lillich, M.P., Rainbow like an Emerald: Stained Glass in Lorraine in the Thirteenth and Early Fourteenth Centuries, University Park, Penn., 1991. Lillich, M.P., “Heraldry and patronage in the lost windows of Saint-Nicaise de Reims”, in L’Art et les révolutions (Transactions of the 27th International Conference of Art History,
293 Strasbourg), Strasbourg, 1992, vol. 8, pp. 71–102. Because of the great number of typographical errors in this publication, references here are to the reprint (cited below) in Lillich, Studies, pp. 38–61. Lillich, M.P., “Recent scholarship concerning Cistercian windows”, in F.R. Swietek and J.R. Sommerfeldt (eds.), Studiosorum Speculum: Studies in Honor of Louis J. Lekai, O.Cist. (Cistercian Studies Series, 141), Kalamazoo, Mich., 1993, pp. 233–62. Lillich, M.P., The Armor of Light: Stained Glass in Western France, 1250–1325, Berkeley, 1994. Lillich, M.P., “Remembrance of things past: stained glass spolia at Châlons Cathedral”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 59 (1996), 461–97. Lillich, M.P., “More stained glass spolia at Châlons Cathedral”, Cahiers archéologiques 45 (1997), 119–39. Lillich, M.P., “St. Memmie, apostle of Châlons, and other bishop saints in the gothic windows of Châlons Cathedral”, Studies in Iconography 19 (1998), 75–103. Lillich, M.P., The Queen of Sicily and Gothic Stained Glass in Mussy and Tonnerre (Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, 88.3), Philadelphia, 1998. Lillich, M.P., Studies in Medieval Stained Glass and Monasticism, London, 2001. Lillich, M.P., The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims Cathedral, University Park, Penn., 2011. Lillich, M.P., “The so-called Sainte-Chapelle windows of Soissons Cathedral”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 79 (2016), 133–44. Lillich, M.P., “Chronological evidence in the north transept stained glass of Reims Cathedral”, in J.M. Feltman (ed.), The North Transept of Reims Cathedral: Design, Construction, and Visual Programs, London, 2016, pp. 187–203. Lymant, B., “Die Glasmalerei bei den Zisterziensern”, in K. Elm, P. Joerißen, and H.J. Roth (eds.), Die Zisterzienser: Ordensleben zwischen Ideal und Wirklichkeit, Cologne, 1981, pp. 345–56, 537–41, color pls. 16, 17. Marks, R., “Cistercian window glass in England and Wales”, in C. Norton and D. Park (eds.), Cistercian Art and Architecture in the British Isles, Cambridge, 1986, pp. 211–27. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England during the Middle Ages, London, 1993. Meyer-Rodrigues, N., “La vie quotidienne: verrerie”, in L’Art au temps des rois maudits: Philippe le Bel et ses fils, 1285–1328 (Exhibition catalogue, Grand Palais), Paris, 1998, pp. 409–16. Pastan, E.C. and Balcon, S., Les vitraux du choeur de la cathédrale de Troyes (XIIIe siècle) (CV France, 2), Paris, 2006. Plagnieux, P., “Une fondation de la reine Marie de Brabant: la chapelle Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis”, in A. Erlande- Brandenburg (ed.), Mantes médiévale: la collégiale au Coeur de la ville, Paris, 2000, pp. 110–116. Pressouyre, L. and Kinder, T.N., Saint Bernard et le monde ci stercien, Paris, 1992.
294 Lillich Rauch, I., “Das Marienstatter Flechtbandfenster: Bestand und Rekonstruktion”, in D. Fischer et al, Die Klosterkirche Marienstatt, Worms, 1999, pp. 76–84. Reuterswärd, P., The Forgotten Symbols of God (Stockholm Studies in History of Art, 35), Uppsala, 1986. Ritter, G., Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Rouen, XIIIe, XIVe, XVe et XVIe siècles, Cognac, 1926. Royce-Roll, D., “The colors of Romanesque stained glass”, Journal of Glass Studies 35 (1994), 71–80. Royce-Roll, D., “Twelfth-century stained glass technology according to Theophilus and Eraclius”, AVISTA Forum 10/11, no. 1/2 (Fall 1997/Spring 1998), 13–23. Scholz, H., “Glasmalerei der Zisterzienser am Beispiel Marienstatt”, in D. Fischer et al., Die Klosterkirche Marienstatt, Worms, 1999, pp. 85–96. Shepard, M.B., The Thirteenth-Century Stained Glass from the Parisian Abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés (Unpublished PhD, Columbia University, 1990). Vila-Grau, J., “Cistercian stained glass windows at Santes Creus”, in M.P. Lillich (ed.), Studies in Cistercian Art and Architecture (Cistercian Studies Series, 134), Kalamazoo, Mich., 1993, vol. 4, pp. 154–60, 272–79. Viollet-le-Duc, E.E., “Vitrail”, in id., Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle, Paris, 1858, vol. 9, pp. 373–462.
Les vitraux de Bourgogne, Franche-Comté et Rhône-Alpes, (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 3), Paris, 1986. Les vitraux du Centre et des Pays de la Loire, (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 2), Paris, 1981. Les vitraux de Champagne-Ardenne, (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 4), Paris, 1992. Les vitraux de Paris, de la région parisienne, de la Picardie et du Nord-Pas-de-Calais, (CV France, Recensement des vitraux anciens de la France, 1), Paris, 1978. Westlake, N.H.J., A History of Design in Painted Glass, London, vols. 1–2, 1881–82. Zakin, H.J., French Cistercian Grisaille Glass, New York, 1979. Zakin, H.J., “Cistercian glass at La Chalade (Meuse)”, in M.P. Lillich (ed.), Studies in Cistercian Art and Architecture (Cistercian Studies Series 66), Kalamazoo, Mich., 1982, vol. 1, pp. 140–51, figs. 1–10. Zakin, H.J., “Recent restorations of the La Chalade glass”, in B. Chauvin (ed.), Mélanges à la mémoire du Père Anselme Dimier, Pupillin, Arbois, 1982, vol. 6, pp. 767–79. Zakin, H.J., “Grisailles in the Pitcairn Collection”, in M.H. Caviness and T. Husband (eds.), Studies on Medieval Stained Glass (CV United States, Occasional Papers, 1), New York, 1985, pp. 82–92.
c hapter 18
Architecture, Liturgical Space, and Glazed Decoration: the Example of the Upper Windows of Bourges Cathedral Karine Boulanger Rebuilt beginning in 1195,1 the cathedral of Bourges stands out as a unique architectural monument in many respects. The building is wide, with double aisles that continue around the choir to form a double ambulatory with delicate radiating chapels. The building is a pyramidal structure marked by the progressive heights of the side aisles and central vessel. This elevation allows for the presence of three levels of windows2; the lower windows, wide in the outer aisles of straight bays and the outer ambulatory, but narrow in the chapels; and two levels of higher windows, one in the inner aisle and ambulatory, and the other in the central vessel and the hemicycle. One hundred window openings, all meant to hold stained glass, illuminate this building (Figure. 18.1). The construction and decoration of the liturgical choir were completed quickly. In 1206, the lower church was finished, and in 1214 the lower levels of the choir were in use and the windows certainly glazed. It is estimated that perhaps as early as 1218, when the relics of the archbishop saint William of Donjon were installed in the apse, or by 1225 at the latest, the upper walls and vaults were completed and the whole of the sanctuary was opened for the offices. The nave was begun a little later, but it dates no later than the middle of the 13th century.3 From the long glazing campaign that extended over several decades, the cathedral retains a large portion of its upper windows and more than half of those of the intermediate level; in the lower story, it preserves the windows in the choir.4 Such a building, still in possession of a major part of its original decor, gives rise to a number of questions. The exceptional character of the architecture of Bourges has frequently been underscored, but there has been little focus on the relationship between the architecture 1 In 1195, Archbishop Henri de Sully allocated 500 livres to the cathedral, a text generally interpreted as signaling the beginning of its reconstruction: Brugger and Christe, Bourges, p. 54. 2 There are four levels in the choir, counting the windows in the lowest level or crypt, though nothing is known of the glazing there, which perhaps disappeared following the fire of 1559: Marguerye, “Le grand incendie”, p. 197. 3 Among the essential studies are: Brugger and Christe, Bourges; Ribault, Un chef d’œuvre gothique; Branner, La cathédrale de Bourges. 4 Les vitraux du Centre, pp. 168–85; Boulanger, “Les vitraux du XIIIe siècle”.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 23
and its glazed decoration. Too often, the windows have been considered in a fragmentary way, rather than in their totality; most studies have focused on the narrative windows, while far fewer have looked at the tall figures depicted in the upper windows.5 The presence of ornamental windows in the nave has generally been met with indifference.6 However, a reading of the ensemble of these 13th-century windows should lead us to consider the meaning of the decor of the monument as a whole, in light of its history and its liturgical organization. Such a study allows us to note particular details, to discern the logic of the choice of subject matter and the placement of certain works, and to read its overall iconographic and aesthetic program.7 Even more, such an enlarged perspective allows us to pose the fundamental question of the relationship between the conception of the architecture and its interior decoration. 1
A Rapidly Moving Building Workshop
The rapidity of the construction, notably in the choir where the dates are well established, required the glass painters to work quickly. Following Louis Grodecki’s foundational work, art historians have recognized three principle workshops in the lower windows, which have been named after the windows that best characterize their respective styles. They include the workshops of the New Covenant (bay 3), the Good Samaritan (bay 13), and the Invention of the Relics of St. Stephen (bay 15) (Figure 18.2).8 Recent conservation has allowed close study of the upper windows, where the intervention of 5 Its first interpreters Martin and Cahier, Monographie, conducted their reading one window at a time. It was not until Velhagen, Ammoniciones lucis, that a global analysis of the lower windows was undertaken. 6 On the fragments now in the United States, see: Lillich, “Three essays”, pp. 69–73; ead., “The Corning Museum”; Hayward, Shepard, and Clark “Six panels”. 7 The notion of an iconographic program is generally accepted, but only for the lower windows of the choir. Brugger and Christe, Bourges, pp. 349–71 refute this hypothesis. 8 Grodecki, “A stained glass atelier”; id., “Le ‘Maître du Bon Samaritain’ ”. Bays 3, 4, 7, 9, and 11 are attributed to the workshop
296 Boulanger the New Covenant workshop is evident, as well as a new arrival, the Master of the Inner Ambulatory, whose activity is the more dominant here.9 While collaboration among several workshops in the same windows appears to be rare in the lower windows of the cathedral, this method of working became the rule in the upper story.10 Facilitated by the decision to represent large-scale figures, the recourse to repeated use of cartoons from one window to another, sometimes on both levels, is frequent. This method of working consisted of executing scenes or figures according to the same model and at the same scale; thus, elements could be traced from a single cartoon. This process had been used for a long time, as is attested by the Crucifixion window at Poitiers, c.1165, in which the two angels were created by reusing the same cartoon in reverse (see Figure 3.4).11 The cartoons, which were traced in the Middle Ages on cloth –a material that was cheaper than parchment, durable, and easily stored –provided the lead lines and sometimes the main paint lines as well. At Bourges, in the upper windows of the choir, the variations in the colors of the clothing, the changes of attributes, the reversal of the cartoon, and the replacement of one head with another was sufficient to suggest a certain diversity and to break up the monotony of these hieratical processions (Figure 18.3). Ornament, such as the borders and architectural canopies, derived from a limited repertory of models, sometimes was repeated identically without any change of color from one lancet to the next. Examination of this work allows us to discern certain anomalies that have recently brought additional information to bear on our understanding of the conditions of its creation; for example, the vestiges of faint preparatory drawing lines on the back of the face of St. James the Greater (bay 206). This shows that the head was created by reversing the cartoon, which suggests that this one cartoon was used at least twice. However, this head is unique at Bourges and finds no counterpart there; the cartoon must certainly have been made for another building, then reused for the upper windows of the cathedral. Similarly, traces of enlargement at the apex of the lancet in several windows –those representing
9 10
11
of the New Covenant; bays 13, 6, 10, 14, 17, and 19 to the workshop of the Good Samaritan; and bays 15, 5, 8, 12, 16, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, and 24 to the Relics of St. Stephen workshop. He then worked at Angers: Boulanger, “Les vitraux des parties hautes”. Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés” studied the collaboration among glass painters throughout a single monument; and see Lautier, Ch. 4 in this volume. Hérold, “ ‘Cartons’ et pratiques d’atelier”; Caviness, “Tucks and darts”; Crozet, “Le vitrail de la Crucifixion”. For more on this window, see Granboulan, Ch. 3 in this volume.
David, John the Baptist, and Sts. Peter, Paul, and Zachariah, in bays 201, 202, and 213 –might represent an error in the initial measurement of dimensions,12 or could again represent the reuse of an older cartoon meant for an opening of a different size, that is, for another church. Of the three workshops identified in the glass of the lower level, that of the Master of the New Covenant continued to work on the upper windows. His collaboration with the Master of the Inner Ambulatory must have led him to share his cartoons with his colleague; each had to adapt his style to models whose structure bore little relationship to what he had been accustomed to drawing. Several figures in the upper story of the choir bear the traces of hesitation on the part of the painters, notably in the execution of drapery. In effect, the Master of the New Covenant, whose style could be described as somewhat classicizing –with flowing fabric falling in well-ordered, parallel folds –found himself confronted with cartoons drawn by the Master of the Inner Ambulatory, in which the lead lines denoted, on the other hand, voluminous draperies with a complex trace line, where a thick wash was designed to accentuate the shadows and volumes of the troughs and folds. The Master of the Inner Ambulatory, for his part, must have felt constrained by the cartoons of the New Covenant Master, as in his execution of the drapery of a bishop saint in bay 214. Sometimes, certain figures present the peculiarity of a body designed by one painter and the head by the other, such as St. Thaddeus, in bay 210. The rapidity and cooperative character of the work of the glass painters are attested by the dispersion of repeated cartoons and models among all the windows of the upper choir, at both levels. The quality of the work preserved at Bourges does not mean that the compositions were unique, since the cartoons and models could have been carried from one building to another, in accordance with the practice of the workshops.13 Several factors tend to indicate that some of the stained glass of the upper windows of the cathedral represent a sort of “second edition”, and that the glass painters reused cartoons created for another building: certainly a large one, given the scale of the representations. Despite the richness of patrimony preserved, a great deal of stained glass has disappeared, so prudence is called for in judging the character of the ensemble as unique or exceptional. The reuse of cartoons, however, does not necessarily indicate an identical repetition of an iconographic program. In the case of tall clerestory figures, in fact, it is the attributes and the 12 13
An obvious error is visible in the inner ambulatory (bay 105), where a glass painter added an extra border. Caviness, “Tucks and darts”; ead., Sumptuous Arts, pp. 99–102.
Architecture, Liturgical Space, and Glazed Decoration
inscriptions that confer their identity; it is sufficient to modify these to adapt the figures to a new context. 2 The Iconographic Program, Architecture, and Liturgical Space Stained glass is conceived for insertion into an architectural structure where it acts as a translucent enclosure. This enclosure acquires meaning, to the extent that it holds representations of figures or stories. Louis Grodecki argued for the interdependence of glass and Gothic architecture; he observed a progressive disappearance of the wall in favor of a glazed enclosure, but one so saturated with color that, paradoxically, the building’s interior did not seem to become lighter. This point must be nuanced in light of the fact that Grodecki was looking at works that had already been darkened by centuries of corrosion. His assertion remains relevant, however, and medieval buildings that received new stained glass in the 19th century and that have been altered very little since, bear witness to the fact that stained glass contributes to the darkening of the interior. At the same time, this effect depends not only on the windows’ openings and their glass, but also on the treatment of the wall surfaces. Recent research on architectural polychromy illustrates the extent to which it too participated in the balance of light in buildings; the restorations of mural decoration at Tours and at Chartres show how much the brightness of the wall serves as a foil for the windows. The desire to provide the greatest possible space for glazed decoration is perhaps, as Grodecki asserted, the root of the continuing development of the window.14 This vitreous decor then was among the first preoccupations of the patrons and the architect, and should count among the constraints to be respected in the design of the building, of equal importance to the liturgy.15 The iconographic and aesthetic qualities of the glazing of Bourges were, judging by all the evidence, worked out, at least in their general principles, from the very first planning stages of the workshop. The iconography of the cathedral is complex and supposes a movement back and forth from one bay to another to reach a deep 14
Grodecki, “Le vitrail et l’architecture”, taken up in Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique, pp. 13–22. Kurmann-Schwarz, “Zum Verhältnis von Glasmalerei und Architektur”, pp. 151– 56 offers a critical rereading of Grodecki on polychromy, esp. pp. 158–60; ead., “La pierre peinte et le verre coloré”. Lautier, “Restaurations récentes”, pp. 7– 8; ead., “La polychromie”; Calvel, “La restauration du décor”; Saint-Jouan, “Tours”. 15 Kurmann- Schwarz, “Zum Verhältnis von Glasmalerei und Architektur”, p. 153; Schiffhauer, “Die Kompositverglasungen”, p. 200.
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understanding of its themes and to explore its nuances.16 This ensemble, so quickly realized, must have been well planned from the start; this required conceiving the theological discourse, translating it into images, organizing these among the window openings of the new building, bringing together teams of glass painters, and ordering the necessary materials. The placement of subjects also had to be considered in light of the liturgy, with regard to the placement and dedication of altars, and the enclosure of different spaces. It is true that we do not know very much about these arrangements at Bourges in the Middle Ages, but the works of art and certain texts nonetheless help us to understand the liturgical organization of the building.17 The imagery in the stained glass, finally, is remarkably structured, determined by the architecture –that is, by the different levels of windows and the size of the openings –but it reflects equally the arrangement of liturgical space.18 Narrative is arrayed in the lower part of the choir. The themes of the Incarnation, Redemption, several parables, and the story of the invention of the relics of the patron saint of the building, find a place of honor in the wide windows of the ambulatory, where the subjects and images correspond, from one window to the next, to a program conceived around the question of Salvation, and marked by Pauline thought.19 The stained-glass windows appear as one moved through the space, progressing from one bay to the next; the choir clôture that wrapped around the apse effectively prevented a view of the ambulatory program all at once. The windows of the semicircular chapels are reserved for hagiographic narratives. The narrow window openings forced the designers of the program and the glass painters to abandon the use of borders in order to leave enough room for the scenes to be represented.20 16
The notion of an iconographic program does not imply a single interpretation of its works of art; on the contrary, several guiding themes could reside within a decorative program: Pastoureau, “Programme”. 17 Ribault, “Le jubé”; Joubert, Le jubé, pp. 24–26. The publications of Girardot are foundational, but the author does not cite his sources. 18 On the valence of a particular space within a building: Kurmann- Schwarz, “Leuchtende Bilder”; Sauerländer, “Observations sur la topographie”. 19 The first study of the bays of the ambulatory was undertaken by Martin and Cahier, Monographie, but note that their illustrations are reconstitutions of the windows, and do not accurately represent their state of preservation. See instead Velhagen, “Vitrea bellorum Domini”; and above all, id., Ammoniciones lucis; as well as Schneider, “Organisation iconographique”. 20 Four stained-glass windows have these borders (bays 9, 10, 11, 19), but two are “rentrées”: they virtually disappear between the figural medallions (bays 9, 19).
298 Boulanger The windows of the axial chapel, dedicated to the Virgin, were replaced in the 16th century, but it is possible that the current themes of the Infancy of Christ, and of the Life and Death of the Virgin up to the Assumption, reproduce those of the 13th century. As in other buildings, there is a correspondence between the dedications of the chapels and the subjects of their windows.21 The chapel of St. Nicholas on the north side, includes the story of the Bishop of Myra (bay 19), flanked by the lives of Mary Magdalene and St. Mary of Egypt (bays 17, 21). In the chapel of St. Stephen, on the south side, are the stories of the three deacon martyrs, St. Stephen (bay 10), and St. Lawrence and St. Vincent (bays 8, 12), who are placed either side of Stephen. In the adjacent chapel are the stories of St. John the Baptist (bay 20), Saint James the Greater, and his brother, St. John the Evangelist (bays 18, 22). This window also includes the Holy Kinship, an iconographic theme that can be understood in relation to the dedication of this space to the Virgin.22 The restricted spaces of the chapels contrast with the openness of the ambulatory, since one cannot see the ensemble of three chapel windows except when standing directly in front of the altar. This particular architectural arrangement reinforces the impression of enclosed space and is in keeping with the liturgical function of the chapels, separated as they are from the ambulatory.23 The lower story of the choir, then, is characterized by a dizzying profusion of images, but again organized in spaces that are discrete from one another (Figure. 18.4). The upper stories, on the other hand, represent a change in concept, and incorporate large-scale figures identified by inscriptions (Figure 18.5).24 The decision to abandon narrative is perhaps due to the lengthening of the window openings, making it more difficult to read the images. In any case, it is not a new solution since it had been used since the last third of the 12th century,
with the upper windows of Saint-Remi of Reims being the oldest remaining example known in France.25 The two levels of upper windows at Bourges Cathedral allow us to understand visually the hierarchy of the procession of saints chosen by the patrons, who placed first at the middle level of the inner ambulatory the bishop saints of Bourges around the figure of Christ of the Last Judgement, the Virgin and Child (bay 100), and St. Stephen and St. Lawrence (bays 102, 101).26 In the place of honor near the axial window, they positioned St. Ursinus, the missionary of Berry (bay 101), and St. William, who was canonized in 1218 (bay 102). William of Donjon had presided over the fate of the diocese and overseen the reconstruction of the cathedral of Bourges from 1200 to 1209; he died after having caught a cold in the unfinished cathedral.27 The determination of the canons facilitated a quick canonization, and it is certainly around 1218, while the upper stories were under construction, that the program was slightly altered to include this prelate, the latest representative of the ancient history of the diocese. The place accorded to St. William should be understood not only in the strict context of the glazing program within the intermediate rank of windows, but also within the overall arrangement of the choir. The placement of this window allowed the image of the saint to be placed directly in relation to the châsse containing his relics, installed after 1218 at the base of the apse behind the high altar and the altar of St. William.28 At the feet of St. William, his great-grand-niece is depicted holding a stained-glass window (bay 102; and see Figure 15.10). She is the only private donor pictured in the 13th-century windows.29 The Countess of Nevers, Mathilda of Courtenay, paid for this work as her image attests; Robert de Courtenay, William’s grand-nephew, also made a donation for the burning of a candle before his tomb.30 Liturgical order and family memory complement one another here. Another witness to the correspondence between image and liturgical space, the representation of St. Ursinus (bay 101), is located almost directly above the reli 21 Caviness, “Stained glass window”; Lautier, “Reliques et quary cabinet which was placed in the sanctuary against images”; Boulanger, “Les vitraux anciens”; ead., “Clermont- the north side of the choir clôture wall.31 St. Ursinus, Ferrand”. The chapel dedications at Bourges are known thanks who legend associates with Christ’s disciple Nathaniel, is to Thaumas de la Thaumassière, Histoire de Berry (1689), p. 110, without one being able to know for certain that he provides their medieval names. However, the accord between the subjects of the windows and many of the names Thaumas gives, argues in favor of the hypothesis that they are medieval. 22 Boulanger, “Découverte”. 23 Branner thought that the chapels were added in the course of construction during the building of the ambulatory, a much- debated proposition. Two four-sided chapels accompany the rest; one was entirely rebuilt in the 15th century and the other is very reworked: Branner, La cathédrale de Bourges, pp. 38–40. 24 Haselhorst, Die hochgotischen Glasfenster, pp. 1–75; Velhagen, Ammoniciones lucis, pp. 180–83.
25 Caviness, Sumptuous Arts, pp. 36–64, esp. 55–62. 26 The series is incomplete because many of the personages of the intermediate level were destroyed during the 18th century: Romelot, Description historique, p. 88. 27 Brugger and Christe, Bourges, pp. 55–57. 28 Girardot and Lassus, “Les anciens autels”; Boulanger, “Les vitraux des parties hautes”; Kurmann-Schwarz, “Leuchtende Bilder”. 29 See discussion in Hediger, Ch. 15 in this volume. 30 Brugger and Christe, Bourges, p. 57; Brugger, La façade, p. 22. 31 Girardot, “Histoire et inventaire”, pp. 208–09.
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supposed to have given the cathedral its principle relic, the blood of St. Stephen, which was exposed on the high altar on major feast days.32 Echoing the representation of St. Ursinus, directly below and close to the treasury, is the window with the Invention of the Relics of St. Stephen (bay 15). In reality, the arrival of the relic is only recorded in a late text, that of an 11th-century vita, the redaction of which held crucial import for the cathedral.33 In the Middle Ages, the supremacy of Bourges at the heart of the ecclesiastical province was challenged by the bishops of Clermont-Ferrand and Limoges, leading the clergy of Berry to defend the association of St. Ursinus with Nathaniel, and stating explicitly that he was the first disciple of Christ, in an attempt to cut short the claims of the other dioceses.34 Further, the clergy of the Collégiale Saint-Ursin, where the saint was buried, and where several archbishops were themselves interred –and which was joined in confraternity with the chapter of the cathedral of Saint-Étienne of Bourges –played an important role in the advent of a new archbishop. They accompanied the prelate from the abbey of Saint-Sulpice, where he spent the night and celebrated a solemn mass, to the doors of the cathedral; they presented him with relics and the Gospels, on which he pronounced vows.35 St. Ursinus surely belonged in the place he held in the window near the central axis, as the first archbishop, but the emphasis on him was no doubt also a refutation of the pretensions of the suffragan bishops and a reminder of his importance in the region. Not all the images of archbishops bear names; the presence of inscriptions signals the importance of certain figures. Among the prelates whose images are preserved, aside from Sts. Ursinus and William, only Sts. Austrégésile and Sulpicius Severus are identified. They are not part of the chronological succession, but are placed in the bay next to St. Ursinus.36 It is possible that their position and the emphasis on their identification are tied to their veneration; châsses containing their relics, kept in the reliquary cabinet in the choir, were 32 33 34
35
36
Girardot, “Histoire et inventaire”, p. 209. Le Luel, “Etude des vies de saint Ursin”, p. 25. Acta sanctorum, Novembris, vol. 4, p. 111. Le Luel, “Etude des vies de saint Ursin”, p. 32. The clergy of Clermont and Limoges invoked the anteriority of their “apostles”, saints Austremoine and Martial. Julerot, “La première entrée”, pp. 640–43. The role of the clergy of Saint-Ursin became apparent in 1581, but this custom probably dates earlier: Rebrioux, “Le joyeux avènement”, p. 122; Jongleux, Archives, vol. 1, pp. 120–22; Thaumas de la Thaumassière, Histoire de Berry, pp. 114–15. Sulpicius Severus (inscription attested in Martin and Cahier, Monographie, pl. xviii) is before Austrégésile (Ingrand- Varenne et al., Corpus des inscriptions, pp. 68–69).
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placed on the high altar for their feast days.37 Finally, one could perhaps associate the three figures at the center of the inner ambulatory, that is, the Virgin flanked by Sts. Lawrence and Stephen (bays 100, 101, and 102), with the reliquary of the Holy Innocents which was on the high altar. The châsse had scenes of the Infancy of Christ on the front panel, the Annunciation –which is also represented at the feet of the Virgin in the window –on the back, and the martyrdoms of saints Stephen and Lawrence on the ends.38 The placement of decorative work should be understood as part of a complex ensemble in which decorative elements, altars, and reliquaries each play a part. In this regard, the comparison with other ensembles such as that of Chartres, but also Châlons-en-Champagne, Angers, or the abbey church of La Trinité in Vendôme, shows the importance of the connections between: fixed ornament, including wall painting and stained glass; the topography of the monument; the liturgy; and the placement of reliquaries.39 In the upper windows of the central vessel, which are larger than those that preceded it, and above the local saints who attest to the importance of the Church of Bourges, is the procession of prophets and apostles, surrounding the figures of the Virgin and Child and of St. Stephen holding a model of a church (bay 200). This might symbolize Ecclesia, the community of believers, as much as the cathedral dedicated to St. Stephen.40 The figures are carefully arranged. On the north are the prophets leading up to St. John the Baptist, who holds a scroll with the inscription “ECCE AGNUS DEI” and points to the child (bay 201). The inscription is important because this is the only one that is found on the scrolls held by the prophets. It evokes the Redemption and recalls that Christ, the new sacrificial lamb, inaugurates the New Covenant.41 This theme was also illustrated in one of the stained-glass windows of the ambulatory (bay 3), near the central axis, directly below the image of St. John the Baptist in the clerestory. The presence of David, next to John the Baptist and near the Virgin and Child, inserts into the theme of Salvation and the New Covenant the idea of Christ as the “Son of David”.42 On the 37 38
Girardot, “Histoire et inventaire”, pp. 212–13. The reliquary is mentioned in 1537: Girardot, “Histoire et inventaire”, p. 210. 39 Lautier, “Reliques et images”; ead., “The canons of Chartres”, pp. 114–18; Ravaud, “Les vitraux de l’abside”; Lillich, “Saint Memmie”; Subes, “La vie de saint Maurille”, pp. 50– 53; Boulanger, “Les vitraux de la Trinité”; Isnard, “La Sainte Larme”. 40 Velhagen, Ammoniciones lucis, vol. 1, p. 181. 41 Favreau, “L’apport des inscriptions”. 42 Matt. 21.1-11 and 22.41–46; Mark 12.35–37 and the words addressed to Nathan (2 Sam. 7.5–16 and 1 Chron. 17.4-14).
300 Boulanger south side are the apostles and evangelists, beginning with the pillars of the Church, St. Peter accompanied by St. Paul, closest to the axial bay (bay 202). Often associated with the apostles, St. Paul holds particular value here since the iconographic program of the ambulatory owes a great deal to his writings.43 After these follow their companions, terminating, at the western end of the liturgical choir, with three persons who are strangers to the group, Cleophas, Silas, and a bishop saint (bay 214). Cleophas might be one of the disciples who met the resurrected Christ at Emmaus; Silas was a companion of St. Paul, like Barnabus, who was also included in the assembly (bay 210). The last saint has lost his inscription; he might be St. Timothy, Bishop of Ephesus, another disciple of St. Paul.44 The use of monumental figures in the clerestory to celebrate the antiquity of the diocese and to place local saints near the figures of prophets and apostles, is not unusual. At Reims Cathedral, the iconographic program of the upper windows of the choir, in its initial conception, utilized a similar principle, but placed the figures one above the other in the same windows, since the building has only one upper range of windows. Following a major reconstruction, most likely in the 1230s, the same principle was rendered in a different manner than that of Bourges, as Reims replaced the local saints with images of the suffragan bishops next to representations of their respective cathedrals. The bishops, in hierarchical order, stand beneath the feet of the apostles, clearly placing the Church of Reims at the feet of the universal Church.45 At Troyes, the glazed triforium presented prophets and Old Testament figures, apostles, and local saints at the same level of the elevation.46
43 44 45
46 47
The coming of Christ and the first Covenant is evoked to the right of David and John the Baptist by the presence of Isaiah and Moses (bay 203). This is the main argument of Velhagen, Ammoniciones lucis. Boulanger, “Les vitraux des parties hautes”. Balcon-Berry, “Les vitraux du Moyen Âge”; Lillich, Gothic Stained Glass; Sauerländer, “Observations sur la topographie”, pp. 470–79. Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du chœur, pp. 258–62. On the notions of the local Church and the universal Church at Bourges and Reims: Kurmann-Schwarz, “Leuchtende Bilder”. The logic within the upper windows of Le Mans remains the same: Les vitraux du Centre, pp. 241–59, and Mussat, La cathédrale du Mans, pp. 103–25 (contribution by C. Brisac). At Clermont-Ferrand, the local clergy, absent from the upper windows, are honored in two chapels: Boulanger, “Les vitraux anciens”; ead., “Clermont-Ferrand”. At Tours, the archbishops are represented, without being named, in a bay in the upper choir: Schiffhauer, “Die Kompositverglasungen”. Callias Bey and David, Les vitraux de Basse-Normandie, pp. 73–78, 221–30.
In many ways, the program developed in the upper stories of Bourges –as at Reims, but also at Troyes, Auxerre, Le Mans, Bayeux, Sées, as well as at Clermont- Ferrand and Tours –is a sort of archetype for the glazed decoration of a cathedral. The local Church is exalted by the emphasis on its own sainted prelates, and is itself placed at the heart of the universal Church by representing its greatest figures.47 The canons of Bourges relied on a particular architectural arrangement in order to display a rigorous visual and iconographic scheme, grouping narrative scenes at the lower level, in the windows closest to viewers, in a program probably devised by clerics with a solid scriptural culture, judging by its complexity.48 The disposition of these windows made the smallest details legible. The upper bays, on the other hand, visible from the center of the sanctuary, and even from the nave in the case of the axial windows, held figures of saints, prophets, and apostles accompanied by inscriptions large enough to allow their identification from a distance,49 and divided them into several hierarchical groups by making use of two separate levels of openings. The combination of narratives in the lower story and large figures in the upper windows is not specific to Bourges. At Clermont-Ferrand, for example, a similar arrangement is found using just one level of clerestory windows. This decorative scheme brings together a similar idea with an apostolic college in the apse, along with prophets and patriarchs. The axial window is occupied by the Assumption, referencing the dedication of the church. The lower level is essentially reserved for hagiographic subjects.50 At Auxerre, the representatives of the local Church, along with apostles and prophets, take their place around Christ.51 Buildings with two or three levels of windows allow a variety of modes of representation, but in buildings that do not follow the classic or Rayonnant Gothic model and have only one level of window openings, such as the Plantagenet churches of western France, the narrative often unfolds in the upper windows. At Angers and Poitiers, all of the windows with 12th-and 13th-century glass display narratives; at Angers, they represent the lives of saints, while Poitiers contains a more elaborate program that ties together Old and New Testament stories with parables. However, the number of scenes is limited in order 48
49 50 51
One does not know how the ambulatory of the building functioned, but presumably it would have been open to the faithful on certain feasts. The inscriptions are also legible from the ground floor of the sanctuary and the ambulatory. Boulanger, “Les vitraux anciens”; ead., “Clermont-Ferrand”. Balcon-Berry, “Les vitraux du haut-chœur”.
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to make them legible from below. At Poitiers, only the axial window breaks the narrative aspect of the other stained-glass windows with a unified composition centered on a monumental Crucifixion scene.52 At the same time, it is important to avoid overly reductive conclusions, since it is not always the case that buildings with multiple stories of windows reserved the upper bays, distant from the spectator, for large- scale figures. At Tours, where the lower windows of the choir were probably furnished with narrative windows around 1230–35, the patrons continued the same scheme in the large upper windows, around the 1260s, multiplying the narrative scenes, whose scale does not always allow them to be identified from the ground.53 In such a monument, as in the Sainte-Chapelle, in which glazing appears to replace the opaque wall and narrative episodes are multiplied, one might ask, in the face of this development, whether the idea of “reading” the windows scene by scene is still the goal. At this distance, at this scale, it is difficult to decipher them.54 At Tours, by all appearances, the decoration of the upper choir was not designed to be literally “read”; the architecture reinforces this impression, as its narrow apse and great height preclude any clear viewpoint from which to see the windows. Even if large figures do appear in the triforium, with an apostolic college around the Virgin and Child, in the upper story the only interruption of the narrative occurs in the windows of the canons of Loches and the archbishops of Tours, which introduce a procession of clerics and prelates above the altar, and may in fact represent the first appearance of the so-called “band window”, combining grisaille and fully colored panels.55 At Troyes, the overall composition is similar to that of Tours, while Sens preserves historiated windows in the upper levels of the choir, as well as below.56 Chartres Cathedral, on the other hand, where all of the lower windows are reserved for narratives, presents in its upper windows a program in which large figures often stand above one or two narrative scenes. Thus, the idea 52 Boulanger, Les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Angers, esp. pp. 200– 02, 219– 24. Grinnell, “Iconography and philosophy”; Granboulan, “Le vitrail au XIIe siècle”; Boulanger, “Les vitraux: au fil du chantier”. 53 Andrault-Schmitt, La cathédrale de Tours. Choir regulations from 1237 suggest that it was in service and that the lower parts of the building had thus been completed. Without taking dating into account: Les vitraux du Centre, pp. 120–32; Papanicolaou, Stained Glass Windows. 54 Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique, pp. 22–24. 55 Schiffhauer, “Die Kompositverglasungen”. 56 Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du chœur, pp. 197–259; Brousse, Pernuit, and Perrot, Les vitraux, pp. 43–105, 208–09; Les vitraux de Bourgogne, pp. 111–27.
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of narrative is preserved by introducing hagiographic stories reduced to a few episodes, so that their scale makes them visible from the ground.57 3 The Introduction of Grisaille and the Separation of the Liturgical Choir from the Nave The decorative program of Bourges Cathedral added visual definition to the liturgical space. In the radiating chapels, the armatures and the compositions of narrative medallions were simplified in contrast with the complex and elaborate stained-glass windows of the ambulatory, already creating a deliberate visual rupture. This organizational distinction was due in part to technical considerations, as the semicircular chapels are so small that the horizontal iron bars of the window armatures had to be curved rather than straight. But it is in the upper windows that aesthetic choices seem to be determined more by the organization of the space for the offices. The absence of a transept is one of the peculiarities of the architecture of the cathedral. The great vessel of the interior space moves from the facade to the apse uninterrupted. The desire to open and illuminate the vast interior volume as much as possible is underlined by small rosettes that pierce the cells of the upper vaults in the apse, alleviating the weight of the stone and allowing the light to filter from one bay to the next. Despite its two distinct phases of construction, the architecture is remarkably homogeneous. Nonetheless, archaeological study of the building’s construction makes evident the change in campaigns that has been called, since its study by Robert Branner, the “Branner break”.58 It is found in the eighth bay and is betrayed by changes in the construction of the piers and the flying buttresses, in the design of the windows and the triforium openings, and by the abandonment of the metal chain that runs through the triforium.59 These technical changes support the hypothesis of an interruption of the work of one construction team and resumption by a second architect, who was respectful of the existing building’s design. The break falls at the end of the liturgical choir, marked in the Middle Ages by a choir screen. The latter was probably built before 1237 and comprised nine trilobed arcades across its facade; these were flanked by two large arches where altars stood in front of the pier 57 Les vitraux du Centre, pp. 36–44. 58 Branner, La cathédrale de Bourges, pp. 63–68; Christe and Brugger, “La cathédrale de Bourges”. 59 Ferrauge and Mignerey, “L’utilisation du fer”; L’Héritier, “Les armatures”.
302 Boulanger supports. All of this supported a tribune with sculpted scenes of the Passion and the Resurrection. A door gave access from the nave to the sanctuary, which was otherwise enclosed by a clôture wall. Whether this was ornamented is unknown.60 At this point in the building, the stained glass in the upper stories also changed.61 Where the lancets of the upper windows held figures and ornamental glass in the rosettes above, the design was inverted starting at the level of the choir screen that separated the liturgical choir from the nave. The two rows of upper windows in the nave held decorative grisaille glass with borders and sometimes filets of colored glass, with individual figures or narrative scenes at the top (Fig. 18.6). Several more recent windows in the western bays of the nave, at the level of the inner aisle (bays 122, 124, 126), introduce tracery lights of colored glass integrated with a decorative composition in grisaille. The subjects of the rosettes, small in scale and placed at such a height, become nearly illegible, while, on the other hand, the individual figures of the inner aisle are easily distinguished. It is difficult to discern the iconographic program designed by the canons in this part of the building, especially since the stained glass has been seriously modified over time. All the same, three rosettes on the south side of the upper nave, in the sixth, seventh, and eighth bays, represent the Annunciation and the Coronation, flanking St. Andrew and Samuel, respectively the first apostle and the prophet who foretold the coming of Christ (bays 216, 218, 220). This small Marian cycle is located almost directly above the altar of Notre-Dame-la-Gisante, which was placed against the south arcade of the choir screen. The pairing of apostles with Old Testament figures follows with St. Bartholomew walking toward the choir, introduced by Christ, followed by St. John in dialogue with Jacob, who is listed among the ancestors of Christ by both Luke and Matthew (bays 222, 224). The roses of the western bays have been heavily restored, but represented among them is probably St. Joseph (bay 226), which would confirm the Marian connotation of the upper windows on the south side. The roses on the north side are dedicated to deacon, bishop, and archbishop saints Stephen, Vincent, Brice, Martin, and Nicholas (bays 215, 217, 223).62 The choice of subject matter 60 Joubert, Le jubé, pp. 19–29, 31–49, dates the sculpture 1240– 50, but Ribault shows that the jubé was already mentioned in 1237: Ribault, “Le jubé”; Joubert, La sculpture gothique, p. 154. 61 The majority of the lower bays in the nave were destroyed in order to construct chapels. The only ones that remain are those from the sixth bay (bays 33, 36), but with only a stained- glass border (bay 36). 62 Ingrand-Varenne et al., Corpus des inscriptions, p. 87.
in the intermediate level seems more logical, since one can read, on the north and the south, a procession of kings playing musical instruments or holding vials (bays 117, 120, 121, 122, 123); these are the crowned elders of the Apocalypse.63 The tympana of the windows of the inner aisle present the logical progression of the Last Judgement, shown in the axial window at the same level (bay 100). In this window, the composition of the crowned Virgin and Child surmounting the Annunciation and accompanying Christ as Judge in the adjacent lancet, symbolize the time sub gratia.64 Thus, if the entire choir is situated sub gratia, the nave is placed in pace, following the Judgement.65 The link between the stained-glass windows in the axis of the intermediate story of the choir and those of the nave, argue in favor of an interpretation of an overarching iconographic program. Lacking a satisfactory explanation for the program of the upper windows of the nave, it is best to focus on the aesthetic choices worked out by the patrons. Such an arrangement, that is, the almost complete abandonment of color and figural imagery in favor of grisaille, cannot be explained by economic considerations, whether of time or money, nor by the desire to be more “modern”. Archival documents show that the cost of grisailles was not negligible.66 Recent studies of several glazed ensembles indicate that this type of stained glass had played an important role in architectural decoration for a long time; it modulated the light, whether planned from the beginning –as in the lower parts of the choirs of Troyes and Coutances, or the clerestory of Auxerre for example –or whether it replaced windows of full color when the light levels of a building were changed by new construction.67 In the nave of Bourges, where the structure must have been completed and which was in use at the 63 Christe, L’Apocalypse, pp. 135–37. Some of the panels were remade in the 19th and 20th centuries, without one knowing whether these were based on older vestiges of the glazing. Others are very fragmentary. 64 Velhagen, Ammoniciones lucis, pp. 181–82. 65 The division of time into ante legem, sub lege, sub gratia and in pace goes back to St. Augustine (in his commentary on Romans 3.19–20), Expositio quarumdem propositionum ex epistola ad Romanos, PL 34, col. 2065. 66 See the chapter on grisailles by Meredith Lillich, Ch. 17 in this volume. 67 Pastan and Balcon, Les vitraux du chœur, pp. 133–42; Balcon- Berry, “Les vitraux du haut-chœur”. At Chartres Cathedral, after the construction of the sacristy on the northern side of the choir in 1260–70, the colored stained-glass windows were replaced with grisailles, but they preserved the panel of the martyrdom of St. Lawrence and the roses: Kurmann and Kurmann-Schwarz, Chartres, p. 424.
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time of the death of Archbishop Simon de Sully in 1232,68 the canons decided to mark this place visually as distinct from the choir. Here, the use of grisaille marked the ornament as well as the space. While narrative glazing may have continued to occupy the single windows of the ground level, the colorless stained-glass windows of the upper nave faded from view but assured maximum interior light. The colored panels of the roses and oculi assert themselves with difficulty when the eye of the viewer is drawn to the most important part of the cathedral, its sanctuary resplendent with color. This arrangement, based on a radical contrast, is echoed in other foundations where full color was reserved for the most important parts of the building: the apse at Châlons-en-Champagne or the axial windows of Sens, for example. In other cases, grisaille windows provided a greater luminosity for a sacred space, such as the high altar of Tours, illuminated by a bay ornamented with band windows, or that of Reims, surrounded by the colorless glass of the transept.69 The choir of Bourges was a veritable Celestial Jerusalem offered to the eyes of the canons. In contrast, above the choir screen with its illustration of episodes of the Passion and Resurrection, the simple layperson saw only the Virgin and Child and the Last Judgement at the middle level, a condensation of the theme of Salvation developed in the ambulatory. He would then discover in the uppermost windows the Virgin and Child and St. Stephen, flanked by David and John the Baptist and by Sts. Peter and Paul: the son of David, the Son of God recognized by the last prophet, the primary apostles of his message and the first deacon and martyr, the saintly patron of the cathedral, who proclaimed the glory of Christ until his torture and death.70 4 Conclusion Bourges Cathedral provides an exceptional example of a carefully and powerfully structured iconographic program, whose organization relies on particular architectural forms. The choice of the plan and elevation of the architecture, with its three levels of windows, allowed 68
Brugger and Christe, Bourges, pp. 58–59; Ribault, Un chef d’œuvre gothique, p. 76. The intermediate windows of the nave certainly date to the 1230s, but those of the upper parts must belong to the 1250s, given their stylistic kinship with those of the upper choir of Tours. The wooden framework throughout the building (the choir must have received a provisional covering) only dates to 1256–57: Epaud, “Les charpentes”, pp. 538–40. 69 Lillich, Gothic Stained Glass, pp. 105–07; ead., The Armor of Light, p. 8; Schiffhauer, “Die Kompositverglasungen”. 70 Acts 7 (esp, 7. 55–56).
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the patrons to make palpable the organization of liturgical space. This was done by dividing iconographical themes according to the placement of altars, by grouping hagiographical stories in the narrow spaces of the chapels, and by deploying in contrast the more universal narratives around the ambulatory, at the heart of a decor unified by its profusion of iconographic themes. No doubt they paid attention to the important question of the visibility and legibility of subjects to viewers, whether clerics in the choir or the faithful gathered in the nave, which may have led them to privilege the use of large figures in the upper windows. As at the ground level, the decor was purposefully arranged hierarchically, not only according to the staging of levels in the elevation, but also placing figures at each horizontal level in relationship to the axis of the sanctuary. This link between architecture, decor, and liturgy leads to the question of the designer of the ensemble of the building. Rudolf Velhagen envisioned Archbishop William of Donjon, aided by the Schoolmaster Pierre le Petit, as the organizer of such a rigorous and ambitious program.71 It is in fact likely that William intervened in the elaboration of the subjects of the stained-glass windows of the choir which related in part to his preaching, but it is clear that the monument was fully thought out from the beginning in relation to its liturgical disposition and to its very precise iconographic program. We must, then, ascribe to Henri de Sully, who initiated the reconstruction of the cathedral, a primary role in the initial plan of the elaboration of the ensemble, which had to be minutely planned in order to be carried out so quickly. The original plan allowed for some adjustments, such as the introduction of William of Donjon among the archbishop saints of the inner ambulatory. At the center of discussions were the patrons (archbishop and chapter), the designer or designers of the decorative program, and the architect. It has been shown that in several buildings, certain architectural forms were adopted at the request of the clergy.72 The number of windows anticipated in the cathedral and their organization constitute the ideal support for a theological discourse revealed through stained glass. One might ask to what extent the design of the elevation might have been influenced by the breadth of the decorative program envisioned. As the development of the liturgical choir and the placement of the choir screen had to have been decided at the beginning of construction, the decorative 71 Velhagen, Ammoniciones lucis, pp. 205–12. 72 On the distinctive composite piers in the eastern bays of the nave at Laon: Fernie, “La fonction liturgique”, Sandron, “La cathédrale de Laon”; on the design of the oculi of the choir of Notre-Dame of Paris: Sandron, “Le projet du XIIe siècle”.
304 Boulanger program had to have been conceived quickly in its totality. At the spatial rupture introduced by the presence of the choir screen, there is a corresponding change in the configuration of the windows. No more, or rarely, were they of colored glass, but rather of grisaille; figures were almost completely abandoned in favor of pure ornament. Stained glass aesthetically structured the interior space. By means of this glazed decoration, the actors in the reconstruction of Bourges Cathedral conceived a veritable theatrical presentation in the liturgical choir. Bibliography Primary Sources
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306 Boulanger (The Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 15), Princeton, 2013, pp. 99–118. Lautier, C., “La polychromie de la cathédrale de Chartres et le vitrail”, in Georgi, Orelli-Messerli, Scheiwiller-Lorber, and Schiffhauer (eds.), Licht(t)räume, pp. 124–33. Le Luel, N., “Étude des vies de saint Ursin de Bourges: une première approche”, Annales de Bretagne et des pays de l’Ouest 114-1 (2007), 7–32. L’Héritier, M., “Les armatures de fer de la cathédrale de Bourges: nouvelles données, nouvelles lectures”, Bulletin monumental 174-4 (2016), 447–65. Lillich, M.P., “Three essays on French thirteenth century grisaille glass”, Journal of Glass Studies 15 (1973), 69–78. Lillich, M.P., The Armor of Light, Stained Glass in Western France, 1250–1325, Berkeley, 1994. Lillich, M.P., “Saint Memmie, apostle of Châlons, and other bishop saints in the Gothic windows of Châlons Cathedral”, Studies in Iconography 19 (1998), 75–103. Lillich, M.P., “The Corning Museum of glass”, in ead., Stained Glass before 1700 in Upstate New York (CV United States of America, 2, 1), London, 2004, pp. 60–62. Lillich, M.P., The Gothic Stained Glass of Reims Cathedral, University Park, 2011. Marguerye, R. de, “Le grand incendie de la cathédrale de Bourges. Mœurs administratives au XVIe siècle”, Mémoires de la société des antiquaires du Centre 17 (1889–90), 177–228. Martin, A. and Cahier, C., Monographie de la cathédrale de Bourges, part 1: Les vitraux du XIIIe siècle, Paris, 1841–44. Mussat, A. (ed.), La cathédrale du Mans, Paris, 1981. Papanicolaou, L.M., Stained Glass Windows of the Choir of the Cathedral of Tours (Unpublished PhD, New York University, 1979). Pastan, E.C. and Balcon, S., Les vitraux du chœur de la cathédrale de Troyes (XIIIe siècle) (CV France, 2), Paris, 2006. Pastoureau, M., “Programme, histoire d’un mot, histoire d’un concept”, in J.-M. Guillouët and C. Rabel (eds.), Le programme: une notion pertinente en histoire de l’art médiéval? (Cahiers du Léopard d’Or, 12), Paris, 2011, pp. 17–25. Ravaux, J.-P., “Les vitraux de l’abside de la cathédrale de Châlons- sur- Marne donnés par saint Louis”, Mémoires de la société d’agriculture, sciences et arts de la Marne 104 (1989), 73–89. Rebrioux, F., “Le joyeux avènement des archevêques de Bour ges au Moyen Âge”, Revue du Centre, 2nd series, 1–3 (15 March 1879), 113–33. Ribault, J.-Y., “Le jubé de Bourges. Questions de vocabulaire et de chronologie”, Bulletin monumental 153-2 (1995), 167–75. Ribault, J.-Y., Un chef d’œuvre gothique. La cathédrale Saint- Étienne de Bourges, Arcueil, 1995. Ribault, J.-Y., “Observations et hypothèses sur la cathédrale romane de Bourges (XIe-XIIe siècles)”, Cahiers d’archéologie et d’histoire du Berry 127 (September 1996), 5–16.
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The Silver-Stained Roundel in Northern Europe Timothy B. Husband The term “silver- stained roundel” encompasses any single piece of colorless glass, small in scale –rarely exceeding 30 cm in any dimension –whether circular, rectangular or oval, to which vitreous paint is applied and then fired. Once cooled the roundel was enriched with a colorless silver and/or copper compound in a clay or ochre carrier applied to the opposite side of the painted areas it is intended to highlight. When the application was dried, the roundel was fired in a reducing atmosphere at a moderate temperature (around 500° C), below the softening point of glass. In the firing process, the metallic nanoparticles migrate into or fuse within the fabric of the glass, unlike the paint or enamel which adheres to the surface of the glass and can be felt with the tip of the finger. Once cooled, the residue is wiped from the surface revealing the stain.1 While silver stain in northern Europe from the 14th century onwards is always transparent, it could also be translucent or even opaque depending of the composition of the stain and the temperature and duration of the firing. The imparted transparent colors ranged from pale yellow to deep golden amber or rich copper, depending on the amount of silver and/or copper in the compound. The painting of the roundel was, in general, reductive. The outlines were indicated with dark trace lines, but the modeling and the gradations of light and dark were achieved by working away the unfired matte paint in subtle and increasingly thinner gradations allowing the transmittal of more and more light until the mattes were completely removed. The mattes could be worked while either wet or dry with a variety of brushes, ranging from the stiff-bristled stipplers to fine badgers, depending on the desired effect. The point of a stick, a quill, or a metal stylus was used to etch through the matte to create highlights or to accent hair or ornament. The silver stain further enhanced hair, halos, details of costume, ornament and the like. In skillful hands, several different tones of silver stain could be achieved, bringing further definition or character to the image. While singletons –a patron saint or coat of arms, for example –were widely produced, most roundels were conceived as narrative series that could fill out one or more windows. Silver- stained roundels were almost always surrounded by a relatively narrow border, embellished 1 Vogel, Chemistry of Glass, pp. 174–77.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 24
with either inscriptions or decorative ornament or both (Figure 19.4). The ensembles were glazed into windows comprised of leaded quarries, predominantly diamond- shaped but also a variety of other forms. From the mid- 16th century on, the surrounds of a single roundel were often expanded with architectural, figural, and decorative motifs to fill the entire window. In the north Lowlands, this format thrived well into the 17th century.2 Expanding economies based on mercantilism and the resultant emergence of a wealthy middle class, the explosive growth of cities, and the new forms of secular architecture it spawned, all contributed to the development of this new art form, chiefly in the Netherlands,3 but also in the German-speaking lands, and to a lesser extent in France and England. The transparency and brilliance of the silver-stain on colorless glass, allowing maximum transmittal of light into the interior spaces, made it an ideal form for urban architecture. Inexpensive relative to the monumental glazings of churches and cathedrals, the roundel was devised to enhance the more modest size of apertures. The intimate scale invited close inspection, prompting finely detailed painting, executed with a meticulousness and finesse unprecedented in stained- glass production. By the early 16th century roundels were being produced on a semi-industrial scale to meet high demand. Because the vast majority of silver-stained roundels have been removed from their original context, the borders or surrounds rarely survive. Towards the end of the 16th century roundels began to fall out of fashion and the buildings they graced were inevitably replaced with more modern structures, resulting in wholesale destruction. While there are no documented figures, it is safe to assume that only a tiny fraction of the original production has survived and almost none remains in its original context. In the Netherlands, the only documented roundel program in an extant secular site is the house at Pieterskerkgracht, 9, in Leiden, discussed below. The glass itself was removed in the 19th century and is now 2 The windows of 1543 from the house at Pieterskerkgracht, Leiden, discussed below are fine example of this type. For an example of the 17th century, see Husband, Stained Glass before 1700, p. 21, figs. 13 and 14: two leaded windows with ornament and scenes from a series of the Seven Acts of Charity, after Maarten van Heemskerck, 1618. Now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 51.185.2, 3. 3 For a comprehensive study of silver-stained roundels in the Lowlands, see Husband, The Luminous Image.
308 Husband in Paris. In England, only two secular sites are thought to house roundels original to the building: The Guild Hall in Leicester and Browne’s Hospital in Stamford, Lincolnshire.4
items excavated at the site suggest direct contact with the Byzantine Empire.12 Unlike the transparent silver stain associated with later medieval roundels, the silver stain on all these early examples is opaque and appears more like enamel. All these examples were apparently produced in the Byz1 The Origins of Silver Stain antine Empire or at sites with close connections to it at the European peripheries. All these sites are far removed The technique of silver stain appears to have been in- from France and other areas of northern Europe where vented in the Islamic world, most probably in Egypt. transparent silver stain appears widely in the opening While dates as early as the 6th or 7th century have been decades of the 1300s. Between the 11th century and the proposed,5 more recent scholarship points to the 8th or early 14th there appears, moreover, to be no evidence of 9th centuries.6 Fustat was a prominent center of pro- silver stain anywhere in Europe. This begs a fundamenduction, but silver stain was likewise produced in the tal question: was the technique a serendipitous discovglass houses of Damascus. Silver stain also appears in ery that glass-makers eventually mastered or was it a the Byzantine Empire as early as the 9th and 10th cen- fortuitous reintroduction of around 1300? turies, and it may well be through Byzantium that the Heaton, in his ground-breaking study on silver stain, technique was introduced to Europe.7 A number of frag- proposed scenarios to cover both possibilities. He ments of window glass, thought to date between the 9th cites the instance of the glass maker who accidentally and 11th centuries, were discovered at San Lorenzo di dropped a silver button on a piece of glass as it was put Ammiana in the northern Venetian lagoon near Burano in a kiln and noticed a yellow stain around it when the and Torcello, including one with a partial representation glass was removed. While there is nothing inherently of a face heightened with silver stain.8 The church was improbable about such an accidental discovery, Heaton sited near a structure that has been identified with the gave it little credence, suggesting that silver stain was inByzantine castle of Castratium.9 Chemical analyses of troduced to France through a copy of the Lapidario of the glass reveal that the fragment is a soda-lime-silica Alfonso X, which contains a formula for coloring glass glass corresponding to natron glass of which, for exam- yellow.13 However, not one copy of the Lapidario exists in ple, a fragment of a Byzantine bowl with figural decora- France nor is the existence of one recorded.14 Lillich protion painted in silver stain and dated to the 9th or 10th posed a sequence of events that may have brought such century is made.10 Similar window glass with figural dec- a text to France, but acknowledges that it is highly specuoration and lettering in silver stain has been excavated lative.15 Lautier argues that the technique evolved in Parin the crypt of the pilgrimage church of St. Hadrian at is, though there is little supporting evidence, and then Zalavár, Mosaburg, in south-western Hungary and is of spread to Normandy. According to her, a rich and invena similar date.11 Two fragments of silver-stained window tive artistic milieu in Paris, in part, created an environglass were excavated at a church complex at Uherské ment in which silver stain could have been reinvented.16 Hradiště-Sady in the Czech Republic –the most import- While its origins are yet to be convincingly established, ant Christian center in the Great Moravian Empire – the technique of transparent silver stain appeared sudwhich had been built in the later 9th century. Other denly and fully developed, which suggests a reintroduction by a highly-experienced master or workshop. The earliest dated example of silver-stained glass is 4 Ayre, Medieval Figurative Roundels, p. xlv. a donor panel in the church of Saint-Pierre in Mesnil- 5 Carboni, Glass from Islamic Lands, p. 200. Villeman in Normandy, dated 1313.17 Other early exam 6 Heaton, “The origin and use of silver stain”, p. 10; Pilosi and ples include grisaille panels from the chapel of the VirWhitehouse, “Early Islamic and Byzantine silver stain”, p. 330. gin in the cathedral of Rouen (c.1310) and those thought 7 Pilosi and Whitehouse, “Early Islamic and Byzantine silver to have come from the abbey church of Saint-Denis stain”, p. 333. 8 9
Ibid., fig. 17. Vaghi, Verità, and Zecchin, “Silver stain on medieval window glass excavated in the Venetian lagoon”, pp. 105–06. 10 Pilosi and Whitehouse, “Early Islamic and Byzantine silver stain”, p. 333, fig. 7. 11 Szöke, Wedepohl, and Kronz, “Silver- stained windows at Carolingian Zalavár”, pp. 86– 92, fig. 5. Also, Galuska, Machacek, Pieta, and Sedlackova, “The glass of Great Moravia”, p. 75, fig. 9.1.
12 13 14 15 16 17
Pilosi and Whitehouse, “Early Islamic and Byzantine silver stain”, p. 335. Heaton, “The origin and use of silver stain”, pp. 12–13. Lautier, “Les débuts du jaune d’argent”, p. 92. Lillich, “European stained glass around 1300”, pp. 45–60. Lautier, “Les débuts du jaune d’argent”, pp. 103–05. Lautier, “Les débuts du jaune d’argent”, pp. 90–1, fig. 1.
The Silver-Stained Roundel in Northern Europe
(1320–24). Outside of France silver stain appears in the Peter De Dene window at York Minster (c.1310), the typological window in the Franciscan church at Esslingen (c.1320), and in the abbey church of Königsfelden (c.1330). By the third decade of the 14th century, silver stain appears widely throughout northern Europe. 2
The Emergence of the Silver-Stained Roundel
The silver-stained roundel, in its nascent form, emerged with the development of the grisaille window.18 In the 13th century, to give relief to the monochromatic effect, the grisailles lancets were surmounted by a colored rose window, or the lancets were graced with luxuriant colored borders. Figures were incorporated into grisaille windows, notably in band windows, which proliferated in the 14th century.19 Early in the 14th century, a form of grisaille panel emerged that centered on a figural medallion or quarry. A small group of bulged quarry panels are thought to have come from Saint-Denis, most likely the chapel of Saint Louis, constructed between 1320 and 1324. Each panel is centered on a head or grotesque that correlates closely with drolleries in contemporary manuscript illumination (Figure 19.1).20 These central figural quarries may be considered prototypal roundels. In 1982, a large number of 14th-century grisailles quarries and fragments thereof were found at the Dominican monastery in Ghent.21 Construction of the monastery began in 1240 and continued into the 14th century. The town accounts of 1333 mention a grant from the town council for a stained-glass window at the monastery.22 In 1474 the west walk of the cloisters was rebuilt with a library on the floor above. Where the structure linked with the north wall of the church the two most westerly windows of the original ten were blocked out and sealed. When stabilization and rehabilitation work was begun in the early 1980s, the stained-glass fragments 18
The long-held belief that grisaille windows, in addition to providing more interior light, were developed because they were less expensive than those of pot-metal glass, is brought into question elsewhere in this volume: see Lillich, Ch. 17. 19 Lillich, “The band window”, pp. 26–33. The band window appeared as early as 1265 at Tours. 20 Hayward, English and French Medieval Stained Glass, pp. 243– 52; Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, 1982 (1982.433.3.4). Related panels are in the Musée national du Moyen Âge, Paris, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, and the Dépôt des Monuments Historiques, Champs-sur-Marne. 21 De Schryver, vanden Bemden, and Bral, Gothic Grotesques in Ghent, pp. 15–20. 22 Ibid., p. 15.
309 were found under the flooring. Grisailles quarries, both bulged and rectilinear, painted with grotesques and drolleries similar to those of the Saint-Denis panels,23 are so numerous that they must have here formed the field of the window rather than the central element. Additionally, fragments of a number of true roundels were found. Some are painted with drolleries, some with grotesque creatures, some with cavorting birds and animals, and others with human activities. The style of the Ghent fragments, indeed, reflects a knowledge of glass painting both in northern France and Normandy.24 Several of these have borders consisting of quatrefoils on a hatched ground within a lobed band, others represent the symbols of the evangelists within an etched damascened ground.25 The largest and most important for this study are several roundels with silver stain including one representing Christ as the Man of Sorrows (?) and another, Christ as the Apocalyptic judge (Rev. 19.15) with a sword at each side of his mouth (Figure 19.2).26 These appear to be the earliest surviving true silver-stained roundels. The subjects are lightly sketched in with a flowing line of a point of a brush; little or no matts are used, and both shading and volumetric definition are minimal. When silver stain was used, it, too, was minimal, highlighting hair, elements of costume or appurtenances, and, in the case of Christ, the halo. The original context is lost but the numerous fragments suggest these roundels were set in grisaille panels, perhaps resembling the lost windows of Saint-Quentin with historiated roundels surrounded by quarries with grotesqueries.27 On the other hand, they may have been glazed into the tracery at the head of windows.28 The broad abbreviated treatment, with tapering, fluid, and supple lines, greatly varied in breath, and was appropriate for their location in large grisailles windows or traceries, distant from the viewer. While every sizable town in the Netherlands more than likely had a glass-painting workshop, there is little trace of their production beyond the Ghent fragments. This wholesale loss makes it impossible to trace the linear development of the silver-stain roundel, although, to judge from French and English windows, the roundel in its incipient form remained confined to grisailles panels and traceries through the end of the 14th and into the 15th century. Only towards the end of the 15th century, 23 Ibid., figs. pp. 35–57. 24 Ibid, pp. 93–94. 25 Ibid., figs. pp. 58–62 and 106–07. 26 Ibid., figs. pp. 108–13. 27 Baltrušaitis, Réveils et prodiges, p. 223, fig. 19 B. 28 De Schryver, vanden Bemden, and Bral, Gothic Grotesques in Ghent, p. 101.
310 Husband when the roundel moved from the church and monastery into the secular realm, did it become an independent work of art, set singularly or in groups, within clear glass quarry windows.
in Steenhuffel (Brabant).30 Glazed into quarry windows, the painted side toward the interior, with the images near or at eye level and brought to radiant life by natural light, placed new demands on glass painters, exacting greater technical and stylistic refinements. By the 16th century, roundels produced by the best glass painters 3 The Golden Age of the Roundel reached, particularly in the Lowlands, a breath-taking level of finesse, sophistication of technique, range of By the last quarter of the 15th century, demand became subject matter, and stylistic diversity. sufficiently robust to spawn a major industry, the output Silver-stained roundels of the 15th century initially reof which is evidenced by a substantial body of surviving lied on a broad but relatively conventional selection of work, even if only a small fraction of the original. The subject matter: iconic images, such as patron saints; decenter of roundel production was in the Burgundian- votional imagery including the Crucifixion, the Man of Habsburg Lowlands, encompassing, more or less, mod- Sorrows, the Pietà, or the Trinity; genre scenes; vanitas ern Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands, of and memento mori imagery; as well as allegories, fables, which the cities in the counties of Flanders, Brabant, morality themes; but above all, narrative series based and Holland were the most populous. Between 1480 and on the texts of the Gospels, particularly scenes from the 1560, the populations of the cities of Antwerp, Gouda, lives of the Virgin and Christ. Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and Leiden at least doubled, The first half of the 16th century was a period of enorand in northern Europe, only London and Paris were mous social, religious, and intellectual upheaval in the larger than Antwerp. Economies boomed with the pop- Lowlands, culminating in the outbreak of iconoclasm ulations. Cities with access to the sea, Bruges in the 15th in 1566. The controversy over Catholic dogma, mingled century, then Antwerp, and Amsterdam in the 16th, en- with expanding views rooted in Humanism and Renaisjoyed flourishing international trade. Economic upsurg- sance ideals, engendered a more philosophical outlook es between 1495 and 1525, and again from about 1540 to on life, an expanded view of religious issues, and a re1565, brought great wealth to the burgeoning mercantile thinking of the means of achieving salvation.31 New and professional classes, which likewise fueled artistic themes emerged from the Gospels as the texts were production in the commercial and governmental cen- reinvestigated, and the spiritual implications of lesser ters. In the German-speaking world, roundel production known events in the life of Christ, such as his teachings, was centered principally, but by no means exclusively, healings, and miracles, were expounded. The Prodigal in Cologne and the Lower Rhineland, the Upper Rhine- Son, Lazarus and the rich man Dives, and other parables land, primarily Basel and Strasbourg, and in southern were interpreted as moral lessons to be applied to daily Germany, mainly in Augsburg and Nuremburg, all cen- life. Series of roundels devoted to these popular subters of trade that produced large quantities of roundels jects served as daily visual reminders of moral rectitude. of distinctive style. A few have survived intact, the Prodigal series made for Roundels became part of the furnishings of new forms Jan von Hasselt of Cologne in 1531, being one example.32 of urban secular architecture such as the town houses In the Lowlands, the spendthrift Sorgheloos, a secularof the well-to-do mercantile and professional classes, as ized version of the Prodigal, enjoyed wide popularity. well as the many new structures serving the social, po- Unlike the Prodigal, however, Sorgheloos is not forgiven litical, and economic hierarchies in the principal cities and restored to his former station, but is permanentthroughout the Lowlands and beyond. In addition to do- ly cast into abject poverty (Figure 19.3). It is a caustic mestic settings, roundels graced the fenestrations of the morality inveighing against wastrels, for in the eyes of civic or official buildings, guilds, mercantile structures, frugal, hard-working, and starchy folk of the north Lowhospitals, courts, and town halls, as well as chapels, and lands, there is no redemption for profligacy.33 Didactic possibly even glazed cloisters. The oft-cited documents and moralizing themes, such as The Seven Acts of Merof 1506–07 establish that the abbess of Rijnsburg near cy and the Four Last Things provided dramatic subject Leiden had roundels installed, not in common areas, but matter for the glass painters. Pieter Cornelisz. (1489/ in a suite of rooms in her private quarters.29 One of the rare examples of roundels being originally glazed into a 31 Veldman, “Characteristics of iconography”, p. 15. church is a 16th-century choir window of Sint-Genoveva 32 Husband, Silver-Stained Roundels, pp. 165– 66. See also 29 30
Bangs, “Rijnsburg Abbey”, p. 186. Berserik and Caen, Silver-Stained Roundels, vol. 1, p. xvii.
33
Lymant, Die Glasmalereien, pp. 232–36 and fig. 149b-g. For a detailed study of the Sorgheloos morality tale, see Husband, “Ick Sorghelos”, pp. 173–88.
311
The Silver-Stained Roundel in Northern Europe
90–1560/61), a Leiden draughtsman and glass painter, created in 1524, for example, a series of The Seven Acts of Mercy that survives both in drawings and executed roundels.34 Old Testament texts were explored with renewed vigor. Ordinary people could readily relate to the trials and ordeals, the rivalries and dramatic reversals of fortune, the loss and restoration of faith or honor, and other tribulations endured by Abraham, David, Tobit, and other such biblical figures, making these sagas popular subjects for roundels.35 The implications of many of these biblical events were expanded into moral exempla. Tobit, for example, is not merely an Old Testament protagonist, but an exemplum of patience and steadfast faith. The perennially popular story of Susanna underscored Susanna’s virtuous behavior, while the seduction and blackmail attempts of the elders were cast as a warning against adultery and false accusation. Daniel’s cross examination, which revealed perjury, was extolled as both good judgment and the vindication of chastity and fidelity. It is not merely a tale of virtue besmirched and fortuitously restored, but a paradigm of justice both subverted and reinstated.36 Susanna and the Elders was the subject of a series of roundels based on the designs of the pseudo–Ortkens in the 1520s (Figure 19.4); the many surviving replicas, versions, and variations attest to its popularity.37 Women, such as Judith and Esther were also held up as moral exempla, while others, including Delilah, Eve, Jael, Jezebel, and Judith were held in opprobrium for their deceitful behavior and negative manipulation of men. Lucas van Leyden (1494–1533) returned to the theme of the power of women several times, producing dramatic designs for roundels.38 The medieval tradition of typological arrangements in which events in the Old Testament foreshadowed those in the New endured in roundel series. The early block book version of the Biblia pauperum, for example, informed the typological arrangement of Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen’s (1472–1533) circular Passion series, which in turn, was used by glass painters for a popular series of roundels.39 The typological arrangement created by Dirk Vellert (1480/85–1547) in the late 1530s, on the other hand, had little to do with its medieval forbearers. Humanism in the Lowlands, and to a large extent in Germany, was understood in part as a means to advancing Christian living, and scholars turned not only to early 34 Husband, The Luminous Image, pp. 108–15. 35 See François, “Typology –back with a vengeance”, pp. 102–08. 36 Veldman, “Characteristics of iconography”, pp. 20–21. 37 Husband, The Luminous Image, pp.134–37 and 139–41. 38 Ibid., pp. 116–24. 39 Ibid., pp. 108–34.
Christian writings but also reached back to the classical philosophers, in particular, Boethius, Cicero, and Seneca. Ancient histories, likewise, provided source material. The Judgment of Cambyses, widely represented in the visual arts, including roundels, was drawn from Herodotus’ Histories and was expounded as an admonition to corrupt judges. Mythologies, too, were interpreted as moralities. The Judgment of Paris, for example, served not only as moral lessons to young kings, but, to judge from the numerous extant roundel versions, for the instruction of more ordinary denizens as well.40 The Reformation, on the other hand, had relatively little direct impact on the imagery of silver-stained roundels. In Germany, polemical imagery excoriating or extolling Catholic or Lutheran beliefs proliferated in printed books and single-sheet woodcuts, but is exceedingly rare in roundels. A notable exception is a roundel known in several versions representing The Old and New Dispensation or The Allegory of Law and Grace (Figure 19.5).41 Man sits before the Tree of Life flanked by Moses and John the Baptist, the former holding the tablets of law and the latter pointing to the Annunciation and the resurrected Christ trampling Death. This underscores a fundamental Protestant belief that man, as a result of the Fall is essentially sinful and that faith alone can bring grace and redemption.42 While the Reformation became exceedingly polarizing in Germany, Protestantism in the Lowlands initially sought a gradual reform of the Catholic Church rather than wholesale rejection. There were many blends of reformist thought, but one universal tenet held that salvation came not through good deeds or the sacraments, according to Catholic theology, but through faith alone (sola fide). Hoping to avoid violent outbreaks, reformers in the Lowlands, who were fervently repressed, took care not to overtly betray their inclinations, in part explaining the initial paucity of reformist imagery.43 The 1543 glazing of the house at Pieterskerkgracht 9 in Leiden, a unique survivor, is a case in point. Commissioned by Adriaen van Crimpen, a wealthy merchant and public official, this elaborate and extensive glazing program, designed by Dirk Crabeth (1501–74), placed scenes of Saul and Paul in a typological arrangement (Figure 19.6). 40 41
42 43
Veldman, “Characteristics of iconography”, p. 23. Metropolitan Museum of Art, Fletcher Fund 1927 (27.224.1). See Husband in Raguin, Northern Renaissance Stained Glass, pp. 66–67]. For other versions, see Lymant, Die Glasmalereien, pp. 245–50. See also, Lymant, Die Glasmalereien, pp. 245–50 and fig. 155a. For discussions of the artistic and intellectual climate in the Lowlands during the period of the Reformation, and its effects on art and iconography, see Parshall, “Kunst en reformatie”, pp. 164–75.
312 Husband While there are alternative ways of interpreting this highly unusual iconography, Saint Paul’s explication of salvation through faith in his Epistles became the credo of Lutherans, and thus the saint was seen as a forerunner of the Reformation. The Crabeth program could therefore be seen as indicative of reformist sentiment. It may, therefore, have been out of wise precaution that van Crimpen consigned this exceptional series of windows, not to the grand public rooms on the ground floor, but to secondary rooms on the upper floor, out of sight of prying eyes. The predominant overtone of roundels in the Lowlands –more so than elsewhere in northern Europe – was cautionary.44 Inspiring the viewer to vigilance in the face of all forms of human frailty, and alerting him to the many pitfalls, would appear to be the ascendant intention of these roundels. On the other hand, the flourishing roundel industry serviced by the most prominent artists and accomplished glass painters of the day, produced exceptional works of art to supply their increasing and ever more demanding clientele. The resulting glass paintings of exceptional stylistic and compositional achievement were executed with dazzling technique and animated by subtle gradations of tonality and light, vibrant and translucent golden hues, and rich painterly textures. Their salutary effect aside, these luminous glass paintings must have been highly valued for the sheer visual delight they provided. As the religious tensions polarized and veered towards violence, particularly with the outbreak of iconoclasm in 1566, the Lowlands slid into an economic crisis, and the climate that had allowed the roundel industry to flourish deteriorated ruinously. 4
Workshop Practices and the Principal Artists
In a pre- copyright world, glass painting workshops that could not afford to commission designs from preeminent artists, looked to prints –both woodcuts and engravings –for models. Prints were relatively inexpensive, widely circulated, and, thus, an abundant source of high-quality compositions. Up until the end of the 15th century, design and execution, in general, occur in the same workshop. Eight roundels with scenes of the Passion, probably executed in the Upper Rhineland around 1480–90, is one of the earliest surviving series.45
44 Husband., The Luminous Image, p. 14. 45 Husband, Stained Glass before 1700, pp. 130–31. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, 1932 (32.24.1-8).
The compositions are largely based on the engravings of the Master E S (c.1420–68), but in this case the glass painter did not copy the prints wholesale, rather he excerpted elements from the Master E S, as well as other prints, and added his own, thus cobbling together the individual scenes. In Germany, the graphic arts of Israel van Meckenem (1445–1503), Martin Schongauer (1448–91), Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528), Hans Schäufelein (1480–1540), Erhard Schön (1491–1542), and others were all used as source material, providing not only compositions of quality, but, for a generally conservative market, images that were already established in public taste. In the Lowlands, large numbers of roundels were produced after the prints of Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen, Lucas van Leyden, Frans Huys (1522–62), and Dirck Coornhert (1522–90). Dirk Crabeth designed extensively for roundels, and, in some instances, based designs on the prints of his contemporaries.46 In France and England the use of printed sources appears to be far more limited. Model books and compendia of accumulated sketches, drawings, and tracings, along with prints, were also an important source for the designers and painters of roundels, just as they were for easel painters and manuscript illuminators. The compositions of important works of art were widely disseminated through carefully executed studies on paper. The Adoration scene in the central panel of Hans Memling’s (1430–94) 1479 Jan Floreins altarpiece in Bruges, for e xample –which is indebted to that in the central panel of Rogier van der Weyden’s (1400–64) great triptych commissioned by the church of Saint Columba in Cologne c.1455 –was compressed into the circular format of a roundel design and then faithfully executed in the south Lowlands (Brabant?) as a silver- stained roundel around 1500.47 The high end of the roundel market relied not on accumulated models but on original designs produced by a master for a particular glass-painting workshop. In the Lowlands at the end of the 15th century, the master who created the drawings had, if not an immediate connection, a close relationship with the workshop that executed them. A group of roundel designs, produced in the south Lowlands, c.1480–90, with Old Testament scenes, are stylistically related to Hugo van der Goes. The drawings for these roundels appear to be not working copies of autograph drawings but compositions, quoting elements of the master and synthesizing them into designs emulating his style. In the case of the Joseph legend series, the designs were executed nearly 46 Husband, The Luminous Image, pp. 208–11. 47 The drawing: Musée du Louvre, Département des Arts Graphiques, 20.738; the roundel, The Cloisters Collection, 1983 (1983.235).
313
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contemporaneously in a series of roundels, replicated many times over the ensuing decade, and in a series of large tondi, indicating a close inter-relationship between workshops.48 Lucas van Leyden brought greater emotional charge to his subjects through facial expression, attitude, and gesture than any of his contemporaries. The few drawings thought to be designs for roundels are all in the rectangular format and executed in varying techniques, yet the few roundels associated with Lucas, all corresponding in format, style, and composition –though not with extant designs –provide convincing evidence of their intended function.49 In his biographical account, Karel van Mander (1548–1606) describes Lucas as “an excellent, painter, engraver, and glass painter”.50 While there is ample evidence to support the first two claims, the last is more controversial. Van Mander continues by declaring that Lucas’ glass paintings are well worth collecting, and that Hendrik Goltzius (1558–1617), in fact, owned one, a small panel with The Triumph of David, executed with an amazing technique (“dat wonder fraey is ghehandelt”). The description accords perfectly with a grisaille panel once in the Borromeo collection and now in the Ambrosiana, Milan, and, in turn, corresponds precisely, as van Mander observed, with the engraving of the same subject that Jan Saenredam (1565–1607) had made after Lucas’ glass painting.51 The technique and quality of the painting, with its infinitely subtle gradations in modelling, the absolute control of the brush, and the dynamic range of tonalities, are without parallel. Indeed, some scholars find the rather cool precision of the painting suggestive of a 19th century origin; this author, however, believes it to be 16th century, if not the autograph work of Lucas.52 There is no question, however, that Dirk Vellert was not only a prolific designer of silver-stained roundels but also an absolute master of painting them, the only artist of the 16th century who demonstrably excelled at both disciplines. His earliest signed works, both roundels, The Triumph of Time and The Triumph of Faith, are signed and dated: “DIRICK /VELLE /· 1 · 5 · 1 · 7 ·” and “D★V /1517 /MEI,” respectively. Like The Triumph of 48 Husband, The Luminous Image, pp. 56–63. 49 Ibid., pp. 117–24. See also, Husband, “De productie van gebrandschilderd glas in Leiden,” pp. 165–75. 50 See van Mander, Het Leven, ed. Floerke, p. 124, where he wonders if Lucas “is more to praise, it be in his painting, engraving, or glass painting” (… dat hy meer te prijsen zy, het zy in sijn schlderen, Plaet-snijden, oft Glas-schrijven). 51 Van Mander, Het Leven, ed. Floerke, p. 126. 52 Husband, The Luminous Image, pp. 124–27. Whether an artist of Lucas’ stature would have signed his glass paintings, as did his contemporary Dirk Vellert, remains a matter of speculation.
David, attributed to Lucas, these roundels are painted in grisaille without silver stain. As youthful efforts, the compositions lack the balance and spatial clarity of later works, but his gifts of draftsmanship and technique are fully evident. Because most of Vellert’s designs for roundels are signed and dated, his chronology and artistic development are relatively easy to follow. He created designs for at least five series of roundels, and a surprisingly large number of these drawings survive. The earliest series is devoted to parallel scenes from the Old and New Testaments, from which 18 drawings survive, all dated 1523, many with the month and day as well. Many of the scenes are highly unusual except in typologies, and this is his only series of roundel designs for a didactic rather than a narrative subject. Between 1522 and 1530, he created an Apocalypse series of which 17 drawings survive. The compositions are clearly inspired by Dürer’s renowned woodcut series, a complete set of which was presented to Vellert when Dürer visited him in 1521. Vellert’s last signed work is also a roundel, which represents The Judgment of Cambyses (Figure 19.7). In a small space, he constructed a monumental scene with robust and animated figures, some dramatically foreshortened, set in a deeply-receding spacious room, drawing the eye back to the throne of judgment and an open archway, through which one observes a distant city. The roundel is monogramed “D★V” and dated 1542. Dirk Crabeth explored varied aspects of Christian doctrine, reflecting the tension between Catholic and reformist thought. He worked for many years for the Catholic Church Council in Gouda and is best known for his monumental windows for the church of St. John in that city. His sympathies were rather muted in the Leiden windows, but later in his career, when the religious debate became more heated, Crabeth’s compositions for stained glass verged on the overtly polemical. In the 1560s, he created a series of roundel designs based on contemporary prints that flagrantly attacked the doctrine of Good Works, a fundamental tenet of the Catholic faith.53 The images show man literally sloughing off the mantle of bad behavior and then viciously beating the prone personification of Good Works with a club.54 In the German-speaking lands, roundel design comprised a considerably smaller portion of major artists’ production. The Hirsvogel family were the leading glass painters in Nuremberg from the 1480s well into the 16th century.55 Michael Wolgemut (1434/37–1519) provided 53
See van Eck, Coebergh-Surie, and Gasten, Stained Glass of Sint Janskerk at Gouda. 54 Husband, The Luminous Image, pp. 208–11. 55 For the roundel production of the Hirsvogel workshop, see Scholz, Entwurf und Ausführung, pp. 191–205.
314 Husband the Hirsvogel workshop with designs for both large-and small-scale glass, the latter following the linear style of his woodcuts.56 From the 1490s, Albrecht Dürer –who apprenticed with Wolgemut and may have executed some of his commission for unipartite panels57 – produced designs for stained glass, mostly monumental, but for roundels as well. He worked closely with the Hirsvogel workshop throughout his career, and, after his return from Italy in 1507, his style dominated the output of the workshop. Perhaps his largest single work for roundels was the c.1496 series of drawings representing the life of Saint Benedict of Nursia, presumably for the monastery of Saint Aegidius, the Benedictine house in Nuremberg.58 The compositions are preserved in both drawings and executed panels. The bulk of Dürer’s designs for small-scale stained glass were for pot-metal trefoil, quatrefoil, and rectilinear panels. The immediate followers of Dürer, notably Hans Süss von Kulmbach (1480–1522), Hans Schäufelein, and Sebald Beham (1500–50) all designed small-scale stained glass, relatively few of which were silver-stained roundels. Toward the middle of the century, a number of engaging roundels representing hunting scenes were produced after the designs of Augustin Hirsvogel (1503–53), son of Veit the Elder.59 In Augsburg, Hans Burgkmair (1473–1531) and his follower, Jörg Breu the Elder (c.1475–1537), both designed silver-stained roundels. Breu specialized in roundel design and produced many series, notably a cycle of biblical and antique heroes and battle scenes for the Munich residence of William iv of Bavaria. His compositions deftly manipulated large numbers of figures or expansive landscape into the small circular space afforded by roundels. His series of The Labors and Pastimes of the Months were particularly popular, along with classical and biblical subjects. His widely-copied designs are preserved in numerous replicas, versions, and variations.60 A study of the drawings related to roundel production in both Germany and the Lowlands, readily reveals a variety of forms, the precise function of which can only be adduced by careful comparison. The most refined are highly finished works by the hand of the master, executed in pen and ink or point of brush, with washes and white highlights often on prepared paper in eye-catching tones. These exceptional drawings, that were thought to have been the final stage in the process of creating 56 Ibid., pp. 33–39. 57 Ibid., p. 42, notes 133–34. 58 Ibid., pp. 45–48; see also Scholz, Ch. 5 in this volume. 59 Schwarz, Augustin Hirschvogel, pp. 171–72, pls. R4, R6-8, E9, R13 and R15. 60 Butts, Hendrix, et al. (eds.), Painting on Light, pp. 202–32; see also Scholz, Ch. 5 in this volume.
roundel designs, can, in many cases, be shown to be the first stage.61 They were perhaps intended to give the client a good impression of the executed work, but could also have been independent works of art intended for collectors. In either case, they were not intended for use in the glass-painting workshops, rather the artist would produce pen and ink designs, sometimes quite finished, but were usually sketched or rapidly penned sheets that conveyed his intent. Working drawings could also be reworked or refined, often in a different ink; several such designs by Dirk Vellert have survived.62 These working drawings, in turn, were replicated rather mechanically for use on the bench and have a somewhat studied and mechanical appearance, lacking the fluid line and spontaneous alterations of the master. The glass painter could place the glass over the working drawing and trace the design or pin it up in front of him and copy it free-hand. As some compositions were replicated over a long period of time, details of costumes and the like had to be periodically updated. Other than the rare signed examples of Dirk Vellert, Jan Gossart, and Lambert van Noort (1520–71), few working drawings can be considered autograph. While some, on the basis of style or technique, can be convincingly attributed to a particular artist, most must be considered workshop copies or replicas, often of a somewhat later date. In England, there are no clear indications that roundel production relied on commissioned designs, rather compositions were developed in particular workshops and are generally credited to the lead master. Thus, some 14th century roundels are attributed to Master Robert of the York workshop, thought to be one Robert Ketelbarn, whereas particular 15th century roundels are given to John Glasier of Stamford, John Wymondswalde of Peterborough, or John Wighton of Norwich.63 Stylistic distinctions are more local or regional and recognizable by the idiosyncrasies of facial structure, diaper and ground patterns, border designs, and the like. Diapers of contiguous circles were particularly favored by workshops in the Midlands, while twisted cables were preferred in the eastern Counties, and in East Anglia a single figure was often set before a sunburst against a black or cross- hatched background.64 However, the variety and wealth of production related drawings from the Lowlands and the Germany-speaking world, for all practical purposes, do not exist in France and England. Towards the end of the 15th and beginning of the 16th century, numerous craftsmen from the Lowlands 61 Konowitz, “Drawings as intermediary stages”, pp. 143–52. 62 Husband, The Luminous Image, pp. 150–56. 63 Ayre, Medieval English Figurative Roundels, p. lx. 64 Ayre, Medieval English Figurative Roundels, p. xl-xli.
315
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had immigrated into East Anglia and London, mostly to Southwark. Of the seven glaziers who worked on the glazing of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge, arguably the most important stained-glass commission of the 16th century, for which Dirk Vellert provided designs, four were from the Lowlands.65 Netherlandish influence was so pervasive that it is frequently difficult to differentiate the native-from the immigrant-painted roundel. With the wholesale importation of continental roundels in the late 18th and 19th centuries, the problem was exacerbated. In Cole’s catalogue of roundels in England, the attribution “possibly English” is often encountered.66
panes of clear glass. By the middle of the 18th century the stained-glass industry, for all practical purposes, ceased to exist throughout northern Europe. Incalculable numbers of roundels must have been destroyed in the process; large numbers, on the other hand were salvaged, although their borders, surrounds, and their original context were mostly lost. Stained glass was salvaged in such abundance that in the later 18th century it was sold by weight. In 1761, a London auctioneer located in the Strand, by the name of Paterson, staged an exhibition of 285 small-scale stained-glass items, featuring silver- stained roundels along with later enameled quarries and heraldic panels.67 In 1773, Paterson’s successor opened another exhibition of small-scale glass from the Low5 The Roundel in Decline and Its Later lands, presumably including roundels, which he entitled Reception: Patterns of Collecting “The Cloister”.68 The most extensively documented mass imports of glass from the continent are those appearing Economic reversals, warfare –primarily the French- in an account book of John Christopher Hampp (1750– Habsburg wars in 1551 –the invasions of the Spanish 1825), a prosperous cloth merchant in Norwich, and covarmy, the rampages of the iconoclasts, religious violence ering the years of 1791 to 1804. This period of chaos –in throughout much of northern Europe, and other depri- the wake of the French Revolution, the Napoleonic Wars, vations brought the golden age of the silver-stained roun- and the secularizations at the turn of the 19th century – del to its nadir, but glass painting did not end altogether. provided an ideal environment for the despoliation of Windows such as those created by Dirk Crabeth –with churches, monasteries, and all manner of civic and doa central rectangular historiated panel surrounded by mestic buildings. While soliciting orders for his cloth, complex ornament filling out the remainder of the ap- Hampp, along with his partner, started a side business erture –persisted into the latter part of the 17th century, in stained glass. In February of 1804 alone he bought five increasingly employing delicate painting in grisailles, cases of glass; the largest shipments came through Rouen with the leaded ornamental surrounds enhanced with and Normandy as well as from Cologne, Aachen, and translucent colored enamels. Roundels, largely in oval Nuremberg. The records are not specific enough to cateformat, continued throughout the Lowlands and the gorize the glass by type, but small pieces in grisaille with German-speaking world, albeit in a much-diminished subjects such as Tobit, Daniel destroying Bel, Joseph, and form. Now aimed largely at the distinctly less affluent the Prodigal Son, are more than likely roundels. The one middle classes, glass painters of modest abilities perpet- buyer identified only as “Neave” is almost certainly Sir uated popular themes and introduced new ones mostly Thomas Neaves of Dagnam Hall whose large collection relating to personal identity –marriages, heraldry, guild was later dispersed, including a number of roundels that affiliations, professions –with both image and inscrip- ultimately ended up in major public collections.69 tions executed in colored enamels that abound with Renewed interest in roundels was occasioned by the folkloric charm, if scant artistic refinement. The use of romantic Gothic revival in England. The most promiboth transparent and opaque enamels produced com- nent of the early proponents of the “Gothick effect” was plex color effects while reducing the use of silver stain. Horace Walpole, who began to “gothicize” Strawberry In character, subject matter, and technique, small-scale Hill on the Thames in Richmond around 1750, glazing glass painting in the 17th century was closely related the widows with stained glass. He once sent a dealer to to the enameling of glass vessels concurrently thriving the Lowlands who returned with “an immense cargo of throughout central Europe. painted stained glass from Flanders”, some 450 pieces.70 Changes in taste and evolving architectural forms dramatically transformed the urban landscape. The relative- 67 Lafond, “Traffic in old stained glass”, p. 63. ly small and cramped rooms of the 16th-century town 68 Lafond, “Traffic in old stained glass”, p. 64. 69 Rackham, “English importations of foreign stained glass”, house gave way to the more spacious “hôtel particulier” p. 91; for the Neave collection, see Reeves, Berserik, and Caen, leaded quarry windows, with roundels yielding to large Gilded Light, 2016, pp. 1–5 and 91 who list those now in The 65 See Wayment, King’s College Chapel. 66 Ayre, Medieval English Figurative Roundels, p. lxii.
70
Cloisters. Eavis and Peover, “Horace Walpole’s glass at Strawberry Hill”, p. 281; see also Shepard, Ch. 25 in this volume.
316 Husband Walpole gleefully wrote to a friend, “… the castle (Strawberry Hill), when finished, will have two- and- thirty windows enriched with stained glass”.71 The glazing program, which continued to 1772, was confined primarily to the traceries with clear glass below, allowing a prospect into the surrounding gardens that were an integral part of the overall design of the property.72 The romanticized “Gothick” structure, integrated into a surrounding English park and gardens, found throughout Great Britain, also made its way to the continent, most notably in the Gotisches Haus at Wörlitz (1772–1813) near Dessau.73 Here 16th century silver-stained roundels and 17th century enameled roundels were interspersed with pot-metal stained-glass panels, all artfully arranged in windows throughout the structure, allowing vistas to the landscaped park (see Figure 24.4.) As at Strawberry Hill, the art historical aspect of the stained glass was secondary to its decorative function.74 The integration of house and landscape, central to the romantic Gothic Revival diminished as the 19th century progressed. The Gothic Revival Hall of Knights at Schloß Erbach, built by Count Franz I of Erbach-Erbach in 1805, houses one of the oldest collections of arms and armor in Germany. The towering double lancet windows glazed with stained-glass panels were considered an appropriate backdrop for arms and armor as it provided historicizing authority and atmosphere (though no view beyond), a notion that prevailed in aristocratic circles for most of the 19th century.75 The armor room of Prince Friedrich of Prussia in his palace on the Wilhelmstraße in Berlin, completed by 1820, though of smaller scale, featured a window, nearly filling one wall, densely glazed with a mosaic of panels and roundels set in a carpet of colored glass, cutting off all but a soft glow from the outside world.76 In England, enormous quantities of imported roundels were purchased by the wealthy gentry to glaze their parish churches or private chapels. Numbering in the thousands, collectively these roundels comprise the largest body of this material to survive.77 While some of the private collections still remain intact, other large 71 72
Lafond, “Traffic in old stained glass”, p. 63. The windows were put up for auction in 1842; of the 59 lots offered, 37 were unsold and remained at Strawberry Hill but much of the glass was subsequently moved around the house. 73 The Gothic addition facing the garden was largely constructed between 1811 and 1813. For a comprehensive study of the building and its decoration, see Rouss and Giesicke, Die Glasgemälde im Gotischen Haus zu Wörlitz, esp. pp. 29–56. 74 See Gast, Ch. 24 in this volume. 75 See Gast, Ch. 24 in the volume. 76 Westermann-Angerhausen, Himmelslicht, no. 94, pp. 340–41. 77 Cole, Catalogue of Netherlandish and Northern European Roundels in Britain, p. 198.
and important ones have long been dispersed, including those of Sir Thomas Neaves, George William Jerningham, 8th Baron Stafford, that once glazed his imposing chapel at Costessey Hall in Norfolk,78 and Lord Cholomondeley, for his Gothic Revival Castle in Cheshire, to name but three. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, American merchant magnates began to emulate European aristocratic taste by including “great halls” in their expansive country houses, in which to display sculpture, works of art, and arms and armor; windows were glazed with medieval and Renaissance stained glass. George DuPont Pratt (1869–1935), son of a Standard Oil magnate, whose country house, Killenworth, built in the Jacobean style and completed in 1913, housed his extensive collections. About 40 panels, including four lights from Costessey Hall, were bequeathed to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Dealer/decorators such as Charles of London, run by Charles Duveen, son of Sir Joseph, favored paneled rooms with windows dotted with stained-glass panels, mostly heraldic. Killenworth had 39 such rooms, and J. Pierpont Morgan followed suit with his McKim, Mead, and White library, glazing the windows with small panels and mosaics of fragments. The Victoria and Albert Museum, established in 1852, already acquired some of its finest roundels in 1855 and in 1859. During the opening decades of the 20th century, the museum acquired more through the London restorer and dealer Wilfred Drake (1879–1948) and his partner, Grosvenor Thomas (1856–1923). Bernard Rackham, Keeper of the Department of Ceramics (1914– 38), and a distinguished scholar of stained glass, made many outstanding acquisitions. In 1919, John Pierpont Morgan, Jr. (1867–1943), gave his father’s collection of stained glass, which had been bought en bloc from the dealer and ceramicist, Georges Hoentschel (1855–1915). In 1923, the Museum acquired four roundels from a rare English series of the Labors of the Months, c.1450, originally bought from John Christopher Hampp by the Earl of Essex for the glazed cloister at the recently Gothicized Cassiobury House, Hertfordshire.79 The preponderance of the collection was in place by the Second World War. The Rijksmuseum, without question, houses the finest collection of Netherlandish roundels. One of the earliest acquisitions was the Dirk Vellert monogrammed 78
For the Jerningham glass, see Drake, The Costessey Collection of Stained Glass. Many of the panels found their way into major public collections including the Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Burrell Collection, and the Toledo Museum of Art; see also Shepard, “ ‘Our fine Gothic magnificence’ ”. 79 Williamson, Medieval and Renaissance Stained Glass, pp. 11–12.
The Silver-Stained Roundel in Northern Europe
Abraham and the Covenant of Circumcision in 1877.80 The core of the collection, however, both numerically and qualitatively, was formed between 1910 and 1930 through the efforts and keen eyes of Nicholas Beets, curator of prints and later a dealer, and Fernand Hudig of the Department of History at the museum.81 The collecting of stained glass and roundels at the Metropolitan Museum of Art began in earnest under the directorship of William R. Valentiner (1880–1958), who had trained under Wilhelm von Bode, director of the Berlin museums. During his tenure (1907–14), Valentiner hired the young curator Joseph Breck to head the established Department of Decorative Arts. When John D. Rockefeller, Jr. committed to funding the construction of The Cloisters to house the recently purchased collection of George Grey Barnard, Breck was charged with the design of the new building, working closely with the architect Charles Collens. From the beginning, Breck viewed stained glass as an integral component of the building. The design of a lower floor gallery with nine lancet windows looking into a garden, was inspired by the acquisition of 70 silver- stained roundels through Roy Grosvenor Thompson, the son of Thomas Grosvenor and head of the firm’s New York branch; the roundels were glazed into quarry windows. These roundels were winnowed and upgraded in quality and importance, mostly in the 1980s and 90s, and the collection, in its breadth and numbers, can be considered amongst the best in the world, along with those of the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Rijksmuseum. Bibliography Primary Sources
Carel van Mander, Het Leven der Doorluchtighe Nederlandtsche en Hooghduytsche Schilders, t’Amsterdam, 1617, ed. et trans. H. Floerke, Das Leben der niederländischen und deutschen Maler von Carel van Mander, Textabdruck nach der Ausgabe von 1617, vol. 1, Munich 1906.
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Thanks to Matthias Ubl for providing me with information concerning the history of the collection. 81 Van Ruyven- Zeman, “Stained glass in Dutch museums”, pp. 159–60; Ritsema van Eck, Painted Glass Roundels, p. 4.
317 the 25th International Colloquium of the CV in Saint Petersburg), Bern, 2012. Ayre, K., Medieval English Figurative Roundels (cvma Great Britain, Summary Catalogue, 6), Oxford, 2002. Baltrušaitis, J., Réveils et prodiges. Le gothique fantastique, Pa ris, 1960. Bangs, J.M., “Rijnsburg Abbey: additional documentation on furniture, artists, musicians, and buildings, 1500–1570”, Bulletin de Koninklijke Nederlandse Oudheidkundige Bond 74 (1975), 182–90. Butts, B., Hendrix, L., et al. (eds.), Painting on Light: Drawings and Stained Glass in the Age of Dürer and Holbein (Exhibition catalogue: Los Angeles, J. Paul Getty Museum), Los Angeles, 2000. Carboni, S., Glass from Islamic Lands, New York, 2001. Cole, W., Catalogue of Netherlandish and Northern European Roundels in Britain (cvma Great Britain, Summary Catalogue, 1), Oxford, 1993. Drake, M., The Costessey Collection of Stained Glass, Formerly in the Possession of George William Jerningham, 8th Baron Stafford of Costessey in the County of Norfolk, Exeter, 1920. Eavis, A., “An 18th-century recusant’s collection: the windows of Milton Manor chapel, Oxfordshire”, in Ayers, Kurmann- Schwarz, Lautier, and Scholz, Collections of Stained Glass, pp. 83–96. Eavis, A. and Peover, M., “Horace Walpole’s painted glass at Strawberry Hill”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass Painters 19-3 (1994–95), 280–314. Eck van, X., Coebergh-Surie, C. and Gasten, A., The Stained- Glass Windows at Sint Janskerk at Gouda: Dirck and Wouter Crabeth (CV The Netherlands, 2), Amsterdam, 2002. Filedt-Kok, J.P., Halsema-Kubes, W., and Kloek, W.Th. (eds.), Kunst voor de Beeldenstorm: Noordnederlandse Kunst 1525– 1580 [Art before the Iconoclasm: North Netherlandish Art 1525–1580] (Exhibition catalogue: Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum), ‘s-Gravenhage, 1986. François, W., “Typology –back with a vengeance! Text, images, and marginal glosses in Vorsterman’s 1534 Dutch Bible”, in W.S. Melion, J. Clifton, and M. Weemans (eds.), Imago Exegetica: Visual Images as Exegetical Instruments, 1400– 1700 (Interdisciplinary Studies in Early Modern Times, 33), Leiden, 2014, pp. 89–136. Galuška, L., Macháček, J., Pieta, K., and Sedláčková, H., “The glass of Great Moravia: vessel and window glass, and small objects”, Journal of Glass Studies 54 (2012), 61–92. Hayward, J., Shepard, M.B., and Clark, C., English and French Medieval Stained Glass in the Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (cv usa, 1.1), 2 vols., London, 2003. Heaton, N., “The origin and use of silver stain”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass-Painters 10–1 (1948), 9–16. Husband, T.B., “ ‘Ick Sorgheloos …’. A silver-stained roundel in The Cloisters”, Metropolitan Museum of Art Journal 24 (1989), 173–88.
318 Husband Husband, T.B., “Hans Leonhard Schäufelein and small-scale stained glass: a design for a quatrelobe and two silver- stained roundels in New York”, in Hans Schäufelein: Vorträge, gehalten anläßlich des Nördlinger Symposiums in Rahmen der 7. Rieser Kulturtage in der Zeit vom 14. Mai bis 15. Mai 1988, Nördlingen, 1990, p. 19. Husband, T.B., Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collections: Silver-Stained and Unipartite Panels (cv usa, Checklist, 4, Studies in the History of Art, 39, Monograph Series, 1), Washington, 1991. Husband, T.B., The Luminous Image: Silver-Stained Roundels in the Lowlands 1480 –1560 (Exhibition catalogue: New York, Metropolitan Museum), New York, 1995. Husband, T.B., “De productie van gebrandschilderd glas in Leiden” [The production of stained glass in Leiden], in C. Vogelaar (ed.), Lucas van Leyden en de Renaissance (Lucas van Leyden and the Renaissance), Antwerp, 2011, p. 20. Konowitz, E., “Drawings as intermediary stages: some working methods of Dirk Vellert and Albrecht Dürer re-examined”, Simiolus 20 (1990–91), 143–52. Lafond, J., Pratique de la peinture sur verre à l’usage des curieux, suivie d’un essai historique sur le jaune d’argent et d’une note sur les plus anciens verres gravés, Rouen, 1943, pp. 39–116. Lafond, J., “Traffic in old stained glass from abroad during the 18th and 19th centuries in England”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass Painters 14-1 (1964), 58–67. Lautier, C., “Les débuts du jaune d’argent dans l’art du vitrail ou le jaune d’argent à la manière d’Antoine de Pise”, Bulletin Monumental, 158-2 (2000), 89–107. Lillich, M.P., “The band window: a theory of origin and development”, Gesta 9 (1970), 26–33. Lillich, M.P., “European stained glass around 1300: the introduction of silver stain”, in E. Liskar, (ed.), Akten des 25. Internationalen Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte, vol. 6: Europäische Kunst um 1300, Vienna, 1986, pp. 45–60. Lymant, B., Die Glasmalereien des Schnütgen-Museums: Bestandskatalog, Cologne, 1982. Parshall, P., “Kunst en reformatie in de Noordelijke Nederlanden –enkele gezichtspunten” [Art and Reformation in the northern Netherlands –some viewpoints], Bulletin van het Rijksmuseum 35 (1987), 164–75. Pilosi, L. and Whitehouse, D., “Early Islamic and Byzantine silver stain,” in C. Entwistle and L. James (eds.), New Light on Old Glass: Recent Research on Byzantine Mosaic and Glass, London, 2013, pp. 329–37. Rackham, B., “English importations of foreign stained glass in the early nineteenth century”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass Painters 2 (1927–28), 86–94. Raguin, V.C., Northern Renaissance Stained Glass: Continuity and Transformations, Worcester, Mass., 1987.
Reeves, M., Berserik, C.J., and Caen, J.M.A., Gilded Light: 16th- Century Stained Glass Roundels from the Collection of Sir Thomas Neaves and Other Private Collections, London, 2016. Ritsema van Eck, P.C., Gebrandschilderde ruitjes uit de Nederlanden 1480–1560 [Painted Glass Roundels from the Netherlands 1480–1560], Zwolle, 1999. Ruoss, M. and Giesicke, B., Die Glasgemälde im Gotischen Haus zu Wörlitz, 2 vols., Berlin, 2012. Ruyven-Zeman, Z. van, Stained Glass in the Netherlands before 1795 (CV The Netherlands, 4.2, The South), Amsterdam, 2011. Ruyven-Zeman, Z., “Collections of stained glass in Dutch museums, a survey”, in Ayers, Kurmann-Schwarz, Lautier, and Scholz, Collections of Stained, pp.151–160. Shepard, M.B., ‘ “Our fine Gothic magnificence’: the nineteenth-century chapel at Costessey Hall (Norfolk) and its medieval glazing”, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 54-2 (1995), 186–207. Scholz, H., Entwurf und Ausführung. Werkstattpraxis in der Nürnberger Glasmalerei der Dürerzeit (cvma Deutschland, Studien, 1), Berlin, 1991. Schryver, A. de, Bemden, Y. vanden., and Bral, G.J., Gothic Grotesques in Ghent. The Medieval Stained-Glass Fragments Found in the Dominican Monastery, Kortrijk, 1991. Schwarz, K., Augustin Hirschvogel: ein deutscher Meister der Renaissance, Berlin, 1917. Szőke, B.M., Wedepohl, K.H., and Kronz, A., “Silver-stained windows at Carolingian Zalavár, Mosaburg (southwestern Hungary)”, Journal of Glass Studies 46 (2004), 85–104. Vaghi, F., Verità, M., and Zecchin, S., “Silver stain on medieval window glass excavated in the Venetian lagoon”, Journal of Glass Studies 46 (2004), 105–108. Veldman, I., “Characterictics of iconography in the Lowlands during the period of Humanism and the Reformation: 1480–1560”, in Husband, The Luminous Image, pp. 15– 29. Vogel, W., The Chemistry of Glass, trans. N. Kreidl, Westerville, Ohio, 1985. Wayment, H., The Windows of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge (CV Great Britain, Supplementary 1), London, 1972. Westermann-Angerhausen, H., Hagnau, C., Schumacher, C., and Sporbeck, G. (eds.), Himmelslicht: Europäische Glasmalerei im Jahrhundert des Kölner Dombaus (1248–1349) (Exhibition catalogue: Cologne, Josef-Haubrich-Kunsthalle), Cologne, 1998. Williamson, P., Medieval and Renaissance Stained Glass in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 2003.
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f igure 16.1 View of the west façade of Chartres Cathedral, with its rose window (c.1200–10).
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f igure 16.2 Nicolas de Son, View of the west façade of Saint-Nicaise of Reims (mid-13th century) from his engraving of 1625. Reims, Bibliothèque municipale.
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f igure 16.3 Interior view of the so-called Dean’s Eye rose window (c.1220). Lincoln Cathedral, north transept, NXXXI.
f igure 16.4 Interior view of the western rose window with scenes of the Last Judgment (c.1200–10) Chartres Cathedral, bay 143.
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f igure 16.5 The Dead Rising from their Tombs, one of four rosettes of that theme in the western rose window (c.1200–10). Chartres Cathedral, bay 143.
f igure 16.6 Interior view of the rose windows of the Old and the New Alliance (c.1228–35). Strasbourg Cathedral, south transept arm, bays 106 (Trans SE) and 108 (Trans SO).
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f igure 16.7 Rose window of the Imago Mundi from the south transept of Lausanne Cathedral (c.1200–10).
f igure 16.8 Seer and the Trinity, opening from the Rothschild Canticles (early 14th century). New Haven, Beineke Library, MS 404, fols. 104v-105r.
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f igure 16.9 Master Brioloto (attributed), Exterior view of the western rose window (12th century). Abbey church of San Zeno in Verona.
f igure 16.10 Andrea Mantegna, Detail of the central panel of the Triptych for San Zeno (c.1457). Verona, San Zeno, Retable of the High Altar.
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f igure 17.1 Interior view of the grisailles, composite glazing and full color stained glass in the triforium and clerestory of the choir (c.1255–65). Tours Cathedral, choir, bays 205, 203, 201, 200 (clerestory); bays 105, 103, 101, 100 (triforium).
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f igure 17.2 Detail from a grisaille window with decorative blankglazing (c.1200– 10). Pontigny, church of the former Cistercian abbey.
f igure 17.3 Grisaille with colored border and decorative elements (c.1230–35). Chartres Cathedral, bay 19.
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f igure 17.4 Grisaille with centralized panel design and strapwork, consisting entirely of white glass (c.1240–45). Auxerre Cathedral, Lady Chapel, bay 3.
f igure 17.5 Grisaille panel with colored border and strapwork (c.1280). Troyes, Saint-Urbain, former collegiate church, bay 7.
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f igure 17.6 Grisaille with colored latticework and curling vines painted with silver stain (c.1310–15). Rouen Cathedral, axial chapel, bay 5.
f igure 18.1 Plan of Bourges Cathedral, with window numbering.
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f igure 18.2 Stained-glass window of the apostle St. Thaddeus (c.1220–25). Bourges Cathedral, choir clerestory, bay 210.
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f igure 18.3 View of the ambulatory and radiating chapels, from the southern side (1195– 1214). Bourges Cathedral, bays 6, 14, 18 and 24.
f igure 18.4 View of the choir (1195–1225). Bourges Cathedral.
f igure 18.5 View of Bourges Cathedral showing the change from grisaille into colored windows (first half and the middle of the 13th century). Bourges Cathedral, northern clerestory.
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f igure 19.1 Grisaille panel with bulged quarries centered on a drollery, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain probably from Saint-Denis, chapel of Saint Louis (1320–24). Now in Paris, Musée de Cluny –Musée national du Moyen Âge, Inv. No. Cl 11473.
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f igure 19.2 Christ as Man of Sorrows (?), colorless glass fragments with vitreous paint and silver stain from the Dominican monastery of Ghent (“Pand”), (early 14th century). University of Ghent.
f igure 19.3 Sorgheloos in Poverty, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain, North Lowlands (1510–20). New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, 1999.243.
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f igure 19.4 Artist from Antwerp or Brussels, after the Pseudo-Ortkens, Susanna and the Elders, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain (c.1520). New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, 1990.119.1.
f igure 19.5 Cologne artist, The New and Old Dispensations, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain from Cologne, Germany (1538). New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 27.224.1.
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f igure 19.6 Dirk Crabeth (1501–74), The Banquet of Samuel and Saul, The Annointing of Saul, The Preaching of Saint Paul after his Conversion, and Paul on the Aeropagus, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain from the house at Pieterskerkgracht 9, Leiden (1543). Paris, Musée des arts décoratifs, 46517 d, b; 46518 c, a (photo credit???).
f igure 19.7 Dirk Vellert signed D★V, The Judgment of Cambyses, colorless glass with vitreous paint and silver stain, Antwerp. (dated 1542). Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, BK-14517.
Pa rt 5 Workshopping the Window
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c hapter 20
Medieval Textual Sources on Stained Glass: from Theophilus to the Monk of Zagan Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz Six texts have come down to us that describe the making of glass and/or stained glass from the period 1100– 1500.1 It would go beyond the scope of this chapter to undertake a comprehensive analysis of the information on glass and glass making provided in them. The discussion that follows will therefore focus on four key questions: (1) do these medieval texts describe current practices among glass painters in the Middle Ages?; (2) do the texts allow us to draw inferences about the relationship between medieval glass painting and other art forms, painting in particular?; (3) what was the purpose of these texts; and finally, (4) what comments do they make on the status of stained glass relative to other media in the Middle Ages? I will first introduce each text briefly, before considering these questions. The earliest of these treatises, De diversis artibus, was compiled c.1100 in a monastery in medieval Germany by an unknown author who calls himself Theophilus.2 The author directly addresses a potential recipient, who is perhaps a member of the congregation, a pupil or a reader.3 Observing a certain logic, in his treatise comprised of three books, Theophilus places glass arts (Book Two) between painting (Book One) and metal arts (Book Three).4 Book Two describes glass and related techniques for the making of sheet glass, glass 1 Boulanger, “Les traités”, pp. 9–31; Baroni, Brun, and Travaglio, “Creation”, pp. 134–35. 2 For a considerable period, research was dominated by the question of the author’s identity. See the most recent study by Westermann-Angerhausen, “Stoff-Hierarchien”, pp. 241–42. On the state of research, see above all: Speer and Westermann- Angerhausen, “Ein Handbuch”, and Speer, “Zwischen Kunst handwerk und Kunst”, pp. xvi-xxii. Gearhart, Theophilus, pp. 93– 105, revives older scholarship identifying Theophilus with Roger of Helmarshausen. This is not the only reason why her study, which is less knowledgeable about glass, must be used with caution. 3 Kuchenbuch, “Dreidimensionale Werk-Sprache”, pp. 391–93, is the most recent study of the treatise’s oral disposition. The historian interprets the treatise as an educational drama (Lehr-Drama). 4 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 36– 60. The treatise is commonly referred to as De diversis artibus or Schedula diversarum artium. For manuscripts, editions and translations, see http://schedula.uni-koeln.de/index.shtml (last accessed 24 February 2018).
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 26
vessels, stained glass, mosaic tesserae, and glass rings. By the early 12th century, when Theophilus compiled De diversis artibus, stained glass had reached its first zenith, both in terms of number and geographical expansion.5 Despite its extraordinary success, however, there are no further writings on the art and technique of stained glass until the late 14th century. Nevertheless, Book Two of De diversis artibus was repeatedly copied until the end of the 17th century, and therefore widely disseminated.6 Between the end of the 14th and the middle of the 15th century, three Italian authors wrote texts describing the process of creating stained glass. In Florence, the glass painter Antonio da Pisa wrote a brief treatise on the craft around 1395–96, that is preserved in a single 12-folia copy at the library of the Sacro Convento di San Francesco in the city of Assisi.7 On the basis of linguistic analysis, this work must have been copied from the original text, probably by a Franciscan in Assisi at the beginning of the 15th century.8 Soon after Antonio da Pisa’s original treatise, Cennino Cennini wrote the Libro dell’arte, whose chapter 171 is dedicated to stained glass.9 Finally, the Biblioteca Comunale degli Intronati of Siena holds a miscellany manuscript, which dates from the first half of the 15th century, and contains a description of the making of stained glass in Italian.10 Bearing close resemblance to Antonio da Pisa’s treatise, this text has been erroneously ascribed to the Franciscan monk Francesco Formica.11
5 6 7
8 9
10 11
See essays by Dell’Acqua, Ch. 2 and Granboulan, Ch. 3 in this volume. Speer, “Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst”, p. xviii, mentions 17 manuscripts containing Book Two. Assisi, Biblioteca del Sacro Convento di San Francesco, Ms. 692. Lautier, “Introduction”, pp. 37–40, posits that Antonio either dictated his text or wrote it himself. Santucci, “Analisi”, pp. 73–85. Cennino Cennini, Il Libro dell’Arte, ed. and trans. Thompson, pp. 111–12; Cennino Cennini, Il libro dell’Arte, ed. and trans. Broecke, pp. 224–25. Siena, Biblioteca Comunale degli Intronati, Ms. L XI 41. Sienese Manuscript, trans. Bienvenu and Lautier; Boulanger, “Les traités”, pp. 17–20.
338 Kurmann-Schwarz Like Theophilus, another two late medieval witnesses who described stained-glass techniques also lived in the German-speaking world.12 Between 1470 and 1490, at the Augustinian monastery of Zagan in Silesia (Lubusz Province, western Poland), an anonymous author recorded his paraphrase of passages from Theophilus’ Book Two, complemented by his own descriptions of more recent techniques. The document has survived in a miscellany manuscript, chiefly of historical and moralizing texts.13 At roughly the same time, another anonymous author recorded several chapters on stained-glass techniques, which have survived in the Kunstbuch from the convent of St. Catherine in Nuremberg, Germany.14 Generally thought to have been written after 1461, the book is in the main a manual on how to dye cloth. With the exception of Cennini’s Libro dell’arte, the treatises mentioned above were all written in a monastic, or at least in an ecclesiastical context. The same may also be assumed for Antonio da Pisa, who is perhaps identical with Antonio di Ciomeo, a glass painter who worked on Pisa Cathedral from 1380 until 1420.15 However, none of his works mentioned in the Pisan archival records has survived. Given the wide-ranging locations and social contexts of the treatises, their textual study alone will be unable to furnish answers to these questions. Three of the treatises were written in Italy, whereas three more originated in German-speaking areas north of the Alps. Except for Cennini, the authors were educated clergymen, and skilled in the craft of writing.16 Both Theophilus and the anonymous author of the Zagan manuscript wrote in Latin.17 The others are written in the vernacular: Antonio da Pisa, Cennini and the 12
On Theophilus’ origins, see Speer, “Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst”, pp. xvi–xxii. 13 Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytecka, ms. IV 8° 9, fol. 68r-70r; Kobielus and Kulesza-Damaziak, Teofil, pp. 171–74; Zagan Manuscript, trans. Boulanger and Sandron, pp. 327–30. For a partial translation of the treatise into English, see Gajewska- Prorok, Masters of Light, pp. 31–34. 14 Nürnberg, Stadtbibliothek, Ms. Cent. VI 89; Ploss, Ein Buch von alten Farben, pp. 122–24; Kunstbuch de Nuremberg, trans. Kurmann-Schwarz and Lautier. See also: https://arb .mpiwg-berlin.mpg.de/node/91928 (last accessed 7 December 2016) and Scholz, Ch. 5 in this volume. 15 Burnam, Le vetrate del Duomo di Pisa, pp. 239–42; Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, pp. 339–49. 16 Boulanger, “Les traités”, pp. 9–31, provides an overview of texts, their authors and provenance. Given his excellent writing skills, it is likely that Cennini was descended from a family of notaries or traders. See Frezzato, “Wege der Forschung”, pp. 133–34. 17 Some German terms occur in the treatise of Zagan; see Zagan Manuscript, trans. Boulanger and Sandron, p. 327 (coppirslag = thin beaten copper), p. 328 (silbirloth = silver stain).
unknown author of the Sienese manuscript wrote in Italian; the anonymous author of the chapters on stained glass in the Nuremberg Kunstbuch wrote in German. The various origins and different languages raise further questions regarding the intended function of these treatises and their readership, which we will return to in the conclusion. But it is worth posing the questions here, namely: Was there a link between the authors’ motivation and their regional and social settings? Did writing in different languages appeal to different audiences? 1
Practices among Glass Painters
Book Two of Theophilus’ De diversis artibus has 31 chapters that describe all the techniques required for glass making, such as how to build the kilns used to melt the raw ingredients,18 and the slow annealing, or cooling down, of red-hot glass sleeves and sheets.19 Next follow precise instructions on how to make bottles and other glass vessels,20 as well as opaque glass for mosaics and chalices.21 In 13 further chapters, the author proceeds to describe the making of stained-glass windows,22 and he ends with advice on the repair of glass as well as the shaping of glass rings.23 In the Middle Ages, there were no hardware or paint shops where artists and craftsmen could purchase their materials. They therefore needed to be skilled in constructing, making and fashioning by hand all the tools and implements of their trade. Artists had to be able to build their own kilns, and had to know how to make solder rod and lead cames.24 Theophilus’ detailed knowledge of kiln construction and the manufacture of materials, as well as his descriptions regarding each stage in the making of stained glass, leave no doubt about his view that a glass painter required both artistic talent and the manual skills of a craftsman in equal measure. 18 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, chapters 1–3 (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 37–39). 19 Ibid., chapter 6 (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 40–41), and chapter 9, (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 42–43). 20 Ibid., chapters 10 and 11, (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 43–44). 21 Ibid., chapters 12–15, (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 44–46). 22 Ibid., c hapters 17–28, (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 47–58). 23 Ibid., c hapters 30–31, (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 58–60). For a detailed discussion of the techniques for producing stained glass, see Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume. 24 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, chapter 24 (“The Iron Moulds”), chapter 25 (“Casting Cames”), chapter 26 (“The Wooden Mould”) (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 53–55); see also Debitus, Lautier, and Cuzanges, “Le traité”, pp. 85–86 (tin solder), 135–141 (furnace construction).
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Medieval Textual Sources on Stained Glass
By contrast to Theophilus, who was writing in the early 12th century, the authors of the later treatises do not comment on the making of glass sheets, rings and vessels. Glasshouses that produced all kinds of glass tended to be located at the edge of forests far from cities, which is where flat glass was mainly processed.25 We should therefore assume that, already in the time of Theophilus, glass painters and those who made the glass were in distinctly different trades,26 as were the artists who created mosaics or the craftsmen who glazed ceramics.27 In practice, the techniques described in Book Two of De diversis artibus therefore pertain to separate categories of workers: artists, on the one hand, who imported sheets of glass, and craftsmen on the other hand, who manufactured the glass. Theophilus’ early 12th-century treatise makes use of a wide range of sometimes ancient sources, such as his description of a method dating back to the 8th and 9th centuries, wherein ancient mosaic tesserae and small blue glass flasks were repurposed by melting them down to make blue glass.28 Comparing Antonio da Pisa’s treatise of the late 14th century to Theophilus’ text, it is clear that the Pisan master limited himself to his own experience of stained glass. He makes no reference to making the glass itself, as he probably purchased sheet glass from market traders. He also does not mention designing the stained glass, because he was likely accustomed to working from cartoons provided by his patron.29 Instead, he begins his description of stained-glass techniques by considering colour selection, and goes on to explain the rules regarding the distribution of colours in the glass painting, attending to both large, single-figure compositions and narrative windows.30 Next, he suggests that to enhance the impact of the coloured glass, white glass should be used for one third of the window’s surface. The master also provides advice on suitable sources of visual materials. If the reader wants to know what robes the saints wear, and in which colours, Antonio advises him to look at the frescoes in the churches: “If you want to make figures of the apostles and other saints, and if you do not remember how to clothe them, go to the churches and look at those who were 25 Becksmann, Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien, pp. xxxii-xxxiv. 26 Lafond, Le Vitrail, p. 41; Brown and O’Connor, Medieval Craftsmen, pp. 46–47. 27 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, chapters 15–16 (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 46–47). 28 Hediger and Kurmann-Schwarz, “[…] et faciunt”, pp. 257–61 (with bibliography). 29 Martin, “Disegno”, pp. 48–50. 30 Lautier, “Le traité et l’oeuvre”, p. 14.
represented by the painters, and at the colours they used for the saint’s clothes and do the same”.31 In a further step, Antonio also describes the colours used to paint the glass, the black vitreous paint and the application of the yellow colour known as silver stain. In doing so, he is the very first to describe silver stain.32 Then follows advice for firing the painted glass and for the materials and form of the kiln. The building of kilns that took place using Antonio’s treatise as a model showed that a kiln could not work without some form of closure, as later texts clarify.33 This brief look at Antonio da Pisa’s treatise shows how the context in which the Italian glass painter worked at the end of the 14th century had changed in relation to the monastic environment of the author of De diversis artibus. Whereas Theophilus drew upon the collective wisdom of the library and orally transmitted knowledge of the workshop in his monastery as sources for his treatise, the Italian draws exclusively from his own practice. Cennini’s Libro dell’arte was written between 1398 and 1402, composed when the author stayed at the court of the Carrara family in Padua.34 In his introduction to Chapter 171, “Come si lavorono in vetro finestre” (“How stained-glass windows are made”),35 Cennini notes that painters only rarely employ the complex techniques of painting on glass and that, because most glass painters lack the proper skills, “[…] per mezza forza e per la ghuida del disegno pervenghono a chi all’arte compiuta” (“they almost inevitably end up using someone who has comprehensive skill”).36 Cennini describes a process whereby the glass painter provides the exact dimensions of the window to the painter, who draws the outlines and indicates shading on sheets of paper glued together –the precursor of what is now called a cartoon –in the exact size of the stained-glass panels. After this, the glass painter selects and cuts the coloured glass according to the outlines on the cartoon; he also mixes the black vitreous paint for the painter to apply to the pieces of glass. Like Theophilus and Antonio da Pisa, Cennini provides advice on advanced glass painting techniques including trace lines, stickwork (or selectively removing elements 31
32 33 34 35 36
“Si figure d’apostoli o d’altri sancti volissi fare e non avissi bene in memoria de che deverli vestire vattene a le chiese e guarda a quelle che sono dipente perl li dipenturi e de che colori l’anno vestiti le suo [sic] figure e cusì fa’ simelmente”: Antonio da Pisa, Le traité, trans. Bienvenu and Lautier, pp. 44–45. Lautier, “Le début du jaune d’argent”. For silver stain, see also Brown, Ch. 1 and Husband, Ch. 19 in this volume. Debitus, Lautier, and Cuzange, “Le traité”, p.141. Frezzato, “Wege der Forschung”, pp. 133–35. Cennino Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, ed. Frezzato, pp. 191–92. Cennino Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, ed. and trans. Broecke, p. 224.
340 Kurmann-Schwarz from a previously painted area in order to render details and make inscriptions), and highlighting.37 According to Cennini, the next steps are in the hands of the glass painter, who fires the prepared panes of painted glass in the kiln prior to leading them together. Like Antonio da Pisa, Cennini is familiar with the method of adding cold paint after firing.38 Throughout chapter 171, Cennini portrays a strict division of labour between the painter and the glass painter, and considers the painter to be the true artist, whereas he thinks of the glass painter as a craftsman. However, the Florentine painter is not entirely consistent, insofar as he leaves it to the glass painter to select the colours for the glass composition, which is ultimately an artistic achievement. In this, Cennini resembles Antonio da Pisa, whose treatise begins at this point in the process.39 In terms of content, the 15th-century Sienese manuscript, at one time attributed to Francesco Formica,40 is related to the treatises by Cennini and Antonio da Pisa. Like the latter, the author of the Sienese text makes short shrift of painting techniques. Instead he goes straight to the ingredients of black vitreous paint, which, according to Cennini, are mixed by the glass painter. Next, the Sienese author addresses the structure of the kiln, and the control of the fire within it. Only after addressing these issues does the Siena manuscript mention the cutting of the glass, and how lead cames are cast and soldered. Finally, in its instructions on how to pick lines and highlights out of the dried vitreous paint, the text focuses on the artistry required of a glass painter. As in Antonio da Pisa, the less than systematic description of the manufacturing process would be of little use to a glass painter who had not yet mastered his craft, and does not already know the correct sequence of each stage in the process. Two treatises on stained glass were written north of the Alps, in the second half of the 15th century. The author of the treatise of Zagan excerpts passages from Book Two and Three of Theophilus’ De diversis artibus and adds descriptions of more recent techniques,41 such
as silver stain (first mentioned by Antonio da Pisa), and the method for transferring designs from cartoon to glass. The Zagan manuscript follows Theophilus with regard to the firing process, soldering of lead cames, and the use of coloured gemstones that are applied to sheet glass as decorative elements.42 Despite its brevity, the Zagan treatise also mentions the wooden drafting table on which the stained-glass window design is laid out. Moreover, for the first time since the 12th century, we find here a description of how to paint on glass,43 according to which the glass painter places the cut glass pieces on the wooden board and transfers the design to the glass in initial brush strokes that will serve as references for the execution of the painting. Once the paint of the initial reference strokes has dried, the glass is turned over. The glass painter then copies the design on the reverse using a different kind of vitreous paint. He then completes his work in front of a light source, which enables him to see the reverse drawing through the glass. Once the work is complete, the reference lines on the reverse are wiped off. The degree of precision in the anonymous author’s descriptions leaves no doubt that it was the glass painter who painted the glass pieces. As Jost Amman’s woodcut of a glass-painter in Hans Sachs’ Book of Trades (Eygent liche Beschreibung aller Staende auff Erden), printed in Frankfurt in 1568, demonstrates (Figure 20.1), the method was still in use in the Early Modern era.44 Here, the glass painter sits at a table in front of a window with the glass placed on a kind of easel. This allows him to see the sketch on the reverse even after shades of vitreous paint have been applied to the front.45 A glass-painting method akin to the one practised by Cennini is also found in chapters 86–91 of the manuscript known as the Nuremberg Kunstbuch.46 While the anonymous author of the Kunstbuch relies on a cartoon supplied by a painter, as do Cennini and Antonio da Pisa,47 in this case it is probably the glass painter who paints the pieces of glass. His methods are described in
37
42
In glass painting, highlights are not painted on glass, but rather they are created by leaving the surface unpainted. Technical imprecision in this regard in Gearhart, Theophilus, p. 56, who writes that the Wissembourg head in the Musée de l’Oeuvre Notre-Dame was ‘painted’ with highlights, and that it was executed on pinkish glass, whereas it was in fact made of uncoloured glass that reads as white. She also wrongly indicates a provenance in Strasbourg Cathedral. The author thanks Sabine Bengel, Oeuvre Notre-Dame, Strasbourg, for her help on the Wissembourg head. 38 Debitus, Lautier, and Cuzanges, “Le traité”, pp. 82–83, 114–16. 39 Antonio da Pisa, Le traité, trans. Bienvenu and Lautier, pp. 43–45. 40 Sienese Manuscript, trans. Bienvenu and Lautier. 41 Zagan Manuscript, trans. Boulanger and Sandron, pp. 327–30.
See chapters in Theophilus, De diversis artibus, chapters 22, 23, 27, 28 (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 52–53, 56–57); Zagan Manuscript, chapters 4–7 (trans. Boulanger and Sandron, pp. 328–30). 43 Zagan Manuscript, chapter 1 (trans. Boulanger and Sandron, p. 327). 44 Sachs, Book of Trades, pp. 48– 49; Brown and O’Connor, Medieval Craftsmen, p. 15, fig. 12. 45 Trümpler, “Nouvelles observations”. 46 Ploss, Ein Buch von alten Farben, pp. 122–124. For the transcription and translation of chapters 86–91 from German into French, see Kunstbuch de Nuremberg (trans. Kurmann- Schwarz and Lautier). 47 Kunstbuch de Nuremberg, chapter 87 (trans. Kurmann- Schwarz and Lautier p. 332).
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detail, including stick work and highlighting,48 followed by notes on firing the paint, before the technique of glass cutting is described; this discussion is restricted, however, to the fashioning of quarries.49 This is the reason why some scholars assumed that the chapters were written by a glazier who no longer made stained-glass windows.50 However, the detailed instructions on how to paint the glass pieces contradict this assumption. All six works that we have discussed above provide evidence that glass workshops followed different practices. In Theophilus’ treatise, and in its paraphrase by the anonymous author of the Zagan manuscript, one person alone appears to be in charge of every stage, from making his own materials, to the designing and painting of the finished piece of work.51 By contrast, the late medieval texts allude in some fashion to a division of labour between the painter who creates the design, and the glass painter who transfers it to the glass. Even if Antonio da Pisa remains silent about the division of labour, a Florentine document in the archives of the Opera del Duomo relates that, in 1395, Antonio da Pisa created a stained-glass window after a cartoon designed by Angnolo Gaddi, above the door in the northern aisle (n i) of the cathedral.52 In this case, Antonio’s window has survived (Figure 20.2) and becomes an important comparative document in its own right. The document in the archives of the cathedral in Florence corroborates the method described in chapter 171 of Cennini’s Libro dell’arte. Having learnt his craft from master Agnolo Gaddi, Cennini was familiar with the division of labour between painter and glass painter.53 Nevertheless, the question remains as to whether the process as described by Cennini reflects general Florentine practice at the time. Was it always the painter who created the cartoons and painted the panes of glass? Was the glazier merely responsible for cutting, firing, and leading the glass? By comparing the extant stained- glass windows in the aisles of Florence Cathedral and Agnolo Gaddi’s paintings in the choir of Santa Croce, Claudine Lautier was able to show that different hands were at work on the wall and in the glass.54 With Lautier, 48 49 50 51 52
53 54
we may therefore infer that Antonio da Pisa painted the glass (Figure 20.2), and not Agnolo Gaddi. The examples above highlight the fact that there were differences between actual working practices and the procedures described in the treatises by Cennini and the author of De diversis artibus, which posit an ideal situation.55 Circumstances such as the patron’s financial situation may have led to deviations from the ideal. Even if better documented works from the 15th and 16th centuries do provide evidence of a division of labour between painter and glass painter, the role of those involved in the execution of stained-glass windows must be analysed on a case by case basis. The treatises differ from actual practice not only in the design of the window, but also in their descriptions of other processes, as evidenced by Theophilus’ already mentioned instruction on the colouring of blue glass by means of using older vessels or mosaics. It is very likely, therefore, that the procedures described in the treatises did not always reflect the actual, on the ground practices of the craft in the time the treatises were written.56 2
Glass Painting and the Other Arts
This examination of the treatises allows us to draw the conclusion that the authors conceived of stained glass as part of monumental painting, and that painters had been involved in the complex process of creating these works since the late Middle Ages. On this point, we have good evidence in Italy from the second half of the 14th century; three of the six surviving texts on the techniques of stained glass actually provide insights into the relationships between glass painters and painters. At the technical level, however, there are also links to other arts. As has been shown, the author of De diversis artibus placed the stained-glass chapter between the painting and metalworking chapters, a sequence that does have its own logic. In fact, the complex process of making stained glass involves painting, as well as metalworking. Despite the fact that these activities Kunstbuch de Nuremberg (trans. Kurmann- Schwarz and require very different skills, De diversis artibus gives the Lautier, pp. 332–33). Kunstbuch de Nuremberg, chapter 88 (trans. Kurmann- impression that one person would execute all the steps in the process. In sequencing his three-part treatise, Schwarz and Lautier pp. 333–34). Boulanger, “Les traités”, p. 203. the author elevates stained-glass painting above paintKuchenbuch, “Dreidimensionale Werk-Sprache”, pp. 396–97. ing owing to its complex techniques, materiality, and Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, p. 346 (pièces justificatives). On Italian stained glass, see also Thompson, Ch. 21 in this volume. Boulanger, “Le vitrail d’Antoine de Pise”, pp. 225–40; Martin, “Disegno”, pp. 48–49. Lautier, “Le traité et l’oeuvre d’Antoine de Pise”, pp. 30–33, colour plates i-x iv.
55 Jacobsen, Die Maler von Florenz, pp. 49–65; Sprigath, “Die sakramentale Bestimmung”, pp. 419–22. 56 Speer and Westermann- Angerhausen, “Ein Handbuch”, pp. 256–57.
342 Kurmann-Schwarz the diaphanous quality that is lacking in paintings on opaque ground.57 Antonio da Pisa refers to wall painting as providing exemplary guides for iconographic choices.58 Lautier’s observation that Antonio da Pisa painted the glass is confirmed by Werner Jacobsen’s research, which showed that Florentine painters specialised due to stiff competition among them; they could not afford to dissipate their energies by accepting unusual and time- consuming work. Jacobsen posits that the Florentine glass painters formed an isolated group of highly skilled itinerant craftsmen, who depended on patrons and their commissions.59 As his Florentine commission illustrates, Antonio da Pisa was evidently willing to accept work beyond his native city. After the fairly well-documented situation of Florentine glass painters and their close links to painters, let us now consider the situation of their peers north of the Alps. Before the 15th century, the sources that provide information about the conditions for the creation of stained glass are rare; for the centuries of the great cathedrals in France, the written tradition is almost absent. In the first half of the 12th century, Abbot Suger of Saint-Denis reported that he called in a large number of masters from many different places to make the stained- glass windows in the new choir of his abbey church.60 Suger’s text corroborates the fact that the specialized artists, who had mastered the art of making stained- glass windows, travelled far and wide. At Chartres Cathedral, to mention just one example where extensive glazing was required around 1200, glass painters of various different origins appear to have worked side by side in several workshops.61 There is no doubt that the complexities involved in making stained glass, and the vast number of windows in the many great churches, required a division of labour within one workshop, or among the several workshops involved. The glass painters’ itinerant lives, and their methods of executing large commissions, are documented in an entry in the Westminster accounts dated 57 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, Prologue to Book Two (ed. and trans. Dodwell, pp. 36–37). For the diaphanous quality of the glass, see also Bałus, Ch. 6 in this volume. 58 Antonio da Pisa, Le traité (trans. Bienvenu and Lautier, pp. 44–45); quoted above. 59 Jacobsen, Die Maler von Florenz, pp. 53–54, 60. On the itinerant lives of glass painters, see Gatouillat, “Voyage”. 60 For the most recent German edition of the text, see Abbot Suger, De administratione, de consecratione, ordinatio, eds. Speer and Binding, pp. 358–59; for the English translation see ed. and trans. Panofsky, pp. 72–74; for the French translation, see ed. and trans. Gasparri, vol. 1, pp. 146–47. 61 Lautier, “Les peintres-verriers”.
3 October 1352. It lists over 30 glass painters, directed by six masters, who made the stained-glass windows for Saint Stephen’s Chapel in the old palace.62 According to the document, masters John de Chestre, John Athelard, John Lincoln, Hugh Licheffeld, Simon de Lenne,63 and John de Lenton drew the originals on whitened drafting boards; 11 others painted the glass. Another 14 craftsmen cut the glass and, after painting, leaded them on the drafting boards with the designs for the windows. In the case of St. Stephen’s Chapel, there was no strict division of labour between painter and glass painter, but rather among the duties doled out among the glaziers. Previous research assumes that the procedures described above would speed up the completion of the stained-glass windows.64 The fact that a glass painter might serve as both designer and executor is also corroborated by a contract signed in 1405 between John Thornton of Coventry and the chapter of the archiepiscopal cathedral of York. The document defines the conditions under which the stained glass for the large east window of York Cathedral was to be made. While the original document is now lost, the Latin text has been handed down in two slightly different transcripts, and in an English version.65 According to the contract, John Thornton himself was to draw the cartoons and paint the glass within a time- span of three years, yet he is contractually permitted to call in assistants to help carry out the huge task. Another well-documented example from England is the glazing of Beauchamp Chapel in the collegiate church of St. Mary’s in Warwick. In 1447, the executors of the will of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick (1382–1439), and John Prudde, the king’s glass painter, agreed that the stained glass would be made according to designs supplied to the artist.66 The patrons would have had little doubt concerning the skill of the glass painter as a designer, but, as Richard Marks has recently pointed out, they also wanted to retain strict control of the execution of the chapel’s entire program of decoration.67 Their supervision also encompassed the stained glass, its iconography, and the materials that Prudde was to use. It was particularly important to the executors of Richard Beauchamp’s will that glass imported 62 Marks, Stained Glass, pp. 40–47; see also Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume. 63 On this master glass-painter, see King, Ch. 22 in this volume. 64 Marks, Stained Glass, p. 44. 65 Marks, Stained Glass, p. 46; French, York Minster, pp. 4–5. On John Thornton and his workshop, see Brown, Apocalypse, pp. 23–33 and Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume. 66 Marks, Stained Glass, p. 44–46; id., “Entumbid right princly”, pp. 682–723. 67 Marks, “Entumbid right princly”, pp. 712–14.
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from the continent (assumed to be of higher quality) was used.68 These examples from York and Warwick underscore the key role played by patrons, not only in terms of how the work was organised and how the stained glass was made, but also regarding the quality and selection of materials. These English documents provide evidence of different work arrangements. On the one hand they confirm Cennini’s and Antonio da Pisa’s division of labour, on the other they prove that glass painters were able to exert some degree of artistic control over their work. Owing to a lack of sources, however, art historians usually depend upon stylistic analyses to either posit or disprove the division of labour between painter and glass painter. For quite some time, the cartoons for the stained- glass windows from the Sainte-Chapelle at Bourges (1392– 97) were attributed to the sculptor André Beauneveu on this basis.69 Also, the cartoons for the stained-glass window in the family chapel of Jacques Coeur at Bourges Cathedral can be attributed to a Flemish painter,70 who has been identified with Jacob de Littemont, court painter to King Charles vii.71 As is the case in the glazing of Florence Cathedral, designed by Agnolo Gaddi (Figure 20.2), Jacob de Littemont obviously was not involved in the painting of the glass. An analysis of the Bourges windows during the most recent restoration revealed that at least three different pairs of hands were involved in the task of transferring the images from cartoon to glass.72 Hartmut Scholz’s studies of stained-glass windows in Nuremberg in the late 15th and early 16th centuries largely confirm the working methods described in the Kunstbuch. Here, as a matter of course, it is assumed that painters made the cartoons. Albrecht Dürer, Hans Süss von Kulmbach, and Hans Baldung Grien created small- scale vidimuses and cartoons for important commissions of stained-glass windows for churches in and around Nuremberg.73 However, Scholz has also found that the glass was almost invariably painted by glass painters, who, in some cases, also produced the full-scale cartoon after the painter’s small vidimus.74 68 Ibid., p. 708. 69 De Chancel- Bardelot and Raynaud, Une fondation disparue, pp. 72–79; Nash, “No Equal in Any Land”, pp. 154–77, Kurmann- Schwarz, “Les vitraux de la Sainte- Chapelle de Bourges”. 70 Grodecki, “Le ‘Maître des vitraux de Jacques Coeur’ ”, pp. 266– 77; Kurmann-Schwarz, Französische Glasmalereien, pp. 176– 80; ead., “La Sainte-Chapelle de Riom”, pp. 348–49. 71 Lorentz, “Un peintre eyckien”. 72 Kurmann-Schwarz, “Les verriers à Bourges”, pp. 144–49. 73 Scholz, Entwurf und Ausführung, pp. 23–205. See also Scholz, Ch. 5 in this volume. 74 Scholz, Entwurf und Ausführung, pp. 43–82.
Extant treatises, then, are unable to provide universal answers regarding glass painters’ actual practices, or the relationship between their medium and the other arts. Therefore, other types of sources need to be studied, and extant stained-glass windows analysed. To date, such studies and analyses have shown that these relationships, and the ways in which work is organised, may differ from one region, artefact, and situation, to another. Moreover, from the 14th century onwards, increasing evidence has been found for a division of labour between painters and glass painters, for a variety of reasons. Depending on the situation and context at the time, the division of labour may stem from a desire for rapid progress, from the glass painters’ lack of draftsmanship, the patrons’ wish to be in complete control of their commissions, a greater demand for popular composition, or even the higher regard in which the art of painting was held, especially in Trecento Italy. 3
The Purpose of the Treatises
For quite some time after the rediscovery of these medieval treatises on stained glass, scholars assumed that they were intended as instruction manuals for craftsmen, and some authors continue to hold this opinion. However, in recent scholarship this position has become less considerably certain.75 If the treatises were not written with a view to providing instruction for artists, what was their intention? Before we can attempt to answer this question, two things should be considered. On the one hand, we must understand what the term ars actually means in the Middle Ages. On the other hand, we have to consider what conclusions may be drawn from the fact that technical and craft aspects of ars are recorded in writing. In the past, art historians rather hastily tended to translate ars as “art” in the modern sense of the word. In the Middle Ages, however, the term was taken to signify a specific kind of knowledge or a distinct system of rules.76 It was only in the 18th century that visual arts were defined as a topic of aesthetic consideration.77 By contrast, the Middle Ages saw little difference between the visual arts and other human activities involving 75
For a summary of studies on Theophilus, see Kurmann- Schwarz, “«[…] quicquid discere»“. See also the essential study of Speer and Westermann- Angerhausen, “Ein Handbuch”. On the Libro dell’arte, see Schmidt, “Hypothesen”. See also Thompson, Ch. 21 in this volume. 76 Barash, Theories of Art, pp. 45– 107; Speer, “Kunst und Schönheit”, pp. 952–58; Löhr, “Dantes Täfelchen”; Baader, “Sündenfall”, p. 127. 77 Speer, “Kunst und Schönheit”, pp. 945–49.
344 Kurmann-Schwarz manual skills, and considered artists such as painters, sculptors, goldsmiths, or glass painters to be the equals of bakers, carpenters, tanners, and many other trades whose specialist skills satisfy basic human needs for food, clothing, housing and the like, and whose knowledge was passed on from master to apprentice by word of mouth.78 Indicative of the medieval understanding of ars is the fact that in his encomium to Paris, Jean de Jandun (c. 12850–1328) praises the sculptures and paintings of Parisian artists, right alongside the ars mirabilis of the bakers working in the city.79 What, then, does it mean that the knowledge and expertise required to make medieval stained-glass windows was set down in writing? The written word was an excellent means of recording knowledge, of facilitating instruction and learning, of endowing it with longevity, incorporating it within tradition, and imbuing that object or an activity with an aura of greater legitimacy.80 Clearly, the written record is about far more than teaching recipes or learning a craft. The treatises discussed here not only set down received knowledge, they also draw significance from being committed to written form. Insofar as the authors convey rules for the making of material objects to a fictitious audience or readership, they recreate a setting of oral narrative. By recording the procedures for manual activities, these authors move closer to the sciences, which have always relied on conveying rules in writing.81 The treatises of Theophilus, Cennini, and Antonio da Pisa not only gather specialized knowledge, they also expect the artist to exhibit the kind of ethical behaviour that is commensurate with the higher social standing that he strives for.82 Moreover, these authors assume that their readers have a degree of culture and some knowledge of the techniques related to their subject matter.83 Numerous procedural gaps hint at the fact that the recipes and instructions provided are not intended for beginners wishing to learn the basics of painting or glass painting. On the contrary, anyone relying exclusively on the instructions given in these treatises would be at least partly doomed to fail. 78
Meier, “Der Wandel der Enzyklopädie”, pp. 23–33; see also Baader, “Sündenfall”, p. 129. 79 Inglis, Jean Fouquet, pp. 19–37 citing two chapters of Jean de Jandun, Tractatus de laudibus Parisius in English. For the Latin text with French translation see: Le Roux de Lincy, Les historiens, pp. 53–55. 80 Kiening, “Die erhabene Schrift”, pp. 18–26. 81 Löhr, “Handwerk und Denkwerk”, pp. 153–57, 162–68; also Baader, “Sündenfall”. 82 Frezzato, “Wege der Forschung”, pp. 135–36; Löhr, “Handwerk und Denkwerk”, pp. 162–68; Gearhart, Theophilus, pp. 75–82. 83 This is the case, for example, in Cennino Cennini, Il Libro dell’arte; see Frezzato, “Wege der Forschung”, pp. 135–36.
Most authors currently studying the subject of medieval treatises concur with this point of view. The mere fact that specialized knowledge has been recorded in writing casts doubt on the assumption that their authors picked up their pens with the aim of merely conveying the practice of a craft. The authors of the treatises make only vague references to their motivations for their writing, although both Theophilus and Cennini provide a historical and theological context for the origin of their arts. As they articulate, after the Fall, man lost his immortality, however, since God created man in his own image and brought him to life with his own breath, man remained a rational being.84 When he was forced to work for his survival, the God-given gift of intelligence enabled him to invent many manual skills that made his life easier and more beautiful. Both Antonio da Pisa and the anonymous author of the Sienese Codex render thanks to God for this gift. It would therefore seem that these authors not only wrote in order to disseminate information on manufacturing processes, but also to legitimise and elevate their artistic activity. If one reads De diversis artibus in the light of its three prologues, artistic work is presented as worthy labour in the sense articulated in the Benedictine rule.85 Manual labour is seen as a service in the name of God, as it helps to preserve the monks’ souls and lead them to virtue.86 In Cennini’s view, a good artist requires more than talent; he should also live a well-regulated life.87 Cennini firmly believes that virtue and restraint will guarantee that the artist can draw with the steady hand that is necessary for his success. It is only Leon Battista Alberti who, by positing a spiritualisation of the artists’ hand, abandons its physicality in favour of a definition of art as a purely intellectual endeavour.88 4
The Status of Stained Glass
If the act of writing enhances the value and prestige of an activity, do De diversis artibus and the Libro dell’arte, the two treatises on painting and glass painting, provide any information regarding the status of stained glass 84 Baader, “Sündenfall”. See also van Engen, “Theophilus”, p. 150. 85 Kurmann- Schwarz, “«[…] quicquid discere»”, p. 41; Kuchenbuch, “Dreidimensionale Werk- Sprache”, pp. 379, 384: in his Prologue to Book Two, Theophilus makes reference to chapter 48 of the Rule of St. Benedict. 86 Van Engen, “Theophilus”, pp. 151–52; Sprigath, “Die sakramentale Bestimmung”, pp. 414–22. For the parallel between virtue and skill, see Gearhart, “Transforming”. 87 Löhr, “Handwerk und Denkwerk”, pp. 164, 167–68. 88 Leon Battista Alberti, De statua. De pictura. Elementa picturae, eds. and trans. Bätschmann, Schäublin, and Patz, pp. 72–77.
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among the arts at the time? Theophilus’ view on this question emerges only indirectly. As already mentioned, he placed stained glass between painting and metal arts, and emphasized its superiority over paintings on opaque ground because of its diaphanous nature.89 By contrast, and setting the tone for the Italian paragone in the 16th century, Cennini’s treatise clearly elevates painting above any of the other arts.90 North of the Alps, around 1400, no textual evidence comparable to Cennini’s treatise has been found, although a shift towards the supremacy of painting can be observed at French courts.91 However, any discussion of the status of the arts should not overlook John Thornton’s contract with the chapter of York Minster, which provides evidence that it was important for the patron to appoint a glass painter who was able to design and execute his own works.92 Also, as Scholz has shown, even in Nuremberg around 1500, it should not be assumed that cartoons, although quite common, were always provided by painters.93 It is an extraordinary fact that the five treatises on stained glass, written between c.1100 and c.1500, and the chapter in Cennini’s Libro dell’arte, have survived. These documents are testament to the great significance and high esteem in which stained glass was held at the time. They demonstrate that up until at least 1500, the medium played a major part among the fine arts, especially north of the Alps. According to these medieval sources, patrons greatly appreciated the material qualities of stained-glass windows, in particular their translucence and transparency, and the effect of their vivid colours in enclosed spaces.94 On the other hand, the textual sources hardly speak about artistic qualities in the sense of modern art history. This silence does not only concern stained glass, but also the other artistic genres, for there 89 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, Prologue to Book Two (ed. and trans. Dodwell, p. 37): “Verum quoniam huiusmodi picturae usus perspicax non valet esse, quasi curiosus explorator omnimodis elaboravi cognoscere, quo artis ingenio et colorum varietas opus decoraret, et lucem diei solisque radios non repelleret” (“But since this kind of painting cannot be translucent, I have, like a diligent seeker, taken particular pains to discover by what ingenious techniques a building may be embellished with a variety of colours, without excluding the light of day and the rays of the sun”). 90 Kruse, Wozu Menschen malen, pp. 91–103. 91 Warnke, Hofkünstler, pp. 52–59; Thiébaut, “De 1435 à 1500”, pp. 105–66; Hérold, “Le ‘triomphe’ du peintre?”, pp. 504–08, 528–38. 92 See futher discussion of John Thornton in Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume. 93 See Scholz, Ch. 5 in this volume. 94 Hediger and Schiffhauer, “Werkstoff Glas”, pp. 18–21; see also Bałus, Ch. 6 in this volume.
was little discourse before the modern period about art and its aesthetic qualities.95 For this reason, art historians rightly view the presentation and description of the making of art as a first step towards a discourse on the arts.96 These treatises are therefore evidence that stained glass played an important role at the very beginning of theoretical reflections on the arts.97 Finally, we return to the two questions raised earlier in this essay: who in the Middle Ages felt the need to discuss art; and for whom did the authors of the works discussed here actually write? With regard to Theophilus and Cennini, most scholars have dismissed an earlier hypothesis that they addressed artisans who learned their craft in the workshop. It has been suggested that the Libro dell’arte was addressed to the ideal student, the dilettante, a tradesman in a guild, or an educated member of the court at Padua.98 However, none of the suggestions really stand up in the light of current research. Rather than as an instruction manual for artists, Theophilus’ treatise is now regarded as a book that conveys specialized knowledge to an educated readership.99 There is no doubt that the treatise was intended for someone directly involved with art, but not so much to provide the expertise needed by the artist, but rather for a patron or magister operis who supervised architectural or artistic commissions. Technical knowledge was required of anyone in charge of assessing the quality and price of materials, or the value of an artwork. In the case of stained glass, such assessments could be complex, including structural stability and resistance to rain and damp, or how carefully the paint had been applied and whether it had bonded with the glass. The quality of the glass itself was key if it was to retain its translucence, as was the luminosity of the glass pieces, their harmonious colours and the legibility of the images. It is highly likely that some of the authors of these treatises chose the vernacular in order to reach a readership that may not have understood Latin. Despite the wealth of expertise contained in these treatises about stained glass across four centuries, they contain little information about the status of the medium among other fine arts. As has been emphasised, both Theophilus and Cennini consider stained glass as a form of monumental painting. When it comes to the actual art-making process, however, the Italian makes a distinction between artistic activities and practical 95 96 97 98 99
Klein, “Warum und seit wann?”. Schmidt, “Hypothesen”, p. 150. Suckale, “Glasmalerei im Kontext”, p. 73. Schmidt, “Hypothesen”, pp. 147– 48; Skaug, Cenniniana”, p. 81. Clarke and Stijnman, “Around Theophilus”, p. 216.
“More
346 Kurmann-Schwarz tasks, consigning only the latter to the glass painter. In Cennini’s view, the cartoons and sketches from the artist’s hand are the really creative work; since these are mostly lost, the artist’s legacy is therefore only available to posterity second-hand (an admittedly odd perspective), that is, through the extant windows made from them (Figure 20.2). This is one of the reasons why, to this day, stained glass remains largely excluded from the art- historical canon. Moreover, the treatises provide very little precise information about actual practices in the different periods of the Middle Ages. We may therefore infer from these lacunae that the documents were not intended as instruction manuals. Instead, they are among the very earliest writings to give evidence of a discourse on the arts and the artist’s self-image. Significantly, the authors integrated the various arts into a tradition of the activities that Adam invented to survive outside Paradise. In Theophilus’ view, an artistic talent was a gift bestowed by God, and the artist exercised his talent to praise God’s name. Conversely, and under completely different conditions, Cennini learned his craft by serving under his teacher Agnolo Gaddi for 12 years, with the aim of earning a living and gaining a good reputation in society. Antonio da Pisa also discussed economic aspects of the profession in his treatise,100 and gave advice on how a glass painter could make a name for himself in society. While he proudly presented his doctrina, he was content to describe them without claiming any special status among the other arts. 5 Conclusion The study of these treatises, then, produces a rich and multi-faceted view of the status of stained glass. While it was praised around 1100 as something special compared to painting on an opaque ground, by around 1400, the Italian treatises and those documents from north of the Alps are less certain as to whether stained glass merited a place among the fine arts, or whether it should be regarded as a lesser activity. They do, however, leave room for practices and accommodations that deviate from the ones postulated in the treatises. The few extant source documents relating to commissions also vacillate regarding the glass painter’s social standing, remaining undecided as to whether he is an artist or a craftsman. Nevertheless, the proof of the significant position of stained glass among the arts lies in the fact that –for the four centuries surveyed here –the knowledge of it was
100 Gearhart, Theophilus, p. 107, also observed economic aspects in Theophilus’ text.
considered important enough to merit being committed to writing. Acknowledgments This essay was translated by Margaret Powell-Joss and helpfully revised by Elizabeth Carson Pastan. I also thank Claudine Lautier, Michel Hérold, Wojciech Balus and Dobroslawa Horzela for their help. The chapter is a new and enlarged version of Kurmann-Schwarz, “De Théophile à Cennino Cennini”. Bibliography Primary Sources
Abbot Suger of Saint-Denis, Ausgewählte Schriften: Ordinatio, De consecratione, De administratione, ed. A. Speer and G. Binding, Darmstadt, 2000. Leon Battista Alberti, Das Standbild. Die Malkunst. Grundlagen der Malerei, ed., trans. and introduced by O. Bätschmann, C. Schäublin and K. Patz, Darmstadt, 2000. Antonio da Pisa, Le traité d’Antoine de Pise, transcription of the manuscript D. Gallo and D. Sandron, trans. K. Bienvenu and C. Lautier, in Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, 41–78. Cennino Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, ed. F. Frezzato, 3rd edition, Vicenza, 2003. Cennino d’Andrea Cennini, Il Libro dell’arte, ed. and trans. E. Jr. Thompson, The Craftman’s Handbook, 2nd edition, New York, 1954. Cennino Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, ed. and trans. L. Broecke, Cennino Cennini’s libro dell’arte. A new English translation and commentary with Italian transcription, London, 2015. Jean de Jandun, Tractatus de laudibus Parisius, ed. et trans. A.- J.-V. Leroux de Lincy and L.M. Tisserand, Paris et ses historiens au XIVe et XVe siècles, documents et écrits originaux (Histoire générale de Paris), Paris, 1857, pp. 32–79. Kunstbuch de Nuremberg, transcription after Ploss, Ein Buch von alten Farben, trans. B. Kurmann-Schwarz, & C. Lautier, in Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise, 331–35. Hans Sachs and Jost Amman, Eygentliche Beschreybung Aller Stände auff Erden, Hoher vnd Nidriger, Geistlicher vnd Weltlicher, Aller Kuensten, Handwercken vnd Haendeln/etc. vom groesten biß zum kleinesten, Auch von jrem Vrsprung, Erfindung vnd gebreuchen, deren gleichen zuvor niemands gesehen/allen Staenden so in diesem Buch begriffen, zu ehren vnd wolgefallen …, Franckfurt, 1568: http://daten .digitale-sammlungen.de/~db/0010/bsb00105474/images/ (last accessed 2 December 2018); H. Sachs /J. Amman, A Sixteenth-Century Book of Trades: “das Ständebuch”, transl. and introduction by T.K. Rabb (Society for the Promotion of Science and Scholarship), Palo Alto, Calif., 2009.
Medieval Textual Sources on Stained Glass Sugerus Sancti Dionysii, Oeuvres, ed., trans. and commented by F. Gasparri, 2 vols., Paris 2008. Theophilus, De Diversis Artibus, ed. C.R. Dodwell, Theophilus, The Various Arts, Translated from the Latin with Introduction and Notes, New York, 1961. Theophilus, On Divers Arts. The Foremost Medieval Treatise on Painting, Glassmaking and Metalwork, trans. from the Latin with introduction and notes by J.G. Hawthorne and C.S. Smith, New York, 1963. Traité de peinture sur verre dit de Francesco Formica, transcription D. Gallo, & D. Sandron, trans. K. Bienvenu, & C. Lautier, in Lautier and Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, 315–25. Traité du moine de l’abbaye de Zagan (Silésie), transcription and trans. K. Boulanger and D. Sandron, in Lautier and Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, 327–30.
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Baader, H., “Sündenfall und Wissenschaft. Zur Verschriftlichung künstlerischer Techniken durch Cennino Cennini”, in Löhr and Weppelmann (eds.), ‘Fantasie und Handwerk’, pp. 121–30. Barash, M., Theories of Art. From Plato to Winckelmann, New York, 1985. Baroni, S., Brun, G., and Travaglio, P., “Creation and colouration of stained-glass windows in mediaeval literary sources: new perspectives on technical treatises dated betweeen the 12th and 16th centuries”, in H. Roemich and K. van Lookeren Campagne (eds.), Recent Advances in Glass and Ceramics Conservation 2013 (Icom CC Glass and Ceramics Working Group and Forum of the International Scientific Committee of the CV-ICOMOS), Zwolle, 2013, pp. 133–40. Becksmann, R., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Baden und der Pfalz ohne Freiburg i. Br. (CVMA Deutschland, 2.1), Berlin, 1979. Boulanger, K., “Les traités médiévaux de peinture sur verre”, Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes 162 (2004), 9–31. Boulanger, K., “Les traités médiévaux sur le vitrail”, in Lautier and Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, pp. 201–13. Boulanger, K., “Le vitrail d’Antoine de Pise”, in Lautier and Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, pp. 225–40. Boulanger, K. and Hérold, M. (eds.), Le vitrail et les traités du Moyen Âge à nos jours (Transactions of the 23rd International Colloquium of the CV in Tours), Bern, 2008. Brown, S., Apocalypse. The Great East Window of York Minster, London, 2014. Brown, S. and O’Connor, D., Medieval Craftsmen: Glass Painters, London, 1991. Burnam, R.K., Le vetrate del Duomo di Pisa (CVMA Italia, 2, Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, 4.13: Classe di Lettere et Filosofia), Pisa, 2000. Caviness, M.H., Stained Glass Windows (Typologie des Sources du Moyen Âge Occidental, 79), Turnhout, 1996. Chancel-Bardelot, B. de, and Raynaud, C. (eds.), Une fondation disparue de Jean de France, Duc de Berry: la Sainte-Chapelle
347 de Bourges (Exhibition catalogue: Bourges, Musée du Berry), Paris, 2004. Clarke, M. and Stijnman, A., “Around Theophilus: an expert meeting towards new standards in Theophilus scholarship”, in S. Eyb-Green, J.H. Townsend, M. Clarke, J. Nadolny, and S. Kroustallis (eds.), The Artist’s Process. Technology and Interpretation, London, 2012, pp. 215–17. Debitus, H., Lautier, C., and Cuzange, L., “Le traité d’Antoine de Pise à l’épreuve d’expérimentation”, in Lautier and Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, pp. 79–151. Engen, J. van, “Theophilus Presbyter and Rupert of Deutz: the manual arts and Benedictine theology in the early twelfth century”, Viator 11 (1980), 147–63. French, T., York Minster. The Great East Window (CVMA Great Britain, Summary Catalogue, 2), Oxford, 1995. Frezzato, F., “Wege der Forschung zu Cennino Cennini: von den biographischen Daten zur Bestimmung des Libro dell’arte”, in Löhr and Weppelmann (eds.), ‘Fantasie und Handwerk’, pp. 133–39. Gajewska-Prorok, E., Mistrzowie światła. Witraże i obrazy malowane pod szkłem /Masters of Light. Stained and Painted Glass (Exhibition catalogue: National Museum in Wrocław), Wrocław, 2014. Gatouillat, F., “Voyage des hommes, voyage des oeuvres: le vitrail un produit d’exportation”, Revue de l’art 120 (1998), 35–48. Gearhart, H.C., “Transforming the natural world: hierarchies of material in Theophilus’ On Diverse Arts”, in L. Cleaver and K. Gerry (eds.), Art and Nature. Studies in Medieval Art and Architecture (The Courtauld Institute of Art), London, 2009, pp. 80–94. Gearhart, H.C., Theophilus and the Theory and Practice of Medieval Art, University Park, 2017. Grodecki, L., “Le ‘Maître des vitraux de Jacques Coeur’ ”, in id., Le Moyen Âge retrouvé. De saint Louis à Viollet-le-Duc, Paris, 1991, vol. 2, pp. 255–77. Hediger, C. and Kurmann- Schwarz, B., “ ‘ […]et faciunt inde tabulas saphiri pretiosas ac satis utiles in fenestris’. Die Farbe Blau in der Schedula und in der Glasmalerei von 1100–1250”, in Speer, Mauriège, and Westermann- Angerhausen (eds.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst, pp. 256–73. Hediger, C. and Schiffhauer, A., “Werkstoff Glas. Überlegungen zur Materialität von Glasmalerei in Moderne und Mittelalter”, Kunst und Architektur in der Schweiz 58 (2007), 15–23. Hérold, M., “Le ‘triomphe’ du peintre? (1440–1515)”, in P. Plagnieux (ed.), L’art du Moyen Âge en France, Paris, 2010, pp. 501–53. Inglis, E., Jean Fouquet and the Invention of France. Art and Nation after the Hundred Years War, New Haven, 2011. Jacobsen, W., Die Maler von Florenz zu Beginn der Renaissance, Munich, 2001.
348 Kurmann-Schwarz Kiening, C., “Die erhabene Schrift. Vom Mittelalter zur Moderne”, in id. and M. Stercken (eds.), SchriftRäume. Dimensionen von Schrift zwischen Mittelalter und Moderne, Zürich, 2008, pp. 9–126. Klein, B., “Warum und seit wann redet man im Abendland über Kunst?”, in S. Frommel and G. Kamecke (eds), Les sciences humaines et leurs langages: artifices et adoptions (Hautes études: histoire de l’art /storia dell’arte), Rome, 2011, pp. 53–59. Kobielus, S. and Kulesza-Damaziak, B., Teofil prezbiter, Diversarum artium schedula sredniowieczny zbior przepisow o sztukach rozmaytich [Theophilus Presbyter, a medieval recipe collection on various arts], Krakow, 1998. Kruse, C., Wozu Menschen malen. Historische Begründungen eines Bildmediums, Munich, 2004. Kuchenbuch, L., “Die dreidimensionale Werk-Sprache des Theophilus presbyter. »Arbeits«-semantische Untersuchungen am Traktat De diversis artibus”, in id. (ed.), Reflexive Mediaevistik: Textus – Opus – Feudalismus (Campus historische Studien, 64), Frankfurt am Main, 2012, pp. 341–401. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., Französische Glasmalereien um 1450. Ein Atelier in Bourges und Riom, Bern, 1988. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Les verriers à Bourges dans la première moitié du XVe siècle et leurs modèles: tradition et renouveau”, in M. Hérold and C. Mignot (eds.), Vitrail et arts graphiques (Les cahiers de l’École nationale du patrimoine, 4), Paris, 1999, pp. 137–49. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “La Sainte-Chapelle de Riom et ses vitraux”, Congrès archéologique de France. Basse-Auvergne, Grande Limagne 158 (2003), 339–49. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “«[…] quicquid discere, intelligere vel excogitare possis artium …». Le traité De diversis artibus de Théophile, état de la recherche et questions”, in Boulanger and Hérold, (eds.), Le vitrail et les traités, pp. 29–44. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Les vitraux de la Sainte-Chapelle de Bourges”, in A. Salamagne (ed.), Le Palais et son décor au temps de Jean de Berry, Tours, 2009, pp. 171–81. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “De Théophile à Cennino Cennini: pratique du vitrail et statut du peintre verrier à travers les texts”, in M. Hérold and V. David (eds.), Vitrail Ve au XXIe siècle, Paris, 2014, pp. 34–45. Lafond, J., Le vitrail. Origines, techiques, destinées, new ed. F. Perrot, Lyon, 1988. Lautier, C., “Les peintres-verriers des bas-côtés de la nef de Chartres au début du XIIIe siècle”, Bulletin monumental 148-1 (1990), 7–45. Lautier, C., “Le début du jaune d’argent dans l’art du vitrail ou le jaune d’argent à la manière d’Antoine de Pise”, Bulletin monumental 158-2 (2000), 89–107. Lautier, C., “Introduction à la transcription et à la traduction du traité”, in ead. and Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, pp. 37–40.
Lautier, C., “Le traité et l’oeuvre d’Antoine de Pise, maître verrrier de la fin du Trecento”, in ead. and Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, pp. 9–36. Lautier, C., “Les vitraux romans de la cathédrale de Chartres. Techniques et gestes des peintres verriers”, Gestes et techniques l’artiste à l’époque romane, Cahiers de Saint-Michel de Cuxa 43 (2012), 171–82. Lautier, C. and Sandron, D. (eds.), Antoine de Pise. L’art du vitrail vers 1400 (CV France, Études, 8), Paris, 2008. Löhr, W.-D., “Dantes Täfelchen, Cenninis Zeichenkiste: Ritratto, disegno und fantasia als Instrumente der Bilderzeugung im Trecento”, Das Mittelalter 13 (2008), 148–79. Löhr, W.-D., “Handwerk und Denkwerk des Malers. Kontexte für Cenninis Theorie der Praxis”, in id. and Weppelmann (eds.), ‘Fantasie und Handwerk’, pp. 153–76. Löhr, W-D. and Weppelmann, S. (eds.), ‘Fantasie und Handwerk’. Cennino Cennini und die Tradition der toskanischen Malerei von Giotto bis Lorzenzo Monaco (Exhibition catalogue: Berlin, Gemäldegalerie), Munich, 2008. Lorentz, P., “Un peintre eyckien en France au milieu du XVe siècle: le ‘Maître de Jacques Coeur’ (Jacob de Littemont?)”, in N. Gramaccini and M.C. Schurr (eds.), Kunst und Kultur transfer zur Zeit Karls des Kühnen (Neue Berner Schriften zur Kunst, 13), Bern, 2012, pp. 177–202. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England during the Middle Ages, London, 1993. Marks, R., “Entumbid right princly: the Beauchamp Chapel at Warwick and the politics of interment”, in id. (ed.), Studies in the Art and Imagery of the Middle Ages, London, 2012, pp. 682–723. Martin, F., “Disegno versus pratica. Cennino Cenninis Ka pitel über die Glasmalerei im kunsthistorischen Kontext”, in Boulanger and Hérold (eds.), Le vitrail et les traités, pp. 45–60. Meier, C., “Der Wandel der Enzyklopädie des Mittelalters vom Weltbuch zum Thesaurus sozial gebundenen Kulturwissens: am Beispiel der Artes mechanicae”, in F.M. Eybl, W. Harms, H.-H. Krummacher, and W. Welzig (eds.), Enzy klopädien der Frühen Neuzeit. Beiträge zu ihrer Erforschung, Tübingen, 1995, pp. 19–42. Nash, S., Borchert, T.-H., and Harris, J., “No Equal in Any Land” André Beauneveu. Artist to the Court of France and Flanders (Exhibition catalogue: Bruges, Groeninge Museum), London, 2007. Panofsky, E., On the Abbey Church of Saint-Denis and its Art Treasures, 2nd ed. G. Panofsky-Soergel, Princeton, New Jersey, 1979. Ploss, E.E., Ein Buch von alten Farben, Technologie der Textilfarben mit einem Ausblick auf die festen Farben, Heidelberg, 1962. Santucci, F., “Analisi linguistica del trattato di Antonio da Pisa”, in G. Mecozzi (ed.), Vetrate: arte e restauro. Dal trattato di
Medieval Textual Sources on Stained Glass Antonio da Pisa alle nuove tecnologie di restauro, Milan, 1991, pp. 73–85. Schmidt, V.M., “Hypothesen zu Funktion und Publikum von Cenninis Libro dell’Arte”, in Löhr and Weppelmann (eds.), ‘Fantasie und Handwerk’, pp. 147–51. Scholz, H., Entwurf und Ausführung. Werkstattpraxis in der Nürnberger Glasmalerei der Dürerzeit (CVMA Deutschland, Studien, 1), Berlin, 1991. Skaug, E.S., “More Cenniniana: technical notes on the origin and purpose of ‘Il libro dell’arte’ ”, Arte Cristiana 98 (2010), 81–88. Speer, A., “Kunst und Schönheit. Kritische Überlegungen zur mittelalterlichen Ästhetik”, in I. Craemer-Ruegenberg and A. Speer (eds.), “Scientia” und “ars”, im Hoch-und Spätmittelalter (Miscellanea mediaevalia, 22), Berlin, 1994, pp. 945–66. Speer, A., “Kunst ohne Kunst? Interartifizialität in Sugers Schriften zur Abteikirche von Saint-Denis”, in S. Bürkle and U. Peters (eds.), Interartifizialität. Die Diskussion der Künste in der mittelalterlichen Literatur (Zeitschrift für deutsche Philologie, special issue to vol. 128), Berlin, 2009, pp. 203–20. Speer, A., “Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst. Die ‘Die Schedula diversarum artium’ als ‘Handbuch’ mittelalterlicher Kunst?”, in id., Mauriège, and Westermann- Angerhausen (eds.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst, pp. xi–xxxiii. Speer, A. and Westermann-Angerhausen, H., “Ein Handbuch mittelalterlicher Kunst? Zu einer relecture der Schedula diversarum artium”, in C. Stiegemann and H. Westermann- Angerhausen (eds.), Schatzkunst am Aufgang der Romanik. Der Paderborner Dom-Tragaltar und sein Umkreis, Munich, 2006, pp. 149–58.
349 Speer, A., Mauriège, M., and Westermann-Angerhausen, H. (eds.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst: die ‘Schedula diversarum artium’ (Miscellanea Mediaevalia, 37), Berlin, 2014. Sprigath, G.K., “Die sakramentale Bestimmung der Kunstfertigkeiten in den drei Prologen der ‘Schedula diversarum artium’ von Theophilus Presbyter”, in Speer, Mauriège, Wes termann-Angerhausen (eds.), Zwischen Kunsthandwerk und Kunst, pp. 408–22. Strobl, S., Glastechnik des Mittelalters, Stuttgart, 1990. Suckale, R., “Glasmalerei im Kontext der Bildkünste um 1300”, in Westermann-Angerhausen et al. (eds.), Himmelslicht, pp. 73–77. Thiébaut, D., “De 1435–1500: la suprématie des peintres”, in P. Rosenberg (ed.), La peinture française, vol. 1, Paris, 2001, pp. 105–66. Trümpler, S., “Nouvelles observations sur la fabrication des vitraux”, in R. van Schoute (ed.), Dessin sous-jacent et pratiques d’atelier (Transactions of the Colloquium) Louvain- la-Neuve, 1993, pp. 179–82. Warnke, M., Hofkünstler. Zur Vorgeschichte des modernen Künstlers, 2nd ed., Cologne, 1996. Westermann- Angerhausen, H., “Stoff- Hierarchien in der Schedula diversarum artium. Aktuelle Re-Lektüren”, in K. Georgi, B. von Orelli-Messerli, E. Scheiwiller-Lorber, and A. Schiffhauer (eds.), Licht(t)räume. Festschrift für Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz zum 65. Geburtstag, Petersberg, 2015, pp. 241–47. Westermann-Angerhausen, H., Hagnau, C., Schumacher, C., and Sporbeck, G. (eds.), Himmelslicht, Europäische Glasmalerei im Jahrhundert des Kölner Dombaus (1248–1349) (Exhibition catalogue: Cologne, Josef-Haubrich-Kunsthalle), Cologne, 1998.
c hapter 21
The Creation of Stained Glass in Central Italy, 1250–1400 Nancy M. Thompson The construction of a stained-glass window in the Italian peninsula in the later Middle Ages was a complicated undertaking that required the specialized labor of a wide variety of skilled craftspeople. The glassmaker and his workshop produced the glass for windows from raw materials, including sand and plant ash, sourced from a variety of places. A designer, who was most often trained as a painter, sometimes provided drawings of the figural aspects of Italian stained glass, and may occasionally have made 1:1 scale drawings of entire windows. The glazier and his workshop oversaw the whole project, and relied on the labor of the glassmaker and designer. The glazier often created an overall design for the project (some elements of which may have been provided by a designer), purchased glass from the glassmaker, and cut the individual pieces of glass into the shapes required by his larger window design. The glazier, sometimes assisted by a designer, painted the cut pieces of glass with a dark pigment called grisaille made of copper filings, as Cennino Cennini recounts, or ground vitreous substances.1 The glazier then fired the grisaille onto the glass pieces, leaded them all together, stabilized the window using metal bars, and may have installed it.2 Despite the fact that the specialized labor of the glazier required aesthetic decisions, much modern art history on Italian stained glass has focused on the attribution of windows to well known artists from the period, including Duccio, Simone Martini, Lorenzo Maitani, and Taddeo Gaddi, who may have participated as designers in the production of stained-glass windows. These star artists usually made limited contributions to the overall appearance of windows; glaziers, whose names are not as well known, if known to us at all, were the masterminds of stained-glass window construction. What we know about the fabrication of windows in Italy in the later Middle Ages comes from: treatises by Theophilus, Cennino Cennini, and Antonio da Pisa; documents that record contracts and payments to craftsmen; analyses 1 Cennino Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, trans. Broeke, p. 225, n. 4. 2 See Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume for an in-depth discussion of how stained-glass windows were made. 3 See Kurmann-Schwarz, Ch. 20 in this volume. 4 Gearhart, Theophilus and the Theory and Practice of Medieval Art argues that De diversis artibus, written “in clear, direct Latin prose” (p. 2) c.1120 by a Benedictine monk, is as much a theoretical text as it is a practical one. Clarke and Stijnman, “Around Theophilus”
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 27
by art historians; and chemical analyses of the glass materials that make up the windows. In this essay, I will consider how this evidence sheds light on the process of making stained-glass windows from San Francesco in Assisi, Orvieto Cathedral, Santa Croce in Florence, and Florence Cathedral. My study demonstrates that the relationship between designers and glaziers was not as hard and fast as extant treatises or modern art historical analyses might lead us to believe. It is not enough to simply name the designer of a window as its author, as 19th-and 20th-century art historians often did. Instead, later medieval stained-glass windows were corporate undertakings, formed of disparate materials by many hands and many workshops, that relied on trade in vitreous materials and on the itinerant labor of glaziers. 1 Treatises What can we learn about the making of stained glass in Italy from artistic treatises that survive from the medieval period? As Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz argues in her essay in this volume, these treatises were not necessarily written to be used as workshop manuals.3 While the treatises often reflect the erudition of their authors, they also demonstrate an in-depth knowledge of specific aspects of the art of making stained-glass windows. Therefore, medieval treatises on making stained glass can be relied on as generally accurate accounts of the process. One of the earliest surviving treatises was written, or perhaps compiled, in the 12th century by an author who calls himself Theophilus.4 The treatise, called De diversis artibus, is divided into three sections: the first on painting, the second on glass, and the third on metals. In section two of the treatise, Theophilus describes, among other ways of working with glass, almost every aspect of the process of making a window, from constructing the glassmaking oven, to blowing the glass, cutting it, painting it, and leading all of the pieces together.5 Because instead propose that the text we call De diversis artibus is a compendium of sources compiled in the 12th century. 5 For more on Theophilus’ treatise and current scholarship, see Kurmann-Schwarz, Ch. 20 in this volume. Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume discusses the relationship between Theophilus’ treatise and extant examples of stained glass.
The Creation of Stained Glass in Central Italy, 1250–1400
Theophilus gives instructions on all of these processes, it was likely the case in northern Europe in the 12th century, especially in areas far from urban or monastic centers, that the creation of a stained-glass window was a one- workshop enterprise. Thus, Theophilus gives glaziers instructions on how to make a window, starting with the basic materials that make glass itself. Later in the Middle Ages, in France at least, glaziers could buy glass from glassmakers,6 and in Italy there was a continuous tradition of glassmaking that began in the 1st century.7 Two artistic treatises written in later 14th-century Italy indicate that the labor necessary for the creation of stained glass was generally distributed among different workshops. One text comes from the pen of the Florentine painter, Cennino Cennini (c.1370–1440), who spent time at court in Padua, where he may have been inspired by the literate culture there to pen his own treatise.8 In chapter 195 of his treatise, “A short section on operations”, Cennini instructs his fellow painters on how to handle a stained-glass project. The following excerpt is from Lara Broeke’s 2015 translation of Cennini, which differs from Daniel Thompson’s 1933 translation in one key aspect, indicated in italics below.
“And so, when they [glaziers] come to you, you will take
up the following method: he will come to you with the measurements of his window, breadth and length. You will take as many sheets of paper glued together as you need for your window and you will start by drawing your figure in charcoal. Then you will fix it with ink, having shaded your figure to completion, just as you draw on panel. Then your master glazier takes this drawing and spreads it out on a big, flat desk or table and, depending on how he wants to colour the figure’s clothing, so he starts cutting his pieces of glass section by section. And he gives you a paint which he makes from thoroughly ground copper filings. And with a vair brush you start picking out your shadows with this paint, piece by piece, aligning the fall of the folds and of the other parts of the figure from one piece of glass to the next, however the master has cut and arranged them.9 Thompson’s translation of the sentence in italics above instead reads “Then your glass master takes this drawing, 6
7 8
9
See Lillich, “Gothic glaziers: monks, Jews, taxpayers, Bretons, women” for a discussion of the identities of glassmakers and glaziers in later medieval France. See Dell’Acqua, ‘Illuminando colorat’. Cennino Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, trans. Broeke, p. 8. See also Skaug, “Eine Einführung in das Leben und die Kunst Cennino Cenninis”, pp. 46–48 for a summary of Cennini’s life. Skaug notes that Cennini was documented in Padua between 1398 and 1401. Cennino Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, trans. Broeke, pp. 224–25.
351
and spreads it out on a large flat bench or table; and proceeds to cut his glasses, a section at a time, according to the way he wants the costumes of the figure painted”.10 Broeke points out that the original Italian phrase, “sechondo che cholorire vuole i vestimenti dellafighura” indicates not that the glazier arranges the glass to be painted, but that the glazier selects pieces of glass according to the colors he desires for the clothing. Broeke writes: Cennini does not say that the reader should ‘paint’ the glass with the copper-based paint which he goes on to describe. He avoids the term colorire (‘paint’ or ‘color’), using instead aonbrare (‘shade’), and it is clear from the instructions that the reader is to apply shadows using the paint, but no more …”11 This difference in translation is quite significant because, according to Broeke, the glazier selects the colors of glass for the figures’ drapery, and the designer is only expected to add shading. Antonio da Pisa describes the glazier’s role in making decisions about glass colors in his late 14th-century treatise on making stained-glass windows.12 In fact, Antonio begins his treatise with advice on the proper color combinations and compositions for tabernacles and the drapery of standing saints, advice that he and his contemporaries evidently followed. Antonio writes that the architectural elements of the window should be made of yellow, peach (which Antonio calls “incarnato”), and white glass, in imitation of marble, and that the standing figures be dressed in specific color combinations: a green cloak with a red or laccha mantle with a white or yellow lining, for example. In a window created by Antonio’s contemporary, Leonardo di Simone, for the Florence Duomo, we can see that glaziers followed these specific color recommendations, most notably here in the figures of Paul, Gregory, and Sebastian (Figure 21.1).13 Antonio also gives his fellow glaziers advice on how to cut glass, mix pigment for painting on the glass, carefully fire pigment onto the glass, and lead the pieces together. The only mention of the collaborative process of making stained-glass windows appears in Antonio’s directions on making pigment for painting on glass, in which he recommends the following:
“Take an egg, crack it, and mix the white and yolk together
in a bowl, and then take a twig from a fig tree, cut it finely 10 Cennino Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, trans. Thompson, p. 111. 11 Broeke, Cennino Cennini’s Il Libro Dell’Arte, p. 295 n. 134. 12 For Antonio’s treatise, see Lautier, Antoine de Pise: l’art du vitrail vers 1400, and other editions in the bibliography. 13 See also Thompson, “Designers, glaziers, and the process of making stained-glass windows”.
352 Thompson and put it in the pan where you put the egg and add half a glass of water to the egg and twig from a fig tree and mix it well together. Pour the egg and water mixture (the tempera) little by little into the color, as you paint or have it painted, and be sure all the while to add water to the color so that it doesn’t dry out.”14 The key phrase here is “così come tu dipinçi o fai dipinçare”, as you paint or have something painted; meaning that either Antonio the glazier is painting with this pigment on glass, or he is making the pigment so that another artist, as Cennini writes, can with “a vair brush start picking out your shadows with this paint, piece by piece …” Antonio’s treatise overlaps again with Cennini’s advice on this point: the glazier did not always paint all of the grisaille, and turned at certain points to another artist for assistance. Antonio’s treatise tells us that the glazier controlled much of a stained-glass window’s color scheme and the mixing of the grisaille pigment used to create line and shade on the colored glass pieces themselves. These verbal descriptions of the stained-glass window making process present practical (and sometimes theological) advice to artists. We have already seen that Antonio’s advice on color was followed by his fellow glassmakers. What else can extant windows tell us about the extent to which the processes outlined in written treatises describe the actual practices of those who created later medieval stained glass in central Italy? This question guides some of the discussion of individual windows below. 2
The Upper Church of San Francesco, Assisi
Most art historians agree that the three stained-glass windows in the apse of the upper church in San Francesco in Assisi represent the first monumental narrative stained-glass program in Italy.15 The most recent comprehensive study of these windows by Frank Martin builds on the work of Giuseppe Marchini,16 whose work is in part based on earlier 20th-century scholarship.17 Upholding theories that northern European glaziers 14
For the Italian, see Antonio da Pisa, Memmoria del magisterio de fare fenestre de vetro, eds. Lautier and Sandron, p. 46. I thank Elisabetta Re for checking my translation. 15 For images of the Assisi apse glass, see the Italian Stained- Glass Windows Database: http://www.icvbc.cnr.it/bivi/ regioni/umbria/assisi.htm (last accessed 26 November 2018). 16 Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco, pp. 19–40. Marchini, Le vetrate dell’Umbria, pp. 24–38. 17 Fischer, Handbuch der Glasmalerei, p. 83. Wentzel, “Die ältesten Farbfenster in der Oberkirche von S. Francesco zu Assisi”, pp. 45–72.
created the Assisi program, Martin finds specific stylistic parallels between the figural imagery in the Assisi windows and manuscript illuminations from cities on the Rhine, including Mainz, Cologne, and Strasbourg, and posits that glazing workshops came to Assisi from these regions with model books in the mid-1250s. Most likely these ateliers acted as designers and glaziers in the creation of the Assisi windows, following the general procedures outlined by Theophilus. Why did the Franciscans in Assisi invest their time and funds in an expensive imported medium requiring itinerant artists? In part, they did so in response to Innocent iv’s bull Decet et expedit issued in 1253, in which he “ordered San Francesco to ‘be completed with a noble structure and decorated with the peak of splendid workmanship’ ”.18 Considering that work on the apse glazing began about two years after the bull was issued, Innocent iv and the friars in Assisi evidently considered monumental stained glass to be the “peak of splendid workmanship”. Additionally, the Franciscans may have wanted narrative stained glass in their apse, which at that point was relatively devoid of decoration, because they conceived of colored light as a means to spiritual revelation. In keeping with the theology of Franciscan St. Bonaventure (1221–74), light had the potential to carry the minds of the friars from the earthly to the heavenly, making the installation of stained glass in the primary worshipping space in Assisi of paramount importance.19 Work in stained glass in the upper church of Assisi recommenced in the 1270s. The friars called a new atelier –possibly from England or northern France judging from the glazing style –to create a window in the south transept window consisting of images from Genesis and virgin saints.20 With the north transept window, which consists of images of the resurrected Christ and visions of angels, we may indeed have the first narrative stained-glass window created by an Italian workshop. Through stylistic analysis, Martin has determined that the artist in charge of this program was probably trained in Pisa.21 While Martin doesn’t discuss the specific roles of designers and glaziers, it is probable that the atelier of this artist, called the Master of St. Francis, acted both as designer and glazier. The Master of St. Francis may have learned glazing techniques from the northern European glazing workshops brought to Assisi, and with this newly acquired skill, the Master of St. Francis’ atelier possibly 18 19
Cooper and Robson, The Making of Assisi, p. 55. For more on this idea and further bibliography, see Thompson, “The Franciscans and stained glass in Tuscany and Umbria”. 20 Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco, pp. 41–52. 21 Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco, pp. 53–78, and Martin, “The St. Francis Master”.
The Creation of Stained Glass in Central Italy, 1250–1400
glazed the entire nave of the upper church. According to Martin:
“Once
entrusted with the composition of historiated stained glass, the St. Francis Master’s workshop assumed an exclusive hold on the national market. Consequently, at least regarding its technical know-how, this workshop was able to compete with the international workshops active in the Upper Church.”22 At this point in Assisi the glaziers and designers of stained-glass windows were one and the same, a process more similar to that described by Theophilus than those known to Cennini and Antonio da Pisa. 3
Siena Cathedral
353
argument over authorship; instead, she seeks to understand the potentially complex relationship between the designer, Duccio –who she argues provided a full-scale scale drawing of the window –and the glaziers who constructed the window using Duccio’s design.27 The construction of the window was overseen by fra’ Magio from the Cistercian abbey of San Galgano, about 35 km from Siena, who was in fact in charge of the construction of the whole cathedral from 1279–88.28 Fra’ Magio was one in a series of Cistercians who oversaw the construction of the Duomo, and given the tradition of stained glass in Cistercian contexts, fra’ Magio was probably experienced in overseeing the production of stained-glass windows.29 Burnam argues that fra’ Magio hired experienced glaziers to fabricate the Siena window in part due to the challenges posed by the absence of stone tracery in the window. The glass pieces and panels had to be leaded and then held together by metal bars so that the overall structure of the window was stable within the huge opening in the cathedral wall.30 Burnam looks for the hand of the glazier in the Siena window’s borders, where medieval glaziers often had significant input into the design because these chains of decorative glass linked the various panels of the window together, both aesthetically and structurally. In some parts of the Siena window, elements of the composition overlap the borders of the scene; while this is a common occurrence in stained-glass windows north of the Alps, it is relatively rare in Italy.31 In the Coronation panel of the Siena window, the angels’ halos overlap the border, and the bottom of the throne rests on top of the lower border of the panel. This overlapping creates an interesting visual effect, in which the image appears to float on top of the borders that frame it; however, as Burnam points out, the overlapping was likely a headache for the glazier, who was not accustomed to making
In her essay on the rose window created for Siena Cathedral c.1287–88 (Figure 21.2), Renée Burnam explicitly addresses the two-part process of making stained-glass windows in Italy, and her analysis confirms that at this point in Siena, glaziers worked with input from a designer, much like the process described by Cennini and Antonio.23 Most of the literature on the Siena rotunda previous to Burnam’s study sought to prove that the Siena window was designed by Duccio. Enzo Carli argued that the stained-glass panel of the Burial of the Virgin is similar in form and composition to the corresponding panel in Duccio’s Maesta that graced the Duomo’s high altar.24 Alternatively, John White argued that the solidity of the figures and architectural elements in the window bear more resemblance to Cimabue’s painting.25 Martin points out that these arguments about authorship do not take into account the fact that the window contains many elements that are unrelated to Italian painting, but are clearly related to northern European stained- glass traditions. For example, the polylobed, geometric borders around the standing saint figures, that of San 27 Burnam, “The glazing of Siena Cathedral’s fenestra rotunda magna”, p. 17. Crescenzio in particular, resemble the frame around a 28 On the operai of the Siena Cathedral in the period of the stained-glass image of St. Agnes from St. Walpurgis in oculus, see Giorgi and Moscadelli, Costruire una cattedrale, St. Michael, Austria.26 Burnam doesn’t engage with the pp.124–136 and 438. 22 23
Martin, “The St. Francis Master”, pp. 188–89. Burnam, “The glazing of Siena Cathedral’s fenestra rotunda magna”. 24 Carli, Vetrata Duccesca, p. 38. 25 White, Art and Architecture in Italy 1250–1400, pp. 191–95. 26 The St. Agnes window is currently in the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg. See http://objektkatalog .gnm.de/objekt/MM18 (last accessed 26 November 2018). See also Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco, pp. 142–43. On the popularity of these geometric frames in windows from Austria and Germany, see Frodl-Kraft, “Die ‘Figur im Langpaß’ ”.
29
30
31
On Cistercian glazing, see Zakin, French Cistercian Grisaille Glass, and Lillich, “Recent scholarship concerning Cistercian windows”. Burnam, “The glazing of Siena Cathedral’s fenestra rotunda magna”, pp. 19–21. See also Caviness, “The glazed oculus, from Canterbury to Siena”. In the 13th-and 14th-century windows in San Francesco in Assisi, for example, there are very few examples of narrative scenes or figures overlapping the rigid geometric borders that surround them. See images in Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco in Assisi. The same can be said of the apse window in Orvieto (Figure. 21.3).
354 Thompson specialized pieces for the borders.32 Most stained-glass window borders consist of repeated patterns that required the cutting, painting, and leading of relatively few shapes and colors, labor that could easily be carried out by new or inexperienced workshop assistants. The irregularities in the borders and decorative motifs suggest to Burnam that Duccio designed them because Italian glaziers did not often design borders requiring the creation of specialized pieces.33 Burnam envisions a difficult relationship between Duccio, who wanted the effect produced when these shapes overlap the borders, and the master glazier, who was, as the documents attest, under some pressure to save time and cut costs as the project neared completion. In the case of the Siena Cathedral window, the process of designing and glazing was occasionally fraught, with the designer/painter requiring compositional elements that made the job of the glazier difficult. 4
Orvieto Cathedral
Documents from the early to mid-Trecento record the activities of artists working in Umbria and Tuscany who were both painters and glaziers. One such artist, Giovanni di Bonino (documented 1325–47), worked in Orvieto, where his name is recorded in documents preserved by the Opera indicating payments to “Johanni Bonini pictori de Asisio” and Johanni Bonini “dal vetro”, specifications which show his roles as designer and glazier.34 Giovanni di Bonino worked between 1325 and 1330 on the no longer extant glass in the side aisles of the nave, and then on the extant window in the apse from 1330–34 (Figure 21.3). The names of others who worked on the windows in the apse of Orvieto Cathedral also appear in the documents. Only a few of the workers are paid for specific tasks, such as Beccutio di Siena, paid for fili di ferro (iron strips), and Butio Leonardelli, painter, paid for painting the colored glass for the window. Others are paid a daily wage for “faciendum fenestras” of colored glass, 32
Burnam, “The glazing of Siena Cathedral’s fenestra rotunda magna”, pp. 23–26. 33 Burnam, “The glazing of Siena Cathedral’s fenestra rotunda magna”, p. 27. 34 See Fumi, Il Duomo di Orvieto e i suoi restauri, pp. 215–16, for transcriptions of the documents concerning the nave and apse windows. On Giovanni, see Lunghi, “Giovanni di Bonino”, also accessible online: http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/ giovanni-di-bonino_(Dizionario-Biografico) (last accessed 26 November 2018). 35 Castelnuovo, Vetrate medievali, p. 370, writes that Giovanni and the master glazier Andrea carried out the window together.
including the glazier Andrea Mino of Siena, whose name appears several times, and Vitaluccio Lutii, Tino Angeli of Assisi, and Tino Blasii, all paid relatively little.35 The majority of the payments go to Giovanni di Bonino. On 30 March 1334, Giovanni di Bonino “dal vetro” was paid “pro complimento finestre vitri majoris Tribune dicte Ecclesie, quam fecit ad cottimum, prout promisit et convenit facere M.o Nicole Nuti Capimagistri”36 (for the completion of the large glass window in the tribune of the said church, which he made under contract, as he promised and agreed to do for Mr. Nicola Nuti, the head of works).37 What was the working relationship between these various artists? While there may have been one person in charge, Giovanni di Bonino from Assisi in this case, it is not always clear if this person designed the window or was simply in charge of overseeing the entire project, as fra’ Magio did in the case of the Siena Cathedral window. There is visual evidence in the Orvieto window that an artist skilled in narrative painting or sculpture designed the window. The window tells stories of the Life of the Virgin, to whom the Orvieto Cathedral is dedicated, and these narrative episodes alternate with images of reading and gesticulating Hebrew prophets holding scrolls inscribed with their names. Marchini notes the relationship between the insistence on narrative in the Orvieto window and the multi-narrative recto of Duccio’s Maesta on the high altar of Siena Cathedral (1308–11) and Ugolino di Vieri’s enameled narratives on the reliquary of the Holy Corporal (1337–38) in Orvieto Cathedral.38 Indeed many of the individual narrative scenes, such as Christ Disputing with the Doctors in the Temple (top right in Figure 21.3), render the illusion of three dimensions, a compositional device popular with Sienese and Florentine painters in the 1330s. Marchini points out that the Disputation panel also resembles the sculpted relief of the same scene on the third pillar of the facade of Orvieto Cathedral,39 suggesting that Lorenzo Maitani, who was the capomaestro of the Orvieto Duomo project from 1310 until his death in 1330, may have been the designer of many of the narrative scenes.40 This is problematic because the bulk of the work on the window was carried out in 1334–35, after Maitani died; but given that 36 Fumi, Il Duomo di Orvieto e i suoi restauri, p. 216. 37 I thank Dr. Christopher Brunelle for this translation. 38 Marchini, Le vetrate dell’Umbria, p. 171. 39 For an image of the Orvieto facade sculpture, see: https://www .bluffton.edu/homepages/facstaff/sullivanm/italy/orvieto/ cathedral/0053.jpg (last accessed 26 November 2018). 40 Marchini, Le vetrate dell’Umbria, p. 181; Castelnuovo, Vetrate medievali, p. 370; Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco, pp. 147–48.
The Creation of Stained Glass in Central Italy, 1250–1400
Giovanni di Bonino’s activities in Orvieto are documented already in 1325, Giovanni could have been at work on the apse window project before Maitani died. At the very least, the compositional similarities attest to artistic exchanges among the many artists working together on the cathedral project, and to the fact that individual artists worked in a wide variety of media in this period. Marchini also points out that the borders in the Orvieto window are relatively static and geometric, much like the borders of the Siena rose window. However, the designer of the Orvieto window, unlike Duccio, colored inside the lines; no elements of the interior narratives break through the borders. Given Burnam’s argument that the pictorial elements overlapping the borders of the Siena window may indicate a designer (Duccio) who was sometimes at odds with the protocols of glazing, the rigidity of the borders in the Orvieto window is evidence that an experienced glazier, Giovanni di Bonino, had a significant hand in the overall design of the window. 5 Giovanni di Bonino, the Master of Figline, and the Materials of Italian Glass The Orvieto apse glass was an important commission, given the highly visible location of the window within the cathedral. Certainly, then, this was not Giovanni’s first project. Where did he receive his training? In the Orvieto documents, he is called Giovanni di Bonino from Assisi, and it is likely that he worked at San Francesco, where artists like the Master of St. Francis created stained-glass windows and possibly also fresco and panel paintings. Several of the windows in the lower church in Assisi have been attributed to Giovanni di Bonino, with Marchini establishing a whole oeuvre for him.41 But Martin points out that because there is no documentary evidence from before 1359 from San Francesco, we need to look instead to shared decorative details, which are often the signature of the glazier, to find links between windows in Orvieto and Assisi.42 Specific details that the upper portion of the Orvieto window have in common with the windows in the chapels of St. Catherine and St. Louis in the lower church in Assisi (Figure 21.4) are the circular pieces of white glass painted in grisaille with faces –the so-called “moon faces” (volti a luna) – interspersed within decorative borders in the windows in Assisi and within the designs in the tracery at the top of the Orvieto window.43 Additionally, images of
41 Marchini, “Il giottesco Giovanni di Bonino”. 42 Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco, p. 118. 43 Ibid., pp. 145–46.
355
candle-holding and trumpet-blowing angels grace both the upper tracery of both windows in Orvieto and in the upper parts of the St. Louis and St. Catherine windows in the lower church in Assisi. A Crucifixion panel from the sacristy of Sant’Agostino in Perugia (now in the museum), Martin points out, also contains moon faces, and could also be the work of Giovanni di Bonino.44 By making connections between the parts of windows usually determined by the glazier, in this case the moon faces in the borders, Martin establishes an impressive body of work for Giovanni di Bonino. Other windows in the lower church in Assisi were carried out by an artist identified as the Master of Figline, named after the altarpiece (now in the museum in Worcester, Mass.) he created for the collegiata in Figline Val d’Arno. The windows in the St. Martin chapel in the lower church in Assisi are most often attributed to Simone Martini, the artist who frescoed the chapel walls. Martin argues that the style of the St. Martin windows is not at all characteristic of Simone.45 He points out that the stances and faces of the figures, in addition to the decorative elements, are repeated throughout the three windows; many of the saints are only distinguishable from each other by their attributes. The repetitive nature of the windows’ design is the result of the work of a master glazier, who repeated shapes and forms to save time and money. Martin further argues that the figural style, particularly in the almond shaped eyes, is closely related to the painting style of the so-called Master of Figline. This Master of Figline, then, acted as both designer and glazier of the St. Martin chapel windows in the lower church in Assisi.46 After completing his work in Assisi on the St. Martin and St. Anthony chapel windows, and potentially on some of the lower church frescoes, the Master of Figline made his way to Tuscany and to Florence, where the art of stained glass became increasingly popular in the 14th century due, as it was in Assisi, to the work of itinerant glaziers. In fact, it may have been artists like the Master of Figline who brought the art of stained glass to Tuscany in the 1310s. However, even in the 1330s, Florentines in need of stained-glass expertise had to call artists from other places. In 1333, two Muranese masters, Donato 44
Ibid., pp. 146–47. On the Perugia window, see the Italian Stained-Glass Windows Database: http://www.icvbc.cnr .it/bivi/schede/Umbria/Perugia/gn_crocefissione.htm (last accessed 26 November 2018). 45 Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco, pp. 150–53. 46 Marchini, “Il giottesco Giovanni di Bonino” has argued that Giovanni di Bonino and the Master of Figline are one and the same person. Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco, p. 176, argues that Giovanni di Bonino and the Master of Figline are two distinct artistic personalities.
356 Thompson and Guglielmo di Giovanni, asked permission from the glassmaking authorities in Murano to travel to Florence, where their help was needed to make a stained-glass window for a chapel.47 The itinerant, specialized labor of Giovanni di Bonino, Donato and Guglielmo, the Master of Figline, and the glaziers who traveled from northern Europe to Assisi in the 13th century, fueled the growing popularity of stained glass in central Italy. Not only the glaziers had to travel; recent chemical analyses of Due-and Trecento stained-glass windows indicate that many of the materials needed to make these windows also travelled substantial distances. Almost all of the 13th-and 14th-century window glasses sampled from Assisi are potassium glass, meaning that the flux used to lower the melting point of the silica (silicon dioxide), the central component of glass, was made from the ashes of continental plants with a high potassium content.48 As early as the 8th century, northern European glassmakers began to use potassium flux sourced from the ashes of beech trees, just as Theophilus recommends.49 In Mediterranean regions, including Italy, during the Middle Ages, glass was made using a sodium flux made from the ashes of sea plants with a high sodium content.50 Excavated medieval glassmaking sites in Tuscany reveal that most of the glass was sodium, or soda-based glass. Almost all of Siena Cathedral’s window glasses, with the exception of the red ones, are soda glasses. Most of this glass was probably made near Santa Cristina di Gambassi, in the valley of the Elsa river in Tuscany, where glassmakers had ample access to trees and river sand, the raw materials needed for production.51 Why then, is all of the sampled 13th-and 14th- century window glass from Assisi potassium glass, when soda glass was more readily available in the region? The chemists who analysed the Assisi glass proposed that 47 Ito, La vetrata nella Toscana del Quattrocento, p. 7. 48 Verità, Conventi, and Santopadre, “Studio dei materiali costitutivi”. On the composition of ancient (pre-modern) glass, see Davison, Conservation of Glass, pp. 73–76, and Fiori and Vandini, “Chemical composition of glass and its raw materials”. 49 Theophilus, De diversis artibus, eds. and trans. Hawthorne and Smith, p. 52. On the early use of potassium flux in northern Europe, see Gai, “Frammenti di vetro”, p. 105 and Le Maho, “Les fragments des vitreaux”, pp. 119–23. 50 Gimeno, Garcia-Valles, Fernandez-Turiel, et al. “From Siena to Barcelona”, pp. e10-e11. 51 Fenzi, Mendera, Messiga, Riccardi, and Vigato, “La provenienza del vetro usato per la vetrata di Duccio”, pp. 79–90; Basso, Riccardi, Messiga, et al., “Composition of the base glass”; Gimeno, Garcia-Valles, Fernandez-Turiel, et al. “From Siena to Barcelona”. The glasshouses in the Elsa valley have been excavated and their glasses analyzed: Bianchin, Brianese, Casellato, et al., “Medieval and Renaissance glass technology”.
it was manufactured in Germany because the potassium content (and the ratio of calcium to potassium) of the glasses matches that of glass produced in 11th-15th- century Germany,52 indicating that not only glaziers, but also glass materials were imported into Assisi to make stained-glass windows. While Theophilus gives detailed instructions on how to make the base glass for stained-glass windows, Antonio da Pisa doesn’t address the process in depth. Antonio does mention some glass colorants and types of glass that were unusual to him. Red glass, he notes, had to be imported from La Mangna (Germany) at great expense, because Italians did not know how to make it.53 He notes that “quello colore rosso si è solamente da l’una de le parte e non è misto nel vetro, come sonno li altri colori che sono incorporati” (the color red makes up only one part of the glass and isn’t mixed into all of the glass, as are the other colors that are all incorporated).54 Antonio here describes flashed glass, a technique that involves the layering of a small amount of red glass onto clear or yellow glass in order to maintain the glass’ transparency: glass colored red all the way through is almost opaque, even when blown into sheets. Italians only began to make flashed glass in the 16th century, and before that, as Antonio notes, glaziers had to import manufactured glass. The fact that, in the case of the Siena window, the flashed red is the only potassium glass, indicating its origins in Germany, backs up Antonio’s claim. At Orvieto Cathedral, the red flashed glass is one of a few potassium glasses; however, the Orvieto window, like the Siena window, contains mostly soda glasses made in Tuscan furnaces.55 6
Santa Croce in Florence
This trade in materials and the itinerancy of glaziers made the flourishing of stained glass possible in Assisi and then in Orvieto and Florence, where stained glass first appeared in the Franciscan church of Santa Croce, probably thanks to the Master of Figline. Two of the earliest windows in Santa Croce, dating to c.1320–25 and located on either side of the high altar, are attributed to the Master of Figline. The window (Figure 21.5) depicting Franciscan saints and the popes who canonized them, stands above the Bardi chapel, frescoed by Giotto 52 Verità, Conventi, and Santopadre, “Studio dei materiali costitutivi”, p. 24. 53 Antonio da Pisa, Memmoria del magisterio, 2008, p. 55. 54 Antonio da Pisa, Memmoria del magisterio, 2008, p. 55. 55 Verità, Marabelli, and Santopadre, “Studio conservativo della vetrata absidale del Duomo di Orvieto”, pp. 63–85.
The Creation of Stained Glass in Central Italy, 1250–1400
in the 1320s, and was probably made in conjunction with the chapel’s fresco program.56 Although much discussion of the window centers on the role of Giotto in the window’s design, the designer and glazier were likely one and the same: the Master of Figline. Marchini sees the talents of an artist who was both a painter and a glazier, noting that the Master of Figline translated the decorative borders of the figures’ robes from the language of painting to that of glass, creating brilliant varieties of color “nel linguaggio del vetro”.57 Through this adaptation of an opaque decorative motif into a translucent one, the Master of Figline established a tradition in Italian glazing, the brilliantly colored bands of decorations on garments, that became “un elemento della tradizione duecentesca, derivato dal Nord, dalla valle del Reno, di cui si era avuto uno spunto anche ad Assisi” (an element of the thirteenth-cenutry tradition, derived from the North, from the valley of the Rhine, which also inspired work in Assisi).58 With this broad, poetic account, Marchini describes a chain of actors that established the tradition of stained glass in Italy, from the Rhone, to Assisi via the Franciscans, and then, again via the Franciscans, to Florence. More specific stylistic analysis by Martin confirms Marchini’s general claim: he sees the hand of the Master of Figline in the Bardi St. Francis window, noting that:
“… quello che avvicina la vetrata al di sopra della cappella Bardi in S. Croce di Firenze all’opera del Maestro di Figline … sono le fisonomie: il taglio degli occhi estremamente largo e arcuato, il naso piatto e la bocca leggermente aperta non lasciano il minimo dubbio per una attribuzione del progetto.”59 Further evidence of the Master of Figline’s authorship, and of his dual role as designer and glazier, lies in the application of grisaille to the glass surface. As Renée Burnam observed during the restoration of the windows in 2010–11, the “figures were painted with a series of fine brushstrokes in a technique more usual for the fresco painter than the glass-painter. To reinforce the painting,
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the master applied additional glass paint on the exterior surface”, a glazing technique that was relatively uncommon in Italy, in order to achieve further definition in the figural imagery.60 In Italy, grisaille was often only applied to the side of the glass that will face the interior of the building. Evidence of time-saving on the part of the Master of Figline is found in some of the white, foliate border pieces. As Burnam notes, some of the pieces were leaded so that the grisaille faces the exterior of the building, indicating that the glazier had “pre-prepared pieces” and flipped them, causing the grisaille to face the outside, which saved him from having to “specially paint and fire a few pieces of decoration oriented in the appropriate direction”.61 Other elements in the Bardi St. Francis window reflect its maker’s training as a glazier. The figures in the window stand under tabernacles made of a “lower, trilobed arch, an upper pointed arch and triangular pointed top with foliate designs along the edges”,62 a compositional device found in the nave windows in the upper church of Assisi, that derives from French glazing traditions begun in the 1220s. The Bardi St. Francis window bears similarities to the color patterns and overall compositions of windows of c.1290 in the church of Saint-Père in Chartres, suggesting a connection between what Meredith Lillich defines as the Western French School of glazing and central Italian stained glass.63 While it is certainly possible that the Master of Figline traveled north of the Alps, he probably learned this compositional device in Assisi, and carried it with him, along with many other tools of his trade, to Florence. Other Trecento windows in Santa Croce, especially those in the private chapels in the transept of the church, were furnished with stained-glass windows designed in part by the painter who frescoed the chapel walls. For the Baroncelli chapel window (Figure 21.6), Taddeo Gaddi probably did provide the glazier with drawings of the figural elements. Andrew Ladis considers the windows to be Taddeo’s work, designed in conjunction with the decoration of the chapel begun in 1328.64 Some of the glass in 60
Burnam, “Conservation of stained-glass windows attributed to the Maestro di Figline”. Bracci, Burnam, Corallini, Picollo, 56 See the entry on the window in the Italian Stained- and Vervat, “The conservation of stained-glass windows”, note Glass Windows Database: http://www.icvbc.cnr.it/bivi/ that the Gerini window in the Certosa and the Bardi di Vernio schede/Toscana/Firenze/7scroce.htm (last accessed 26 window in Santa Croce do not have painting on both sides. November 2018). 61 Burnam, “Conservation of Stained-Glass Windows attributed 57 Marchini, “Le vetrate”, p. 312. to the Maestro di Figline”. 58 Marchini, “Le vetrate”, p. 312. 62 Thompson, “The 14th- century stained glass of Santa 59 Martin, Le vetrate di San Francesco, p. 179. “… what indicates Croce”, p. 52. that the window above the Bardi chapel in Santa Croce is the 63 Thompson, “The 14th-century stained glass of Santa Croce”, work of the Master of Figline. … are the facial features: the pp. 53–54. Lillich, The Stained Glass of St. Père of Chartres, extremely wide and arched shape of the eyes, the flat nose and pp. 46–53. the slightly open mouth leave little doubt of an attribution of 64 Ladis, Taddeo Gaddi, pp. 19ff and 88–90; Norman, “Those who the project.” pay, those who pray”.
358 Thompson the high altar chapel of Santa Croce (Figure 21.7) is also attributed to Taddeo Gaddi; however, the majority of the glass in the cappella maggiore was, until 2007, attributed to Taddeo’s son, Agnolo Gaddi, who painted the frescoes in the cappella maggiore in 1388–93.65 In two recent publications, Johannes Tripps has attributed the apse of Santa Croce to Taddeo based on stylistic comparisons with Taddeo’s paintings and with other windows designed by Taddeo, including the Baroncelli window.66 Tripps re- dates the cappella maggiore glass to between 1352 –the year that the friars of Santa Croce received a large sum from the Alberti to build and decorate their burial chapel in the church –and 1366, the year of Taddeo Gaddi’s death.67 Tripps makes a compelling formal comparison between the Baroncelli window’s St. Peter (Figure 21.6; standing figure at top left) and St. Peter in the right lancet window of the cappella maggiore, where it may be seen at the bottom right (Figure 21.7): in both windows Peter gazes forward, has a sturdy stance, and grasps his book and key in a similar way.68 However, Tripps does not take glazing traditions or the working relationship between glaziers and designers into consideration. While I have accepted the attribution of these windows to Agnolo in past publications, Tripps’ reattribution of the Santa Croce cappella maggiore glass to Taddeo prompted me to examine the windows’ glazing style more closely. It seems very likely, as Tripps argues, that the majority of the cappella maggiore glass in Santa Croce dates to late in Taddeo’s life, the 1350s or 60s, rather than to c.1388–92 when Agnolo frescoed the walls. For one, stained glass was a priority for the Franciscan order at this time because of the spiritual potential of colored light.69 As the friars began the decoration of the high altar area of the upper church in Assisi with stained glass, they may indeed have used the Alberti’s funding to fully glaze their central worshipping space in Santa Croce. Additionally, the colors and decorative elements of the windows are more similar to earlier Trecento glazing than they are to later Trecento glazing. Returning to the example of the two St. 65
For an overview of the Santa Croce apse glass and the various campaigns, see Thompson, “The Franciscans and the True Cross”, pp. 61–79. 66 Tripps, “Taddeo Gaddi e le vetrate dipinte”; id., “The stained- glass windows of the Cappella Maggiore”. 67 As Tripps, “The stained- glass windows of the Cappella Maggiore”, points out, the Alberti’s request for the construction of a separate chapel was not fulfilled. Tripps proposes that this considerable sum, 2575 gold florins, was spent on the completion of the apse stained glass. 68 Tripps, “The stained-glass windows of the Cappella Maggiore”, pp. 139–40. 69 Thompson, “The Franciscans and stained glass in Tuscany and Umbria”, pp. 39–41.
Peters (Figures. 21.6 and 21.5), we can see that not only are the figures’ elements similar, but the color palette in both consists predominantly of red, green, blue, yellow, gold, and white (clear), with some areas of purple. There is also a distinctive leading decision in both windows. The hair and beard are made of white glass, while the face of each Peter is painted on a separate, single piece of pinkish glass that is surrounded entirely by the pieces that make up the hair. Both Peters stand underneath similarly constructed tabernacles: each begins with a small capital base that is half obscured by the border decoration and then rises up with a thin band of white glass decorated with a grisaille diamond pattern, terminating in an acanthus leaf capital. A simple pointed arch springs from the capitals in both windows, although each pointed arch is made of a different color and pattern. This type of arched tabernacle, part of larger glazing traditions in Italy and northern Europe, is also present in the Master of Figline’s work in Santa Croce (Figure 21.5). The borders that surround each Peter, as well as all of the other figures in the upper central lancet of the apse glass and in the Baroncelli window, are somewhat similar, consisting of yellow and green leaves on alternating red and blue grounds. The glazier of the high altar window added twisting birds into the border, creating a curving pattern of birds and leaves. 7
Florence Cathedral
The Santa Croce apse glass (Figure 21.7) has much less in common with later Trecento glazing in Florence, most notably the windows in the nave of Florence Cathedral, glazed by Antonio da Pisa and Leonardo di Simone in 1394–95 (Figure 21.1). The most striking difference between the Santa Croce and Duomo windows is the spatial construction of the tabernacle. In some of the Duomo windows, the pointed arches above the figures appear to be topped by a dome (Figure 21.1), while the figures stand on platforms that recess, creating a sense that the figures stand in a three-dimensional space. The colonnettes of the Duomo tabernacles mimic twisted marble colonettes and are strikingly different from the simple, linear colonettes in the Santa Croce glass. Additionally, the three-dimensional aspect of the Florence Duomo windows resembles the windows in the Certosa del Galluzzo (c.1395) outside of Florence, and in the high altar of San Domenico in Perugia (1411).70 It’s hard to say 70
On the Certosa windows, see Bacci et al., “The ancient stained windows”, and the entry in the Italian Stained-Glass Windows Database: http://www.icvbc.cnr.it/bivi/schede/Toscana/ Firenze/9certosa_ema.htm (last accessed 26 November 2018). On the San Domenico glass, see Cannon, Religous
The Creation of Stained Glass in Central Italy, 1250–1400
whether the illusion of three-dimensional space in the Duomo windows was due to the hand of the glazier or the painter. Certainly, this interest in three-dimensional space, of creating a plane of space beyond the surface of the window, was of increasing interest to both painters and glaziers into the 15th century.71 The Florence Duomo nave windows present an unusual opportunity to speculate on the glazier/designer relationship, because documents in the cathedral archives specifically name the glaziers, Antonio da Pisa, Leonardo di Simone, and Niccolò di Piero (who seems to have not completed any glazing for the windows), and Agnolo Gaddi as the creator of the windows’ cartoons. We have already explored how the Duomo windows correspond closely with some of the recommendations in Antonio’s treatise, but can we see the hand of the glaziers elsewhere in the windows? In her introductory chapter to the volume on Antonio’s treatise, Claudine Lautier specifically addresses the question of whether Antonio painted on the glass itself and concludes that because Antonio makes ten references to painting on glass, he did indeed have experience applying paint to glass surfaces.72 Lautier goes on to argue that Antonio (and Leonardo di Simone) painted not only the decorative and architectural elements of their windows, but that they also painted the figural elements, including the draperies and faces of the figures.73 Agnolo Gaddi, Lautier argues, is still quite present in the window: she notes that the baldachins over the figures (Figure 21.1) in the windows are similar to those painted by Agnolo in the Castellani chapel in Santa Croce, creating the possibility that Agnolo included the baldachins in his cartoons.74 Thus the picture that emerges in Florence Cathedral is similar to Burnam’s characterization of Duccio’s role as the designer of the Siena Cathedral window. Agnolo Gaddi, like Duccio, may have had a greater hand in the overall design of the window, but the glazier, Antonio da Pisa and/or Leonardo di Simone, painted much of the window, including the decorative details and the faces of the figures, made decisions about glass colors, and oversaw the leading and installation of the window i tself. Much of the glass in one of the Duomo nave windows is apparently potassium glass, and given what we Poverty, Visual Riches, pp. 298–313, and the entry in the Italian Stained-Glass Windows Database: http://www.icvbc .cnr.it/bivi/schede/Umbria/Perugia/1sandomenico.htm (last accessed 26 November 2018). 71 See Thompson, “Designers, glaziers, and the process of making stained-glass windows”, for an exploration of this idea. 72 Lautier, “Le traité et l’œuvre d’Antoine de Pisa”, p. 30. 73 Ibid., pp. 31–33. 74 Ibid., p. 31.
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know from Antonio’s treatise, and other glass that has been chemically analysed, the red flashed glass in the Duomo windows is potassium glass, and was most likely made in Germany.75 In fact, much of later 14th-and early 15th-century window glass from central Italy that has been analysed is potassium glass, indicating either that Italian glaziers used imported glass as was likely the case in Assisi, or that glass manufacturers in central Italy switched to a potassium flux.76 At the same time, there is an increasing amount of glass from later Trecento Tuscan windows that can, through its chemical content linked to color, be traced to both sites north of the Alps, Venice, and perhaps even the Levant.77 8 Conclusion The trade in glass materials, then, was as complex as the relationships between the glaziers and designers, demonstrating the complicated web of people and materials involved in the collaborative creation of stained- glass windows in later medieval Italy. When considered together, the chemical and art historical analyses of extant stained- glass windows, medieval documents, and artistic treatises, all demonstrate that stained-glass windows in later medieval central Italy were not created according to standardized processes. Italian stained- glass windows cannot be attributed to just one artist or glazier; instead, it is the variety of hands and materials involved that made these dazzling windows possible. Bibliography Primary Sources
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Échard and Germain-Bonne, “La composition des verres du vitrail d’Antoine de Pise”. 76 This includes the window in the Certosa outside of Florence from c.1395 (Bacci et al., “The ancient stained windows”) and the 15th-century windows in Pisa Cathedral (Burnam, Le vetrate del Duomo di Pisa, p. 285). 77 I explore this issue in my essay, “Networks and materials: Italian stained-glass windows ca. 1280–1400”.
360 Thompson Antonio da Pisa, Memmoria del magisterio de fare fenestre de vetro, eds. C. Lautier and D. Sandron, Antoine de Pise: l’art du vitrail vers 1400 (Corpus Vitrearum France, Études viii), Paris, 2008, 41–66. Cennino d’Andrea Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, trans. D.V. Thompson, The Craftsman’s Handbook, New Haven, 1933 (repr. New York, 1960). Cennino d’Andrea Cennini, Il libro dell’arte, trans. L. Broecke, Cennino Cennini’s Il Libro Dell’Arte: A New English Translation and Commentary with Italian Transcription, London, 2015. Theophilus, De diversis artibus, trans. C.S. Smith and J.G. Hawthorne, On Divers Arts: The Foremost Medieval Treatise on Painting, Glassmaking, and Metalwork, Chicago, 1963 (repr. New York, 1979). Theophilus, De diversis artibus, ed. and trans. C.R. Dodwell, The Various Arts, London, 1961.
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Florence, Italy”, Vidimus 99 (2016), http://vidimus.org/ issues/issue-99/feature/ (last accessed 26 November 2018). Caciorgna, M., Guerrini, R., and Lorenzon, M. (eds.), Oculus cordis. La vetrata di Duccio: stile, iconografia, indagini tecniche, restauro (Collana di studi e ricerche, 4), Ospedaletto, 2007. Cannon, J., Religious Poverty, Visual Riches: Art in the Dominican Churches of Central Italy in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries, New Haven, 2013. Castelnuovo, E., Vertrate medievali. Officine, tecniche, maestri, Turin, 1994, 2nd ed., Turin 2007. Caviness, M., “The glazed oculus, from Canterbury to Siena: composition and context”, in Caciorgna, Guerrini, and Lorenzon (eds.), Oculus cordis, pp. 119–39. Clarke, M. and Stijnman, A., “Around Theophilus: an expert meeting towards new standards in Theophilus scholarship”, in S. Eyb-Green, J.H. Townsend, M. Clarke, J. Nadolny, and S. Kroustallis (eds.), The Artist’s Process. Technology and Interpretation, London, 2012, pp. 215–17. Cooper, D. and Robson, J., The Making of Assisi: the Pope, the Franciscans and the Painting of the Basilica, New Haven, 2013. Davison, S., Conservation of Glass, Oxford, 2003. Dell’Acqua, F., «Illuminando colorat». La vetrata tra l’età tardo imperiale e l’Alto Medioevo. Le fonti, l’archeologia (Studi e Ricerche di Archeologia e Storia dell’Arte, 4), Spoleto, 2003. Dell’Acqua, F. and Silva, R. (eds.), La vetrata in Occidente da IV all’XI secolo. Atti delle giornate di studi, Lucca (Il colore nel Medioevo. Arte Simbolo Tecnica. Collana di studi sul colore, 3), Lucca, 2001. Échard, J. and Germain-Bonne, D., “La composition des verres du vitrail d’Antoine de Pise”, in Lautier and Sandron (eds.), Antoine de Pise, pp. 265–76. Fenzi, F., Mendera M., Messiga B., Riccardi M.P., and Vigato P.E., “La provenienza del vetro usato per la vetrata di Duccio: un approccio interdisciplinare”, in Caciorgna, Guerrini, and Lorenzon (eds.), Oculus cordis, pp. 79–90. Fiori C. and Vandini M., “Chemical composition of glass and its raw materials”, in M. Beretta (ed.) When Glass Matters: Studies in the History of Science and Art from Graeco- Roman Antiquity to Early Modern Era [sic], Florence, 2004, pp. 151–94. Fischer, J.L., Handbuch der Glasmalerei, Leipzig, 1914. Frodl- Kraft, E., “Die ‘Figur im Langpaß’ in der östereichenischen Glasmalerei und die Naumburger Westchor- Verglasung”, in E. Hütter, F. Löffler, and H. Magirius (eds.), Kunst des Mittelalters in Sachsen, Festschrift Wolf Schubert, dargebracht zum sechzigsten Geburtstag am 28 Januar 1963, Weimar, 1967, pp. 309–14. Fumi, L., Il Duomo di Orvieto e i suoi restauri: monografie storiche condotto sopra i documenti, Rome, 1891. Gai, S., “Frammenti di vetro da finestra dal palazzo carolingio di Paderborn. Nuove considerazioni alla luce della recente
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Assisi: Entstehung und Entwicklung einer Gattung in Italien, Regensburg, 1997). Norman, D., “Those who pay, those who pray and those who paint: two funerary chapels,” in ead. (ed.), Siena, Florence, and Padua: Art, Society and Religion: 1280–1400, New Haven, 1995, vol. 2, pp. 169–79. Skaug, E., “Eine Einführung in das Leben und die Kunst Cennino Cenninis”, in W. Löhr and S. Weppelmann (eds.), “Fantasie und Handwerk”: Cennino Cennini und die Tradition der toskanischen Malerei von Giotto bis Lorenzo Monaco (Exhibition catalogue: Berlin, Gemäldegalerie), Munich, 2008, pp. 45–55. Thompson, N., The Fourteenth-Century Stained Glass of Santa Croce in Florence (Unpublished PhD, Indiana University, 1999). Thompson, N., “St. Francis, the Apocalypse and the True Cross: the decoration of the Cappella Maggiore of Santa Croce in Florence”, Gesta 43 (2004), 61–79. Thompson, N., “Designers, glaziers, and the process of making stained-glass windows in fourteenth-and fifteenth-century Florence”, Journal of Glass Studies 56 (2014), 237–51. Thompson, N., “The Franciscans and stained glass in Tuscany and Umbria”, in S.J. Cornelison, N.B. Debby, and P. Howard (eds.) Mendicant Cultures in the Medieval and Early Modern World: Word, Deed, and Image, Turnhout, 2016, pp. 23–44. Thompson, N., “Networks and materials: Italian stained-glass windows c. 1280–1400,” in H. Flora and S. Wilkins (eds.) Art and Experience in Trecento Italy. Studies from the Andrew Ladis Memorial Conference in New Orleans, 2016, Turnhout, 2018, pp. 27–37. Tripps, J., “Taddeo Gaddi e le vetrate dipinte della Cappella Maggiore di Santa Croce a Firenze”, Arte Cristiana 95 (2007), 161–68. Tripps, J., “The stained-glass windows of the Cappella Maggiore”, in C. Frosinini (ed.), Agnolo Gaddi and the Cappella Maggiore in Santa Croce in Florence: Studies after its Restoration, Milan, 2014, pp. 137–45. Verità, M., Marabelli M., and Santopadre P., “Studio conservativo della vetrata absidale del Duomo di Orvieto”, Bollettino dell’Istituto centrale per il restauro 1 (2000), 63–85. Verità, M., Conventi, A., and Santopadre, P., “Studio dei materiali costitutivi di vetrate medievali dal complesso basilicale di San Francesco in Assisi”, Bollettino Istituto Centrale per il Restauro 20/21 (2010), 17–45. Wentzel, H., “Die ältesten Farbfenster in der Oberkirche von S. Francesco zu Assisi und die deutsche Glasmalerei des XIII. Jahrhunderts”, Wallraf-Richartz-Jahrbuch 14 (1952), 45–72. White, J., Art and Architecture in Italy 1250–1400, 3rd ed., New Haven, 1993. Zakin, H., French Cistercian Grisaille Glass, New York, 1979.
c hapter 22
Medieval Glaziers’ Workshops in Norwich David King The production of much medieval art was a collaborative affair, and this was certainly true of glass painting. Making a painted glass window was a complex process, and, although the raw material of glass was bought in ready-made, a number of different steps had to be carried out which inevitably lead to the division of labour.1 Groups of craftsmen working together under a master have come to be called workshops, a term adopted from the building in which they worked.2 “Workshop” as applied in art history covers a range of meanings, and in the present context will be used to embrace a variety of ways in which glaziers collaborated. It is not always possible to know whether craftsmen who were co-owners of a property or lived in adjacent houses, for example, were part of the same workshop; it may have been the case that they sometimes worked independently. The word “glazier” is generally preferred here to “glass-painter”, as the latter does not appear in the documentary records used for this study, although “vitriarius” and “verer” appear in the 13th and 14th centuries, and “glasswright” from the 14th. The methodology for studying how medieval craftsmen worked together has been largely pragmatic, approaches depending on what kind of information was available. In the case of glaziers, written evidence of many kinds has enabled names and dates of glass- painters and the locations of their work to be established, and has given some insight into their working methods. In some cases attempts have been made to test the picture given by these sources by analysing the extant glass and in one case by experimental archaeology. Where documentation is lacking, workshops have been constructed from the evidence of the glass alone, using style and design as comparative criteria, sometimes combined with the evidence pertaining 1 See Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume. 2 The word itself is of post-medieval origin, first attested in 1556 in Richard Trottel’s edition of Nicholas Grimald’s Marcus Tullius Ciceroes three bokes of duties, f. 59r; see the entry for ‘workshop’ in the Oxford English Dictionary. 3 Publications dealing with workshops in England include Knowles, “Glass-painters of York”; Knowles, “Glass-painters of York. Chronological list”; Knowles, Essays in the History of the York School of Glass-Painting, pp. 222–52; Marks, The Stained Glass of Holy Trinity Tattershall; Marks, Stained Glass in England, pp. 40–51.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 28
to donors contained in the glass. The most revealing accounts occur when documents and glass survive together. In England it has been shown that some urban centres such as London, York, Norwich, and Coventry maintained thriving workshops sometimes over long periods.3 Other workshops appear to have been mobile, moving to where work was available rather than remaining in one place. Isolated glaziers in country districts are also known, although, as was the case with some urban glaziers, many of these were probably capable only of basic leading work with some repairs. A further type of workshop for which evidence is available is that attached to a cathedral site. At Norwich Cathedral an inventory of equipment in the glaziers’ hut has been found, pointing to such a workshop.4 At Ely, excavation has uncovered fragments of painted glass from the cathedral workshop.5 The evidence from both sites suggests that these organisations were used for repairs rather than for new windows, for which outside glaziers were employed. Lastly, glaziers and other craftsmen were sometimes impressed from various parts of the country to work on royal buildings, the best-known examples being at Westminster and Windsor in the mid- 14th century.6 In the case of Norwich, a major centre of glass- painting throughout the late Middle Ages, the archival evidence concerning glaziers is extensive, and this can be combined with extant glass in a large number of buildings, although often fragmentary. A small number of glaziers is documented at King’s Lynn and elsewhere in the county but the great majority of the evidence relates to Norwich, to which this study will be mainly confined.7 The survivals of medieval stained glass in Norfolk are characterised by their fragmentary character, as with so much English glass, but also by the quantity, arising from the fact that there are over 600 medieval churches in Norfolk, of which about 250 contain extant medieval glass. The Norfolk glass is, with few exceptions, also of consistently good quality. This may be explained by the 4 King, “The panel paintings and stained glass”, pp. 415–16. 5 King, Excavated Window Glass. 6 Salzman, “The glazing of St Stephen’s Chapel”; Salzman, “Medieval glazing accounts”, pp. 120, 189. 7 L’Estrange, Freemen of Lynn, pp. 4, 12, 26, 44, 45, 58, 60, 62.
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fact that Norwich was one of the most important cities in England in the Middle Ages with a large and prosperous population and hinterland able to sustain large workshops over long periods.8 Another important characteristic of Norwich glaziers was that they frequently maintained close links with other crafts, most often with painters, but also with metal workers. This is shown both by documentary evidence, such as property deeds with glaziers and painters as co-owners or neighbours, but also by close comparisons between the extant glass and local works in other media, such as manuscript painting. This will be illustrated when individual workshops are discussed. It must be stressed that the amount of surviving documentation and glass in no way compares with that available for the studies of continental examples.9 However, the Norfolk material covers a longer period than other studies, including the late 13th and 14th centuries, and demonstrates how close consideration of the available evidence can reveal useful information. 1 Glaziers in Norwich: the Role of the Cathedral and the ‘Ramsey Company’ In the period from c.1280 to c.1325 the history of glass painting in Norwich is told by combining a small amount of extant material with rather more documentary evidence. There is an isolated reference to a glazier in Norwich in 1241, but the earliest evidence of a group of glaziers working in the city comes in the period 1279 to 1317, when about ten are documented, many of whom can be linked to the cathedral.10 The Norman cathedral was built between 1096 and 1145. Its monastic buildings were extensively damaged in a riot which took place in 1272, resulting in a fine of £2000 being imposed on the citizens to pay for the repairs, which included well 8 9
10
For the background to Norwich in the Middle Ages, see Rawcliffe and Wilson, Medieval Norwich. Publications dealing with continental workshops include Frodl-Kraft, “Problems of Gothic workshop practices”; Scholz, Entwurf und Ausführung; Minois, Le vitrail à Troyes; Lautier and Sandron, L’art du vitrail vers 1400; and Blondeau, Le vitrail à Rouen 1450–1503. What follows about the glaziers of this early group is based on the following: Norwich, Norfolk Record Office (henceforth nro), Norwich City Records, City Court Rolls, roll 1, m. 1, 2d; roll 3; m. 7d, 8d; roll 5, m. 7d, 20; King, “Continuity and patronage in the John Wighton Workshop”, p. 347; Woodforde, The Norwich School of Glass-Painting, pp. 9–10; Rye, A Short Calendar of the Deeds Relating to Norwich, 1285–1306, pp. 31, 34, 91; Rye, A Calendar of Norwich Deeds, 1307–1341, pp. 29, 49, 58, 75, 77, 129.
documented campaigns to rebuild the chapter house and cloister, but which must also have involved extensive work on the glazing of the cathedral church.11 The first glazier to appear is ‘Master’ Nicholas Fayerchild, paid 1 s in 1279/80 for taking down stained-glass shields in the cathedral.12 In 1283/84, the cathedral paid 20 s for robes for him and his unnamed son. That he is called ‘master’ and was given a robe implies that Nicholas was a craftsman of some status and a glass painter. The other members of the group were active after this date, and it is known that nearly all of them owned or rented property in parishes near the cathedral. The evidence points to that building having provided the bulk of their work, although the extensive programme of refurbishment of the castle keep in 1287–89 by the king may have also involved glass painting, as may the building of the Franciscan Friary church from c.1292, both buildings also being near where the glaziers lived.13 Of the early group of glaziers, the most important may have been Geoffrey Curteys. He appears in Norwich in a number of documents in 1307 and 1316 relating to the purchase of properties close to the cathedral precinct.14 An important earlier document dated 1292 links the names of Geoffrey Curteys and William de Ramsey, making it almost certain that Geoffrey was a kinsman of the celebrated Ramsey family of masons and sculptors who came from the Fenland area near Ramsey Abbey, and worked at Norwich Cathedral and in London and elsewhere.15 He was probably a brother or cousin of Richard Curteys, active around 1300 as a mason, and the father of John Ramsey senior, mason of Norwich, and probably the same as Richard le Machun, the master mason of Norwich Cathedral from 1285 until 1290. It is likely that Geoffrey was employed to glaze the parts of the cathedral under construction at this time, but, like the Ramseys, he probably undertook work elsewhere as well; a member of the Curteys family was among the wall painters working in Westminster Palace in the 1290s.16 11 12
Tanner, “The cathedral and the city”, pp. 259–62. The form “1279/80” is used when documents are dated by the regnal year. 13 For the castle keep, see Heslop, Norwich Castle Keep, pp. 10–11; for the Franciscan Friary, see Rutledge, “The Franciscan friary”, p. 53. 14 Nor., nro, ccr roll 4, m 35d; roll 5, m 19d. 15 London, National Archive, Calendar of Close Rolls, April 1292, membrane 6d. http://www.british-history.ac.uk/cal-close- rolls/edw1/vol3/pp260-263 (last accessed 14 November 2016; subscription is required). 16 Harvey, English Mediaeval Architects, pp. 77, 239–45; Fernie and Whittingham, The Early Communar and Pitancer Rolls of Norwich Cathedral Priory, pp. 28, 30, 32–34, 36–39; Binski, Gothic Wonder, p. 111.
364 King Of the small amount of extant glass in Norfolk from the late 13th and early 14th centuries, one group of panels may possibly have been the work of the Curteys Workshop, but the evidence is circumstantial and difficult to interpret, partly because of the condition of the glass. At Downham Market in west Norfolk there is a figure of St. Barnabas in a canopied niche (Figure 22.1). It has been displaced to the tower window, and the fenestration in the church is much renewed, however, antiquarian sources record glass of this early date in the windows before the church was altered.17 One indication that the glass is from the church is that it is comparable in style with the Ramsey Psalter made c.1300–10 for Ramsey Abbey, the patrons of Downham Market church.18 Two further panels depicting St. Thomas and St. Matthew, now in Norwich Cathedral, are clearly from the same Apostle series.19 The figures stand in trefoil-headed canopied niches wearing two-coloured drapery and carrying their names on scrolls. The foliage on the arch capitals is of the old stiff-leaf type, but the relieved blue background has the more modern naturalistic leaf pattern. The figure of St. Matthew at the cathedral is painted from the same cartoon as that of St. Barnabas. It is not known when Geoffrey Curteys started work as a glazier in Norwich, and the Downham glass may have been painted when he was still living in the Fenlands. Other glass of this early period at Carleton Rode and Dunston shares certain features with the Downham glass, but not enough to indicate a definite workshop connection.20 2
The “Missing” Years – 1325–48
After a reference to Geoffrey Curteys in 1325, by which time he was dead, glaziers in Norwich do not appear in 17
London, British Library, Harley 901, fol. 53v; Lansdowne 260, fol. 232r; Additional 14823, fols. 13v, 14r; nro Rye MS 17, ii, fol. 37r; Blomefield and Parkin, History of Norfolk, vol. 8, p. 340. 18 Binski, Gothic Wonder, pp. 110–11 and note 154. The stylistic connection with the Ramsey Psalter was made by the author in the 1970s, before the panel at Downham Market had become obscured by corrosion. It can be compared to the figure of St. Thomas Becket in the psalter: New York, The Pierpont Morgan Library, MS M. 302, f. 4v. For the Ramsey Psalter, see: http:// www.ramseyabbey.co.uk/ramsey_abbey_psalter%20large .html (last accessed 08 April 2019). 19 King, Stained Glass Tours around Norfolk Churches, p. 4; King, “Panel paintings and stained glass”, p. 422. 20 The glass at Carleton Rode and Dunston is illustrated in King, “Developments in iconography and craft, c.1250–1540”, pp. 132, 141. For Dunston, see also CVMA Great Britain, Digital Publication: http://www.cvma.ac.uk/publications/ digital/norfolk/sites/dunston/history.html (last accessed 8 November 2016).
the documentary record again until 1348.21 This does not, however, mean that none were working there; some of the glaziers in the early group would have continued work in the city into the 1320s without necessarily appearing in the record. Moreover, some of the glaziers documented from 1348 onwards may have worked before that date in the city. The two most important sources, the City Court Rolls and the Freemen’s Rolls cover this period, but they are devoid of references to glaziers. This may be because many of the entries in the list of Freemen in the 14th century do not give their occupation, whereas for the later period they nearly always do. Thus, it is possible that undetected glaziers were enrolled during this period and that other names might also appear in the City Court Rolls, where occupations are not always given. There is certainly extant glass in Norfolk churches dating from this period and an examination of its style and patronage indicates that it was made in Norwich, and that the glass which came after 1348 shows a stylistic continuity with what came before, suggesting that local work continued without a break right through the 14th century. An unusual figure of a seraph bearing the stigmata at Norton Subcourse is datable to c.1325-c.1330 on heraldic and historical evidence (Figure 22.2).22 Lacking drapery and a canopied niche, the panel is not comparable to the Downham Market glass, but it is closely related in style and design to glass at South Creake, dated c.1324–40 on heraldic evidence, and dates probably a little later than the Norton Subcourse figure. The use of a common design source for two figures of different size reveals the existence of a repertoire of models used in the drawing of cartoons, and reflects a common feature of the English Decorated style in which designs were used on widely different scales.23 Another feature of English art of this time is that very similar designs can appear in different media and over a wide area. This makes the exact significance of design comparisons difficult, as it is sometimes not possible to distinguish the local influence from the more general. However, the Norton Subcourse seraph is very close in design to the pair which flank the figures of God the Father and Son illustrating Psalm cix in the Ormesby Psalter, f. 147v, almost certainly illuminated in Norwich by a painter called the Ormesby Master, c.1310.24 Here, the commonalties of delineation seem to be close enough to allow for a derivation from a local design source.25 That there should 21
In 1325 Margaret was referred to as Curteys’ widow: Nor., nro, ccr roll 10, m. 14d. 22 The glass at Norton Subcourse is unpublished. 23 Binski, Gothic Wonder, pp. 142–43. 24 Illustrated in Rickert, Painting in Britain: the Middle Ages, pl. 130. 25 As is also the case for a censing angel at South Creake, based on the design for a pair in the Bromholm Psalter (Oxford,
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appear to be such connections between Norwich glass and manuscripts of this period is not surprising, as property deeds show that painters of both manuscripts and glass lived side-by-side just outside the cathedral precinct.26 A number of churches in the county contain glass which is dateable (mainly on style) to a period overlapping the 1348 date. At Attleborough the mainly figurative glass from the aisle windows was collected and placed in the tracery and heads of the lofty west window. An extensive heraldic scheme was originally also in the aisle windows, which dates the glass to c.1340–58/59.27 Two hands are evident in the figural panels. The first is similar to the extant glass of the Lady Chapel at Ely Cathedral, for which Simon de Lenne (and other glaziers) provided glass; he, having been trained in the cathedral workshop, later becoming independent at King’s Lynn.28 The Attleborough first style is characterized by the use of bold trace-lines and careful smear-shading to model the drapery and faces, which have almond-shaped eyes (Figure 22.3). It seems likely that the glass here was made by glaziers at Norwich under the influence of Simon’s workshop. Movements of glaziers between King’s Lynn and Norwich are known;29 Simon de Lenne was impressed to work on the glazing of St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, in 1351/52, serving there as one of the master glaziers employed to design the windows. He became an alderman of King’s Lynn after moving from Ely, and was a leading glazier in Norfolk in the mid-14th century.30 It is probable that at least some of the small amount of high-quality extant glass in the county of this period was made by his workshop. At Great Walsingham small amounts of 14th-century glass survive in several windows of the aisles. The few pieces of figurative glass are iconographically important and can give some indication of workshop provenance, but the decorative remains, as often in the first half of Bodleian Library Ashmole 1523, fol. 99r) flanking a seated figure of Christ. See cvma Great Britain, picture archive, inventory number 014531. See www.cvma.ac.uk/jsp/index.jsp and enter CVMA inv. no. 0015431. 26 Nor., NRO, CCR roll 4, m 35d; roll 5, m 19d. Some fine glass at North Elmham, including large tracery-light figures of a seated musical angel and the Virgin and Child, show a very similar troughed drapery style to that at South Creake, but is possibly slightly earlier. The best-preserved panel is illustrated in King, “Developments in iconography and craft, c.1250–1540”, p. 133. The glass is otherwise unpublished in detail. 27 This will be discussed in full in the cvma Great Britain Summary Catalogue for Norfolk. 28 Lasko and Morgan, Medieval Art in East Anglia, cat. no. 33, p. 26 (entry by D. King). 29 Woodforde, The Norwich School of Glass-Painting, p. 10. 30 Woodforde, “Schools of glass-painting in King’s Lynn and Norwich”, p. 15.
the 14th century, are less helpful. Definite heraldic or antiquarian evidence is lacking, apart from a less than substantive (but nevertheless probable) indication of patronage by Elizabeth de Burgh, who founded the Franciscan house in Walsingham in 1347.31 Courtly heads and hands of the Virgin and God the Father are skillfully combined with grotesques in the sub-reticulated tracery of the east window of the north aisle, using a pale lemon silver stain, backgrounds diapered with relieved circles and a more restrained but precise modelling; the glass dates from around 1330 (Figure 22.4).32 Their quality suggests court influence via the work at Norwich Cathedral.33 The exact dating of much of this glass is difficult, as it is impossible to tell how long the extensive glazing campaign in the aisles here lasted or how many workshops were involved. The most complete 14th-century window in Norfolk is at Mileham, where the west window has a central figure of St. John the Baptist flanked by St. Catherine and St. Margaret, all three under tall canopies with three-dimensional elements (Figure 22.5). The figures are elegant, with slightly mannered poses, and the colour palette is more extended than the earlier glass. The historical evidence suggests, but does not prove, a date around 1345–50, but the closest stylistic connection is with the Dominican altarpiece from the Thetford Franciscan friary –now split between Thornham Parva in Suffolk and the Musée de Cluny in Paris –which is thought to be from a decade earlier.34 31
References to lost heraldic glass in Little Walsingham for 14th- century families in Blomefield and Parkin, History of Norfolk, vol. 9, p. 273, may be for Great Walsingham, the former church being of the 15th century and the latter of the 14th. 32 The Walsingham glass is similar in style to the glass of a roundel with a centaur at Ringland: King, Stained Glass Tours around Norfolk Churches, p. 19; King, “Developments in iconography and craft, c.1250–1540”, p. 143; cvma Great Britain, Digital Publications: www.cvma.ac.uk. Select CVMA Publications/CVMA (GB) Digital/List of sites/Ringland: Parish Chruch of St Peter. 33 Binski, Gothic Wonder, p. 268. 34 Daunton, Patronage and Iconography, pp. 78–117; Norton, Park, and Binski, Dominican Painting in East Anglia. There are some design connections with the somewhat later glass at Elsing, where the content of the east chancel window, of which a few tiny fragments remain, can be largely reconstructed from antiquarian and other sources. While the micro- architectural design of the canopies at Mileham can be seen as a precursor to those at Elsing, certain decorative motifs on the Elsing canopies are similar to a canopy top from the Lady Chapel at Ely. This is later than the c.1349 date for most of the glass there, and there are close stylistic links between the monumental brass for Sir Hugh Hastings at Elsing and the Ely Lady Chapel glass. Dating the glass at Elsing has been controversial, but a tentative conclusion puts it at c.1355–60.
366 King 3
Some Late 14th-Century Glaziers in Norwich
The first glazier to be documented after the “missing” period is Gilbert Sadler, whose name may indicate a family connection with painting, as saddles were painted in the Middle Ages.35 The reference in 1348/49 is to him as the owner of a property at the north end of Conesford Street (modern King Street) next to the Castle Meadow.36 This is the first of several references to glaziers living and/or working in properties along this part of the street, indicating a shift in the location of workshops slightly to the south of where they had been previously.37 The references to Sadler imply that he had probably been active for some time before 1348/49 and continued working after that date. Like other glaziers about to be discussed, he was a survivor of the Black Death, which first appeared in Norwich at that time, killing a large proportion of the population. This event must have had serious consequences for local glaziers’ workshops, although production appears to have continued. Gilbert had a son Henry who was also a glazier. In 1377/78, Henry sold two properties in the row of houses bordering on the Castle Meadow, one with Gilbert’s widow, the other with his own wife.38 Both were next to a property belonging to another glazier. This was Adam Hadesco, first recorded in 1351/52 when he was impressed to work on the windows of St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, receiving 6 d a day for “breaking and fitting glass”.39 He may have worked with Sadler, perhaps being trained by him, as both glaziers appeared in a muster of arms in 1355 and he owned properties adjacent to those of Sadler; by 1397 he was dead.40 Another member of the Hadesco family, John, probably Adam’s brother, was impressed in 1352/53 to work on the glass at Windsor for the chapter-house.41 The only evidence of his activity in Norwich occurred in 1377/78, after his death, when his widow Agnes de Hengham sold a property in the parish of St. Michael at Plea next to one formerly owned by John de Hadesco.42 Another glazier who had worked at Westminster in 1351/52 as a glass painter was Robert Glaswright.43 He owned a property further to the south on the west side of Conesford Street next to 35 King, “Medieval art in Norfolk and the continent”, pp. 101–02. 36 Norwich, nro, City Court Rolls, 14, m. 1. 37 Wallace, Medieval People of Norwich, pp. 6, 19–29. 38 Nor., nro, ccr, 14, mm. 1, 3. 39 Salzman, “The glazing of St Stephen’s Chapel”, p. 31. 40 Hudson and Tingey, The Records of the City of Norwich, vol. 1, p. 392, vol. 2, p. 248. See also Nor., nro, ccr 14, mm. 1, 3, 21;nro, Calendar of Norwich Deeds 1413–1508, p. 9. 41 St. John Hope, Windsor Castle, vol. 2, p. 142. 42 Nor., nro, Norwich City Records, roll 14, m. 1d. 43 Salzman, “The glazing of St Stephen’s Chapel”, pp. 31, 32, 35.
one later owned by two painters, and may also have been part of an extended workshop of glass-painters working together with the Sadlers and Hadescos.44 The fact that he worked as a glass-painter at Westminster, while Adam Hadesco was employed to cut and fit glass, may suggest that Robert was the senior figure at that time, although Adam, who appears more extensively in the documentary record, may have become more significant later. What is known about the group of glaziers just discussed –who lived at the top of Conesford Street, some of whom had worked at Westminster or Windsor –does allow some glass to be attributed to this group. Opposite the group of properties owned by these glaziers was the entrance to the precinct of the Franciscan friary. Excavated glass from this site has been found, dating from the late 13th century when the church was built, and from the third quarter of the 14th century when a further glazing campaign took place.45 Extant glass of both dates has been attributed to the friary.46 Further panels now in Kimberley church can be assigned to the same friary provenance. Several details of the glass there, including unusual decorative motifs and canopy design, can be compared precisely with the friary panels, and one piece depicting a beggar is from a depiction of King Edward the Confessor giving his ring to a beggar, a very appropriate subject for a mendicant order (Figure 22.6). It seems very reasonable to suppose that the glaziers living opposite the friary when this glass was made would have been employed to make it. The theme of the migration of glaziers is continued by William de Senneed, his name being a dialectic spelling of St. Neots, a town in Cambridgeshire. He initially appears with the “correct” spelling in the list of freeman admitted in 1382/83, where he is designated as a glazier.47 Two years later he was already married and in a position to buy a property on Conesford Street in the parish of St. Peter Permountergate, to the south of the earlier group of dwellings owned by glaziers, and a location destined to become an important one for glaziers in the following century.48 In 1388/89 he sold the same property to 44
A rent roll of the Castle Fee in 1397 records rent paid by John Brisle for the tenement lately of Robert Glaswright’s: Hudson and Tingey, The Records of the City of Norwich, vol. 2, p. 248. 45 King, “Window glass and came”. 46 The earlier panel, that depicting Beatrix of Valkenburg in the Burrell Collection, of c.1292, is not stylistically related to other Norfolk glass and may have come from elsewhere, possibly as a royal gift. The later glass consists of figures of St. Mary and St. John the Evangelist from a Crucifixion, dateable to c.1350–60 on style: King, “Mendicant glass in East Anglia”, pp. 180–84, pls. 8–13. 47 L’Estrange and Rye, Calendar of the Freemen of Norwich, p. 100. 48 Nor., nro, Calendar of Norwich Deeds, p. 81.
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Medieval Glaziers’ Workshops in Norwich
Robert Frenge, painter.49 By 1407 William may have died, as another property in the Ward of Conesford was mentioned as being adjacent to the tenement formerly belonging to William.50 There is a little extant glass of this date which has stylistic and decorative features linking it to Norwich, and which can be seen as closely linked to the group of glaziers who produced the friary glazing. It is characterised in the head types by a sketchy drawing of beards, delineated by rapidly drawn parallel lines. That it follows on from the group of glaziers described above can be shown by a small but significant find from an excavation on a site opposite the church of St. Peter Parmentergate on Conesford Street, just down the road from the Franciscan house (Figure 22.7).51 The glass dates from c.1370–80 on style and includes a bearded head in the style outlined above. A figure of God the Father from the Coronation of the Virgin, now in a private collection in Norfolk, is by the same hand, and some musical angels now in Carrow Abbey, Norwich, are in a similar style. The excavated glass may have come from the church opposite, or from the Augustinian friary just to the south, but this discovery helps locate the area of origin of the glass in private collections which resembles it. 4
The John Wighton Workshop
Glaziers continued to work in Norwich in the period c.1400–30, but there is comparatively little extant glass from this period, and from this point we shall concentrate on two large workshops, the first of which may have started around 1410, or may even have had a mid- 14th-century origin, but whose most important surviving work starts in about 1440.52 The members of this earlier group, which may be called the John Wighton Workshop, after its chief protagonist, were located in a number of parishes north of the river in the Northern Ward, while those of the slightly later group, designated as the William Heyward Workshop, lived and worked mainly south of the river in the ward of Conesford, but with some acquisition of property in the Northern Ward.53 The members of these workshops were connected in a number of ways, but while some connections such 49 Nor., nro, CNDa, p. 83. 50 Nor., nro, Calendar of Private Deeds, p. 68. 51 The excavation was on the site of the former Lads’ Club, and the find has not been published. 52 For the early-15th-century Norwich glaziers, see King, The Medieval Stained Glass of St Peter Mancroft, pp. 135–37. 53 Both workshops are named after their most important master, but both existed before and after the named glazier.
as father and son and master-apprentice are clear, the exact nature of others cannot be known, and the links between a late member of the Wighton Workshop group and members of the William Heyward Workshop suggest that the situation was becoming more fluid towards the end of the period. John Wighton i (called henceforth by this name to distinguish him from a younger glazier relative here called John Wighton ii) became free as a glazier in 1411, his master possibly having been Thomas Dorham.54 He bought a property in 1428/29 in the parish of St. Martin Coslany and later acquired a substantial house in the adjacent parish of St. Mary Coslany.55 In 1435 Wighton was city treasurer, and between 1445 and 1448 he served as warden of the glaziers’ craft. Assessed for income tax at £2 in 1451, he was in 1453 elected alderman for the sub-ward of Colegate or Fybridge, both in the Northern Ward. When he died in 1457 he asked to be buried in the porch of his parish church of St. Mary Coslany, to which he gave a window.56 Wighton had four known apprentices, the most important of whom was John Mundeford; another one, John Bemond, had an apprentice called Nicholas Peyntour, who in turn was master to John, probably Dowening, to whom he left a set of moulds, presumably lead moulds, in his will of 1504.57 He also asked to be buried in St. George Colegate before his new window. John Mundeford, who appears to have taken over the leadership of the Wighton Workshop, came from a family of glaziers. His father William was a Dutchman, originally called William de Montfoort, who had settled in England by 1436 and worked as a glazier for the Wighton Workshop, dying in 1478. William’s wife Helen died in 1458, describing herself in her will as a glazier “by the assent of my husband William”. They also had another son called Henry, who was apprenticed to a Franco- Flemish glazier called Henry Pers, becoming free in 1426/27. John Mundeford took part in the production 54
55 56 57
For John Wighton i and his workshop, see King, “A glazier from the Bishopric of Utrecht in fifteenth-century Norwich”; King, The Medieval Stained Glass of St Peter Mancroft, pp. cxliv-clii, 137–39; King, “Continuity and patronage in the John Wighton Workshop”. The biographical details of the remaining glaziers mentioned in this chapter are referenced in King, The Medieval Stained Glass of St Peter Mancroft, pp. 139–44. New evidence subsequently discovered is footnoted separately. Jurowski, “Income tax assessments of Norwich, 1472 and 1489”, p. 137. John Kirkpatrick noted Wighton’s rebus and initials in a window here (nro MS MC 500/16, 761x7, notes dated 1712). For Bemond as master, see Nor., nro, Assembly Proceedings, Book i, f. 115r. For this and other references here to this source I am indebted to Ruth Frost.
368 King of two pageants to welcome the visit of Queen Elizabeth Woodville to Norwich in 1469, his son performing in the Annunciation pageant, and may also have been involved in the dramatic performance at East Harling in connection with the glazing there made by his workshop.58 His death was marked by a brass dated 1481 in the church of St. George Colegate, in which parish he owned a property. John Mundeford is known to have had one apprentice, William Stalon, free in 1483/84 as a glazier after his master’s death.59 Stalon was involved in a number of property transactions, one of which was witnessed by Nicholas Peyntour. The last of his acquisitions was next to one he had formerly owned and before that had belonged to his master John Mundeford. In 1502/03 Nicholas witnessed an enrolled property deed for John Wighton ii. The glass painted by the various artists of the John Wighton Workshop is that most immediately recognisable as Norwich work, the most important examples being the mid-15th-century glazing at Norwich, St. Peter Mancroft, and the slightly later glass at East Harling.60 Several windows at St. Peter Mancroft were glazed by this workshop in the decade from 1445 in the eastern arm of the church, which was consecrated in 1455. An analysis of their style, including distinctive decorative motifs, allows attributions to individual glaziers in the workshop to be made, supported by the documentary evidence and that of glass elsewhere. Nearly all the surviving panels are now in the east chancel window, although none is originally from there. Several main-light and tracery panels were originally in the east window of the north chancel chapel given by Robert Toppes, four times mayor of Norwich. This window was painted by one glazier, with the exception of a few tracery-light figures which are less accomplished, but follow the designs of the main artist and are almost certainly by an apprentice. The principle glazier was almost certainly John Mundeford, rather than his master John Wighton i, who by this date was an old man and had just become an alderman (Figures. 22.8 and 22.9). A later version of Mundeford’s style is also seen at East Harling in glass of the 1460s painted after Wighton’s death. Some of the 58
For the entry of Queen Elizabeth, see Harrod, “Queen Elizabeth Woodville’s visit”. The author intends to publish links between the stained glass and drama at East Harling later, based on commonalities between the east window of the Lady Chapel there, made by the Wighton workshop, and the N-Town Play. 59 nro, Ass. Proc., i, f. 122r. 60 For St. Peter Mancroft, see King, The Medieval Stained Glass of St Peter Mancroft; for East Harling, see cvma Great Britain, Digital Publications: www.cvma.ac.uk. Select CVMA Publications/CVMA (GB) Digital/List of Sites/East Harling: Parish Church of Sts Peter and Paul.
same designs used at St. Peter Mancroft are adapted for use at East Harling in glass from the east window of the Lady Chapel, but the elegance of the earlier narrative panels, still showing the influence of the International Style, has been transformed into a more linear drawing with more angular drapery. At St. Peter Mancroft, Mundeford may have been painting panels made from designs made by John Wighton, whereas at East Harling he made use of some of them, but adapted them and added others of his own. This can be seen in the Annunciation panels, where at East Harling the design is reversed and some details, such as the bed and Christ Child, are omitted because the canopy reduces the available space. One of the most interesting aspects of this workshop is the documented participation of the Dutch glazer, John Mundeford’s father, William. To him can be ascribed work at St. Peter Mancroft and in several other churches where there is glass definitely by the Wighton Workshop, but painted in a style which is less linear, more painterly with much more expressive faces and gestures, varying from the noble and dignified to the grotesque and ugly (Figure 22.10). Both qualities are seen in some panels from a window at St. Peter Mancroft depicting the Passion of Christ. In the panel with the Crowning with Thorns and the First Mocking of Christ, the tormentors have harsh expressions with bulbous noses and showing their teeth and the two figures of Christ have a tragic gravitas appropriate to the occasion, whereas the figures in the equally tragic scene of the Massacre of the Innocents, for example, painted by locally-trained John Mundeford, all have rather bland, even smiling, expressions. A third style from this workshop is seen in the remaining panels of a window from the south chancel chapel, depicting a Franciscan donor figure and scenes from the Life of St. Margaret and St. Elisabeth of Hungary in the main lights, and an Annunciation and Visitation in the tracery. The figure style lies somewhere between the linearity of John Mundeford and the emotionality adopted by his Dutch father, and a tentative attribution has been made to Helen Mundeford, the glazier wife of William and father of John. Thus, the varying styles used within a common workshop origin demonstrate at least one way in which a large workshop could work. At East Harling the Lady Chapel east window has one overall figure style, attributed to John Mundeford. However, within the panels the canopies appear to have been painted in a different shade of paint from the rest of the panel, suggesting that two or three people worked together, one or two of them specialising in the repetitive painting of micro- architecture, while the master took on the more varied and demanding figure work.
369
Medieval Glaziers’ Workshops in Norwich
5
The William Heyward Workshop
Another almost completely separate group of glaziers linked to a predominant figure can be reconstituted from the documentary evidence in Norwich; it focuses on the other glazier to attain the rank of alderman: William Heyward.61 Unfortunately, in contrast to the John Wighton Workshop, very little glass by this workshop can be identified. However, in this case, there is both strong documentary, as well as some material evidence to suggest that the extended William Heyward Workshop was involved in the manufacture of painted glass, brasses, screen, and possibly wall paintings.62 The Heyward Workshop seems to have begun with the figure of Thomas Goldbeter, armiger and glazier, and thus a member of the gentry. He makes his first appearance as a glazier in 1431 as executor to the will of Hugh Goldbeter of Norwich, perhaps his father.63 He then appears in the 1457 Muster Roll for Conesford, immediately signalling the move to the south of the river as the main centre of this group of glaziers. The craft of goldbeater was associated with that of painting, which suggests that Thomas may have had a background in that craft. He had three apprentices: John Tompson, glazier, free in 1465/66; Nicholas Heyward, glazier, free in 1469/70; and in the same year, Richard Steer (Stoore), painter. His will is dated 1467, and in it he asks to be buried in the church of St. Peter Permountergate, and requests that his tenement in that parish and all the tools of his trade should be sold. This did not, however, mark an end to his workshop, as his apprentices would have had their own equipment. The fact that one of them was initially a painter (although later a glazier) reinforces the suggestion of Goldbeter’s links with painting, but also points to the fact that there is much evidence that the Heyward Workshop was a multi-media enterprise. John Tompson does not seem to have made a mark as a glazier, but the other two apprentices are better known. Richard Stoore and Nicholas Heyward are closely linked, as the former was the master of William Heyward and the latter his brother. Although Stoore obtained the freedom as a painter, by 1474 he was documented as a glazier in the parish of St. Peter Permountergate, where he had a tenement previously occupied by Robert Ocle, a painter, and 61
For William Heyward and his workshop, see Greenwood and Norris, The Brasses of Norfolk Churches; King, The Medieval Stained Glass of St Peter Mancroft, pp. 140–44; King, “A multi- media workshop in late medieval Norwich”; King, “The indent of John Aylward”, pp. 255, 258–67. 62 King, “A multi-media workshop in late medieval Norwich”; King, “The indent of John Aylward”. 63 Nor., nro, Norwich Consistory Court, Surflete 80.
he later bought another property in this parish. William Heyward’s elder brother Nicholas had become free in 1469/70 as a glazier apprenticed to Thomas Goldbeter. He owned a tenement in St. Vedast, which had previously belonged to his master and before that to Stephen Frenge, another Norwich painter. In his will of 1517 he asked to be buried in the churchyard of St. Peter Permountergate. Nicholas’ progress through the cursus honorum of civic offices reached only as far as the first step of constable, and even though he outlived his brother by some years it is clear that William Heyward was not only more successful and important than his elder brother, but was the most significant craftsman of his time in the city in a number of trades. He was apprenticed to Richard Stoore, who had trained with Thomas Goldbeter, and became free in 1485/86.64 He was constable for the Conesford Ward in 1488–93 and councillor there in 1494–1504, chamberlain in 1499–1503, and chamberlain’s council in 1504, being elected as alderman for North Conesford in 1505. His will was proved on 18 May 1506. On many occasions between 1497 and 1504 he served on the common council of the Guild of St. George, and in 1505 was auditor. Of his two apprentices, Roberty Baly was free in 1505/06, and John Tench in 1511. Baly was left a gown in Heyward’s will and was a supervisor of the glaziers’ craft in 1509–10. Heyward was executor to the will of another glazier, Nicholas Grene, in 1503. Grene had been made free as a glazier in 1485/86, which may suggest that he worked for Heyward. Heyward was involved in many property transactions, most of them in Conesford Ward and the adjacent parish of Little St. Mary, but of those outside this area the most significant was that in 1495/96 when he sold a tenement in All Saints Fibriggate in the far north of the city together with John Wattock and Robert Gylmin, both glaziers. Wattock and Gylmin were two members of a group of glaziers with craft and family links who were based in Fyebridge Ward north of the river and who originally probably worked together independently of the Heyward Workshop. Thomas Felippes was a glazier who shared his name with others in the city, thus making his career difficult to establish with certainty. There were two main figures by that name, a glazier and baker, the former first appearing as Warden of the Glaziers’ craft in 1445–46 and then on the 1457 muster roll for the Northern Ward. In 1474 Robert Gylmin became free with Thomas Felippes as his master. Probable references to Thomas Felippes, glazier, after 1475/76 are to him as a former owner, suggesting that he may have died soon after that date. A deed of 1484/85 cites him as 64 Nor., nro, Ass. Proc., i, f. 126r.
370 King a former owner of a property next to one owned by John Wighton ii, although this may refer to the baker, who must have been a close relative, perhaps a son, as he was involved in property deeds associated with other glaziers, including William Heyward and William Stalon. One intriguing possibility worthy of further research is that glaziers and bakers in 15th-century Norwich worked closely together, perhaps sharing kilns and ovens. Many other property deeds of this period involved glaziers and bakers as co-owners. Robert Gylmin, glazier, was Thomas Felippes’ apprentice.65 He became free in 1474/75, but was already documented as a glazier in 1470/71. In his will written in 1499, he asked to be buried in the churchyard of St. Clement, Fyebridge. He had been a constable in the Northern Ward from 1480–86 and a councillor there from 1493–94. In 1495 John Wattok, glazier, was made free, apprenticed to William Gylmin, who was almost certainly related to Robert. Wattok had a long career, becoming free in 1495 and dying in 1540, having been supervisor of the glaziers’ craft in 1510. His name appears first on a property deed of 14959/6 which links the names of Wattok, William Heyward, and Robert Gylmin. In 1505/ 06 Wattok was left a gown in the will of William Heyward. By the time he died he was living in the parish of St. Stephen, south of the river. The evidence relating to this group of glaziers who lived at least initially north of the river, suggests that about 1495 they began to work in conjunction with the Heyward Workshop, and that at least one member of the group, John Wattok, moved subsequently south of the river; the legacy to him of a gown in Heyward’s will suggests that Wattok may have been in his employ. The links between glaziers and painters have been a frequent theme in this chapter and in the context of the Heyward Workshop it would seem that Thomas Goldbeter was a key figure in this aspect. The current dating of some of the screens assigned to this workshop suggests that this medium was already being produced alongside glass painting before William Heyward started work.66 His main contribution may have been to have introduced metal engraving to the business. The earliest date of death recorded on a brass ascribed to the Heyward Workshop is 1484, and Heyward became free in 1485; the main stylistic series Norwich brasses made by this workshop ended in the year of his death. A will at East Harling dated 1503, and discussed below, ordered a brass from him by name. William Heyward was clearly 65 Nor., nro, Ass. Proc., i, f. 96r. 66 Cotton, “Mediæval roodscreens in Norfolk”; Mitchell, “Painting in East Anglia around 1500: the continental connection”, pp. 371–72; Wrapson, “East Anglian rood screens”, p. 403.
a successful entrepreneur with fingers in several pies, and these coincidences of dates do not prove that he personally engraved brasses. He was trained as a glazier and remained one, being commissioned in 1503 to glaze a window at Thuxton, but it does seem certain that the addition of the medium of engraving was his responsibility. Visual evidence supports the documentary record reviewed here in demonstrating that the William Heyward enterprise produced works of art in a number of media. For this we turn again to East Harling, where the east chancel window was glazed during the period of office of a rector who had ordered a brass from William Heyward, and it seems reasonable to suppose that his workshop was also chosen to glaze that window in the early 1490s.67 Support for this theory comes from a panel of fragments from the east window glazing, a Te Deum depiction, which are stylistically close to both the brasses and the painted screens attributed to the Heyward Workshop (Figs. 22.11 and 22.12). The brass at East Harling, ordered by John Aylward, rector, in 1503, survives only as an indent and had no figures, but for comparisons with the east window glazing, other brasses attributed to the Heyward Workshop are available. The kneeling figures of the daughters of Sir William de Grey on his brass of c.1495 at Merton are similar in pose and delineation to those of the angels and female saints on the Te Deum fragments, for example, and for the screens, the figures of St. Michael at Filby may be compared with part of a feathered angel wearing an ermine tippet (and given the head of another angel) in the East Harling glass. Screen and glass share the same tippet with feathers protruding, and the painting is less linear than that of much of the Wighton Workshop, being more painterly and sharp-edged. All three media have heads with high eyebrows, heavy eyelids and long noses. The Filby screen is dated c.1470–80, as is the best-surviving one at Ranworth, a period before William Heyward’s career as a master glazier, and when the apprentices of Thomas Goldbeter were active. The screens of this period also provide a possible stylistic indicator for an attribution to this workshop in Goldbeter’s time. Some important but earlier glass in the north clerestory at Ringland of c.1460-c.1470 shares some decorative features with the Wighton Workshop, but the figure style is much more flamboyant, the painting less linear, more modelled and sharper. It is not hard to see a development from the figure of Gabriel at Ringland to the figures of angels on the screen at Ranworth.
67
King, “The indent of John Aylward”, pp. 258–60. The stylistic comparisons which follow are from this article.
371
Medieval Glaziers’ Workshops in Norwich
A less certain possibility is that the Heyward Workshop also produced wall paintings. Such a possibility does not seem unlikely, as the design and painting skills required for this medium are similar to those required for glass and panel painting. There is one wall painting in the church of St. Gregory, Norwich, which does display the same skill and exuberance as seen in the glass and screens made by this workshop. The large depiction of St. George killing the dragon on the west wall of the north aisle is dateable to c.1500. It is an elaborate painting set in a rocky landscape with a many-towered castle behind, features hard to parallel in the extant works in other media by the workshop, but the equestrian figure of St. George has the same rather exotic exuberance as some of the angels already seen, and the kneeling figure of the maiden rescued by the saint is similar in pose, facial delineation, hair, and costume to the daughters on the Merton brass. The William Heyward Workshop was clearly an important artistic centre of production, even if little of its work survives. Why so little glass is extant compared with that of the Wighton Workshop is hard to explain. Possible reasons include the fact that the two major collections of Wighton Workshop glass, at St. Peter Mancroft and East Harling, may have survived for exceptional reasons, in circumstances not available to the Heyward windows. In the first case civic pride in the city’s largest parish church may have ensured that iconoclasts were not allowed a free rein (although all the glazing of the nave and aisles was lost), and at East Harling the glass was removed by the recusant Lovell family to their mansion next to the church, to be rediscovered in the 18th century. Apart from these two churches, the Wighton Workshop glass is mainly confined to tracery- lights figures and canopy tops which often avoided destruction. Another possible reason is the fact that the Heyward glass would have been still very new and obvious in the 1540s when much glass was destroyed, and would have attracted the attention of those seeking religious imagery to take down. Chance, however, probably played the greater part in what survived and what did not. When John Wattok died in 1540 he was the last surviving member of the group of glaziers linked to the William Heyward Workshop. Heyward himself had been keen to see his glazing business survive, as he forgave his brother Nicholas his debts to him and left him his glazing materials to pass after Nicholas’ death to his children or apprentices. Wattok, however, left nothing relating to his craft. Other glaziers not connected to the Heyward Workshop did continue working in Norwich up to and beyond the Reformation, and a number of panels and fragments made in the 1530s
and 1540s and recognisably from the same workshop, attest to this continuity. Heraldic glass in the late 16th century is by later members of this workshop, some pieces being initialled by the glazier, and the craft genealogy of this group continues unbroken until the 18th century.68 6 Conclusion The fragmentary nature of English medieval glazing is well known, as are the reasons for it, having to do with wars, religious iconoclasm, changing tastes, and in England the Dissolution of the Monasteries, carried out between 1536 and 1541.69 What is less well understood is how scholars work through these fragmentary remains to understand the human labour, workshops, and creativity of medieval glaziers. Using Norwich glass from the late 13th to the early 16th century, this chapter has sought to do just that. Bibliography Secondary Sources
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King, D., “Late-medieval glass-painting in Norfolk: developments in iconography and craft c.1250–1540”, in T.A. Heslop, E. Mellings, and M. Tøfner (eds.), Art, Faith and Place in East Anglia, Woodbridge, 2012, pp. 130–47. King, D., “Medieval art in Norfolk and the continent: an overview”, in D. Bates and R. Liddiard (eds.), East Anglia and its North Sea World in the Middle Ages, Woodbridge, 2013, pp. 82–118. King, D., Unpublished Excavation Report: Excavated Window Glass from the North Range at Ely Cathedral, 1992–94. Knowles, J.A., “Glass-painters of York”, Notes and Queries, 12th series, 8 (1921), 127–28, 323–25, 364–66. Knowles, J.A., “Glass-painters of York”, Notes and Queries, 12th series, 9 (1921), 21–22, 61–64, 103–05, 163–65. Knowles, J.A., “Glass-painters of York. Chronological list of York glass-painters”, Notes and Queries, 12th series, 10 (1922), 184–86, 222–24. Knowles, J.A., Essays in the History of the York School of Glass- Painting, London, 1936. Lasko, P. and Morgan, N.J., Medieval Art in East Anglia 1300–1520, London, 1973. Lautier, C. and Sandron, D. (eds.), Antoine de Pise. L’art du vitrail vers 1400 (CV France, Études, 8), Paris, 2008. L’Estrange, J., A Calendar of the Freemen of Lynn 1292–1836, Norwich, 1913. L’Estrange, J. and Rye, W., Calendar of the Freemen of Norwich 1377 to 1603, London, 1888. Le Strange, H., Norfolk Official Lists, from the Earliest Period to the Present Day, Norwich, 1890. Lindley, P., “The ‘artist’: institutions, training and status”, in T. Ayers (ed.), The History of British Art, 600–1600, London, 2008, pp. 141–65. Marks, R., The Stained Glass of the Collegiate Church of the Holy Trinity Tattershall (Lincs.), New York, 1984. Marks, R., Stained Glass in England during the Middle Ages, London, 1993. Marks, R., “Window glass”, in J. Blair and N. Ramsey (eds.), English Medieval Industries, London, 2001, pp. 265–94. Minois, D., Le vitrail à Troyes: les chantiers et les hommes (1480– 1560) (CV France, Études, 6), Paris, 2005. Mitchell, D., “Painting in East Anglia around 1500: the continental connection”, in J. Mitchell (ed.), England and the Continent in the Middle Ages: Studies in Memory of Andrew Martindale (Harlaxton Medieval Studies, 8), Stamford, 2000, pp. 365–80. Newton, P.A., Schools of Glass-Painting in the Midlands 1275– 1430, 3 vols. (Unpublished PhD, University of London, 1961). Norton, C., Park, D., and Binski, P., Dominican Painting in East Anglia. The Thornham Parva Retable and the Musée de Cluny Frontal, Woodbridge, 1987. O’Connor, D.E., “Debris from a medieval glazier’s workshop”, Bulletin of the York Archaeological Trust 3 (1975), 11–17.
Medieval Glaziers’ Workshops in Norwich Pevsner, N. and Wilson, B., Norfolk 2: North-West and South (The Buildings of England), London, 1999. Rickert, M., Painting in Britain: The Middle Ages, 2nd ed., Harmondsworth, 1970. Rutledge, E., “The Franciscan friary (1226–1538)”, in P.A. Emery (ed.), Norwich Greyfriars: Pre-Conquest Town and Medieval Friary, Gressenhall, 2007, pp. 45–58. Rye, W., A Short Calendar of the Deeds relating to Norwich Enrolled in the Court Rolls of that City, 1285–1306, Norwich, 1902. Rye, W., A Calendar of Norwich Deeds Enrolled in the Court Rolls of that City, 1307–1341, Norwich, 1915. Salzman, L.F., “The glazing of St Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, 1351–2”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass- Painters 1 (1926–27), 14–16, 31–35, 38–41. Salzman, L.F., “Medieval glazing accounts”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass-Painters 2 (1927–28), 116–20, 188–92. Salzman, L.F., “Medieval glazing accounts”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass-Painters 3 (1929–30), 25–30. Scholz, H., Entwurf und Ausführung. Werkstattpraxis in der Glasmalerei der Dürerzeit (CV Deutschland, Studien, 1), Berlin, 1991.
373 St. John Hope, W.H., Windsor Castle, 2 vols. London, 1913. Swanson, H., Building Craftsmen in Late Medieval York (Borthwick Papers, 63), York, 1983. Tanner, N., “The cathedral and the city”, in I. Atherton et al. (eds.), Norwich Cathedral: Church, City and Diocese, 1096– 1996, London, 1996, pp. 255–80. Wallace, M., Medieval People of Norwich: Artists and Artisans, Norwich, 1992. Whittingham, A.B., “Cley Church”, in ‘Royal Archaeological Institute. Programme of the Summer Meeting at Norwich, 1979’, Archaeological Journal 137 (1980), 347. Woodforde, C., “Schools of glass-painting in King’s Lynn and Norwich in the Middle Ages”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass-Painters 5 (1933), 4–18. Woodforde, C., The Norwich School of Glass-Painting in the Fifteenth Century, London, 1950. Wrapson, L., “East Anglian rood screens: the practicalities of production”, in P. Binski and E.A. New (eds.), Patrons and Professionals in the Middle Ages (Harlaxton Medieval Studies, 22), pp. 386–404.
c hapter 23
French 14th-Century Stained Glass and Other Arts Françoise Gatouillat The sparse treatment of 14th-century France in the historical literature looking at the production of stained glass, is due to the relative scarcity of surviving examples. With the exception of recent collective work by French scholars, this chronological period has been relegated to the margins of the 13th and 15th centuries.1 Its presence is equally limited in broader art historical syntheses,2 and the only attempt to treat it specifically remains Jean Lafond’s contribution to a book dedicated to the history of French art between 1300 and 1400, which inventories stained glass disseminated across all geographic regions, from very different contexts and often with important gaps in time.3 Some of these examples are now better known thanks to monographic studies.4 Since the 1953 publication of Vitraux de France, which provided the decisive inspiration for subsequent French research, exhibition catalogues have offered useful resources regarding works of the period.5 The variety of formal systems and stylistic characteristics in use throughout Europe during the first half of the 14th century have now been placed in greater perspective through comparison with the stained glass of Cologne Cathedral and examples from other sites,6 and it has been possible to understand glass painting in the larger context of figurative arts through multidisciplinary exhibitions.7 If one believes Émile Mâle, “nothing resembles a stained-glass window of the 13th century less than a stained-glass window of the 14th”.8 In characterizing French stained-glass production after 1300, Mâle first pointed to a simplification of armatures and lead lines tied to the increased dimensions of the panes of glass, then to the range of color “made colder [in tonality] by 1 Hérold and David, Vitrail Ve-XXIe siècles; Aubert, “De 1260 à 1380”; Lafond, “De 1380 à 1500”. 2 Grodecki and Brisac, Le vitrail gothique, pp. 172–74, 195–218; Castelnuovo, Vetrate medievali, pp. 323–92. 3 Lafond, “Le vitrail du XIVe siècle”. 4 For example Lautier, “Un vitrail parisien à Chartres”; Cothren, Picturing the Celestial City, pp. 125–91. 5 Grodecki, Vitraux de France, pp. 31–32, 64. 6 Westermann-Angerhausen, Himmelslicht. 7 Benesch and Ebenstein, Europäische Kunst um 1400; Baron, Les fastes du gothique; Gaborit-Chopin, L’art au temps des rois maudits; Taburet-Delahaye, Paris 1400; Fliegel, L’art à la cour de Bourgogne. 8 Mâle, “Les miniatures, les vitraux, les peintures murales”, pp. 392–94.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_0 29
the immoderate use of white glass”. He noted the abandonment of narrative cycles in favor of tall figures amplified by architectural frames, which are better suited to the immense windows of Rayonnant architecture. He then described changes in design that arose as a consequence of the “invention of silver stain, which modified the character of glass painting”. These observations might be nuanced according to the range of territories that comprised the kingdom of France at that time. They appear justified at least within the framework of the Duchy of Normandy, incorporated into the royal domain in 1204. Normandy remains rich in stained glass from both the 13th and 14th centuries, and thus allows us to confirm the appropriateness of the division of its history into centuries, an otherwise artificial, a priori, means of classification. Certain evident disparities effectively place in opposition the Norman series installed during the 13th century in the cathedrals of Rouen, Sées, Coutances, and various rural buildings,9 and the stained glass of the 14th century which this province alone is fortunate to have preserved in quantity. The cities of Rouen and Évreux possess three major ensembles, to which we can add dispersed works from Le Mesnil-Villeman, Saint- Hymer, and panels originating from Jumièges, Dives, and others.10 Even a superficial comparison of works from these two periods illustrates the radical rupture articulated by Émile Mâle. The 14th century marks the beginning of brighter and more refined stained glass that results in new relationships between the architecture and its monumental decoration. 1
Technical Advances
The changes brought about in the 14th century have principally been seen in terms of formal and technical 9
10
Callias Bey, Chaussé, Gatouillat, and Hérold, Les vitraux de Haute-Normandie, pp. 332– 53 (Rouen, Cathedral); Callias Bey and David, Les vitraux de Basse-Normandie, pp. 126–43 (Coutances Cathedral), 221–30 (Sées Cathedral). See Callias Bey, Chaussé, Gatouillat, and Hérold, Les vitraux de Haute-Normandie, pp. 143–61 (Évreux), 332–53 (Rouen Cathedral), 367–84 (Rouen, Saint-Ouen); Callias Bey and David, Les vitraux de Basse-Normandie, pp. 101–03 (Saint- Hymer), 147–48 (Le Mesnil-Villeman).
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problems. There has been considerable progress in the understanding of technical questions thanks to historians of material culture. Studies of sites for the fabrication of flat glass found in the forests of Normandy have shown a new dynamism at the beginning of the 14th century; as the number of glassmaking workshops increased, particularly in 1302 with the support of King Phillip the Fair, their technological abilities also improved. These establishments, which supplied, among others, the building workshops of Paris, produced flat, circular pieces of blown glass that became increasingly smooth, thin, and transparent; their size increased from the end of the 13th century, reaching a diameter of about 60 cm.11 For colored glass, which was more expensive to make than white glass, the process of flashing previously reserved for red glass became more widely used; the multiplication of nuances created by the superposition of several layers of different colors, which Viollet-le-Duc described in later glass, may be seen in analyses of glass from the 1330s.12 This new glass revolutionized the practices of its users, allowing them to cut larger pieces, which in turn directly influenced the structure of the stained-glass panel as well as the manner of painting it. In addition, the painter’s palette was enriched by the new material of silver stain, which allowed glass to be tinted in discrete areas rather than through joining separate pieces of colored glass with leading.13 The first stained-glass ensemble that combined all of these factors to establish the new standards of the genre was made for the Virgin chapel at Rouen Cathedral, that is, the axial chapel rebuilt by Archbishop Guillaume de Flavacourt, begun in 1302 and completed before 1310.14 The formal arrangement of the lateral windows that remain intact –a polychrome band of standing figures surrounded by architectural motifs, set between ornamental panels of blank glass –is part of the tradition of “band windows” that became fashionable in the second half of the 13th century,15 but their elements also present previously unknown refinements. The paint
that has been examined on the figures, their architectural frames, the decorative patterns and the borders, includes silver stain on both white and colored glass, applied on the interior and exterior surfaces. The perfect mastery of its use proves that it could not have been an early experiment, which leads to the hypothesis that practitioners of such virtuosity were brought from Paris before 1310 to decorate the new necropolis of the archbishops.16 Although the capital has lost all of its glass from the late 13th and 14th centuries, this scenario is corroborated by the precious quality that ties the ensemble from Rouen Cathedral with Parisian art in other media made for the elite who gravitated to the court of France.17 The geographic proximity of glass painters, goldsmiths, enamellers, and other artists within the city walls of Paris, attested by fiscal documents,18 seems to have created favorable conditions for the transfer of techniques between media that led to the creation of silver stain around 1300. If the appearance of the new technique in English and German stained-glass panels around 1310 indicates its rapid diffusion,19 a delay in its reception is widely observed elsewhere. In the southern provinces of the French royal domain, including in the cathedrals built at the very end of the 13th century on the Rayonnant model of the north, a system was developed that perpetuated the use of panels with colored medallions until very late in the 14th century.20 The works produced during the same decades in the territories of the Holy Roman Empire underline even more the diversity of aesthetic options cultivated in other artistic milieux, and the singularity of that of Paris.
11 Philippe, “Chantier ou atelier”; Hérold, “Les verres des vitraux”, p. 75. 12 Observed by H. Debitus on samples from the church of Saint-Ouen of Rouen (in 1988, unpublished). Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture, vol. 9, p. 442. 13 Lafond, “Essai historique sur le jaune d’argent”; see also Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume. 14 Lautier, “Rouen, chapelle de la Vierge de la cathédrale”; Bugslag, “Early fourteenth- century canopywork in Rouen stained glass”. 15 Lillich, “The band window”; with regard to the grisailles, see Lillich, Ch. 17 in this volume.
2
Parisian Stylistic Renewal
Because it has survived in abundance in contrast to other categories of painting, manuscript illumination, which saw an unprecedented development in the 14th century, is the necessary reference point for any study of style. Despite the irreducible difference of scale that separates the two media, stained glass has thus been systematically linked to the production of miniatures in Paris, the most populated city of Europe for the entire 16 Lautier, “Les débuts du jaune d’argent”. 17 See the examples analyzed in Morrison, Hedeman and Antoine, Imagining the Past in France, pp. 258–95. 18 Lillich, “Gothic glaziers”. 19 See Brown, Ch. 1 in this volume. 20 Study forthcoming in Blin, David, Gatouillat, and Hérold, Les vitraux du Midi de la France.
376 Gatouillat century, which brought together an astonishing circle of artists in the service of a powerful clientele. Through chance archival mention, certain artists have benefited from an “effect of sources”, the most emblematic case being the illuminator Jean Pucelle (d.1334), who became a major figure in the artistic landscape of Paris around 1317.21 Every publication on the arts of the first half of the century invokes his ability to transpose characteristics from models to other media, attested by payment to him for the design of a seal.22 The acts of a recent international colloquium provide the most current point of departure for research on this artistic personality, his collaborators and his successors,23 and for exploring the question of the penetration of artistic practices from one medium to another, which can also benefit the study of stained glass.24 Reflection on the visual culture of Pucelle places his works in context; an emphasis on volume permeated the work of sculptors and ivory carvers after 1300, leading toward the representation of the third-dimension, which Pucelle advanced to the point of modeling through the almost exclusive use of monochrome painting in two of his manuscripts, including the Hours of Jeanne d’Évreux (1324–28).25 Similarly, the substitution of a range of intermediate tones for the traditional primary colors in many of these precious books can be seen as a parallel to tendencies in enamels as well as in glass painting. In sum, the artistic language forged at the beginning of the 14th century in the artistic circles of Paris wove together the threads of diverse techniques and media, and what has been brought together under the names of individual artists, however illustrious they may be, offers only a fragmentary vision of its multifaceted production. To highlight what links glass painting to representational techniques distributed across other artistic media, requires taking the measure of this complex milieu, the contours of which are continually revealed in the thread of discovery: for example, the Bréviaire royal de Saint-Louis de Poissy, illuminated in 1310–15 by Pucelle’s predecessor Richard de Verdun.26
21 22
See especially Morand, Jean Pucelle; Avril, “Manuscrits”. See Gauthier, Émaux, pp. 254–60; Guillouët and Kazerouni, “Le tombeau de Simon Matifas de Bucy”. 23 Pyun and Russakoff, Jean Pucelle. 24 Gil, “Jean Pucelle and the Parisian seal-engravers”; Charron, “Color, grisaille and pictorial techniques”. 25 New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Cloisters Collection, 1954, Acc. 54.1.2; Boehm and Montebello, The Hours of Jeanne d’Évreux. 26 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, ms. nouv. acq. lat. 3255 (acquired in 2016 and accessible on Gallica: http:// gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b10542305b (last accessed 23 November 2018).
3
Fourteenth-Century Stained Glass in Context
The method of installing stained-glass windows in architectural spaces in northern France after 1300 is not well known because of the rarity of ensembles preserved in their original framework. Their adaptation to the expansion of the area covered by glazed surfaces in Rayonnant architecture does not appear clearly except in two major Norman buildings that retain a notable part of their medieval glazing, Saint-Ouen de Rouen and Notre-Dame d’Évreux, where the principles characteristic of the time assert themselves. These are: the increased role played by grisailles, which increases the illumination of the interior; the new harmony between transparency and softened color, which improves the legibility of images; and the miniaturization of scenes went hand in hand with the development of the architectural frame. The formal solutions adopted to resolve the problems of illumination appear in spectacular fashion in the vast choir of the abbey church of Saint-Ouen de Rouen, where the first stone was laid in 1318. Preserved almost completely intact, the stained-glass windows that Abbot Jean Roussel had made over a period of 15 years (c.1325–39) form an ensemble of particular breadth and great unity of conception, and are the subject of a Corpus Vitrearum monograph.27 Its well-defined iconographic program (on par with that of Bourges Cathedral at the beginning of the 13th century), participates in a glazing economy in which the cycles of images are used in the service of luminosity. The lower windows present, between blank-glazed panels, a continuous row of architectural niches that frame small narrative scenes painted on glass of refined tones, relating to the dedications of the 11 chapels.28 In an arrangement that is no less regular, 48 Old and New Testament figures occupy each lancet of the upper windows, immense silhouettes of vibrant color set against a background of painted lozenges and installed on pedestals like sculptures.29 Jean Lafond attributed these windows in the axial chapel of Rouen Cathedral, as well as those of Jumièges and Évreux, to a supposed Parisian atelier, active before 1310, that had established itself in the town.30 The choir of Évreux Cathedral offers the same luminous qualities as that of Saint-Ouen of Rouen, but its glazing, the fruit of a series of campaigns that followed one another throughout the 14th century, is essentially heterogeneous and lacks a general, coherent program. The omnipresent signs of donors attest to the fact 27 28 29 30
Lafond, Perrot, and Popesco, Les vitraux de l’église Saint-Ouen. Ibid., pp. 38–41. Ibid., pp. 182–84. Ibid., pp. 44–45.
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that the glazing of its chapels was begun a little before 1310 and that of its upper windows around 1330.31 The chronological indices traditionally accepted for the architecture have recently been reconsidered, with the first work in the choir now dated to the 1250s and the completion of its construction to around 1300.32 However, the hypothesis offered to explain the delay in the final glazing –a proto-glazing replaced after several decades –seems questionable because of the high price of glass and because of other strategies that can be documented in similar situations at other work sites.33 The 14th-century glass installed in the windows of the chapels and the choir clerestory form, in any case, a series that reveals the transformations in glass painting over the long term. The ensemble, unique in its variety, remains fairly coherent despite some rearrangement in the third quarter of the 15th century, which saw the rebuilding of the glazed triforium, the bay next to the transept, and the axial chapel, as well as the replacement of the tracery in the other chapels. Nor have modern restorations substantially altered its authenticity. 4
Donors and Donations in Évreux Cathedral
Representations of donors are not unusual in older stained glass, but they were further developed during the course of the 14th century. Nor is the phenomenon unique to stained glass; in the sculpture of the first decades of the century, the introduction of elements of portraiture demonstrate the new place accorded to the individual in medieval society.34 Images of founders became common within buildings or on their facades, as at the hospital of Tonnerre or the collégiale of Mantes.35 King Phillip the Fair set the example, with his effigy repeated multiple times in Paris, at the palace on the Île- de-la-Cité or, around 1310, on the portal of the Collège de Navarre, founded by his wife. Devotional display nonetheless constituted a remarkable presence at Évreux Cathedral, where dignitaries of the clergy and secular 31
Callias Bey, Chaussé, Gatouillat, and Hérold, Les vitraux de Haute-Normandie, pp. 143–61 (Gatouillat). 32 Gallet, La cathédrale d’Évreux. 33 Certain windows of Quimper Cathedral, glazed in 1496, were filled with provisional wooden walls for 25 years; see Gatouillat and Hérold, Les vitraux de Bretagne, p. 174. The same expedient was used at the end of the 15th century in the nave of Troyes Cathedral; see Minois, Le vitrail à Troyes, p. 60. 34 Schmidt, “Zu einigen Stifterdarstellungen”; Baron, “Sculptures”, pp. 55–56. 35 Gaborit-Chopin, L’art au temps des rois maudits, pp. 119–20 (Tonnerre), 132–33 (Mantes); Plagnieux, “Une fondation de la reine Marie de Brabant”.
nobility left explicit marks of their identity more than anywhere else. Generally highly codified in stained glass, these signs take several forms here: portraits, heraldry, and inscriptions, often together in the same window. Far from responding to a repetitive scheme, they offer variations through their placement in the building, their significance, and the era in which they were installed. In the chapel windows that received stained glass a little after 1300, the donor’s name is inscribed in the image field, between the figure and the architectural dais; in the case of Louis of France, Count of Évreux, his blazon decorating his cote and the borders of three windows of his chapel confirms his identity (Figure 23.1). Represented around 1330 in an upper window, Guillaume d’Harcourt and his wife, wearing costumes decorated with heraldry, each hold a large personal shield bearing an inscription and the arms of the couple, which are repeated in the tracery lights. Canon Raoul de Ferrières gave a window at the lower level as well as the clerestory, each bearing his portrait as well as a legend adapted in scale to the distance from which it could be read: painted in small characters at the base of the first window (see Figure 23.2), and on a large cartouche in the second. Such inscriptions mark most of the upper windows glazed before 1340. In one, the name of a canon, MESTRE R. DE MOLINS, is rendered easily legible thanks to large letters of blue glass leaded onto a ground of lozenges, a system also adopted at Saint-Ouen of Rouen to identify the prophets and saints in the upper story. In other windows, the calligraphy was revealed by removing areas of black paint from a panel of yellow glass, clearly inspired by the copper plaques attached to some funerary sculptures. Several of these inscriptions carry biographical information; the long text inscribed above the portrait of Guillaume d’Harcourt notes his title as Seigneur de la Saussaye, the Norman fief where, in 1307, he founded a collegiate church meant to hold his tomb. At the base of the hemicycle windows (see Figure 23.4), portraits of Bishops Jean du Prat and Geoffroy Faé face their shields superimposed over large “steles” that give their names, in a disposition close to the image of canon Pierre du Fayel, sculpted before 1340 on the choir screen of Notre-Dame of Paris.36 The inscriptions for Geoffroy Faé explain that he led the Benedictine abbey of Bec- Hellouin in Normandy before becoming bishop in 1335. In the axial window, the word FRATER, which precedes the name of Jean du Prat, refers to the career of this Dominican who resigned as bishop to retire to a convent of his order in 1333. Above windows that properly belong 36
Paris, Musée du Louvre, LP 540; Baron, Les fastes du gothique, pp. 95–96; Baron, “La partie orientale détruite du tour du choeur de Notre-Dame de Paris”.
378 Gatouillat to the north chapel, known as the Rosary Chapel, reused panels, part of a gift of King Charles vi to the axial chapel, were reinstalled when his grandson had it rebuilt in 1465. Associated with the crowned shield of France and the letter K to fill the tracery lights, the emblem chosen by the king around 1387 –a winged stag, broom flowers, and the device EN BIEN –specify the date of the lost gift. Now displaced to the upper choir, three windows conceived around 1388 for the nave are equally due to the initiative of Charles vi. Princely portraits depicted in these “royal windows” require no inscriptions, as their identities are conveyed by unambiguous heraldry (see Figure 23.5). While the marks of donation constitute a useful instrument to date the stained glass, some of them may have had a memorial value, which should be taken into consideration in order to refine their chronology.37 Cardinal Nicolas de l’Aide, buried in the choir of the cathedral in 1299, was honored by a retrospective portrait about ten years after his death, in the chapel granted to his brother. He is nonetheless represented with a model of a stained-glass window in his hands, likely a reference to a personal legacy made to the family chapel. At the summit of Guillaume d’Harcourt’s window, the dimidiated shield, which indicates a woman, shows that his wife, Blanche d’Avaugour (d.1345), gave it as a widow, that is to say, after 1327. All these insignia are still not enough to determine the level of intervention of clerics and laity who contributed financially to the decoration of the church; whether they were donors whose money was used by the chapter as it saw fit, or true patrons in a position to impose their wishes in terms of iconography or formal choices, having contracted themselves with the artists charged with their execution.38 While these questions are difficult to resolve in the absence of archival documentation, the technical and stylistic information that can be observed allows us to formulate some hypotheses. The strong disparities presented by stained glass installed in a narrow timeframe, argues in favor of personal initiative on the part of the donors; the formal and stylistic variety of the glass installed around 1330 in the straight bays of the choir clerestory suggests that they were free of any central, overarching concept, in contrast to the decor of Saint-Ouen de Rouen. When it is known, the history of donors can guide research on the artists they employed. The Norman ties of Bishop Geoffroy Faé, patron of the hemicycle glazing after 1335, leads one to look to Rouen for its creator. The exceptional quality of the glass offered by Charles vi lends credence to the idea that it is a Parisian export, although not every royal commission 37 See Kurmann- Schwarz, “Datierung und Bedeutung von ‘Stifterbildern’ ”. 38 See Kurmann-Schwarz, “Récits, programme, commanditaires”.
implies this process; in the case of the axial chapel rebuilt in 1465 at the expense of Louis xi, its nine windows entrusted to two Évreux workshops were partially subcontracted to an artist from Rouen.39 4.1 The Chapel Windows: the Formula at the Beginning of the Century and Its Evolution One document helps to situate the first glazing campaign of the choir; in 1308 a southern chapel, described as incomplete, was granted to canon Robert de Fresnes, with instructions to decorate it and to install a window.40 Given by two clearly identified persons, stained glass from about the same time survives in three other chapels. The chapel closest to the axial chapel on the south side was granted to Louis de France (d.1319) after his brother, King Phillip the Fair, had given him the county of Évreux as an apanage in 1298.41 The three windows due to his patronage, although conceived to manifest the local prerogatives of the prince, reserved a modest place for imagery. In five panels distributed through the grisaille windows, small portraits of the count and the wife he married in 1301, Marguerite d’Artois (d.1311), adorn the centers of the windows, along with a Virgin and Child, the only notes of color along with the heraldic borders (see Figure 23.1). The four lancets of the window at the north entrance to the ambulatory, group together figures of saints with two portraits of Matthieu des Essarts (Bishop of Évreux beginning in 1299), between borders with his arms. Some isolated figures, set beneath arches surmounted by crocketed gables, belong to the central chapel, where the bishop was buried in 1310. The colored panels were originally set into band windows, commonly in use before the end of the reign of Louis ix.42 This format is preserved intact in the three windows in canon Pierre de L’Aide’s chapel on the south side, where small figures are set beneath architectural canopies that double the height of the colored panel. These are aligned horizontally in the center of the nine lancets between grisailles of such traditional facture –white glass painted with vegetal scrolls, punctuated by colored medallions and bordered with fleur-de-lis or castles –that they could date to the 13th century. This invites a reconsideration of the thesis of an earlier dating for the choir, including a colorless proto-glazing scheme in which figural panels would later be inserted, as was done in the ambulatory of Cologne Cathedral after 1322.43 However, the similar grisailles in 39
Gatouillat, “Les peintres verriers au service de Louis XI”; Blondeau, Le vitrail à Rouen 1450–1530, p. 160. 40 Gallet, La cathédrale d’Évreux, p. 131. 41 Charon, Princes et principautés en France. 42 Lillich, “The band window”. 43 Becksmann, “Bildfenster für Pilger”.
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the windows of the Count of Évreux, where the heraldic borders appear to be part of the original composition, argue for a simultaneous execution of the whole ensemble. All of these windows form a homogeneous group, and are quite archaizing in comparison to the contemporary ensemble of the Virgin chapel at Rouen Cathedral. The glass, using a range of primary colors, bears the concentric lines characteristic of Norman blown glass, and the graphic quality of the figures and their niches reveals a somewhat mechanical painting technique. In the collégiale of Écouis –founded in 1310 in the Norman Vexin by Enguerran de Marigny, the powerful minister to Phillip the Fair –a small crucifixion scene made before 1313 shares with these panels the absence of silver stain, but its elegant style presents clear analogies with Parisian art, still unknown at that time in Évreux.44 The commonalities of facture of the oldest windows in the ambulatory, in contrast to the later windows in the clerestory of the straight choir, suggests that the chapter turned to a local atelier after consolidating the separate donations, including those of the future Queen Jeanne d’Évreux’s father, who lived at the court of Paris. Silver stain made its first appearance at Évreux in a group of panels made around 1320, which were removed from their original locations at an early date. Of a scale appropriate to lower windows –probably those of the nave chapels begun in 131745 –they include two images of the Virgin and Child drawn from the same mediocre cartoon, and the most remarkable portrait of a canon. One of the Virgin panels is reused in the nave and the two other figures were used as stop-gaps in one of the upper windows of the choir until they were taken down in 1939. The inscription associated with the canon identifies him as Raoul de Ferrières, documented in the chapter archives as serving from 1313 to 1328, who was also the donor of one of the upper windows of the choir.46 Compared to the stained glass of the previous decade, the surviving panel from his first donation appears more modern in its previously unseen choice of colors (including pink and emerald green) and in its graphic elegance (Figure 23.2). Beneath the opening of a delicately polylobed and elongated canopy, the kneeling figure wears a white surplis with the troughs of its folds firmly modeled with wash. The single piece highlighted with silver stain, the idealized face, lightly modeled, accords with the conventions that became familiar around 1300 in Parisian sculpture and ivory carving.47 44 Lautier, “Le vitrail de la Crucfixion de la collégiale d’Écouis”. 45 Gallet, La cathédrale d’Évreux, pp. 256–59. 46 Gatouillat, “Der Kanoniker Raoul de Ferrières”. 47 See examples in Gaborit-Chopin, L’art au temps des rois maudits, pp. 89–94 (angels of Poissy), 152–53 (ivory angel of the
The reception at Évreux of new technical and stylistic criteria is confirmed in a slightly more recent stained- glass window in a chapel on the north side of the choir, the gift of Bishop Geoffroy du Plessis (d.1327), elected in 1310. Its figural panels remain organized as band windows across four lancets, but with entirely new elements. The two lateral lancets comprise four donor figures altogether, arranged symmetrically. These are the bishop and clerics placed one above the other in two- story towers, with wide embrasures containing statues. Under a wider canopy that gives more space to the figures, the Virgin and Child and the Charity of St. Martin are marked by relaxed poses that underline the fluidity of the drapery (Figure 23.3). A new sensibility of spatial depth appears timidly in the design of the throne of the Virgin: a bench with arms and back surmounted by aedicules seen on the diagonal, as seen in some manuscripts painted before 1300 in central Italy. The integration of this motif evokes the lessons Jean Pucelle absorbed from Italian painting.48 In keeping with the preciousness of these figures, the ornamental field, composed of lozenges of a pearly white glass, is filled with flowering branches tinged with silver stain and with medallions depicting hybrids or human heads, in the same taste as the refined panels executed around 1324 for the Saint-Louis chapel at the abbey church of Saint-Denis.49 With the generalized use of silver stain on glass of subtle tonality –for example the pale blue of St. Martin’s cloak –all of the characteristics that appeared before 1310 in the Virgin chapel of Rouen Cathedral are found here. Certain details can, moreover, be interpreted as signs of the direct intervention of the Parisian workshop that had been established in the Norman capital. 5 The Upper Windows: the Bipolar Rouen-Paris Axis around 1330–40 The upper windows of the straight bays of the choir, with quadruple lancets, preserve stained glass of varied facture and presentation. In its original place on the north flank, the window of Guillaume d’Harcourt – son of a powerful Norman family, military chief in the service of Phillip the Fair, and high officer of the crown during the reign of his son –is divided horizontally into two contrasting zones, vividly colored at the bottom and white above. In the center, two figures in exaggerated
48 49
Annunciation, Paris, Musée du Louvre), 160–61 (ivory mirror back, London, Victoria and Albert Museum). See Marguerite and Dectot, D’ivoire et d’or, pp. 196–97. Hayward, J., “Two grisaille glass panels”. See also Lillich, Ch. 17 in this volume.
380 Gatouillat dehanchement, the Virgin and St. Catherine, are framed with very slender architecture set against a colored ground, and are set at the bottom of the lancets, like the donors to either side with their shields below.50 With the exception of an inscription inserted near the apex of the lancet, the rest of the glass surface is filled with lozenges adorned with black grisaille painting. Everything about this window, where silver stain plays a subtle role, contrasts with the second gift of Raoul de Ferrières, two lancets of which survive, isolated since 1956 between two modern windows. The canon offers a model of his window to the Virgin and Child, framed by tall canopies of equal height, with a more elaborate arch filling the space above the kneeling donor figure. Against the colored architectural backgrounds, the two figures, depicted on white glass combined with two layers of yellow, imitate large gilded stone statues. The large pieces of glass, still detectable despite the many mending leads, contribute to the suppleness of the forms and their monumentality, enhanced by painting of great delicacy.51 On the south, an analogous diptych differs from the former in the vibrancy of its colors and the robustness of its design. Under a canopy supported by twisting columns with capitals decorated with small dragons, the Virgin and Child stand out against a solid ground while its donor, framed by a more traditional gable, is set against a foliate ground. The inscription that identifies Regnault de Molins (Renaud de Moulin), notary to the queen and high functionary in the service of King Phillip vi, situates the gift between 1335 and 1341, during the time of his canonicate at Évreux. A member of the cathedral chapters of Troyes, Amiens, Tours, and Sens before 1335, he became a canon of Notre-Dame of Paris in 1341.52 The energetic painting style of these panels recalls the very bright window in which the Assumption of the Virgin occupies three lancets (the fourth, now lost, probably represented a donor). The Virgin is placed at the heart of the scene, a supple silhouette in white surrounded by a blue halo; around her, large angels with censors and musical instruments are painted on glass of soft colors, against a background of lozenges touched with silver stain, as in the upper windows of Saint-Ouen of Rouen. Grodecki compared these to the style of the illuminations in the copy of the Miracles de Notre Dame de Gautier de Coinci made for Queen Jeanne 50
Their original placement appears in a drawing of the donor in the collection Gaignières: Bibliothèque nationale de France, Est. reserve Pe-8-Fol – Gaignières, 4167. 51 Grodecki, Vitraux de France, pp. 32, 67–68; id. “Les verrières d’Évreux”. 52 Beucher, “Les verrières du chœur d’Évreux”. Tabbagh, Gens d’Eglise, gens de pouvoir, pp. 57–60.
de Bourgogne in 1332, now attributed to Jean Pucelle and his workshop.53 The seven double-lancet windows of the hemicycle were filled before 1340 with a glazing program that is still visible despite the renewal around 1410 of the two windows on the north side.54 Although Bishop Jean du Prat (1329–33) is represented in the axial window, the homogeneity of the five surviving windows allows their conception to be imputed to one of his successors, Geoffroy Faé (1335–40), donor of four other windows and possibly of those that disappeared at the beginning of the 15th century. Three Marian subjects framed with tall canopies occupy the place of honor at the base of the choir, emphasized as was customary by the use of color (Figure 23.4), and the two lateral bays on the south comprise a zone of lozenge glass above standing saints –John the Evangelist and Martin, Michael and Maur –framed by smaller canopies. The image of the Holy Face installed in the rose of the axial bay illustrates the renewed devotion attached to the vera icona after 1300.55 Together with the statuettes of the Crucifixion and the Resurrection placed at the summit of the gables, it also points to the iconographic significance of the three central windows. Standing next to the Virgin and Child in the axial window, St. John the Baptist, also the patron saint of Jean du Prat, was above all the last prophet who announced the redeeming mission of the Incarnation, which is confirmed by the Annunciation and Coronation represented in the windows to either side, completing the Marian cycle. The formal unity of this great triptych is created by the uniformity of the baldachins, the alternation of the color of the grounds (either plain or painted with vine scrolls), and the arrangement of donors in the lower registers. The order of the compositional framework disguises the dissimilarities in the physiognomies of the figures, which betrays the heterogeneity of the graphic models used in their execution. Suggested by the encroachment of the tall figures on the borders, the sense of space is affirmed by the furniture incorporated into the donor portraits, or in the coffered ceiling that covers the top of St. Michael’s rectangular niche. These motifs, which derive from an Italian repertory traditionally attributed to the inventions of Jean Pucelle, were in any case fashionable in Paris since the 1320s. The elegance of this production has no equivalent at Saint-Ouen of Rouen as Jean Lafond noted, but, from a technical 53
54 55
Grodecki, “Les verrières d’Évreux”, p. 249 (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, ms. nouv. acq. fr. 24541); see also Russakoff, “Collaborative illumination”. Lafond, “Un évêque Breton”. Voir Gaborit-Chopin, L’art au temps des rois maudits, p. 104 (Écouis, sainte Véronique).
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standpoint, the use of silver stain on top of carnation, as in the figure of John the Baptist and the Holy Face, establishes a relationship with the glass painters active at the abbey in Rouen before 1339.56
inscribed with his name (N. DE M …), between his patron saint and the seated Virgin. The careful facture of these figures, enveloped in costumes with soft folds, extend to the silver stained lozenges that fill the rest of the surface. The novelty of these grisailles –with inserted medallions depicting the busts of angelic musicians surrounded by a braided frame –resides in the naturalism of their vegetal vine scrolls populated with birds. The anonymity of the donor limits the trail of evidence to situate the origin of this refined ensemble. One cannot link them to windows of lesser quality installed in 1370 at the cathedral of Sées,60 and the region has lost the stained glass from the same time period that is documented in account records: for example, those that Guillaume Savoure installed in 1384 in the chapel of the castle of the Kings of Navarre in Évreux, and those of the cathedral of Rouen, which he collaborated on in 1385. The only closely contemporary windows, conserved in Paris, were created in 1378 by Baudoin de Soissons for the chapel of the college of Beauvais; they are completely different, offering no point of comparison.61 Charles Sterling and Jean Lafond ranked them nonetheless among the works of the Parisian style, and Louis Grodecki compared their figural style to illuminations painted for the great patrons of the Valois family;62 some recall the prophets and apostles in the Psalter of Jean de Berry by André Beauneveu.63 The gifts of King Charles vi to the cathedral have been moved from their original places. The tracery lights with his devices in the axial chapel were reused after 1465 in the Rosary chapel, and the “royal windows”, which were initially juxtaposed on the south side of the nave in three upper, quadruple-lancet windows, were taken apart in about 1830 to fill gaps in the choir glazing, where two were recomposed in 1956.64 Elements of the third, the female donor figure and her arms, completed the Assumption window beginning in the 1330s; the Virgin and Child panel that accompanied it has been conserved in storage since 1939.65 Each of these high quality windows includes a portrait, identified by heraldry, of Charles vi (1368–1422, r. from 1380), Blanche of Navarre (1331–98), the widow of King Phillip vi, and the queen’s nephew, Pierre of Navarre, Count of Mortain (1366–1412),66
6 The Production of the Last Third of the Century: Anchored in Paris The glazing of the choir of Notre-Dame of Évreux was finished around 1340, just as the beginning of the Hundred Years War (1337) and the outbreak of the black plague that spread across Europe (1347) created unfavorable conditions for the decoration of monuments. Most likely the exile of certain artists should be blamed on these troubles. For example, Guillaume Le Tengard, painter and glazier from the diocese of Coutances, left Normandy in the middle of the 14th century to carry on an itinerant career from 1357 to 1359 in major work sites of Catalonia, before settling in Avignon in 1366.57 The pretentions to the throne of France of Charles ii, King of Navarre and Count of Évreux, alias Charles the Bad, opened from another side, in 1354, a period of great political tensions. Among the local repercussions, King John ii the Good besieged Évreux in 1356, causing a fire in the cathedral that damaged the transept and the entrance to the choir.58 Suspended for three decades, work resumed around 1370 with three windows of exceptional quality that renewed the decor of the Rosary chapel.59 In this small group, the formula of the modernized band window, that appeared around 1325 in the gift of Bishop Geoffroy du Plessis, was revitalized by the new proportions of micro-architecture. Halfway up the nine lancets, the same number of slender figures are enclosed in individual niches magnified by tall turrets surmounted by colorful seraphim. These aedicules became three-dimensional habitations, covered with triple vaults and furnished with tiled pavements. Between their embrasures decorated with arcades, fine damask inspired by eastern textiles closed off the space, the first example of a style that would continue into the 15th century in luxury windows, especially in Bourges. Their motifs, taken from sophisticated templates applied to glass of different colors, were sometimes enriched with silver stain. Before these precious fabrics stand three saints in the left window, the figures of the Crucifixion scene in the right, and, in the center, the patron canon kneeling on a base that was once 56 Lafond, Perrot, and Popesco, Les vitraux de l’église Saint-Ouen, p. 38. 57 Hérold, Vitraux en Languedoc, pp. 32–33. 58 Gallet, La cathédrale d’Évreux, pp. 81–82. 59 Lafond, “Le vitrail du XIVe siècle”, pp. 206–07.
60 Callias Bey and David, Les vitraux de Basse- Normandie, pp. 224, 226 (Callias Bey). 61 Pillet, “Les vitraux de la chapelle du collège de Dormans-Beauvais”. 62 Grodecki, “Les verrières d’Évreux”, p. 253. 63 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, ms fr. 13091. 64 Grodecki, “La restitution des vitraux ‘royaux’ ”. 65 Gatouillat, “La Vierge de Blanche de Navarre”; Taburet- Delahaye, Paris 1400, pp. 94, 117–18, 327 (Gatouillat). 66 Honoré-Duvergé and Lafond, “Le prétendu vitrail de Charles le Mauvais”.
382 Gatouillat whose association at first seems unclear, but becomes plain at the beginning of the war waged by Charles the Bad against the Valois. The chance to reaffirm dynastic legitimacy in the capital of the county of Évreux reconquered by Charles v in 1378 fell to his heir in the aftermath of the death of the King of Navarre in 1387.67 The young Charles vi could not have found a better guarantee than that of his allies in the family of Évreux-Navarre: Pierre, son of Charles the Bad, with whom he had been raised, and Queen Blanche, a tireless mediator during the conflict who had opposed her brother in favor of the successors of her husband.68 The function of their windows being to incite local opinion to loyalty to the crown, the theatricality of this vibrantly colored triptych in the middle of the nave –the part of the building accessible to the laity –underlines their value as political propaganda.69 In the principal window, the Virgin, patron of the cathedral, and St. Denis, patronus coronae in a mantle adorned with fleur-de- lis, enframe the portrait of Charles vi, which fills the two central lancets, in an arrangement appropriate to express the superior essence of the monarchy (Figure 23.5). It is clearly an allegory of the “Divine Right of Kings”, a notion forged under Charles v, which makes the broad aedicule filled with the lilies of France and surmounted by angels a veritable “celestial palace, a transitional space between the real world and heaven”.70 In the companion window of Pierre de Navarre, a single lancet is reserved for his portrait, leaving space for a double saintly patronage. To St. Denis, chosen to underline the prince’s loyalty to the crown, is added St. Peter, who presents him to the Virgin. The reuse of cartoons for the two images of St. Denis and the lateral niches, and of a template for the ground, proves that these windows come from the same workshop. The fragmentary remains of the Blanche of Navarre window differ from the other two by the smaller scale of the figures and their more archaizing form. This triple commission, which seems to have been carried out by artists in the service of the crown, was thus the result of individual initiatives. The dowager queen chose an artist of her own generation; there are evident similarities that tie the plastic roundness and youthful grace of the Virgin from her window to the illuminations of the Très Belles Heures de Notre-Dame71 attributed to Jean d’Orléans, 67 Charon, Princes et principautés en France; Beaune, Birth of an Ideology; Hedeman, The Royal Image. 68 Gaude-Ferragu, La reine au Moyen Âge; Keane, Material Culture and Queenship. 69 Gatouillat, “L’épiphanie de la gloire des Valois”. 70 Kurmann-Schwarz, “Vitraux commandités par la cour”. 71 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, ms. nouv. acq. lat. 3093.
official painter to Charles v and author, around 1375, of the Parement de Narbonne.72 The more recent trends revealed by the clearly individualized portraits of Charles vi and Pierre de Navarre73 suggest affinities with the production of the best painters of the “International Gothic”, such as Melchior Broederlam, employed starting in 1381 by the Duke of Burgundy, the king’s uncle.74 These hypotheses remain tentative, however, in the face of the 25 master painters who formed the Parisian guild in 1391.75 7 Conclusion The profound changes in French glass painting in the 14th century find their clearest expression in the many stained-glass windows preserved in situ in Rouen and Évreux, where two groups of fairly coherent examples allow one to follow the activities of glass painters for several decades. The tendencies born at the end of the reign of St. Louis blossomed here; necessitated by the size of Rayonnant window openings, the development of large areas of ornamental grisailles were accompanied by planes of colored glass in softened tones, manipulating light more subtly than the strong contrasts of the preceding century. The evolution of glass techniques was instrumental in the arrival of these luminous windows, the graphic quality of which benefited in great part from the invention of silver stain. Specialists affirm the repeated way that these windows were completed “in the style of the best illuminations executed in Paris”.76 Pieces found out of context are immediately identifiable on the basis of this criterion,77 tending to demonstrate the solid foundations of this relationship; however, to establish specific correspondences between stained glass and illuminations proves difficult because of the problem of transposition from one medium to another. The comparisons –facilitated today by tools that compensate for the hidden nature 72 Sterling, La peinture médiévale à Paris, 1300–1500, vol. 1, pp. 220, 231; Husband, The Art of Illumination, The Limbourg Brothers. 73 See Perkinson, The Likeness of the King, pp. 135–87. 74 Lorentz, “Les peintres de Philippe le Hardi et de Jean sans Peur”. 75 Villela-Petit, “Maîtres peintres et enlumineurs”. 76 See, among others, Lafond, Les vitraux de l’église Saint-Ouen, p. 39. 77 For example, the angel musicians of the Norman abbey of Bonport, illustrated in Willemin, Monuments français, vol. 1, pl. 106, or those acquired in 1997 by the Musée des Antiquités de Rouen (galerie Cochet, vitrine 12). For color illustrations, see Westermann-Angerhausen, Himmelslicht, pp. 273–79 (Lautier).
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of images in books78 –are rarely conclusive. It is nonetheless certain that the great pictorial revival for which Paris was the theater at the beginning of the century, became firmly embedded in the art of stained glass, especially in Normandy, which is situated in a geographic area that makes it naturally open to Parisian cultural influence. Whether through the adaptation of models created by the polyvalent artists of the capital, or even the importation of finished works, the filiations cannot be explained by a linear model. This artistic production, which cannot be reduced to a few characteristics, as is demonstrated by the heterogeneity of the windows of Évreux Cathedral, draws from the practices of sculpture as well as precious metalwork, and linking it to manuscript illumination does not suffice to define it. On these questions, synthetic studies of different media, as found in the catalogues of multidisciplinary exhibitions, offer the resources for the development of an innovative branch of research.
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Aubert, M. et al., Le vitrail français, Paris, 1958. Aubert, M., “De 1260 à 1380”, in id. et al., Le vitrail français, pp. 163–78. Avril, F., “Manuscrits”, in Baron (ed.), Les fastes du gothique, pp. 276–96. Baron, F. (ed.), Les fastes du gothique. Le siècle de Charles V (Exhibition catalogue: Paris, Grand Palais), Paris, 1981. Baron, F., “Sculptures”, in Gaborit-Chopin (ed.), L’art au temps des rois maudits, pp. 52–57. Baron, F., “La partie orientale détruite du tour du choeur de Notre-Dame de Paris”, Revue de l’art 128 (2000), 11–29. Beaune, C., Birth of an Ideology: Myths and Symbols of a Nation in Late-Medieval France, Berkeley, 1991. Becksmann, R., “Bildfenster für Pilger: zur Rekonstruktion der Zweitverglasung der Chorkapellen des Kölner Domes unter Erzbischof Walram von Jülich (1332–1349)”, Kölner Domblatt 67 (2002), 137–94. Benesch, O. and Ebenstein, Z., Europäische Kunst um 1400 (Exhibition catalogue: Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum), Vienna, 1962. Beucher, M., “Les verrières du chœur d’Évreux”, Les dossiers de l’archéologie 26 (1978), 63–75. 78 See the databases Mandragore, created in 1989 (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France et Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal: mandragore.bnf.fr/(last accessed 23 November 2018)) and Enluminures, co-produced by the Ministère de la Culture and the IRHT since 1979 (www.enluminures.culture.fr/ (last accessed 23 November 2018)).
384 Gatouillat Gaude-Ferragu, M., La Reine au Moyen Âge, XIVe-XVe siècle, Paris, 2014. Gauthier, M.-M., Émaux du Moyen Âge, Fribourg, 1972. Gil, M., “Jean Pucelle and the Parisian seal-engravers and goldsmiths”, in Pyun and Russakoff (eds.), Jean Pucelle, pp. 27– 52. Grodecki, L. (ed.), Vitraux de France (Exhibition catalogue: Paris, Musée des Arts décoratifs), Paris, 1953. Grodecki, L., “La restitution des vitraux ‘royaux’ de la cathédrale d’Évreux”, Les monuments historiques de la France 2–4 (1956), 201–16 (repr. in id., Le Moyen Âge retrouvé, vol. 2: De saint Louis à Viollet-le-Duc, Paris, 1991, pp. 227–40). Grodecki, L., “Les verrières d’Évreux”, l’Œil 29 (1957), 18–25 (repr. in id., De saint Louis à Viollet-le-Duc, Le Moyen Âge retrouvé, Paris, 1991, vol. 2, pp. 241–54). Grodecki, L. and Brisac, C., Le vitrail gothique au XIIIe siècle, Fribourg, 1984. Guillouët, J.-M. and Kazerouni, G., “Le tombeau de Simon Matifas de Bucy : une nouvelle peinture médiévale à Notre- Dame de Paris”, Revue de l’art 158 (2008), 35–43. Hayward, J., “Two grisaille glass panels from Saint-Denis at the cloisters”, in E.C. Parker and M.B. Shepard (eds.), The Cloisters. Studies in Honor of the Fiftieth Anniversary, New York, 1992, pp. 302–25. Hedeman, A., The Royal Image: Illustrations of the Grandes Chroniques de France, 1274–1420, Berkeley, 1991. Hérold, M., “Le verre des vitraux (XVe-XVIe siècles). Approche méthodologique”, in S. Lagabrielle and M. Philippe (eds.), Verre et fenêtre de l’Antiquité au XVIIIe siècle, Paris, 2009, pp. 69–79. Hérold, M., Vitraux en Languedoc et Roussillon (Focus Patrimoine Région Occitanie-Pyrénées-Méditerranée), Toulouse, 2017. Hérold, M. and David, V. (eds.), Vitrail Ve-XXIe siècles, Pa ris, 2014. Honoré-Duvergé, S. and Lafond, J., “Le prétendu vitrail de Charles le Mauvais à la cathédrale d’Évreux”, Bulletin monumental 101 (1942), 57–93. Husband, T., The Art of Illumination. The Limbourg Brothers and the Belles Heures of Jean de France, Duc de Berry, New York, 2008. Joubert, F. and Sandron, D. (eds.), Pierre, lumière, couleur. Études d’histoire de l’art du Moyen Âge en l’honneur d’Anne Prache, Paris, 1999. Keane, M., Material Culture and Queenship in 14th-Century France: the Testament of Blanche of Navarre (1331–1398), Leiden, 2016. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Récits, programme, commanditaires, concepteurs, donateurs: publications récentes sur l’icono graphie des vitraux de la cathédrale de Chartres”, Bulletin monumental 154 (1996), 55–71. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Datierung und Bedeutung von ‘Stif terbildern’ in Glasmalereien”, in B. Klein and H. Wolter-von
dem Knesebeck (eds), Nobilis arte manus. Festschrift zum 70. Geburtstag von Antje Middeldorf-Kosegarten, Dresden, 2002, pp. 228–43. Kurmann-Schwarz, B., “Vitraux commandités par la cour. Le vitrail et les autres arts: ressemblances et dissemblances”, in C. Freigang and J.-C. Schmitt (eds.), La culture de cour en France et en Europe: la construction des codes sociaux et des systèmes de représentation, Berlin, 2005, pp. 161–82. Lafond, J., “Essai historique sur le jaune d’argent”, in id., Pratique de la peinture sur verre à l’usage des curieux, Rouen, 1943, pp. 39–116. Lafond, J., “Le vitrail du XIVe siècle en France. Étude historique et descriptive”, in L. Lefrançois-Pillon, and J. Lafond, L’art du XIVe siècle en France, Paris, 1954, pp. 187–238. Lafond, J., “De 1380 à 1500”, in Aubert et al., Le vitrail français, pp. 179–214. Lafond, J., “Un évêque breton parmi les vitraux du chœur de la cathédrale d’Évreux”, Bulletin de la Société nationale des Antiquaires de France (1962), 144–51. Lafond, J., Perrot, F., and Popesco, P., Les vitraux de l’église Saint-Ouen de Rouen (CVMA France, 4-2, vol. 1), Paris, 1970. Lautier, C., “Le vitrail de la Crucfixion de la collégiale d’Écouis”, in Joubert and Sandron (eds.), Pierre, lumière, couleur, pp. 277–85. Lautier, C., “Les débuts du jaune d’argent dans l’art du vitrail ou le jaune d’argent à la manière d’Antoine de Pise”, Bulletin monumental 158 (2000), 89–107. Lautier, C., “Un vitrail parisien à Chartres: la grisaille du chanoine Thierry”, in H. Scholz, I. Rauch, and D. Hess (eds.), Glas. Malerei. Forschung. Internatiolanen Studien zu Ehren von Rüdiger Becksmann, Berlin, 2004, pp. 143–50. Lautier, C., “Rouen, chapelle de la Vierge de la cathédrale et ses vitraux”, in Congrès archéologique de France. Monuments de Rouen et du Pays de Caux 161 (2003), 173–82. Lillich, M.P., “The band window, a theory of origin and development”, Gesta 9-1 (1970), 26–33. Lillich, M.P., “Gothic glaziers: monks, Jews, taxpayers, Bretons, women”, Journal of Glass Studies 27 (1985), 72–92. Lorentz, P., “Les peintres de Philippe le Hardi et de Jean sans Peur à Dijon”, in Fliegel (ed), L’art à la cour de Bourgogne, pp. 94–99. Mâle, E., “Les miniatures, les vitraux, les peintures murales”, in A. Michel (ed.), Histoire de l’art depuis les premiers temps chrétiens jusqu’à nos jours, Paris, 1906, vol. 2-1, pp. 297–420. Marguerite, M.-L. and Dectot, X. (eds.), D’or et d’ivoire. Paris, Pise, Florence, Sienne 1250–1320, Ghent, 2015. Minois, D., Le vitrail à Troyes: les chantiers et les hommes (1480–1560) (CV France, Études, 6), Paris, 2005. Morand, K., Jean Pucelle, Oxford, 1962. Morrison, E., Hedeman, A., and Antoine, É. (eds.), Imagining the Past in France. History in Manuscript Painting, 1250–1500 (Exhibition catalogue: Los Angeles, The J. Paul Getty Museum), Los Angeles, 2011.
French 14th-Century Stained Glass and Other Arts
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Perkinson, S., The Likeness of the King: a Prehistory of Portraiture in Late Medieval France, Chicago, 2009. Philippe, M., “Chantier ou atelier: aspects de la verrerie normande aux XIVe et XVe siècles”, Annales de Normandie 42–3 (1992), 239–57. Pillet, E., “Les vitraux de la chapelle du collège de Dormans- Beauvais”, in E. Taburet-Delahaye (ed.), La création artistique en France autour de 1400 (Transactions of the International Colloquium in Paris, Ecole du Louvre, et Dijon, Musée des Beaux-Arts –Université de Bourgogne, 7–10 juillet 2004]), Paris, 2006, pp. 247–60. Plagnieux, P., “Une fondation de la reine Marie de Brabant: la chapelle Saint-Paul Saint-Louis”, in A. Erlande- Brandenburg (ed.), Mantes médiévale, la collégiale au cœur de la ville, Mantes, 2000, pp. 110–16. Pyun, K. and Russakoff, A. (eds.), Jean Pucelle. Innovation and Collaboration in Manuscript Painting (Transactions of the 39th International Congress on Medieval Studies in Kalamazoo), Turnhout, 2013. Russakoff, A., “Collaborative illumination: Jean Pucelle and the visual program of Gautier de Coinci’s Les Miracles de Nostre Dame (Paris, BnF, MS. nouv. acq. fr. 24541)”, in Pyun and Russakoff (eds.), Jean Pucelle, pp. 65–89.
Schmidt, G., “Zu einigen Stifterdarstellungen des 14. Jahrhunderts in Frankreich”, in S. McK. Crosby, A. Chastel, A. Prache et al. (eds.), Études d’art médiéval offertes à Louis Grodecki, Paris, 1981, pp. 269–86 (repr. in id., Gotische Bildwerke und ihre Meister, Vienna, 1992, pp. 122–41). Sterling, C., La peinture médiévale à Paris, 1300–1500, vol. 1, Paris, 1987. Taburet-Delahaye, E. (ed.), Paris 1400. Les arts sous Charles VI (Exhibition catalogue: Paris, Musée du Louvre), Paris, 2004. Tabbagh, V., Gens d’Eglise, gens de pouvoir, Dijon, 2006. Villela-Petit, I., “Maîtres peintres et enlumineurs: identités incertaines”, in Taburet-Delahaye, (ed.), Paris 1400, p. 203. Viollet-le-Duc, E., Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle, vol. 9, Paris, 1868. Westermann-Angerhausen, H., Hagnau, C., Schumacher C., and Sporbeck G. (eds.), Himmelslicht. Europäische Glasmalerei im Jahrhundert des Kölner Dombaus (1248–1349) (Exhibition catalogue: Cologne, Josef-Haubrich-Kunsthalle), Cologne, 1998. Willemin, N.X., Monuments français pour servir à l’histoire des arts, vol. 1, Paris, 1839.
Figures for Part 5
f igure 20.1 Jost Amman (1539–91), The Glass Painter, woodcut from Hans Sachs, The Book of Trades (Eygentliche Beschreybung Aller Stände auff Erden) (1568). Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Res/4 P. o. germ. 176, p. 59, urn:nbn:bvb:12-bsb00105474-3 (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0).
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f igure 20.2 Antonio da Pisa and Agnolo Gaddi, St. Anne and St. Benedict, lower part of a stained-glass window (c.1395–96). Florence Cathedral, bay nI.
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f igure 21.1 Leonardo di Simone and Agnolo Gaddi, St. Stephen and St. Gregory the Great (top row); St. Sebastian and a Female Martyr Saint (bottom row), detail of a stained-glass window (c.1395–96). Florence Cathedral, nave, bay nII.
f igure 21.2 Duccio, Glazed oculus window from the east end of the choir of Siena Cathedral (c.1287–88). Original window now in Siena, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo.
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Figures for Part 5
f igure 21.3 Giovanni di Bonino, Stories of the life of the Virgin and Hebrew prophets, detail of the stained-glass window in the high altar chapel of Orvieto Cathedral (1330–34).
f igure 21.4 Giovanni di Bonino (?), St. Francis and St. Clare, detail of a stained-glass window (1320–25). Assisi, Basilica of San Francesco, Lower Church, chapel of St. Catherine of Alexandria, window ii.
Figures for Part 5
f igure 21.5 Master of Figline (?), Window with Franciscan saints and Popes (1320s). Florence, Basilica of Santa Croce, transept, window sII sup above the Bardi chapel.
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f igure 21.6 Unknown glazier and Taddeo Gaddi, Window of St. Francis receiving the stigmata and six standing saints (c.1328–32). Florence, Basilica of Santa Croce, Baroncelli chapel, bay sVIII.
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Figures for Part 5
f igure 21.7 Unknown glazier and Taddeo or Agnolo Gaddi, View of stained-glass window with standing saints (mid to late 14th century). Florence, Basilica of Santa Croce, high altar chapel, bays nII and i.
f igure 22.1 Curteys Workshop (attributed), St. Barnabas, detail of a stained-glass window (c.1290–1310). Downham Market, parish church of St. Edmund.
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Figures for Part 5
f igure 22.2 Norwich workshop linked to Ormesby Master (attributed), Seraph from a stained-glass window (c.1325–30). Norton Subcourse, parish church of St. Mary.
f igure 22.3 Norwich glaziers under the influence of Simon de Lenne (attributed), Musical angel tracery panel (c.1340–58/59). Attleborough, parish church of St. Mary.
f igure 22.4 Norwich glaziers under court influence (attributed), Two tracery quatrefoils with the Coronation of the Virgin (c.1330). Great Walsingham, parish church of St. Peter.
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Figures for Part 5
f igure 22.6 Conesford glaziers (attributed), St. John the Evangelist disguised as a beggar, detail from a stained-glass window (c.1340–60). Kimberley, parish church of St. Peter.
f igure 22.5 St. Catherine (c.1340–45). Mileham, parish church of St. John the Baptist.
f igure 22.7 Head of bearded figure, excavated glass from King Street, Norwich (c.1370–90). Now in a private collection.
Figures for Part 5
f igure 22.8 John Mundford (attributed), Visitation (c.1445–55). Norwich, parish church of St. Peter Mancroft.
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Figures for Part 5
f igure 22.9 John Mundford (attributed), Visitation, detail of a stained-glass window (c.1461–67). East Harling, parish church of St. Peter and St. Paul.
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f igure 22.10 William Mundford (attributed), The Crowning with Thorns and the Second Mocking of Christ, detail of a stained-glass window (c.1449–55). Norwich, parish church of St. Peter Mancroft.
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Figures for Part 5
f igure 22.11 William Heyward Workshop (attributed), Fragments from a Te Deum window (c.1491–98). East Harling, parish church of St. Peter and St. Paul, bay i, 3a.
Figures for Part 5
399
f igure 22.12 William Heyward Workshop (attributed), Detail of St. Michael, from a panel painting on wood (c.1470–80). Filby, parish church of All Saints.
f igure 23.1 Portrait of Louis of France, count of Évreux, detail from a stained-glass window (c.1310). Évreux Cathedral, choir chapel, bay 14.
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f igure 23.2 Canon Raoul de Ferrières, two stained-glass panels (c.1317–20). Évreux Cathedral, depot.
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Figures for Part 5
f igure 23.3 St. Martin Dividing his Cloak, detail of a stained-glass window (c.1325–27). Évreux Cathedral, chapel of Geoffroy Du Plessis, bay 23.
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f igure 23.4 Axial window of the Virgin and Child, St. John the Baptist, and portrait of Bishop Jean du Prat (c.1335–40). Évreux Cathedral, choir clerestory, bay 200.
f igure 23.5 King Charles vi, lower part of stained -glass window formerly in the nave (c.1388). Évreux Cathedral, choir clerestory, bay 210.
Pa rt 6 Post-Medieval Reflections
∵
c hapter 24
The Beginnings of Stained-Glass Collecting in Germany Uwe Gast As natural as visitors to private or public collections today may find it to encounter stained glass, this would have been a very unusual experience until recently. For stained glass, especially medieval stained glass, was for many years not favoured as a collectable, and was regarded as less interesting than other medieval works of art. The decorative function of stained glass for windows –principally in sacred buildings but also occasionally in secular structures – was appreciated, yet its role in collections rarely so. The removal of stained glass from the context for which it was originally intended usually entailed its loss. Thought by its nature to be linked to architecture, and once removed from its context and considered in its own right to be completely unremarkable and without any particular material value, it was hardly felt worth preserving, unless it was due to be reused. Yet, this heedless attitude towards stained glass as a genre began to change over the course of the 18th century, initially in England, and then, from c.1780, also in Germany and France. It was not by accident that this process evolved amid the far-reaching political, social and cultural-intellectual changes occurring across the whole of Europe, which in the 19th century resulted in the institutionalization of collecting. The purpose of this chapter is to consider the role played by Germany in this process.1 Any discussion of collectors and collections requires a definition of what constitutes “collecting” and “a collection”, and therefore also a collection of stained glass. In German usage of the period around 1800, the act of collecting was understood, for example, as “bringing together singly several things of one kind” by Johann C. Adelung in 1777, or, more broadly conceived, as “bringing together singly several things, especially of one kind, and assembling them in one place” by 1 Parts of this chapter are based on the introduction I wrote for the colloquium volume published in 2012, Ayers et al., Collec tions of Stained Glass and their Histories; Gast, “Glasmalerei- Sammlungen”. I am grateful to Dr Joseph Spooner in London for translating this chapter; all translations into English quoted within are his work. 2 “Sammeln”, in Adelung, Wörterbuch, vol. 3, col. 1592; “Sammeln”, in Campe, Wörterbuch, vol. 4, p. 25. 3 “Sammeln”, in Krünitz, Oeconomische Encyclopädie, vol. 135, pp. 427–29. 4 “Sammlung”, in Campe, Wörterbuch, vol. 4, p. 27. Cf. “Sammlung”, in Adelung, Wörterbuch, vol. 3, col. 1594, and Krünitz, Oecono mische Encyclopädie, vol. 135, p. 500.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_031
Theodor Bernd in 1810.2 The definition of collecting given by Johann W.D. Korth in 1824 in Johann G. Krünitz’s encyclopedia is consistent with this.3 A collection was hence understood as “eine Menge mehrerer einzeln und nach und nach zusammengebrachter Dinge” (a bringing together singly of several things of one kind),4 which in the final analysis could comprise stained glass, despite the fact that such specialist collections were still relatively rare around 1800.5 There is however evidence in contemporary literature, albeit indirect, that the composite “Glasmalereisammlung” (stained-glass collection) was already current. As a source one might here simply cite the author Friedrich von Matthisson, who in his account Das Dianenfest bei Bebenhausen, published in 1813, recounts his acquaintance with Count Franz i zu Erbach-Erbach and his “collection of stained glass”, of which “the noble count” would speak “with particular fondness”.6 More importantly however, von Matthison mentions that this collection had the merit of bringing together “examples of this art form [i.e. stained glass] from all its heydays and dark ages”.7 In other words, the collection was structured such that it could claim a certain degree of exhaustiveness and instructional potential; it was both intended and able to afford an overview of the development of stained glass. The element that was lacking from early definitions of collecting, but which stands out clearly from von Matthisson’s remark, is the criterion that every collection should be geared to a specific purpose and goal.8 This becomes all the clearer if one considers the current definition of the word as proposed by the International Committee for Museology (icofom), according to which there are two criteria 5 It is extremely telling that stained glass is not mentioned among the numerous areas of collecting listed by Johann W.D. Korth under the heading “Sammlung”; Krünitz, Oeconomische Encyclopädie, vol. 135, pp. 500–707. Even Gustav Klemm still did not consider it a possible collectors field in 1837: Klemm, Samm lungen. 6 Von Matthisson, Dianenfest, pp. 30–33, esp. p. 32. 7 Von Matthisson, Dianenfest, p. 32. 8 By the early definitions I mean the general definitions of the concepts of “Sammeln” and “Sammlung” that only came to be refined later on. Reflections on collecting per se were formulated by Johann W.D. Korth, for example under the heading “Sammlung (Conchylien-)”, in Krünitz, Oeconomische Encyclopädie, vol. 135, pp. 636–40.
406 Gast that a collection needs to fulfil: (1) it should comprise a selection of objects whose purpose and goal are geared towards a coherent and meaningful whole; and (2) there should be a single designated location for these objects’ classification and organization, secure storage, and exhibition in private or public.9 Yet, to what extent can this definition be applied, in any place or at any time, to stained glass as a collectable? For its part, the Corpus Vitrearum has refrained from conforming to such definitional restrictions. This was demonstrated, for example, by the 25th International Colloquium of the Corpus Vitrearum in St. Petersburg in 2010, where, under the general theme of “Collections of Stained Glass and their Histories”, the retention and reuse of stained glass from the Middle Ages until the present, and especially its collecting, was discussed for the first time.10 Building on the Corpus Vitrearum’s topographical approach to the organization of its material, but without considering any lexical definition, essentially any ensemble of stained glass that consisted or consists of works that are no longer in situ, or have been relocated or contextualized anew in any way, was subsumed within the concept of “collection”. The range of stained-glass ensembles presented embraced not only true collections in the museological sense, but also various situations that should be deemed to be akin to a collection, such as the practice of glazing church windows with assemblages of old pieces, which became and remained popular during the 18th and 19th centuries, particularly in England.11 Now, on the one hand it is obvious that the simple act of relocating stained glass or contextualizing it anew cannot readily be compared to collecting as an activity. On the other, this broadening of the concept as far as possible throws light on a fundamental problem that is specific to stained glass as a collectable: unlike other types of painting, sculpture, and above all moveable works of fine and applied art, stained glass always needs to be displayed in a specific manner, one that is suited to its nature and purpose but is generally laborious to implement, so that the luminosity of the images may be realized.12 This fact, as will be demonstrated below, has influenced the collecting of stained glass, and over the course of the history of collecting has produced very idiosyncratic results 9
Cf. “Collection”, in Desvallées and Mairesse, Key Concepts of Museology, pp. 26–28, esp. p. 26. 10 Ayers, Kurmann- Schwarz, Lautier, and Scholz (eds.), Collections of Stained Glass and their Histories. 11 See Eavis, “An 18th-century recusant’s collection”, and King, “Early collections”. Mention should also be made here of the glazing of the church of St Michael and Our Lady in Wragby, West Yorkshire. 12 Cf. Frodl-Kraft, Glasmalerei, pp. 5–12.
for its presentation. Indeed, even as an object for collection and display, stained glass was initially nearly always firmly linked to the furnishing of a building. If, however, it was transferred to a building without a concomitant fundamental change in its significance, then this would have been in direct conflict with the criterion formulated by Krzysztof Pomian when defining collectables and who deemed it a defining factor for collection, namely: the object’s removal from the circuit of economic activity on a temporary or permanent basis.13 Reused stained glass installed in a sacred context does not fulfil this criterion, provided that it (as first and foremost a spiritual object) was to retain its original function. Only when works in stained glass were brought together according to specific and meaningful criteria, and the manner of their display entailed a change in their significance (as usually was and is the case in a secular context), only then can we speak of a true collection in the museological sense. This distinction is of great importance if we are to understand the development from the retention and reuse of stained glass, to its collection and display. As far as early collections of stained glass in Germany are concerned, the literature to date has concentrated on a small number of exceptional ensembles from the period c.1780–1830. The following collections of stained glass from this era have been thoroughly researched: the Gotische Haus in Wörlitz;14 the chapel of the Löwenburg in the Wilhelmshöhe Bergpark in Kassel;15 and the Rittersaal in the castle at Erbach.16 Mention should also be made of the stained-glass collection in the Gotische Turm of the castle at Nassau, although this was already dispersed in the 19th century.17 Apart from these four buildings, to which the public formerly had either no or only occasional access, there are in addition the early museums, that are also well researched, of whose collections stained glass formed a part. These are: the Großherzogliche Museum in Darmstadt (1820);18 the Herzogliche Museum in Gotha;19 and the
13 Pomian, Collectionneurs, amateurs et curieux, pp. 15–59; “Collection”, in Desvallées and Mairesse, Key Concepts of Museology, pp. 27–28. 14 Ruoss and Giesicke, Wörlitz. 15 Parello, Marburg und Nordhessen, pp. 280–83. 16 Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”; Glüber, “Rittersaal”; Gast, Oppenheim, Rhein-und Südhessen, pp. 109–37. See further Götz-Mohr and Maderna, Graf Franz I. zu Erbach- Erbach und seine Sammlungen im Schloss zu Erbach. 17 Marx, Gast, and Parello, Die Glasgemälde- Sammlung des Freiherrn vom Stein. 18 Gast, Oppenheim, Rhein-und Südhessen, pp. 93–108. See further, Ludwig, “Großherzoglich-Hessische Museumsgründungen”. 19 Mock, “Gotha, Schlossmuseum”.
The Beginnings of Stained-Glass Collecting in Germany
Königliche Museum in Berlin (1830, with stained glass from 1835).20 There are, however, a larger number of stained-glass ensembles, both extant and dispersed, that have either not been researched at all, or have not yet been adequately investigated. For example, the extensive collection found at Burg Rheinstein, assembled by Prince Friedrich W.L. von Preußen in the 1820s to furnish the castle, has not yet been studied.21 There were also short-lived collections in the Englische Garten at Hohenheim,22 and at Schloss Wallerstein,23 as well as in all areas with a rich tradition of stained glass. In the Rhineland the principal centre was Cologne, where a considerable number of large, early collections are documented (including the Schieffer-Hirn, Geerling, and Düssel collections),24 though there were also collections in smaller places such as Geisenheim (the Zwierlein Collection).25 Among the locations in southern Germany is Nuremberg (including the Welser, Heinlein, and Derschau collections),26 and further afield there were collections, still largely unknown, in Augsburg (the Steiner Collection), Regensburg (the Mayer Collection),27 and lastly Konstanz (the Vincent Collection).28 This brief and far from complete outline is already enough to highlight that there are considerable lacunae in the research into early collections of stained glass in Germany. There is currently no overview that attempts to record all the collections documented for the period 20 Pfeiffer and Fitz, “Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Kunstgewerbemuseum”. See further, Cillessen, “Geschichte”. 21 Rathke, Preußische Burgenromantik am Rhein, p. 30. 22 Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”, pp. 241–42. 23 Calov, Museen und Sammler, pp. 104–05; Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”, p. 244. 24 Wolff- Wintrich, “Kölner Glasmalereisammlungen”; Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”, pp. 242–44. 25 Wolff- Wintrich, “Kölner Glasmalereisammlungen”, p. 347; Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”, p. 240. 26 On the stained-glass collection of Paul C. Welser (1722–88), which survives dispersed between Gotha, Coburg (in the Kunstsammlungen der Veste Coburg), and Schloss Callenberg near Coburg, see (for the time being) Mock, “Gotha, Schlossmuseum”, pp. 166–67. On the other hand, the collection of the merchant and tradesman Anton Paul Heinlein (1715–1803) needs to be studied ab initio. On the collection of Captain Hans A. von Derschau (1755–1824) of Nuremberg, which was auctioned off in 1825 and acquired in toto for the Königliche Kunstkammer in Berlin before being transferred to the Kunstgewerbemuseum in 1875, see Calov, Museen und Sammler, p. 106; Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”, p. 236; and Cillessen, “Geschichte”, esp. pp. 103–04, 108–09. 27 Baader, , Reisen, vol. 1, pp. 93–94, n. * vol. 2, p. 441. 28 Calov, Museen und Sammler, p. 106; Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”, p. 243.
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c.1780–1830, apart from the preliminary studies presented by Gudrun Calov, Brigitte Wolff-Wintrich, and Daniel Hess.29 The motivation of collectors in assembling works in stained glass, their purpose in doing so, and the goals being pursued, have thereby only been researched at a detailed level, and not more generally. Similarly, for many collections, we have yet to clarify where and how stained glass was stored, how it was organized, and how it was displayed. Some of these questions, concerning collectors’ motives and intentions, as well as collections’ functions and forms of display, have already been raised by Daniel Hess and the present author, who have attempted to answer them.30 The focus there, for obvious reasons, was more on the well- documented and researched ensembles of stained glass in Wörlitz, Kassel (Löwenburg), and Erbach, though each of these is unique in its own way; in Austria, the ensemble at the Franzensburg in Laxenburg also falls into this category.31 The suitability of these ensembles, however, for illustrating the whole variety of stained- glass collections around 1800 is doubtful. As they were collections of aristocrats, whom Daniel Parello considers the driving force behind the collecting of stained glass,32 and as their contents were permanent furnishings of what are all exceptional buildings, they cannot be compared with those collections instituted in cities, in private homes or rented premises, by clergymen, patricians, and citizens. From the remarks made above on the concept of “collection”, and the brief overview of the literature, we have a rough sketch of which questions should be treated more broadly in the present chapter on early stained-glass collections in Germany. Considering the general theme of this book, the first question should be: where and under what conditions and circumstances did the medium of stained glass become a collectable? Secondly: what traits do collectors and collections have in common, but also what are the differences between them? Collectors took a long time to begin incorporating works of medieval art into their collections. In two very readable articles published in 2015, Wolfgang Brückle traced the route that works of medieval art, mainly sculpture and painting, had to follow to become objects 29 Calov, Museen und Sammler, pp. 104–07; Wolff-Wintrich, “Kölner Glasmalereisammlungen”; Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”. 30 Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”; Gast, “Glasmalerei-Sammlungen”; Hess, “Early stained glass collections”. In this regard, for a wider context, see Raguin, “Revivals, revivalists, and architectural stained glass”. 31 See most recently Hess, “Early stained glass collections”. 32 Parello, “Vom Nutzen der Glasmalerei für den Adel”.
408 Gast for collection and display.33 What Brückle says concerning the general reasons that hindered medieval art from being taken into collections, is particularly relevant for stained glass. Unlike liturgical furnishings and their decoration (such as altars and retables), stained glass was not intended for use “in church worship and pious meditation”, even though it formed an integral part of “larger display schemes in and on the church fabric”, and furthermore was “closely linked to it”.34 In other words, medieval stained glass in churches was not readily available to collectors as a collectable, at least not as long as architectural or glazing activities had been undertaken. Who was interested in the medium? Stained glass was certainly not to the taste of collectors in the early modern period, schooled as it was in the virtuosity of Antiquity and the Renaissance.35 Even around 1800, when the historical value of medieval art had long been recognized, appreciation of its aesthetic qualities was at a low ebb.36 For Pierre Le Vieil (1708–72) the stained glass of the 12th-15th centuries was only the preliminary stage before the apex of the medium’s development in the 16th century,37 a view to which Count Franz i zu Erbach-Erbach still subscribed to later (see below). Another issue here is where and how are collectors actually supposed to have displayed medieval stained glass from churches? In this way, stained glass was not represented in such collections initially, something true as much for the treasuries of sacred institutions as for all secular collections of the 16th-18th centuries. The latter included the so-called cabinets of curiosities as well as collections purely of art, the beginnings of which also stretch far back into the early modern period.38 If medieval works of art, especially monumental stained-glass windows, were retained anywhere, then it was in the churches themselves. Because of this, Gustav Klemm was able, in the 1830s, to come up with the idea of denoting “Kirchen als Museen des Mittelalters” (Churches as the museums of the Middle Ages).39 He saw them 33 Brückle, “Mittelalterliche Werke”; Brückle, “Mittelalter als Prüfstein”. 34 Brückle, “Mittelalterliche Werke”, p. 11. 35 Cf. Brückle, “Mittelalterliche Werke”, p. 11. 36 On this in general, see Brückle, “Mittelalterliche Werke”, pp. 17–21. 37 Le Vieil, L’art de la peinture sur verre, p. iv. Pierre Le Vieil’s tract was translated into German by Johann C. Harrepeter (1735– 94) by 1779–80. 38 It would be difficult to provide an overview of the literature on the history of collecting, so reference is made here simply to two survey works: MacGregor, Curiosity and Enlightenment, and Thamer, Kunst sammeln. A selection of important works is given in Walz, “Museumsrelevante Phänomene im Alten Reich”, pp. 45–46. 39 Klemm, Sammlungen, pp. 135–43.
as publicly accessible places for art, and cited as examples the great Nuremberg parish churches of St. Sebald and St. Lawrence, in which might be rediscovered “a (…) large number of exquisitely preserved monuments, a (…) rich and historically interesting as well as uninterrupted sequence of sculpture and stained glass”.40 There is no need to specify in detail that this interpretation is problematic from a museological point of view; there was of course no collecting in the actual sense of the word in churches, with the exception of treasuries, and there were also no organizational systems that might have conformed to modern museological criteria.41 If we take Krzysztof Pomian’s reflections on the nature of collectables to heart, then it is wrong for a whole series of reasons to recast sacral spaces, with their unmoveable and moveable furnishings, as collection spaces. Yet, what are we to think of churches whose glazing schemes consisted or consist partly or entirely of relocated objects? We are not talking about those common cases in the High and Late Middle Ages where stained glass was transferred from a predecessor to a new building because it was held in particular esteem for whatever reason,42 but rather glazing schemes of the early modern period comprising panels or fragments from elsewhere: that is, not belonging in the location in which they are installed. At this point we have entered a grey area, in which the boundary between retention/reuse and collection/display cannot be drawn clearly. An early example for the reuse of stained glass is the parish church of St. Bartholomew in Wöhrd near Nuremberg, which was destroyed during the Second Margrave War (1552–54) and which was then refurnished with both old and contemporary stained glass during its reconstruction in 1557–69.43 The old panels came from the cloister of the Carmelite convent in Nuremberg, which was dissolved in 1525, and comprise the remains of a once-extensive cycle with images from the lives of Joachim and Anna, and the Virgin and Christ, a work of the Hirsvogel Workshop of 1504–11 which is often based 40 Klemm, Sammlungen, p. 137. 41 Brückle, “Mittelalterliche Werke”, pp. 12–13. On the significance of treasuries as forerunners to museum collections, see MacGregor, Curiosity and Enlightenment, pp. 2–9; and Thamer, Kunst sammeln, pp. 26–28. 42 Examples of this are found in Strasbourg, Erfurt, Regensburg and Freiburg. For reasons of space, only the essential literature on these four locations is given here: Beyer, Wild-Block, and Zschokke, Notre-Dame de Strasbourg, pp. 23–38, 141–200; Maercker, “Barfüßerkirche”; Fritzsche, Regensburger Dom, vol. 1, pp. 14–24, 210–21; Becksmann, Freiburg im Breisgau, vol. 1, pp. 81–92, 93–115. In this regard, see also Shepard, “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”. 43 Scholz, Mittelfranken und Nürnberg, vol. 1, pp. 312–28, vol. 2, figs. 207–22.
The Beginnings of Stained-Glass Collecting in Germany
on designs and models by artists from the circle of Dürer. It can be supposed that the owner of the glass, Gilg Ayrer, donated these panels to the reconstructed church.44 Further panels from the cycle arrived in the parish churches of Großgründlach and Henfenfeld, probably around 1680, via intermediate points that are as yet unknown.45 Even though the act of reusing stained glass is in itself astonishing, because it runs counter to the then prevailing fashion that glazing schemes should contain lots of grisaille glass and avoid pictorial imagery, nowhere do we find –not in Wöhrd, nor Großgründlach, or Henfenfeld –any documentation or trace of what might be defined as an act of collection, either as family memorials worth retaining or even as works of art. In the final analysis, these Carmelite cycle panels were simply reused in a different location. We find a totally different situation a century later, at the abbey of Sankt Blasien in the Black Forest. Here the old Benedictine abbey church was destroyed by fire in 1768 and replaced in 1772–83, under Prince-Abbot Martin Gerbert ii (1720–93), by an ambitious classicizing new-build by Pierre M. d’Ixnard.46 In the narrow Alb Valley, Martin had an outsized, centrally planned building constructed on the model of the Pantheon in Rome, and the lower window openings of the rotunda were adorned with stained glass that he had acquired c.1782–83 from the charterhouse in Freiburg im Breisgau.47 The contrast between the cool and sober architecture (Figure 24.1a), the retables after preliminary designs by Johann C. Wentzinger (who was also responsible for the painting of the ceiling in the cupola), and the stained glass of the 15th-16th centuries (mainly works by the Ropstein workshop after designs by Hans Baldung Grien) must have been irksome, and the ensemble peculiarly jarring (Figure 24.1b). Yet contemporaries who visited the abbey, such as the Abbé Grandidier in 1784, do not seem to have been disturbed by this. In his account of his visit, Grandidier wrote, without making any judgement, that there were eight side altars in the rotunda in the church, “of which six are surmounted by painted glass taken from the cloister of Fribourg and some newly painted glass”, indicating that the latter were the work of the lay brothers Michael and Anton Pfluger.48 44 Ayrer purchased the glass in 1557, along with the “Fensterwerck” (i.e., the whole window including ironwork and glass): Scholz, Mittelfranken und Nürnberg, vol. 2, pp. 539–52, esp. pp. 541, 542–43. 45 Scholz, Mittelfranken und Nürnberg, vol. 1, pp. 166–79, 199– 212, vol. 2, figs. 78–83, 86–87, 102–08. 46 Schmieder, Benediktinerkloster St. Blasien, pp. 146–219. 47 Becksmann, Freiburg im Breisgau, vol. 2, pp. 563–98, figs. 695–725. See also Gut, “Farbfenster”. 48 Grandidier, “Voyage de 1784”, p. 162. On the Pfluger brothers, see Vaassen, Bilder auf Glas, pp. 39–40. The two also
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This reused stained glass from the charterhouse served as window decoration, even though it had not been Prince-Abbot Martin’s first choice. He had already endeavoured in Constance, in 1780, to acquire stained glass for his church (which was nearly finished), only on that occasion it was the cycle of saints executed c.1430 for the parish church of St. Stephen.49 In contrast to the examples of Wöhrd, Großgründlach and Henfenfeld cited above, at Sankt Blasien we can discern not only acts of collecting, but also purposeful selection in the objects collected. Martin very clearly wished to acquire old stained glass for his church, irrespective of whether it came from Freiburg or Constance. His motivation for collecting was thus above all else the high value he placed on old stained glass, whether of the Middle Ages or the early modern period, and this was bound up with a concrete desire to furnish his abbey church with such venerable pieces.50 His historical and antiquarian interests51 may have gone hand in hand with the need to mitigate the brightness of the light shining on the rotunda’s altars, but in the absence of relevant sources, this must remain speculation. What is certain is that for a few decades from c.1782–83 the glazing of the cathedral in Sankt Blasien possessed the particular characteristics of a collection, despite its sacral context. In this respect, the creator of the ensemble, Prince-Abbot Martin Gerbert ii, was not alone; indeed, to a certain extent, we see reflected in him the very beginnings of a wider interest emerging at the time in stained glass as the object of antiquarian interest. The existence of collections with monumental medieval stained glass in Germany before c.1780 cannot be demonstrated; this does not mean however that they did not exist before that date. Hitherto, research specifically into stained glass has completely overlooked the fact that small-scale panels of stained glass were found in cabinets of curiosities,52 not only in aristocratic collections such as that of the dukes of Württemberg in Stuttgart, executed the four other lower windows of the rotunda, probably towards the end of the 1780s: Gut, “Farbfenster”, pp. 136, 143–46. 49 Becksmann, Baden und Pfalz, pp. 125–31, esp. p. 125. 50 See also Gut, “Farbfenster”, pp. 146–47. 51 This can be demonstrated in a variety of ways for Martin, who was active as an author, corresponded with many important scholars (including Rudolf E. Raspe in Kassel, see below), and was supposedly a member of the Society of Antiquaries of London. On the abbey of Sankt Blasien as a centre for the writing of monastic history under Prince-Abbot Martin Gerbert ii, see Lehner, Enlightened Monks, pp. 20–21. See also ibid. for the reference to Martin being a member of the Society of Antiquaries of London. 52 Gast, “Glasmalerei-Sammlungen”, pp. 23–24.
410 Gast but also in various patrician and middle-class collections in Strasbourg, Halle (Saale), and Schwäbisch Hall. Johann J. Guth von Sulz (1543–1616), a Württemberg councillor and chamberlain to the duke, established a cabinet of curiosities that, according to a 1624 inventory, also contained “things made of glass”.53 The ensemble later came into the hands of Duke Eberhard iii von Württemberg in 1653, who expanded it further and had it organized into 42 sections and inventoried by the antiquary Adam U. Schmidlin, in the process of which the stained glass was subsumed under the heading “enamelled panels”.54 We do not know if the stained glass, like other parts of the collection, was kept in the so-called Alte Lusthaus (Figure 24.2), but it seems possible, according to the arrangement of the sections attested in Schmidlin’s inventory, that it was housed in cabinets with the paintings and etchings. The cabinet of curiosities that Balthasar L. Künast (1589–1667), a merchant and alderman in Strasbourg, began to assemble from the late 1640s onwards is of exceptional interest.55 According to the catalogue published by his son Philipp L. Künast in 1668, it contained, by way of artworks in glass, stained glass (“Von Glaß geschmeltzt-und gegossene Sachen”: Figure 24.3), vessel glass (“Von geschnit tenen und andern schönen Gläsern”), and reverse glass- painting (“Hinder Glaß gebrandte und amelirte Taffeln”).56 A small number of the works in stained glass can be identified from their descriptions as belonging to the late Middle Ages or early modern period, for example: “Lucretia, yellow and round”; “A head with a lamb’s-ear crown, yellow and round”; “A number of children playing with a bear, yellow and round”; and “Two little women, Temperance, black and round”.57 The context for these pieces consisted of sculptures, paintings, and drawings, many of which appear to have come from Strasbourg itself and the nearby surrounding areas. The attributions and dating in the catalogue provide ample evidence that, as a collector, Künast had purposely endeavoured to acquire art from the Upper Rhine region of the 15th-16th centuries. 53
Stuttgart, Hauptstaatsarchiv, A 20 a Bü 4, pp. 277–79. On the collections, see Fleischhauer, Kunstkammer, pp. 48–57. 54 Fleischhauer, Kunstkammer, p. 80. Unfortunately, it was not possible to consult Schmidlin’s inventory (Stuttgart, Staatliches Museum für Naturkunde) within the scope of the work undertaken to draw up the present text. 55 Benoît, “Collections et collectionneurs alsaciens”, p. 58; von Térey, “Eine Kunstkammer des 17. Jahrhunderts”; Rott, “Straßburger Kunstkammern”, pp. 8–12. 56 Künast, Verzeichnuß, n.p. 57 Künast, Verzeichnuß, n.p.: “Die Lucretia gelb und rund”; “Ein Kopff mit einer Cronen von Esels-ohren /gelb und rund”; “Etliche Kindlein spielen mit einem Bären /gelb und rund”; and “Zwey Weiblein Temperantia schwarz und rund.”
It is not necessary to probe similar ensembles of collected objects in detail beyond Künast; passing reference should be made here simply to three collections – also cabinets of curiosities –in which stained glass was or is found: the “Musaeum Brackenhofferianum” in Strasbourg; the art and natural history collection of the Franckeschen Stiftungen in Halle (Saale); and the “Museum Closterianum” in Schwäbisch Hall.58 The traces of such collecting activity can be followed until the end of the 18th century, since the private collections of the Augsburg priest Matthias J.A. Steiner (1740–96) and Regensburg theologian Andreas U. Mayer (1732–1802) were comparably diverse. Steiner owned a natural history collection, and in addition collected coins, wood-cuts, etchings, bibles, and also stained glass.59 Mayer collected objects from the worlds of nature, science and art,60 and his collection of stained glass apparently numbered more than 320 pieces; a remarkable departure from the norm among these was a group of large medieval panels, four of which Mayer donated to the chapter of Regensburg Cathedral in 1788 for repair purposes.61 It is evidently possible then –and this is the crucial point –to position the collecting of stained glass within a longer tradition than has been assumed to date. This type of collecting concentrated, however, on small-scale works, rectangular or round panels that need not necessarily have been installed in the windows of the collection room, but could also be stored in cabinets and fetched out when required for viewing or comparison purposes. In describing in the catalogue of his father’s collections how individual panels of stained glass or works in glass were executed in respect of their optical characteristics –for example, “A duke of Würtemberg, blue, but not rendered in transparent manner”62 – Philipp L. Künast bears witness to an active engagement with the objects. Around the end of the 18th century, it appears to have become normal to install stained glass in moveable casements. The panels that were purchased in 1791 from the Welser Collection in Nuremberg for the collections of the dukes of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg, arrived in Gotha in 58 For a summary, see Gast, “Glasmalerei- Sammlungen”, pp. 23–24. 59 Baader, Reisen, vol. 1, pp. 93–100. 60 Baader, Reisen, vol. 2, pp. 438–41. On the whereabouts of the collections, as far as they are known, see Gruber, “Andreas Ulrich Mayer (1732–1802)”, pp. 146–48; the stained glass is not mentioned. 61 Hubel, “Die Glasmalereien des Regensburger Domes”, pp. 501, 506, fig. 12. 62 Künast, Verzeichnuß, n.p.: “Ein Hertzog von Würtenberg blau / aber nicht durchsichtig nochgefast”.
The Beginnings of Stained-Glass Collecting in Germany
eight casements,63 and Hans A. von Derschau in Nuremberg had all his stained glass installed in moveable casements, which, according to the 1825 auction catalogue were mounted “behind [i.e., on the inside of] the actual windows”, in order to “prevent the sun’s ray from striking them too sharply”.64 One could imagine that a similar solution was adopted for the rich collection of the spiritual advisor and Regensburg court chaplain Andreas U. Mayer, but, as has been mentioned, his collections have not yet been sufficiently researched for us to obtain an impression of the spaces involved and the ways in which the objects were presented. One characteristic common to all the collections just mentioned, which were largely universal in intended scope, is the incorporation of stained glass into a context designed to illustrate the diversity of the world.65 Until well into the 18th century, these pieces served as exempla of artistic production in the medium of glass. A certain degree of specialization however stands out in the collecting activities of Balthasar L. Künast in Strasbourg, geared as they mainly were towards the immediate locality and region. This certainly allows one to assume that Künast intended that sculpture, painting, stained glass, and graphic works were to be placed in relation to one another. With late 18th-century collectors such as Matthias J.A. Steiner and Andreas U. Mayer, we have yet to establish whether their collecting activities had a broad base, although the enormously high numbers of collected objects in individual sections of the collections –mainly true of Mayer –speak to particular preferences, for example in collecting stained glass. As a result we have in the late 18th century a situation where, although collections with stained glass were not a novelty, from c.1780, the stained-glass sections of collections were evolving in an erratic manner, and the first (neo-Gothic) buildings intended to house collections of stained glass were also being built. The reasons for this phenomenon were manifold. Over the course of the 18th century, a radically new understanding of the past had developed. The concept of the “Middle Ages”, as denoting a period of history in its own right, was ushered in,66 and scholars working from sources and monuments began systematically to research and assess the histories of their own states and territories.67 It was in such circumstances 63 64 65 66 67
Mock, “Gotha, Schlossmuseum”, p. 166. Verzeichniss der seltenen Kunst-Sammlungen (…) Derschau, p. 24. On this in general, see MacGregor, Curiosity and Enlightenment, pp. 11–69, and Thamer, Kunst sammeln, pp. 48–59. Linnebach, “Johann Christoph Gatterer und Rudolf Erich Raspe”, pp. 110–12. Maurer, “Historiographie und historisches Denken”.
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that the scholar Rudolf E. Raspe (1736–94) –keeper from 1767 of the collections in the Kunsthaus in Kassel, and also the professor of antiquities at the Collegium Carolinum there –was able in 1768 to propose to his master, Landgrave Friedrich ii, the establishment of a “Gothic, or old German cabinet of antiquities” covering the period from Charlemagne to Albrecht Dürer.68 Raspe’s most remarkable vision was, among other things, to display the pieces collected in a setting like a wall “painted with Gothic architecture en detrempe”. Even though this was not realized, in the history of ideas it was an important step in the uptake and display of medieval art in museums.69 Only a few years later, in 1772, the young Johann W. Goethe published his essay “Von Deutscher Baukunst”, which initially received critical reviews, but which over time came to exercise a considerable influence on the assessment of Gothic architecture.70 Shortly after this, in 1773, Gotthold E. Lessing’s essay on the written tradition concerning the coloured glazing formerly in the cloister of the Benedictine monastery at Hirsau, was published.71 As noted above, the German translation of Pierre Le Vieil’s 1774 tract “L’art de la peinture sur verre et de la vitre rie”, published as early as 1779–80, was dedicated to Paul C. Welser, who has already been mentioned more than once, who was an “admirer of this art considered forgotten” and a “connoisseur of the same”.72 All of this necessitated a new view of medieval stained glass as both an historical document and as a monument of art, yet at the same time the Age of Enlightenment’s desideratum for light threatened the retention of medieval glass in churches.73 Not everywhere was as advanced as Kassel, where, in 1780, Landgrave Friedrich ii enacted a “regulation concerning the preservation of the monuments and antiquities in the state”.74 This did not preclude the possibility that specific objects might be disposed of, as is attested by plans in conformance with it for the sale of the windows from the parish church at 68
For a detailed account of this, see Linnebach, “Gotik im Museum der Aufklärung”. The reference in Gast, “Glasmalerei- Sammlungen”, p. 25, that the cabinet should be established in the Museum Fridericianum is incorrect. 69 Brückle, “Mittelalter als Prüfstein”, pp. 151–52. 70 On the reception and influence of this text, see most recently Valk, “Goethes Gotik”. 71 Lessing, “Ehemalige Fenstergemälde im Kloster Hirschau”. 72 Harrepeter in his dedication to Welser, in Le Vieil, Die Kunst auf Glas zu malen, vol. 1, n.p. 73 Hüsgen, Nachrichten, pp. 287–88. Hüsgen decried “the unfortunate fate of most fired coloured-glass panels (…) amidst the tumult of these enlightened times”; much old stained glass in churches would be “got rid off” “under the negligible pretext of obtaining more light”. 74 Dolff-Bonekämper, Die Entdeckung des Mittelalters, pp. 42–47.
412 Gast Dagobertshausen to the museum in Kassel (in 1781 and 1784).75 Even before the secularization of 1803 there were instances of individual monasteries being suppressed; the area most affected in Germany was Outer Austria, and an example is Freiburg im Breisgau, where the charterhouse mentioned above was dissolved as part of the Josephinist Church reforms (1782).76 The degree to which a genuine market for stained glass grew during these years has not yet been investigated. Commercial endeavours were certainly not instigated to the same extent as is found with the trade in stained glass in England, for example,77 though individual batches of stained glass had demonstrably already entered the art market in the 1780s and 1790s.78 Furthermore, there must have been an increasing trade in stained glass before 1800 in a city such as Nuremberg.79 After secularization, Cologne developed into far and away the most significant centre for trade in stained glass.80 The collecting of stained glass from c.1780 onwards must be considered in the context of the situation roughly sketched above. In addition, there is the model of English ensembles of stained glass, though this concerns less collecting per se than the preservation and display of collected objects. Earlier than continental Europe, there were churches in England with reused panels and fragment panels; an example is the attractive east window of the parish church of St. Mary in Denton (Norfolk) of c.1717.81 There were also men with antiquarian interests, such as the clergyman William Stukeley (1687–1765) in Stamford (Lincolnshire), who protested against the destruction of old stained glass, and who emerge as collectors.82 There were likewise country estates with extensive, richly accoutred gardens, and gothicizing buildings furnished with stained glass, the most prominent of which is Horace Walpole’s country estate at Strawberry Hill (1747–76) in Twickenham near London.83
In Germany there are several demonstrable instances of English-style gardens and country houses, together with the staging of collections of stained glass found in them, being used as exemplars. The best known of these is undoubtedly the Gotische Haus in Wörlitz, which Prince Leopold iii Friedrich Franz von Anhalt-Dessau (1740–1817), known as Prince Franz, had built in an extensive landscape garden in a secluded part of the family domain.84 While the castle, constructed in the period 1766–73, served as the prince’s prestigious primary residence,85 the Gotische Haus –the nucleus of which was constructed in 1773–74, and which was extended several times (in 1780–81, 1785–86, 1789, and 1811–13) –served partly as the court gardener’s home, and partly as the prince’s private retreat.86 It was probably not intended from the start to be furnished with stained glass. Before 1773–74, Prince Franz had, however, already undertaken two journeys to England (1763–64 and 1766) in the company of his architect Friedrich W. von Erdmannsdorff,87 with the result that he was personally familiar with the practice of reinstalling historical stained glass.88 Nevertheless, the foundations of the collection of late medieval and early modern stained glass, which encompassed more than 200 pieces, were only laid in 1783,89 and it was in the construction, in 1785–86, of the garden block with its three rooms, each of which featured large windows of several lights (the Rittersaal, the Kriegerische Kabinett, and the Geistliche Kabinett) that enabled what was a rather large body of stained glass to be installed. The annex itself either followed English models in Tudor Gothic style, or recent creations in the same vein.90 The glazing of the window openings with stained glass in a symmetrical arrangement around a central axis was, as Mylène Ruoss and Barbara Giesicke observe, designed to resemble the hangings of pictures in picture
75 Parello, Marburg und Nordhessen, pp. 100, 101, n. 2. 76 Frank, “Das Ende der Freiburger Kartause”. 77 Lafond, “Le commerce des vitraux étrangers anciens en Angleterre”. 78 Stained glass from Germany was auctioned in London as early as 1785, and an auction in 1791 in Frankfurt am Main also included stained glass: Lugt, Répertoire des catalogues de ventes publiques, nos. 3880, 4789. It would be worthwhile investigating this systematically. 79 Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”, p. 236. 80 On this in general, see Wolff- Wintrich, “Kölner Glasmalereisammlungen”. 81 King, “Early collections”, pp. 102–03, fig. 5. 82 Marks, Stained Glass in England, pp. 240– 41; Gast, “Glasmalerei-Sammlungen”, p. 19. 83 For the stained glass at Strawberry Hill, see Eavis and Peover, “Horace Walpole’s painted glass at Strawberry Hill”; and Peover and Rogers, “New light on Strawberry Hill”.
84
On the manifold connections of the estate as a whole to England, see Miller, “Gothic revival und Wörlitz”. 85 Rüffer, Das Schloss in Wörlitz, pp. 139–40, 259–78. 86 For a detailed account of the building history and use of the Gotische Haus, see Ruoss and Giesicke, Wörlitz, vol. 1, pp. 38–56. 87 Ruoss and Giesicke, Wörlitz, vol. 1, pp. 30–32. 88 Ruoss and Giesicke, “Glasgemälde als Bestandteil der altdeutschen Sammlung”, p. 172. 89 For a summary of the collection’s history, see Ruoss and Giesicke, “Die Glasgemälde als Bestandteil der altdeutschen Sammlung”, pp. 172–73, 174. 90 Mylène Ruoss and Barbara Giesicke trace the house’s garden façade back to James Gibbs’ Gothic Temple in the garden at Stowe (Buckinghamshire), and discuss the connection between the Rittersaal, with its central five-light window, and St George’s Chapel in Windsor Castle (Berkshire): Ruoss and Giesicke, Wörlitz, vol. 1, pp. 46–51.
The Beginnings of Stained-Glass Collecting in Germany
galleries.91 Further, the settings for the old panels, designed to be of clear glass (Figure 24.4), were to a certain extent a literal response to the contemporary view, expressed by Johann G. Krünitz in 1777, of how medieval windows might have been better designed, rather than being painted all over.92 Two further examples from the late 18th century and the very end of the century might also be mentioned briefly here. From 1776, Duke Karl E. von Württemberg (1728–93) had an English landscape garden laid out to the south-west of Schloss Hohenheim near Stuttgart with numerous eyecatching examples of decorative buildings set within in the garden, including a little English village with a chapel (1780–81) and a church (c.1785–95) (Figure 24.5).93 Both of these buildings, which are known from views by Viktor W.P. Heideloff (1757–1817),94 were furnished with old stained glass: examples that the duke had assembled from churches in his lands, even though he was not able to make use of all of it.95 Christian C.L. Hirschfeld visited the Hohenheim garden in 1783, and expressed wonderment at this accessible miniature world.96 With regard to the “church in the old Gothic style” (by which he meant the chapel), which vied with antiquarian ruins, he not only praised the fact that it was decorated “with rare windows full of glass-paintings of the best periods for this now-lost art (…) that have been assembled with great care”, he also emphasized that even the tombstones used as flooring and all the sculptural decoration were “really from this time, masterpiece and monument of this time’s art”.97 Hirschfeld’s description suggests a museum-like space that conceptually prefigured Alexandre Lenoir’s period rooms in the Musée des monuments français in Paris, and in Heideloff’s view of the interior of the church, the visitor in fact stands less in reverence and more in astonishment at what is being presented. The chapel was not 91
Ruoss and Giesicke, “Die Glasgemälde als Bestandteil der altdeutschen Sammlung”, p. 174. 92 “Fenster”, in Krünitz, Oeconomische Encyclopädie, vol. 12, pp. 559–607, here p. 561. 93 On the garden estate’s various stages of development, see Wiese, “Zur Ausstattung der Gartengebäude im ‘Englischen Dörfle’ zu Hohenheim”, pp. 30–31. 94 Staatliche Schlösser und Gärten Baden-Württemberg (eds.), Zeugnisse eines Gartentraums: Die Hohenheim- Gouachen, pp. 156–57, no. 23 (entry by M. Kirscht), and pp. 220–21, no. 55 (entry by I. Quandel). The chapel was demolished in 1810 during the reign of King Friedrich i of Württemberg, while the church was relocated to Monrepos and is now a ruin: Peschel, “Die Wiederverwertung der Gartenarchitekturen”. 95 Hess, “ ‘Modespiel’ ”, pp. 241–42. 96 Hirschfeld, Theorie der Gartenkunst, vol. 5, pp. 349–55. 97 Hirschfeld, Theorie der Gartenkunst, vol. 5, p. 350.
413
consecrated, even though a priest’s house was associated with it that was “no less disappointing in its design”.98 In total contrast to Hohenheim was the chapel that Landgrave Wilhelm ix (1743–1821, from 1803 Prince- Elector Wilhelm i von Hessen-Kassel), had built in 1798– 1801 at the Löwenburg in the Wilhelmshöhe Bergpark in Kassel. This was a truly sacral space, destined from the outset to be Wilhelm’s mausoleum.99 Some of the furnishings supplied were old, including medieval stained- glass that Landgrave Wilhelm had assembled from churches and monasteries in Hesse and Lower Saxony in 1798, with a view to them being installed in the castle chapel.100 The glazing was thus less a collection in the museological sense, but rather a hastily assembled mixed lot of panels. Installed in the two-light window openings of the choir, these panels were primarily intended to lend the space the appearance of great age. It is perfectly possible that they would have had a further resonance as a display of national antiquities.101 In view of the uncertain political conditions around 1800 however, the weightier issue may have been a programmatic intention to stage the Löwenburg as the fictive ancestral seat of the landgraves of Kassel, thereby legitimating their dynastic rule.102 What the Gotische Haus in Wörlitz, the short-lived buildings at Hohenheim, and the chapel of the Löwenburg at Wilhelmshöhe in Kassel all have in common is that the collections of stained glass housed in each of them were used for the permanent furnishing of the buildings. As such they are, on the one hand, extant, or at least visually documented ensembles that are exceptionally well suited for investigating staging practices and programmatic intentions for collecting, as has been undertaken very recently by Wolfgang Brückle and Daniel Hess.103 On the other hand, precisely because these collections survive or have come down to us in some form, they mislead us into overestimating their significance 98 Hirschfeld, Theorie der Gartenkunst, vol. 5, p. 350. On Lenoir, see Shepard, Ch. 25 in this volume. 99 On the building history, see Dötsch, Löwenburg, vol. 1, pp. 24. See further Schuchard, “Die Löwenburg als Grablege”. 100 The stained glass was removed long ago and is still awaiting reinstallation in the chapel. Dötsch illustrates the glazing scheme as it was previously: Dötsch, Löwenburg, vol. 2, fig. 57, ii. On the extant material, see Parello, Marburg und Nordhessen, pp. 280–83. 101 Brückle, “Mittelalter als Prüfstein”, pp. 165–66. 102 On this, see most recently Brunckhorst, “Löwenburg”, pp. 22– 24, 28–30; on the stained glass, see Hess, “Early stained glass collections”, p. 15. 103 Brückle, “Mittelalter als Prüfstein”, pp. 163–65 (Wörlitz), 165– 66 (Kassel, Wilhelmshöhe); Hess, “Early stained glass collections”, pp. 10, 12 (Wörlitz), 15 (Kassel, Wilhelmshöhe).
414 Gast in relation to the numerous collections of stained glass that are now lost, little known, or completely unknown. It would be erroneous to assign the traits characteristic of collections in neo-Gothic buildings outlined by Hess, either rightly or wrongly, to all collections of c.1800. There is already evidence in the stained-glass collection of Count Franz i zu Erbach-Erbach (1754–1823) in the Rittersaal of the now depleted castle at Erbach, that for collectors of the period around 1800, collecting was not just an opportunity to generate a Romantic atmosphere and demonstrate their respective claims to dynastically legitimated sovereignty. While both of these things undoubtedly played a role at Erbach,104 here –especially here –the scientific aspect of collection should not be underestimated.105 Count Franz had assembled his collection of medieval and early modern stained glass between the 1790s and 1806–07 at the latest.106 Around 1804–05, he backed away from the plan he had conceived initially of erecting a chapel in his English garden at Eulbach, and decided to incorporate a Rittersaal in gothicizing guise into the already existing nucleus of the castle building at Erbach (dating to 1736). He housed his stained-glass collection in this hall (finished c.1806– 07), with its eight tall, two-light traceried windows, and a vault executed in wood with a heraldic scheme (Figure 24.6). The four windows in the corners were filled with older cycles, such as those from Altenburg an der Lahn and Wimpfen am Berg, and later cycles and individual panels occupied the four middle windows, indicating that these were intended to be seen as qualitatively superior. Count Franz described the Rittersaal, in which he also displayed armour and weapons, in a manuscript catalogue, which also appeared in printed form in 1808.107 In it, invoking the principle of contrast, he endeavoured, in convoluted manner, to establish an explanation as to why he had mixed together objects from arsenals and stained glass from churches. His justification touches on questions of modes of display appropriate for medieval art, which had been a burning issue for the Musée des monuments français in Paris mentioned above, opened in 1795.108 It is possible that Count Franz was familiar 1 04 Hess, “Early stained glass collections”, pp. 9, 16, 19. 105 Hess supposes him to be of rather lesser importance; Hess, “Early stained glass collections”, p. 19. 106 On the Erbach Collection, see Gast, Oppenheim, Rhein- und Südhessen, pp. 109–37. See further primarily Glüber, “Rittersaal”. 107 On the 1805 manuscript catalogue, see Gast, Oppenheim, Rhein-und Südhessen, pp. 497–504, no. 16. See also von Erbach-Erbach, Kurze Beschreibung des Rittersaales in dem Schlosse zu Erbach im Odenwalde. 108 Brückle, “Mittelalterliche Werke”, pp. 20– 21; Brückle, “Mittelalter als Prüfstein”, p. 156.
with the museum, and even probable that his court painter and private secretary, Christian W.K. Kehrer (1770–1869), was. In 1803, Kehrer had spent a short time in Paris and contributed to the manuscript catalogue a “Short History of Old Glass-Painting” compiled from Le Vieil’s 1774 tract, but adapted to the Erbach collection.109 In 1815, Friedrich von Matthisson, mentioned at the start of this chapter, in passing also makes us understand that the Paris museum was a benchmark, writing as he does that in the construction of the Rittersaal, “as on the premises of the Musée des monuments français in Paris, the characteristic traits of several centuries had to be brought together”.110 Considering the many interests earnestly pursued by Count Franz –among other things, he also collected antiquities and coins, and busied himself as an excavator and researcher of antiquity in the Odenwald –he created at Erbach what was probably the first collection of stained glass in which aspects of family history, conservational aspirations, and a scholarly historical interest in the objects themselves came together. At the same time, Count Franz the collector also profited from the political and social upheavals of the period around 1800. The secularization of the churches and monasteries in 1803 made it possible for him to access art in the possession of churches, and he availed himself of the situation straightaway to purchase the cycles of medieval stained glass from Altenberg an der Lahn and Wimpfen am Berg. In 1803, Landgrave Ludwig x von Hessen-Darmstadt (from 1806 Archduke Ludewig I von Hessen und bei Rhein (1753–1830)), also acquired stained glass for the collections in his residence in Darmstadt for the first time, and many further acquisitions are supposed to have followed up until 1820, when he founded the Großherzogliche Museum in Darmstadt.111 This overview of the beginnings of stained-glass collecting can be brought to a close with this brief comment on the start of its institutional consolidation. When considering collecting as a phenomenon, the period around 1800 does not constitute a clear break, but the increasing numbers of collections made after 1800 –assembled as they were under different collecting conditions, arising from the Reichsdeputationshauptschluss or Principle Decree of the Imperial Deputation and secularization – possess a new character. However, this development would not be possible within the present framework and will have to remain a task for future research.
1 09 Gast, Oppenheim, Rhein-und Südhessen, p. 114, n. 20. 110 Von Matthisson, “Tafeln am Wege”, p. 77. 111 Gast, Oppenheim, Rhein-und Südhessen, p. 94.
The Beginnings of Stained-Glass Collecting in Germany
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The Beginnings of Stained-Glass Collecting in Germany Pfeiffer, G.J. and Fitz, E., “Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Kunstgewerbemuseum”, in U. Bednarz, E. Fitz, F. Martin, M.L. Mock, G.J. Pfeiffer, M. Voigt, and P. Knüvener (eds.), Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Berlin und Branden burg (cvma Deutschland, 22.1), Berlin, 2010, pp. 172–300. Pomian, K., Collectionneurs, amateurs et curieux. Paris, Venise: XVIe-XVIIIe siècle, Paris, 1987. Parello, D., Collectors and Curiosities: Paris and Venice, 1500–1800, Cambridge, 1990. Raguin, V.C., “Revivals, revivalists, and architectural stained glass”, Journal of Architectural Historians 49 (1990), 310–29. Rathke, U., Preußische Burgenromantik am Rhein: Studien zum Wiederaufbau von Rheinstein, Stolzenfels und Sooneck (1823–1860) (Studien zur Kunst des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts, 42), Munich, 1979. Rott, H., “Straßburger Kunstkammern im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert”, Zeitschrift für die Geschichte des Oberrheins, New Series, 44 (1931), 1–46. Rüffer, M., Das Schloss in Wörlitz: Ein fürstliches Landhaus im Spannungsfeld zwischen Absolutismus und Aufklärung (Forschungen zum Gartenreich Dessau-Wörlitz, 2), M unich, 2005. Ruoss, M. and Giesicke, B., Die Glasgemälde im Gotischen Haus zu Wörlitz, 2 vols., Berlin, 2012. Ruoss, M. and Giesicke, B., “Die Glasgemälde als Bestandteil der altdeutschen Sammlung im Gotischen Haus zu Wörlitz”, in Savelsberg and Pfeifer (eds.), Cranach im Gotischen Haus in Wörlitz, pp. 171–78. Savelsberg, W.H. and Pfeifer, I. (eds.), Cranach im Gotischen Haus in Wörlitz (Kataloge und Schriften der Kulturstiftung DessauWörlitz, 35), Munich, 2015. Schmieder, L., Das Benediktinerkloster St. Blasien: Eine bauge schichtliche Studie, Augsburg, 1929. Scholz, H., Die mittelalterlichen Glasmalereien in Mittelfran ken und Nürnberg extra muros (cvma Deutschland 10.1), 2 vols., Berlin, 2002. Schuchard, J., “Die Löwenburg als Grablege”, in B. Küster (ed.), Die Löwenburg: Mythos und Geschichte (Kataloge der Museumslandschaft Hessen Kassel, 50), Petersberg, 2012, pp. 108–21.
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Shepard, M.B., “Memory and ‘Belles Verrières’ ”, in C. Hourihane (ed.), Romanesque Art and Thought in the Twelfth Cen tury: Essays in Honor of Walter Cahn (The Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers, 10), Princeton, 2008, pp. 291–302. Staatliche Schlösser und Gärten Baden-Württemberg (eds.), Zeugnisse eines Gartentraums: Die Hohenheim-Gouachen aus dem Besitz Herzog Carl Eugens von Württemberg, Regensburg, 2016. Térey, von G., “Eine Kunstkammer des 17. Jahrhunderts”, Re pertorium für Kunstwissenschaft 19 (1896), 31–35. Thamer, H.-U., Kunst sammeln: Eine Geschichte von Leiden schaft und Macht, Darmstadt, 2015. Vaassen, E., Bilder auf Glas: Glasgemälde zwischen 1780 und 1870 (Kunstwissenschaftliche Studien, 70), Munich, 1997. Valk, T., “Goethes Gotik: Zur nationalpatriotischen Funktio nalisierung eines historischen Baustils um 1800”, in Savelsberg and Pfeifer (eds.), Cranach im Gotischen Haus in Wörlitz, pp. 248–61. Verzeichniss der seltenen Kunst-Sammlungen (…) des dahier verstorbenen Königlich- Preusischen Hauptmanns Herrn Hans Albrecht von Derschau, Nuremberg, 1825. Vilarigues, M. and Martinho, B.A. (eds.), Collecting through Connections: Glass and Stained-Glass Collectors and their Networks in the 19th Century (Revista de História da Arte, Série W, 03), Lisbon, 2015. Walz, M., “Museumsrelevante Phänomene im Alten Reich”, in id. (ed.), Handbuch Museum: Geschichte, Aufgaben, Pers pektiven, Stuttgart, 2016, pp. 40–47. Wiese, W., “ ‘Eine Bank bey einer Einsiedelei und ein Stuhl dazu von Birkenstämmen’: zur Ausstattung der Gartengebäude im ‘Englischen Dörfle’ zu Hohenheim”, in Staatliche Schlösser und Gärten Baden-Württemberg (eds.) Zeugnisse eines Gartentraums, pp. 29–45. Wolff- Wintrich, B., “Kölner Glasmalereisammlungen des 19. Jahrhunderts”, in H. Kier and F.G. Zehnder (eds.), Lust und Verlust: Kölner Sammler zwischen Trikolore und Preußenadler, Cologne, 1995, pp. 341–54.
c hapter 25
Out of Context: Portraits of Private Collectors and Their Medieval Stained Glass Mary B. Shepard Medieval stained glass is inherently an architectural art form; it defines space through translucent boundaries. Indeed, the stained-glass window is a defining quality of Gothic architecture. Painted masonry, like that recently reconstituted at the cathedral of Chartres, would have formed a harmonious balance with the colored window.1 Albeit controversial, the painted stonework of Chartres demonstrates how Gothic walls were conceived of as an integrated whole, not as a series of separate components arranged in conjunction with one another. Medieval makers of stained glass never originally envisaged this monumental art form to function as independent works. Each panel played a role in a finely orchestrated composition, harnessing natural sunlight to reveal a luminous narrative or emblematic figure. As an ensemble of images, the window originally was conceived to be consumed in sequences, either narratologically or within broader programmatic meanings within a sacred space. Nor were stained-glass panels intended to be portable objects like prayer beads, mirrors, ivory boxes, or books that could be exchanged between individual owners. When glazed windows were disassembled –due to changes in taste, secularization, war, or disuse –individual panels became discrete commodities. As such, they could be swapped, sold, and collected. Path-breaking articles by Bernard Rackham (1927–28) and Jean Lafond (1964) brought attention to the history of collecting stained glass, particularly as it could aid in establishing provenance of dislocated panels.2 Louis Grodecki’s discussion of the dispersal of stained glass from Saint-Denis (1976) further developed our understanding of patterns of acquisition in the years following the French Revolution.3 Jane Hayward, a founding member of the American Committee of the Corpus Vitrearum in 1958, was a pioneer in her own right, given that none of the stained-glass panels she set out to catalogue were indigenous to the United States. Together with Madeline Harrison Caviness, she authored landmark introductions 1 For the architectural context, see Shortell, Ch. 7 in this volume; for Chartres Cathedral, see Lautier, Ch. 4 in this volume. 2 Rackham, “English importations”, pp. 86–94; Lafond, “Traffic in old stained glass”, pp. 58–67. 3 Grodecki, Les vitraux de Saint-Denis.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_032
to the US Checklist series (in 1985, 1987, and 1989) that formulated both a framework and a methodology, now standard, for studying collecting patterns in the United States.4 Subsequently, Caviness’ important article, “Learning from Forest Lawn” (1994), looked to synthesize collecting patterns in the United States.5 The fruits of this work informed a special issue of Gesta, dedicated to the theme of displaced stained glass, and published in memory of Hayward.6 Similarly, American Corpus Vitrearum volumes open with an introduction to the history of the respective museum collections under discussion.7 More recently, theses written under Sarah Brown and Tim Ayers at the University of York have further expanded our understanding of collecting in Britain.8 Anthologies focused on individual collectors and institutions have also seen print.9 There was no one single motivation that drove the collecting of medieval and early modern stained glass, yet, its acquisition was never accidental or inconsequential. Once stained glass was divorced from its architectural context, individual panels became objects that could be coveted with the same passion and attention as paintings, sculptures, and decorative arts. However, the acquisition of stained glass was also predicated upon
4 Caviness et al., Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collec tions: New England and New York States, pp. 10–19; Caviness et al., Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collections: Mid-Atlantic and Southeastern Seaboard States, pp. 9–21; Caviness and Cothren, Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collections: Midwestern and Western States, pp. 11–35. Timothy Husband was responsible for Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collections: Silver-Stained Roundels and Unipartite Panels, which focused on such panels. 5 Caviness, “Learning from Forest Lawn”. 6 Cothren and Shepard, “Essays”. 7 To date, four volumes have been published: Hayward, Medie val Stained Glass in The Metropolitan Museum; Lillich, Upstate New York; Burnam, Philadelphia Museum of Art; Raguin, Zakin, and Pastan, Midwest States. Collecting histories are also critical to the work of the Canadian Committee of the Corpus Vit rearum: Bugslag and Isler-de Jongh, The Hosmer Collection. 8 For example, Martin, “European trade in stained glass” and Groll, “Transatlantic trade in stained glass 1900–1950”. 9 Most importantly, Ayers et al., Stained Glass and Histories; and Vilarigues and Martinho (eds.)., “Collecting through collections”.
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being able to display it: natural light and windows were required. The challenge of display limited its acquisitors. Organizational systems are at the heart of thinking about this question. Early collecting of medieval stained glass was always intensely personal. Collectors not only made the choice to acquire displaced panels, they installed them to enhance their own living arrangements as well as to trumpet their ideological aspirations. As such, collectors engaged in a form of classification based on idiosyncratic criteria. The very nature of collecting, as John Elsner and Roger Cardinal have observed, “is classification lived, experienced in three dimensions”.10 As we will see, these collections came to materially exemplify collectors’ values and self-conscious identities. The staging of displaced stained glass was also a recontextualization; meanings applied by collectors were fluid. The shifting patterns of display for stained glass demonstrate how, once separated from its original context and dissociated from its original function, a panel of stained glass became open to new interpretations.11 By and large, collectors of stained glass thought environmentally about their acquisitions; where and how panels could be situated were often critical factors shaping their purchases. In this way, collectors did not always subscribe to a traditional view of collecting in which individual objects were absorbed into a larger group, bound together by identifiable commonalities. Instead, collectors often chose an affective approach. Dislocated fragments or panels of stained glass, installed in the windows of their homes, garden houses, or chapels, could create unique “lieux de mémoire” in the sense that Pierre Nora argues for constructed environments of memory.12 Thus, this is an essay about the nature of collecting. It is not a tally of collectors’ acquisitions and dates of purchase, nor does it systematically categorize collecting patterns in different countries.13 Rather, this discussion uses case studies to probe the underlying intentions of individuals who acquired medieval stained glass, and to analyze how they displayed their panels. The point is to expand the way we think about collecting stained glass, especially to gauge how dislocated medieval glass functioned as reflections of their owners’ identity. Following a roughly chronological approach, this examination focuses on collecting in Britain, France, and the United States.14 The story begins in 18th-century 10 11 12 13 14
Elsner and Cardinal, Cultures of Collecting, p. 2. Baudrillard, “System of collecting”, p. 8. Nora, “Lieux de mémoire”. For a more comprehensive approach, see Shepard, “Collections, museums, and exhibitions”. Uwe Gast covers German collectors and Timothy Husband considers the collecting of roundels in Ch. 24 and Ch. 19 in this volume.
England, with the rampant defenestration intended to bring more light into church interiors. Secularization –a consequence of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars –brought continental stained glass onto the market; 19th-century English collectors changed course and avidly availed themselves of panels. French collectors in the 19th century never adopted the exuberance of the British, but they certainly were more idiosyncratic in their approach. At the turn of the 20th century, American collectors seemed to vacuum up anything old, particularly from Europe, including medieval stained glass. For some collectors, satisfaction was found in the proverbial chase and capture. For others, like Henry C. Lawrence, whose installations are published here for the first time, their purchases demonstrated a new-found appreciation of medieval stained glass as works of art. The advent of institutional collecting ends this discussion. How did, then, these collections of early stained glass “reflect (their owners) like a mirror”?15 1
Beyond Antiquarianism: Preservation
There is a joyous sense of discovery in the writings of the “Revd and Learned” William Stukeley (1687–1765), who was also a doctor, admirer of the Gothick, and a devoted antiquarian. Every fossil, Roman coin, and ancient sword recovered from a building site, retrieved from a garbage heap, or pulled out of a riverbed, was recorded in Stukeley’s diary with delight. When it came to medieval stained-glass windows, Stukeley was also a nascent preservationist. His diary teems with biting condemnation for glaziers who removed medieval windows for personal gain.16 In 1737, Stukeley commented on a local minister who took out the stained-glass windows in his church to avoid having to wear glasses. Incredulously, Stukeley reported that the clear glass let in “too much light” and a curtain was installed to shield the minister’s eyes.17 While Stukeley clearly faulted such vanity and ignorance, he saved his most strident condemnation for “the wicked glaziers” who removed stained-glass windows to make money from “their own pernicious work.”18 As David King has astutely observed, trade in medieval stained glass was incumbent upon two factors: “motive and availability.”19 In the early 18th century, it would 15 Baudrillard, “System of collecting”, p. 10. 16 Stukeley, Memoirs, vol. 2, p. 325. 17 Stukeley, Memoirs, vol. 2, pp. 325–26. 18 Stukeley, Memoirs, vol. 3, p. 69. 19 King, “Early collections in Norfolk”, p. 97.
420 Shepard appear that availability stoked the fires of motivation. Stukeley’s diary entries are enlightening in their open discussion of how the preference for more natural light, a general lack of appreciation for medieval windows, and the exploitation of this neglect by local tradesmen, coalesced into the widespread removal of medieval glazings from their buildings.20 Yet, Stukeley was not content just to criticize this practice; he purchased salvaged stained glass at every opportunity. From small pieces of stained glass available in shops to “a vast cargo of painted glass”, Stukeley was tenacious in ferreting out recently-orphaned stained glass.21 He recorded numerous instances in Stamford, where he was then living. Stating the common practice of glaziers to break window glass “all in pieces”, Stukeley documented having learned of planned defenestrations or happening upon cartloads of broken glass and purchasing the dislocated glass on the spot.22 While the thrill of the hunt clearly played to Stukeley’s enthusiasm for stained glass, he also incorporated his finds into his personal living spaces; what he did not use, he gave to his friends.23 For example, he mentions the “great quantitys” of salvaged painted glass –including “3 images … in the upper lights of the window next (to) the garden” –that he installed in his house in Stamford.24 His garden structures were favorite receptacles for medieval glazings. The Gothic-style Temple of Flora was described as featuring a “pointed window composed of painted glass, of figures, & coats of arms, inscriptions, etc.”.25 Stukeley’s rough sketch of the temple interior shows a section of this window, with centered individual figures flanked by thick squares of glass to create a border.26 His “Hermitage” –a conglomerate structure composed of medieval bits and pieces –featured a double- lancet stone window rescued from a local demolition site. He duly filled it with stained-glass figures showing saints Simon, Jude, James, and Barnabas.27 Similarly, he glazed his “summer house” with rescued stained-glass
20
This practice was not unique to England; clerestory windows from the cathedral of Chartres were removed in 1750–88 and replaced with clear glass in order to brighten the interior: Pastan and Shepard, “Medallion from Chartres”, p. 15. 21 Stukeley, Memoirs, vol. 1, p. 394, vol. 2, p. 48, vol. 3, p. 55. 22 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 326, 328–29, 339. 23 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 394, vol. 2, p. 326, and vol. 3, p. 281. Four “large box(es) of old stained glass” were sold after his death: Stukeley, Catalogue of Stukeley, p. 6. 24 Stukeley, Memoirs, vol. 2, p. 326. 25 Stukeley, Memoirs, vol. 1, p. 391. See also Smith, “Stukeley in Stamford”, pp. 389, 390, 391. 26 Smith, “Stukeley in Stamford”, p. 391. 27 Smith, “Stukeley in Stamford”, p. 385.
figures, most notably one made “in the 21st year of Richard ii”.28 Stukeley was not discriminating in his choices of stained glass. Nor was he interested in any kind of historical reconstitution. He availed himself of its availability, no matter how much he condemned the manner in which it had become dislocated. Certainly Stukeley was not unique at the time. Clive Wainwright has itemized similar 18th-century accounts of stained glass offered in shops or from glaziers.29 For Stukeley, the preservationist, saving old stained-glass in danger of being lost was important. The figures installed in his house and outbuildings were a physical manifestation of his passion for the past. But, these fragments also testified on behalf of Stukeley as their rescuer and protector. 2 Ambiance If the architect, Sir John Soane (1753–1837) matched William Stukeley’s enthusiasm for acquiring “ancient stained glass”, he also deviated from Stukeley’s approach. Whereas Stukeley’s collection was primarily rescued from local demolition projects (and thus, was English in origin), Soane appears to have purchased his glass at auction.30 Soane favored foreign glass, primarily displaced panels from German and Dutch-speaking countries.31 Soane and Stukeley were also dissimilar in their approach to display. The latter used stained glass to evoke a romanticized past that had never existed; Soane, on the other hand, saw stained glass as a specimen like the works of art, plaster casts, shells, fossils, and fungi that filled every nook and cranny of his extended London home. But it was more. Soane used stained glass to define boundaries of his domestic spaces. His goal was to create an evocative ambiance with light and color. Helen Dorey and Michael Peover have shown how Soane’s picturesque sensibility was inspired by Romanticism and its intent to “evoke a mood”.32 In this way, Soane’s approach was overwhelmingly artistic, not so much antiquarian. Panels of stained glass were purchased for their relatively small size, geometric shapes, and rich palette. Such 28 Stukeley, Memoirs, vol. 2, p. 331. See also Smith, “Stukeley in Stamford”, p. 385. 29 Wainwright, Romantic Interior, p. 66. 30 Dorey, “Soane’s use of stained glass”, p. 30. 31 Peover, “Catalogue of stained glass”. 32 Soane, Description, p. 4. See also Dorey, “Soane’s use of stained glass”, and Peover, “Stained Glass”, in “The Stained Glass Collection of Sir John Soane’s Museum”, special issue of The Journal of Stained Glass.
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panels could, then, be easily arranged into patterned installations in windows throughout his house. Being able to see out of the windows into vistas in the inner courtyards was also critical. For example, in describing the north end of the Library and Dining Room, Soane makes a rare comment on the iconography of the panels installed in the window: “Scriptural subjects on glass among which are the Creation of the World, and the Day of Judgment. These works are very ancient, and in excellent preservation”. He immediately directs the reader’s attention to the view outside the window from which an “assemblage of ancient and modern art”, including a “frieze of Grecian sculpture”, could be “seen to great advantage”.33 The stained-glass window in the “Monk’s Parlour” (Figure 25.1) is the only window known to retain its original glazing.34 Soane organized the window into double pointed lancets filled symmetrically with five rows of two panels each. Rectangular panels mirrored rectangular panels, roundels without borders were grouped horizontally; roundels with borders followed underneath. Springline panels filled the bottom two registers. Contemporary blue fill either framed the panels to make full rectangles/ squares or stopped just before the springline arch, thereby emphasizing the panels’ rectangular/square appearance. The lancets themselves were demarcated by contemporary flashed ruby glass with prominent acid-etched pearling and golden disks at the junctures. This kind of staging was not unlike the glazings created by Horace Walpole at Strawberry Hill, the Gothic House at Wörlitz, or, as Elizabeth Bradford Smith has suggested, perhaps unrealized by William Poyntell in Philadelphia. 35 Soane’s approach, combining old and new glass, was ordered and decorative. The panels’ value, in his estimation, did not so much reside in their subject matter (or even in their age) but in how they were “suited” to each room and could convey the ambiance he sought to create.36 The painted enamel technique of the late medieval and early modern panels he favored brilliantly delivered this kind of dramatic effect.
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Faith of Our Fathers
33 Soane, Description, pp. 7–8. 34 After Soane’s death, the stained glass was counted as “fittings and fixtures”, not as works of art, and were rearranged. Thus, it is impossible to know if panels are currently installed as Soane had intended. However, a contemporary watercolor of the Monk’s Parlour Window has allowed curators to reconstitute the window at it originally appeared: Dorey, “Soane’s use of stained glass”, pp. 30, 17–19. 35 For Horace Walpole, see Eavis and Peover, “Horace Walpole’s painted glass”. For Wörlitz, see Hess, “Motifs and functions of early collections,” p. 10, fig. 2. Poyntell likely intended his three panels from the Sainte-Chapelle for a “Gothic-style library”: Smith, “Poyntell and the Sainte-Chapelle medallions”. 36 Soane, Description, p. 26.
37 King, “Early collections in Norfolk”, pp. 102–04. 38 “Quibus tota hæc fenestra multicolor conficeretur”, quoted in Blomefield, Topographical History of Norfolk, vol. 5: http:// www.british-history.ac.uk/topographical-hist-norfolk/vol5/ pp405-416 (last accessed 6 August 2017). 39 King, “Early collections in Norfolk”, p. 102. 40 The heraldry is blazoned in Blomefield, Topographical History of Norfolk, vol. 5: http://www.british-history.ac.uk/ topographical-hist-norfolk/vol5/pp405-416 (last accessed 6 August 2017). 41 Mortlock and Roberts, Guide to Norfolk Churches, p. 76; King, “Early collections in Norfolk”, pp. 102–03. 42 King, “Early collections in Norfolk”, pp. 102–03. 43 Eavis, “Windows of Milton Manor chapel”, pp. 83–96.
British collectors not only embellished their homes, but endowed churches and private chapels –both old and newly built –with medieval stained glass. For example, David King has discussed the parish church of St. Mary in Denton (Norfolk), which dates largely from the 14th through 16th centuries, but whose east chancel window was filled with heterogeneous panels and fragments of stained glass as early as 1717.37 John Postlethwayt (1650– 1713), a graduate of Merton College, Oxford, who funded the glazing of the window, stipulated in his will only that the glass be “multicolore(d)”.38 True to Postlethwayt’s directive, the window is “a glorious kaleidoscope” composed of primarily heraldic devices, dislocated heads, inscriptions, and two exquisite religious roundels depicting St. Christopher and the eagle of St. John the Evangelist.39 Besides these last two works, the glass provided for the church at Denton was not overtly religious, but was primarily heraldic in nature.40 While it may well be that Postlethwayt himself collected the fragments installed in the east window, King has also proposed that Postlethwayt’s instructions –unusual for a time when interest in stained glass was “at an ebb” –might not be all that strange for someone, like Postlethwayt, who studied in Oxford, with its rich survival of medieval glazings and continuous tradition of stained glass.41 King makes the important point that the donor’s stipulation that the archbishops of Canterbury retain the right to name the rector at Denton, and that the candidate be a fellow of Merton College, helps us to understand the ensemble as a visual legacy testifying to Postlethwayt’s education, influence, and connections.42 No less personal, two prominent English Roman Catholic chapels, created before Catholic Emancipation in 1829, embraced the religious iconography of its ancient stained glass. Anna Eavis has recently brought to light the private chapel (1767–72) at Milton Manor House, located outside of Oxford.43 Home to a self-made and
422 Shepard successful merchant, Bryan Barrett, Milton’s chapel was discreetly inset above the ground floor, in a new west wing, unrecognizable from the outside.44 Here, Bryant created an elegant and personal devotional space with 16th-century Netherlandish and 14th-century English stained glass fit into its windows. Barrett appears to have acquired his glass from disparate locations. Records indicate that he owned a “case of painted glass” as early as 1765, but that he also purchased stained glass from the estate of his late brother-in-law, who had spent much of his adult life on the continent. The English glass was obtained from the nearby church of Steventon.45 Eavis significantly observes that Bryant’s use of stained glass was not decorative, like Walpole’s or Soane’s.46 Rather, its sacred iconography informed its placement. The Doubting St. Thomas, which filled one window, and scenes from the life of Julian the Hospitaler in the other, evoked a traditional Roman Catholic program, with testimonies of faith in the nave windows side-by-side with the worshippers. The altar was flanked with images of Christ and his mother, appropriately, as Eavis points out, in the holiest part of the chapel.47 Pre-restoration photographs show that the windows all sported wide, prominent ornamental borders with geometric and floral patterns.48 In medieval fashion, the glazings were self-contained; there were no vistas through the window, like the one described by Soane. This inward directionality emphasized the private devotional nature of the chapel, as well as confirming and celebrating the Roman Catholic identity of its owner. In contrast, public awareness was very much on the mind of the Jerningham family of Norfolk, who, in 1809, created a freestanding Roman Catholic chapel in the style of the chapel at Kings College, Cambridge.49 Located at their seat at Costessey, adjacent to their Tudor manor house, the chapel was large, detached from the manor house, and sumptuously appointed. Its 22 windows were fully glazed with old continental and English stained glass. The Jerninghams were leaders in advancing the cause of Roman Catholic emancipation, and their chapel was a public declaration of their Roman Catholic identity. In this case, medieval stained glass conspicuously testified to the family’s religious constancy; the hemicycle, in particular, was consciously glazed with panels referencing the Roman Catholic rite of communion. The axial window contained the Communion of St. John, 44 Ibid., pp. 83, 95. 45 Ibid., pp. 94–95. 46 Ibid., p. 87. 47 Ibid., pp. 87, 89, 91. 48 Ibid., pp. 87–89. 49 Shepard, “Costessey and its medieval glazing”, and Martin “European trade in stained glass”, pp. 218–19.
supported by a small 17th-century panel showing the Elevation of the Host. Like Bryant’s arrangements, images depicting the life of Christ (in this case, the Passion and Christ’s sacrifice) and images of the Virgin Mary defined the sacred space around the altar.50 As an ensemble, the medieval stained glass at Costessey served as a visual analogue of pedigree: both religious and hereditary. Such an extensive and opulent glazing with medieval and early modern glass was made possible by a flood of continental panels, made newly homeless by the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars.51 Certainly, Roman Catholic collectors like the Jerninghams were not the only ones to take advantage of this sudden access to medieval and early modern stained glass from the continent. The Gothic-style private chapel (1811–31) of Lord Brownlow at Ashridge Park (Hertfordshire), filled with early 16th-century cloister panels from Germany, is a notable such example.52 To the north, Wragby Church was reglazed between 1828–29 with hundreds of panels of Swiss stained glass, ranging in date from between 1514 and 1745.53 Entering into the church at Wragby offers a rare opportunity to experience the effect of an early 19th- century chapel glazed with heterogeneous glass. The interior is completely suffused with animated pattern and jewel-like colors, particularly an intense yellow. Charles Winn purchased the glass through John Brougham, an Edinburgh wine merchant, as part of a broad scheme of improvements at nearby Nostell Priory.54 The glazing at Wragby deserves further research, but it is clear that the general aim was to enrich a family foundation with works of antiquity and preciousness. 4
National Identity
The sudden availability of stained glass removed during the French Revolution allowed Alexandre Lenoir (1761– 1839) to manipulate its meaning to suit his own (often 50 Shepard, “Costessey and its medieval glazing”, pp. 196–203. 51 See Williamson, “Sammlungen deutscher Glasmalereien”, p. 112, esp. n. 3; Martin, “European trade in stained glass”; and King, “Early collections in Norfolk”, p. 106, with further references. 52 The Mariawald and Steinfeld glass, once at Ashridge, was sold at auction in 1928 and is now in the collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. See Wainright, Romantic Interior, pp. 67–68; Williamson, Medieval and Renaissance Stained Glass, pp. 12–13; 150–154; Williamson, “Sammlungen deutscher Glasmalereien”, pp. 113– 15. Martin, “European trade in stained glass” offers a detailed examination of how this glass came to Ashridge. 53 Raikes, “Nostell Priory”, p. 8. 54 Raikes, “Nostell Priory”, p. 8.
423
Out of Context: Portraits of Private Collectors
shifting) interpretations of medieval art. A history painter of mediocre talent, Lenoir was thrust into the position of overseeing the Parisian warehouse, established in 1790, to store works of art seized from ecclesiastical and aristocratic holdings during the Revolution. Under his guidance, it became the Musée de monuments français, the first chronologically organized art museum.55 Each gallery was designed to evoke the spirit of the century depicted; with such a flexible mandate, it is perhaps not surprising that Lenoir chose to ignore historical fact to create a new history for a new France. The deeply saturated colors of the mid-13th-century windows from the Grande Chapelle de la Vierge from the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés installed in his “Gallery of the 13th Century” were interpreted to convey the “air of mysticism” of the Middle Ages: a conventional nod to the Romantic sublime. The “Gallery of the 14th Century”, however, demonstrates how Lenoir manipulated stained glass to serve his larger philosophical ends. Together with sculptures and architectural elements from the 13th, 14th, and 16th centuries, Lenoir installed panels from the 12th-century Tree of Jesse Window and the so-called Griffin Window from Abbot Suger’s ambulatory at Saint-Denis in windows he had opened up to light the room. Because all these objects were now bereft of their original identities, Lenoir could give them new meanings that suited his overarching intention. It was a carefully constructed narrative, intent on proving his theory that the pointed arch came to France with the return of Louis ix and the Crusaders from the Levant. It was an argument –indeed, a history –deeply indebted to his belief in Freemasonry, built not of words, but with artifacts. Calling the glass panels “arabesques”, Lenoir emphasized the repetition of their design as well as the striking interplay of geometric shapes in their compositions, no doubt a pointed reference to the Griffin Windows. His use of Suger’s glass was a conscious choice. It reveals not so much an act of ignorance as the overriding ambition in his installations to portray a decisive aesthetic moment, one of his own invention.
55
These discussions are based on my research on Lenoir’s interpretations of medieval art. Particularly relevant here are: Shepard, “Medieval stained glass and Alexandre Lenoir” and ead., “L’oeuf sacré: Alexandre Lenoir’s cour arabe and the pointed arch”. 56 Emery and Morowitz, Consuming the Past, Chapter 5. 57 Emery, “Bricabracomania”, p. 107. 58 Emery, “Bricabracomania”, pp. 107–09; Emery and Morowitz, Consuming the Past, p. 113. 59 Zola, Catalogue de Zola, pp. 38–39.
5
Accessorizing with Stained Glass
Elizabeth Emery and Laura Morowitz have explored the wide-ranging enthusiasm for medieval art in late 19th- century France, a phenomenon that eagerly embraced the art of stained glass. From publications to cafés to international fairs, to reproduction stained-glass films one could install in the windows of one’s home, stained-glass windows became a broadly familiar genre.56 The idea, however, of collecting medieval stained glass was much more limited. The great French novelist, Émile Zola (1840–1902) acquired medieval stained glass as part of an eclectic personal collection of medieval and medievalizing objects. Renowned for his pursuit of literary realism, with its emphasis on logic and scientific observation, Zola’s enthusiasm for “cathedralish vintage store stuff” perplexed his contemporaries, who described his study as cluttered with bric-à-brac.57 A contemporary drawing (Figure 25.2) shows Asian sculpture and western arms and armor flanking Zola at his writing desk at his country home in Médan, while a window filled with fragments of stained glass (medieval and otherwise) stands sentinel in the center back wall. It gleams resplendently over his head, suggesting a source of both illumination and inspiration. While there was plenty of detritus in Zola’s collection of stained glass, the sale catalogue assembled after his death suggests that his holdings may have also included works of quality.58 Of the 43 panels sold at auction, armorials are listed as well as 15th-century figures of saints standing within canopied frames.59 Perhaps the most tantalizing entry includes 12 16th-century panels from Malestroit in Brittany, depicting the legend of Mary Magdalene, donors, and armorials; Linda Papanicolaou has suggested they may now be at St. David’s School in New York City.60 Emery has shown that despite Zola’s public reputation as an empiricist, he also harbored a personal “compulsion for acquiring objects that would produce dramatic theatrical effects”.61 There was also a clear passion for the material quality of stained glass. For Zola, the fragments and panels he installed were not so much works of art to be individually viewed, but objects employed within an intensely creative environmental construct. On the one hand, the late medieval stained glass owned by Frédéric Spitzer (1815–90) was pictorially more impressive than that assembled by Zola, but similarly, it functioned as an accessory: in this case to enhance the
60
61
For the panels at St. David’s School, see Caviness et al., Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collections: New England and New York States, pp. 190, 204. Personal correspondence with Linda Papanicolaou, in 2003. Emery, “Bricabracomania”, p. 111.
424 Shepard character of Spitzer’s rooms/galleries. Installed in his Parisian townhouse, Spitzer’s vast collection of medieval and early modern objects was open to the public.62 Visitors followed an itinerary that took them through rooms dedicated to particular media: ivories, enamels, glass vessels, jewelry, etc. The sheer volume of objects was overwhelming; photographs evince Edmond Bonnaffée’s declaration that “Spitzer was an incomparable arranger”.63 More than one observer commented on how Spitzer had “scientifically grouped” objects by their mediums, then by school, by nationality, followed by chronology, and finally by technique.64 Taxonomy was made palatable by the “rigorous symmetry” applied to the objects’ display.65 Except for the stained glass. Spitzer owned nine massive stained-glass windows, which were installed in two rooms on opposite ends of his viewing circuit: the Armory and the Study.66 Paola Cordera has suggested that these rooms may well have been specifically planned around accommodating the stained glass in their windows.67 Each room was glazed with late medieval stained glass: German glass from the Carmelite Church at Boppard-am-Rhein in the Armory and three 16th-century French windows with scenes from the Hebrew Bible in the Study.68 At the time, these spaces were described in terms of conjuring an effect for each room; their iconography was ignored. Accordingly, the Boppard glass was noted for its immense size, “guarded by twenty knights in armor”.69 Clearly, such a muscular characterization was intentional, as the windows depicted military saints, with kneeling donors fully clad in suits of plate armor. The grisaille glass in the Study was noted for its “calming and sweet tones” that harmonized with the Renaissance marbles, goldsmith work, tapestries, and ceramics on view.70 It was here that Spitzer liked to relax with visitors.71 The Study was intended as a place to reflect upon their experience at the Musée Spitzer and to marvel at its vast collection. Stained glass, in Spitzer’s hands, was theatre; it was meant to reinforce the overall gestalt of each gallery. The problem with collecting stained glass, admitted Émile Molinier (1857–1906) –curator at the Louvre and author of the section on stained glass for the catalogue 62 See Cordera, Spitzer. 63 Bonnaffée, Musée Spitzer, p. 20. 64 Letellier, “Medieval and Renaissance art in Paris”, p. 302. 65 Bonnaffée, Musée Spitzer, p. 21. 66 For the floorplan: Cordera, Spitzer, p. 152. 67 Cordera, “Glass in Spitzer’s collection”, p. 101. 68 Molinier, “Les vitraux”, pp. 123– 26; Cordera, Spitzer, pp. 280–81. 69 Bonnaffée, Le Musée Spitzer, p. 18. 70 Molinier, “Les vitraux”, p. 114. 71 Cordera, “Glass in Spitzer’s collection”, p. 103.
of Spitzer’s collection –was that it was “cumbersome”.72 First of all, he complained, “one doesn’t know where to put it”. For Molinier, the problem with collecting stained glass was two-pronged. On the one hand, the suppression of light in private rooms of a house created an unwelcome gloomy environment. Moreover, recalling the type of criticisms leveled at Zola, he abhorred the huddling together of little “trinkets” within a window. These problems, observed Molinier, had led collectors to “renounce” collecting stained glass except for “accessories” to enhance the style of their decors. Like a doctor explaining a medicine’s odorous side effects, he argued that one must deprive oneself of works from “the most beautiful age of the stained-glass window –the Middle Ages and the Renaissance”, and instead limit one’s purchases to 16th-and 17th- century German and Swiss stained glass, which he considered to be “more suitable to our modern dwellings.”73 6
Appropriating History
Wealthy American collectors were not so much bothered by crepuscular light or concerned about over-crowded windows. Rather, they actively sought out medieval stained glass for its Old World associations. As Anne Higonnet has pointed out, “for many members of America’s intellectual elite, immersion in a recreated European past was their way to find a secure personal and national identity”.74 In this way, the phenomenon of America’s rather sudden awakening to medieval and Renaissance art around the turn of the 20th century, was analogous to Daniel Hess’ description of legacy-building almost a century earlier by Germanic families, through the acquisition and display of stained glass.75 But, it was also part of a design-aesthetic promoted by Charles Joel Duveen (a.k.a., “Charles of London”: a dealer based in New York and son of legendary dealer, Joseph Duveen). His book Old English Interiors, written under a pseudonym, offered a veritable smorgasbord of Old World interior designs that could be adapted to American households. At its core, the “look” Duveen advocated included “carved oak, stained glass, paneled walls, beautiful tapestries and splendid pictures”, recalling Henry James’ description of a venerable European drawing room with its “faded hangings of damask and tapestry”, and “chests and c abinets of carved and time-polished oak”.76 72 Molinier, “Les vitraux”, p. 113. 73 Molinier, “Les vitraux”, p. 113. 74 Higonnet, “Isabella Stewart Gardner”, p. 80. 75 Hess, “Collections around 1800”. 76 Duveen, Old English Interiors, p. 1; James, Portrait of a Lady, p. 198.
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Out of Context: Portraits of Private Collectors
Ambitious Americans embraced this idea of creating homes where (as per James) “habitation (was) practiced as a fine art”.77 Panels of medieval stained glass adorned public rooms, like the living and dining rooms of Metropolitan Museum benefactor George D. Pratt’s mansion on Long Island’s Gold Coast, or the stair hall filled with English armorial glass in Fitz Eugene Dixon and Eleanor Widener Dixon’s home, Ronaele Manor, outside Philadelphia.78 Medieval stained glass was found to be equally adapted to rooms dedicated to modern leisure. Elizabeth Dent has discovered that the 13th-century stained glass from Soissons Cathedral owned by Senator W.A. Clark was installed in the billiard room of his mansion, furnished not unlike the prototype advocated by Duveen.79 In most cases, as Virginia Brilliant has suggested, the aim was not necessarily to amass a world-class art collection, but rather to “embellish a splendid home”.80 The effect was paramount. In some cases, as with Pratt’s collection, the stained-glass panels were of outstanding quality, in other cases, as with George Blumenthal, they were not.81 Yet, this approach to living with medieval stained glass was not universal. Three major American collectors acquired medieval stained glass, but not necessarily with an eye to installing it. While William Randolph Hearst bought prodigiously, Madeline H. Caviness has dispelled any notion of him as a disengaged collector. Not only has she outlined Hearst’s methodical record keeping that accompanied his voracious acquisitioning, but she has demonstrated his preference for late medieval glass, particularly Germanic works.82 Photographs 77 James, Portrait of a Lady, p. 198. 78 On Pratt, see Shepard, “Collecting stained glass”, pp. 28–29. For the Dixon armorial glass, see Burnam, Philadelphia Museum of Art, pp. 48–51. 79 I am grateful to Elizabeth Dent for sharing this discovery; her publication is forthcoming. For the Soissons glass (now in the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.), see Caviness et al., Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collections: Mid- Atlantic and Southeastern Seaboard States, pp. 28–29. For the Old World billiard room “look”, see Duveen, Old English Interiors, p. 32. Dealers in old stained-glass, like Duveen, were a prominent force in shaping taste in the early 20th century. Sir William Burrell, the Glasgow industrialist, relied on fellow Glaswegian, Grosvenor Thomas, his son Roy, and Wilfred Drake: Marks, “Burrell and the formation of his collection”, pp. 215–226; and Groll, “Transatlantic trade in stained glass”. Thomas was particularly influential for the formation of American collections, as Marilyn Beaven has shown: Beaven, “Thomas and the American market”. 80 Brilliant, “Introduction”, p. 294. 81 See Shepard, “Collecting stained glass”, pp. 21, 40 n. 54. 82 Caviness, “Germanophilia of Hearst”, pp. 175–92.
of Hearst’s apartment in New York City show lancets of stained glass installed mostly above eye-level, where they followed in the Spitzer model of providing atmosphere for grand spaces.83 But, as Caviness points out, Hearst purchased an overwhelming number of works in stained glass without necessarily knowing where to install them, with the result that many panels were unceremoniously stored in a Bronx warehouse.84 The initial impetus of Hearst’s contemporary, Raymond Pitcairn, was to study medieval stained glass so his glaziers could emulate its color and fabric for the glazing of the cathedral of the General Church of the New Jerusalem in Bryn Athyn, Pennsylvania.85 But, with the sale in 1921 of Henry Lawrence’s collection (see below), Pitcairn began to acquire examples of the highest caliber.86 Selected panels were installed in his Romanesque- styled mansion, Glencairn; many others remained in storage at his death. Today, his remarkably focused collection of mostly French medieval stained glass is one of the most important in the world.87 Henry Walters, a generation older than Hearst and Pitcairn, grew his father’s extraordinary collection of paintings by acquiring superb works of medieval art, including manuscripts, goldsmith work, and stained glass. It was a remarkably broad collection, with significant works ranging from 13th-century France to early 16th-century Germany to 17th-century Switzerland. But, like Hearst and Pitcairn, most of Walters’ stained glass remained in crates at his death, perhaps because, while he funded the expansion of a gallery in Baltimore to house the collection, he resided in New York City.88 In contrast, Henry C. Lawrence (1859–1919) was remembered for having “realized the livable qualities of the objects of art which became his hobby”.89 At his death, his collection of stained glass was hailed as “the finest … which this country holds”.90 Among his holdings were superb early 13th-century panels, including the head of a king from the Jesse Tree in Soissons Cathedral, and panels from the Seven Sleepers series in Rouen.
83 84 85
Ibid., pp. 181, 186, 187. Ibid., p. 179. For Pitcairn’s approach to collecting stained glass, see Hayward and Cahn, Radiance and Reflection, pp. 33–45; Lombardi, “Raymond Pitcairn”. 86 See Hayward and Cahn, Radiance and Reflection, p. 36. 87 Caviness et al., Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collections: Mid-Atlantic and Southeastern Seaboard States, p. 9. 88 For Walters, see Johnston, William and Henry Walters, esp. pp. 112–220. 89 Dearth, “Lawrence”, p. 7. 90 Lowry, “Gothic art behind a brownstone”, p. 4.
426 Shepard Lawrence, a stockbroker, resided on the “unromantic” Upper West Side of Manhattan, at 166 West 88th Street, in what The New York Times described as a “conventional brownstone”.91 Unremarkable from the exterior, except for the 13th-century stained-glass panel inset into the front door, Lawrence’s four-floor residence was less a dwelling than an art gallery (Figure 25.3). “There was no self-conscious effort to ‘interior-decorate’ in the medieval ‘period’ ”, declared the Times. Instead, Lawrence’s townhouse was lauded as a “reincarnated Gothic world”.92 The walls were covered with dark velvets, which in turn accentuated the featured works of brass and stained glass.93 Vitrines contained small works like ivories, while plush banquettes provided strategic and comfortable viewing. Oak tables, leather- backed and Savonarola chairs, together with pairs of brass candlesticks on oak tables complemented the room. Armor, so often a companion of stained glass, was absent.94 Lawrence’s extensive collection of brass gemellions punctuated the walls; individual stained-glass panels were carefully placed along the walls in what appear to be early incarnations of light boxes (Figure 25.3A). Tracks of electric lights hung from the ceiling, spotlighting the works. Despite his adherence to the ‘look’ of the past, Lawrence was not afraid to make use of the relatively new technology of electricity, which, in Manhattan, was in widespread use only by 1912.95 Employing electricity in this way allowed him to hang the stained glass like a painting on the wall, exhibiting panels at his discretion, and thereby answering many of Molinier’s earlier complaints. Photographs show some stained glass illuminated by natural light (Figure 25.3B); panels were hung in the windows facing the street with dark shades and black framing devices used “to exclude all extraneous light”.96 The effect was said to make “the rooms a holy place, where the lover of beauty felt like putting his shoes from off his feet”.97 Lawrence’s installation method sought a balance between the tensions of symmetry (rest) and asymmetry (motion), in line with what Ernest Gombrich saw as “as a struggle between two opponents of equal power”.98 Stained-glass panels, in their light boxes like 91 Ibid. 92 Ibid. 93 See the posthumous scrapbook, with photographs showing how Lawrence’s rooms were installed: “The Lawrence Collection”, vol. 1. See also Dearth, “Lawrence”, p. 7. 94 For the pairing of stained glass with collections of arms and armor, see Shepard, “Collecting stained glass”, pp. 18–20. 95 New York Edison Company, Thirty Years of New York, esp. pp. 99 and 101. 96 Dearth, “Lawrence”, p. 7. 97 Dearth, “Lawrence”, p. 7. 98 Quoted in McManus, “Symmetry and asymmetry”, p. 159.
framed two-dimensional images, were situated at the edge of arranged compositions, while swags of sumptuous textiles were draped on either side of objects to focus the viewer. Lawrence was serious about whom he invited to see his collection; Pitcairn, for example, brought his glaziers to learn from the originals hanging on Lawrence’s walls.99 Socialites, who gushed ignorantly over works he considered to be minor, were not welcome.100 While Lawrence’s installations were actually more theatrical than historically Gothic, his approach to installation was a turning point. For the first time, panels of medieval stained glass were singled out for display and viewing as inherent works of art in their own right. Similarly, the works in stained glass purchased by Isabella Stewart Gardner (1840–1924) were specifically sited in her Boston “home-museum”: Fenway Court. In 1906, Gardner acquired ten early 13th-century panels from the cathedral of Soissons. Arranged into a lancet and sold through Bacri Frères in Paris, the panels were taken from a larger series depicting the story of the bishop St. Nicasius of Reims and his sister, Eutropia.101 Gardner purchased the glass on the advice of Henry Adams, author of the influential polemic, Mont-Saint-Michel and Chartres (1904/13).102 The Soissons lancet became a devotional focus for Gardner. Illuminated by natural light, the stained glass terminated an intimate chapel she created on the third floor of Fenway Court, tucking it between the Long Gallery and the third-floor Stairhall. Even when the rest of the house was open to the public, her Chapel remained an essentially private space.103 Like the rest of Gardner’s arrangements, the chapel was conceived holistically as a theatrical space, but, unlike her other rooms, this was a space designed specifically for personal piety and for celebrating the liturgy with intimate friends and associates.104 Evoking Milton’s image of “storied windows richly dight, casting a dim religious light” (Il Penseroso, 1633), the Soissons lancet, in her arrangement, hovers over a linen-covered altar aglow in blues and reds (Figure 25.4). Dark oak choir stalls channel the view towards the glass and the ivory Italian crucifix on the altar.105 The
99 100 101 102 103
Hayward and Cahn, Radiance and Reflection, pp. 36–37. Lowry, “Gothic art behind a brownstone”, p. 5. Caviness, Pastan, and Beaven, “Gothic window from Soissons”. Caviness, Pastan, and Beaven, “Gothic window from Soissons”. Personal correspondence with Christina Neilson, Gardner Museum, in 2017. For an early history of the museum, see Longstreet, General Catalogue, pp. 9–10. 104 For Gardner’s general approach, see Corn, “Art matronage”, p. 21. 105 Longstreet, General Catalogue, pp. 254–59; Chong et al., Eye of the Beholder, p. 27.
Out of Context: Portraits of Private Collectors
emotive spirit this creates was not so much intended to “wrap the viewer in the effervescent spirit of art itself”, as in her public galleries;106 instead, the Gothic Chapel was meant to be used as a consecrated sacred space.107 Gardner, fervent in her practice of Anglo- Catholicism –with its emphasis on ritual, tradition, and the sacraments –produced, in this small chapel, a sacramental space with medieval stained glass at its heart.108 One should see the Soissons window as a kind of retable, integral to the liturgical experience. Mass was celebrated here both during Gardner’s lifetime and continues to this day with a Requiem Mass on her birthday, as stipulated in her will.109 On the one hand, Gardner’s altar-ensemble can be understood as furthering her practice of sponsoring altars in Boston, like those designed by Ralph Adams Cram.110 But it was also a private space, where the synthesis of ancient religious objects manifested Gardner’s beliefs. In this respect, it was different from the Jerningham family’s approach at Costessey, where the reuse of medieval stained glass was a kind of emblem and declaration of their adherence to Roman Catholicism. We can interpret Gardner’s chapel as returning medieval stained glass to its original intent, just as Anglo-Catholicism looks to restore historical and essential Christian truths. In this way, the stained glass from Soissons was not so much “aestheticized” or used in a generalized recreation of a “European past”, as it was an expression of Gardner’s religious identity and Anglo- Catholic values.111 7 Epilogue With the advent of institutional collecting of medieval stained glass around the turn of the 20th century, new structural narratives were posited. Kathleen Curran 1 06 Corn, “Art matronage”, pp. 21–22. 107 Father William Frisby consecrated the chapel. See Tucci, “Cram and Gardner”, p. 29. 108 For Anglo- Catholicism, see http://anglicanhistory.org/usa/ whstowe/what1932.html (last accessed 1 August 2017). 109 The annual service rotates between the Church of the Advent, where Gardner was an active member of the altar guild, and the Cowley Fathers, the first monastic order for Anglican men. Correspondence with Christina Neilson in 2017. See also Williams, “Episcopalians and cultural philanthropy”, pp. 191– 92; Tucci, “Cram and Gardner”, pp. 28–29. 110 Williams, “Episcopalians and cultural philanthropy”, pp. 188–89. 111 This is not to say that Gardner did not use art in these ways in more public rooms of Fenway Court. See Corn, “Art matronage”, p. 21; Higonnet, “Isabella Stewart Gardner”, pp. 79, 81, and ead., A Museum of One’s Own, p. 192.
427 has recently explored the varying organizing principles influencing the development of art museums at this time.112 The mandate of the South Kensington Museum (later the Victoria and Albert Museum) to educate British designers and craftsmen, led to a classification system of art by medium, an arrangement not unlike Spitzer’s and one still partially in operation today. With the foundational gifts of medieval stained glass from Henry Vaughn, with later additions in 1919 of J. Pierpont Morgan’s collection of medieval panels and, in 1928, the German glass previously installed at Ashridge, the museum could claim a collection that was “the most comprehensive and probably the most important in the world”.113 Consequently, stained glass received its own galleries on the museum’s second floor; the “Bridge” connecting two courtyards was utilized for its abundant natural light (Figure 25.5). The stained glass was grouped together “salon style” and fitted into darkened wooden cutouts, not unlike the presentation of stained glass at the Great Exhibition of 1851.114 The result was resplendent isolation. The installation, now dismantled, was impressive and readable, but the stained glass was not interpreted in any way that related it to works from analogous time periods. Contextual environments, featuring the juxtaposition of objects related by time and place –a German idea advocated by Wilhelm von Bode in Berlin –gained ascendancy in the United States at the turn of the 20th century.115 This was the heyday of the period room, a European invention enthusiastically embraced by the American public.116 Thus, in 1938, when The Metropolitan Museum of Art opened its branch museum, The Cloisters, stained glass was not included to provide a tangible whiff of the Middle Ages, as it had in its predecessor, George Grey Barnard’s Cloisters.117 Rather, as Timothy Husband has argued, stained glass at the Metropolitan’s Cloisters was a full partner in telling the art historical narrative of Romanesque and Gothic art. Its founding director, Joseph Breck was “ahead of his time” in his understanding of stained glass as a monumental art form; an art form just 1 12 Curran, Invention of the American Art Museum. 113 Rackham, Guide to the Collections, p. v. Elizabeth Pastan neatly lays out the questions surrounding Morgan’s decision in 1912 not to ship his stained-glass panels from London to New York, together with the rest of his collection. In 1919, following Morgan’s death in March 1913, the glass was given to the Victoria and Albert Museum, where it had been on view: Pastan, “Morgan”, pp. 236–37. 114 Cordera, Spitzer, p. 27. 115 See Curran, Invention of the American Art Museum, esp. p. 48. 116 Pilgrim, “The American period room”, pp. 4–23; Harris, “Period rooms”, pp. 117–38. 117 Shepard, “Collecting stained glass”, pp. 27–28.
428 Shepard as crucial to the presentation of medieval art as sculpture or architecture.118 But it was also modernist in its visual approach. James Rorimer, who succeeded Breck, favored “uncluttered and unconfused surroundings”, articulating a trend that, as Neil Harris has pointed out, began earlier in the 20th century.119 Rorimer explained that the installations at The Cloisters illustrated how works of art would have been installed in their original settings, while avoiding the “dubious decorative effects … that have made many private houses, and even museums … (an)anathema.”120 The narrative created at The Cloisters was aesthetic, not necessarily religious. Indeed, as Michael Cothren has reminded us, it is only recently that stained glass has been considered within the complex social and religious systems of the Middle Ages.121 We have, thus, traced an arc where displaced panels of medieval stained glass functioned as a kind of palimpsest: while traces of their medieval significance remained, they could be recontextualized to reflect the tenets of their private owners. With the rise of the great museums of the 20th century, these “orphaned” works began to regain the context of a harmonious historicized setting. The story of stained- glass collections in museums –with its ancillary questions of established hierarchies, as well as authoritative positionings and juxtapositions –is the subject of another essay. For, while the systems of meanings applied to displaced stained glass have been written and rewritten, the museum age ushered in a new, and enduring, appreciation for medieval stained glass on its own merit. Bibliography Manuscript Source
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Out of Context: Portraits of Private Collectors Curran, K., The Invention of the American Art Museum: from Craft to Kulturgeschichte, 1870–1930, Los Angeles, 2016. Dearth, C., “Henry C. Lawrence: an appreciation”, The Interna tional Studio (January, 1921), 7. Dorey, H., “ ‘Exquisite hues and magical effects’: Sir John Soane’s use of stained glass at 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields”, Jour nal of Stained Glass 37 (2004), 7–36. Duveen, C.J. (writing as C.J. Charles), Old English Interiors, New York, 1919. Eavis, A., “An 18th-century recusant’s collection: the windows of Milton Manor chapel, Oxfordshire”, in Ayers, Kurmann- Schwarz, Lautier, and Scholz (eds.), Collections of Stained Glass, pp. 83–96. Eavis, A. and Peover, M., “Horace Walpole’s painted glass at Strawberry Hill”, Journal of Stained Glass 19-3 (1994/95), 280–313. Elsner, E. and Cardinal, R. (eds.), The Cultures of Collecting, London, 1994. Emery, E., “Bricabracomania: Zola’s romantic instinct”, Exca vatio 12 (1999), 107–15. Emery, E. and Morowitz, L., Consuming the Past: the Medieval Revival in Fin-de-Siècle France, Adershot, 2003. Grodecki, L., Les vitraux de Saint-Denis: étude sur le vitrail au XIIe siècle (cvma France, Études, 1), Paris, 1976. Groll, M.-G., William Burrell, Thomas & Drake, and the Transatlantic Trade in Stained Glass 1900–1950 (Unpublished PhD, University of York, 2016). Harris, N., “Period rooms and the American art museum”, Win terthur Portfolio 46-2 and 3 (2012), 117–38. Hayward, J. and Cahn, W., Radiance and Reflection: Medieval Art from the Raymond Pitcairn Collection, New York, 1982. Hayward, J., Shepard, M.B., and Clark, C., English and French Medieval Stained Glass in the Collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art (cv usa, 1.1), 2 vols., London, 2003. Hess, D., “Romantic atmosphere and the invocation of the past: motifs and functions of early stained glass collections around 1800”, in Vilarigues and Martinho (eds.), Collecting through Connections, pp. 7–20. Higonnet, A., A Museum of One’s Own: Private Collecting, Pub lic Gift, New York, 2009. Higonnet, A., “Private museums, public leadership: Isabella Stewart Gardner and the art of cultural authority”, Fenway Court 27 (1997), 79–92. Husband, T.B., Stained Glass before 1700 in American Collec tions: Silver-Stained Roundels and Unipartite Panels (CV US, Checklist, 4, Studies in the History of Art, 39), Washington, 1991. Husband, T.B., “Creating The Cloisters”, Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 70–4 (2013), 1–48. James, H. Jr., The Portrait of a Lady, Boston, 1882. Johnston, W.R., William and Henry Walters: the Reticent Collec tors, Baltimore, 1999. King, D., “Early collections of stained glass in Norfolk”, in Ayers, Kurmann-Schwarz, Lautier, and Scholz (eds.), Col lections of Stained Glass, pp. 97–110.
429 Lafond, J., “The traffic in old stained glass from abroad during the 18th and 19th centuries in England”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass Painters 14 (1964), 58–67. Lane, E.S., Pastan, E.C., and Shortell, E.M. (eds.), The Four Modes of Seeing: Approaches to Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, Farnham, 2009. Letellier, A., “Medieval and Renaissance art in nineteenth- century Paris”, Journal of the History of Collections 27-3 (2015), 297–307. Lillich, M.P., European Stained Glass before 1700 in Upstate New York (cv usa, 2.1), London, 2005. Lombardi, B., “Raymond Pitcairn and the collecting of medieval stained glass in America”, in E.B. Smith (ed.), Medieval Art in America: Patterns of Collecting 1800–1940, University Park, 1996, pp. 185–88. Longstreet, G.W., General Catalogue: the Isabella Stewart Gard ner Museum, Fenway Court, Boston, 1935. Lowry, H.B., “Gothic art behind a brownstone front –The Lawrence Collection”, The New York Times Book Review and Magazine (9 January 1921), 4–5. Marks, R., “Sir William Burrell and the formation of his collection of stained and painted glass”, in Ayers, Kurmann- Schwarz, Lautier, and Scholz (eds.), Collections of Stained Glass, pp. 215–26. Martin, P.L., The European Trade in Stained Glass, with Special Reference to the Trade between the Rhineland and the United Kingdom, 1794–1835 (Unpublished MPhil, University of York, 2012). McManus, I.C., “Symmetry and asymmetry in aesthetics and the arts”, European Review 13-2 (2005), 157–80. Molinier, E., “Les vitraux”, in Frédéric Spitzer, La Collection Spitzer: Antiquité, Moyen Âge, Renaissance, vol. 3, Paris, 1891, pp. 113–26. Mortlock, D.P. and Roberts, C.V., The Guide to Norfolk Church es, 2nd ed., Cambridge, 2007. New York Edison Company, Thirty Years of New York, 1882– 1912: Being a History of Electrical Development in Manhattan and the Bronx, New York, 1913. Nora, P., “Between memory and history: les lieux de mémoire”, Representations 26 (1989), 7–24. Pastan, E.C., “J. Pierpont Morgan and the collecting of the 12th century stained-glass panels from Troyes”, in Ayers, Kurmann-Schwarz, Lautier, and Scholz (eds.), Collections of Stained Glass, pp. 227–38. Pastan, E.C. and Shepard, M.B., “The torture of Saint George medallion from Chartres Cathedral in Princeton”, Re cord of the Art Museum, Princeton University 56, 1–2 (1997), 10–32. Peover, M., “Catalogue of stained glass in Sir John Soane’s Museum”, Journal of Stained Glass 37 (2004), 131–287. Pilgrim, D.H., “Inherited from the past: the American period room”, The American Art Journal 10–1 (1978), 4–23.
430 Shepard Rackham, B., “English importations of foreign stained glass in the early nineteenth century”, Journal of the British Society of Master Glass Painters 2 (1927–28), 86–94. Rackham, B., A Guide to the Collections of the Stained Glass (Victoria and Albert Museum, Department of Ceramics), London, 1936. Raikes, S., “ ‘A cultivated eye for the antique’: Charles Winn and the enrichment of Nostell Priory in the nineteenth century”, Apollo 157 (2003), 3–8. Raguin, V.C., Zakin, H.J., and Pastan, E.C., Stained Glass before 1700 in the Collections of the Midwest States: Illinois, Indiana, Michigan and Ohio (cv usa, 8), 2 vols., London, 2001. Rorimer, J., Medieval Monuments at The Cloisters: As They Were and As They Are, rev. ed., New York, 1972. Shepard, M.B., “ ‘Our fine Gothic magnificence’: the nineteenth-century chapel at Costessey Hall (Norfolk) and its medieval glazing”, Journal of Architectural Historians 54- 2 (1995), 186–207. Shepard, M.B., “A history of collecting stained glass at The Metropolitan Museum of Art”, in Hayward, Shepard, and Clark, English and French Medieval Stained Glass, pp. 13–42. Shepard, M.B., “L’oeuf sacré: Alexandre Lenoir’s cour arabe and the pointed arch”, in J.T. Marquardt and A.A. Jordan (eds.), Medieval Art and Architecture after the Middle Ages, Newcastle upon Tyne, 2009, pp. 149–70. Shepard, M.B., “Medieval stained glass and Alexandre Lenoir”, in Lane, Pastan, and Shortell (eds.) Four Modes of Seeing, pp. 497–512. Shepard, M.B., “Stained glass. V. Collections, museums, and exhibitions”, in the Grove Art Online. Oxford Art On line, https://doi.org/10.1093/gao/9781884446054.article. T080866 (last accessed 7 September 2017). Smith, E.B., “ ‘All my stained glass which I brought from Europe’: William Poyntell and the Sainte-Chapelle medallions”, Journal of the History of Collections 27-3 (2015), 323–34.
Smith, J.F.H., “William Stukeley in Stamford: his houses, gardens and a project for a Palladian triumphal arch over Barn Hill”, The Antiquaries Journal 93 (2013), 353–400. Soane, J. Sir, A Description of the Residence of Sir John Soane, Architect, London, 1835. “The Stained Glass Collection of Sir John Soane’s Museum”, special issue of The Journal of Stained Glass, vol. 27 (2004). Stowe, W.H., Anglo-Catholicism: What it is and What it is Not, London, 1932, http://anglicanhistory.org/usa/whstowe/ what1932.html (last accessed 1 August 2017). Stukeley, W., A Catalogue of the genuine collection of Coins and Medals of W. Stukeley, Deceased, Essex House, London, 1766. Stukeley, W., Family Memoirs of the Rev. William Stukeley, M.D., vol. 1, Surtees Society vol. 30; vol. 2, Surtees Society vol. 76; vol. 3, Surtees Society vol. 80, Durham, 1882, 1883, and 1887, respectively. Tucci, D.S., “Ralph Adams Cram and Mrs. Gardner: the movement for a liturgical art”, Fenway Court 1975 (1976), 27–34. Vilarigues, M. and Martinho, B.A. (eds.) Collecting through Connections: Glass and Stained-Glass Collectors and their Networks in the 19th Century (Revista de História da Arte, Série W, 03), Lisbon, 2015. Wainwright, C., The Romantic Interior: the British Collector at Home, 1750–1850, New Haven, 1989. Williams, P., “The gospel of wealth and the gospel of art: Episcopalians and cultural philanthropy from the Gilded Age to the Depression”, Anglican and Episcopal History 75-2 (2006), 170–223. Williamson, P., Medieval and Renaissance Stained Glass in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 2003. Williamson, P., “ ‘Most valuable and unique’: Sammlungen deutscher Glasmalereien in England”, in D. Täube et al. (eds.), Rheinische Glasmalerei: Meisterwerke der Renais sance, vol 1, Essays, Cologne, 2007, pp. 111–20. Zola, Émile, Catalogue des objets d’art et d’ameublement … de la succession de M. Émile Zola, Hotel Drouot : Paris, 1903.
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Stained Glass: Heritage and Creation, Materiality in All Its States Isabelle Pallot-Frossard 1 Introduction Since the beginning of the 19th century, the art of stained glass has attracted considerable interest from historians, art lovers, as well as the general public. The light transmitted by such coloured filters into buildings, the colour of the glass, which varies according to the time of day, or the seasons, the often complex pictorial compositions, continue to fascinate. Interest in the science of ancient materials is more recent and only truly appeared after the Second World War, with the development of analytical techniques applied to heritage materials, and the advent of a new discipline, archaeometry. In 1963, Cesare Brandi, the scholar of Italian art and leading theorist of conservation practices, stated: “We can only restore the material of a work of art”, thus rejecting any attempt to recover a lost image or any message which restorers might seek to confidently reveal.1 But at the same time his axiom emphasizes the infinitely precious nature of the material. Gaining knowledge of ancient materials and solutions for their preservation has become a fundamental objective, which today is shared by all heritage professionals, those involved in natural sciences as well as in the humanities. Other than its undisputed position in the field of heritage, the art of stained glass seeks also to construct the heritage of tomorrow, through contemporary creations. Contemporary artists sometimes follow in the tradition of ancient techniques, and sometimes seek new ways to play with transparency, opacity and colour. Since the 1960s, compositions have moved away from figurative representations, giving place to more abstract messages. At the same time artists are abandoning glass, lead, and glass paint, to make way for all the image reproduction possibilities and all the materials available from modern technologies, including photography, silkscreen printing, fusing, and digital printing on synthetic polymer film. We still use the terms stained glass and glazing, but they now refer to the function of a window and a certain kind of artistic expression, rather than the traditional techniques of stained glass. One can quite legitimately wonder about the place of such art today and its future. What view will our children or grandchildren 1 Brandi, Théorie de la restauration.
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004395718_033
have of such creations, and will they in turn know how to preserve them? The material itself will be the connection in this essay linking different genres and periods of artworks, as the support for the image and the message, but also as an infinite source of knowledge about the context and the societies that produce, design, and transform it. 2 Material for Knowledge: Research on Stained-Glass Materials and their Preservation 2.1 The Precursors It is often said that the art of stained glass disappeared at the end of the 17th century, largely as a result of the precepts of the Council of Trent (1545–63), which encouraged maximum lighting in places of worship. Stained glass was then revived during the 19th century; its revival consisted of a rediscovery of ancient works and their techniques, as well as a renewal of creating glass, very often during the restoration of large buildings, but also in the more intimate environment of private houses. This renewal occurred in the context of the Industrial Revolution, and therefore went hand in hand with research into materials. So-called “scientists” –whose knowledge far exceeded the narrow frontiers of our current carefully divided scientific disciplines of chemistry, physics, and mineralogy –such as Georges Bontemps, at the Manufactory of Choisy, and Alexandre Brongniart at the Manufactory of Sevres, took an interest in ancient glass. But first and foremost their interest was focused on the possibility of reproducing medieval glass reliably, especially red glass, thus making it available to restorers and contemporary creators.2 Chemists and archaeologists had examined ancient stained glass, but the manufacturing of medieval glass still remained a mystery for them to some degree. The interpretation of the phenomena observed is often unreliable: for example the myth of the “glaze”, a kind of enamel which would have been applied intentionally on the outside of ancient stained glass to diffuse and filter the light, is certainly the result of a misinterpretation of the observation of the modified layers and corrosion crusts on medieval glass. 2 Bontemps, Guide du verrier.
432 Pallot-Frossard In the context of restoring medieval windows, archaeologists, architects, and glaziers have examined the composition and condition of the glass, its colouring, and the paint applied to it, but their interest was not so much to preserve it, as to be able to reproduce it. One of the early approaches to “loss compensation” was that, whenever the original material had been lost or heavily broken, to replace the missing segment with new glass, as invisibly as possible. Above all else, they considered the shape, the iconographic coherence, resetting panels which had been disrupted by successive dismantling and reassembly, deleting interpolations, completing gaps, and replacing broken pieces. The restoration of the stained-glass windows in the Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, between 1848 and 1855, under the supervision of Jean- Baptiste Lassus and Eugène Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc, constitutes one of the most significant examples of the 19th-century approach, which is erudite, and respectful of the iconography and style, but little concerned with the original material and the historical evolution of the works.3 Obviously it is the glass and grisaille that fascinate, which must be replaced for greater durability whilst preserving the original shapes, the lead or iron of the metallic ferramenta being considered as mere accessories. True scientific research into medieval glass did not develop until after the Second World War, with the advances in analytic techniques and the establishment of laboratories specialized in research into works of art in several countries.4 As an example, the technology of red glass, which had already been described by Bontemps with the knowledge of his time, was advanced by the work of Martha Spitzer Aronson, who used a scanning electron microscope and microprobe to analyse the selective diffusion of copper and arsenic in medieval red glass. She established a typology for flashed glass, whose red layer exhibits different morphologies, regular strata, irregular hairpin-shaped flakes, and triple layers. She noted the complexity of the colouring phenomena and the discrepancy between the concentration of copper and the red colour, which Bontemps in his day was unable to imagine.5 Her work was confirmed recently by the results achieved by François Farges, which he obtained by using X-ray absorption on a synchrotron radiation source.6 3 4
5 6
For a useful overview, see Jordan, “Rationalizing the narrative”. Such as in France at the Laboratoire de recherche des musées de France (lrmf) or the Laboratoire de recherche des monuments historiques (lrmh), or in Belgium at the Institut Royal du Patrimoine Artistique (kik-i rpa). Spitzer-Aronson, “Diffusion sélective du cuivre et de l’arsenic”. Farges et al., “Speciation and weathering of copper”.
This ground-breaking work was continued in France by Jean-Marie Bettembourg, a chemist, who in 1970 was appointed head of the “stained glass” section of the Laboratoire de recherche des monuments historiques (or lrmh),7 newly established at that time. In collaboration with Robert Collongues,8 and with his student Monique Perez y Jorba,9 he launched numerous studies, not on the composition of ancient glass, but on corrosion phenomena, which compromise its conservation.10 These three chemists applied their knowledge of vitreous material and the scientific technologies available to comprehend the damage mechanisms affecting medieval glass when it is subjected to the environment. They demonstrated that the deterioration of medieval glass was due to the leaching of the alkali glass components,11 leading to the formation of a hydrated or “gel layer” on the outer surface of glass, often followed by the pitting of the surface, and the development of corrosion crusts, composed mainly of gypsum, calcite and syngenite. These compounds, frequently formed as a thick and hard layer, together with the hydrated layer, provoke the opacification and darkening of the glass. Indeed, in 1974, restoration work started on three 12th- century windows on the western wall of Chartres Cathedral, and the stained-glass section of the lrmh was consulted to contribute to the development of cleaning and preservation techniques, which would be respectful of the original material of these infinitely precious works. On completion of a detailed scientific study, Bettembourg developed a technique for cleaning heavily corroded glass, based on calcium chelating agents, which eliminate the hard corrosion products from the glass, whilst preserving the layers below.12 This technique is still in use today in France, with a few adjustments. The treatment was able to restore the transparency and legibility of all highly-corroded potassium flux-based glass, such as yellow, green, red, and purple glass. Blue glass, on the other hand, merely required light cleaning, and remained perfectly preserved and translucent thanks to its sodium-based flux. This strong contrast between non-corroded blue glass and the other coloured glass segments within the same window had led to the myth of “Chartres blue”, whose technology was supposed to be unknown. The cleaning process resulted in a more 7 8 9 10 11 12
Bettembourg, “Les vitraux”. A famous French chemist, considered as one of the founders of solid state chemistry. Perez y Jorba, “La pollution atmosphérique”. Bettembourg, “Le verre n’est pas inaltérable”. Mainly potassium and calcium, the modifiers of the glass network. Bettembourg, “Problèmes de la conservation des vitraux”.
Stained Glass: Heritage and Creation, Materiality in all its States
balanced colouring which had been compromised by the weathering crusts described above (see Figures. 26.1 and 26.2). These studies on the preservation of medieval glass were supplemented by a conservation study undertaken by Bettembourg, who suggested protecting the cleaned glass before exposing it to further environmental attack, by coating it with Viacryl, a polyurethane film, following a detailed study of its durability, conducted in a climatic chamber.13 It is well known that this research generated considerable controversy, initiated by famous artists such as Jean Bazaine and Alfred Manessier, who in 1976 founded the Association for the Defence of Stained-Glass Windows in France,14 which accused the Monuments historiques department of the Ministry of Culture of destroying the famous “Chartres blue”. This controversy, relayed by the popular press, calling the scientists “gribouilles” (nitwits), put an end to all work on the Chartres stained glass, and the restoration was only able to resume ten years later. In order to convince both the heritage professionals and the general public, Bettembourg published numerous articles and initiated an exhibition at the Palais de la Découverte, Stained Glass: Art and Technique, in 1978, which highlighted the dangers threatening the French stained-glass heritage, exposed to attack by acid rain and atmospheric pollution. Increasingly detailed research, together with animated discussions on the preservation of medieval stained glass among scientists, soon spread across Europe, and was disseminated in particular through the Corpus Vit rearum Medii Aevi, established in 1952. The Newsletters published by the Corpus Vitrearum between 1972 and 200115 spread the word on the wealth of work conducted in France, Great Britain, and Germany, on the knowledge of glass and the conservation of stained-glass windows, but also identified the different national sensitivities, promoting sometimes quite different techniques and ethical approaches. The supporters of chemical cleaning put forward the fact that the products removed only the corrosion crusts, and not the gel layer, considered as a buffer zone protecting the glass underneath. Those in favour of mechanical cleaning, essentially in Germany and Great Britain, argued that the chelating agents could cause leaching of the calcium contained in the bulk glass. The material history of the artwork was 13 Bettembourg, “Preventive conservation of stained glass windows”. 14 This association published a bulletin in 1976, see Bazaine, Association pour la défense des vitraux de France in 1976. 15 Available online at: http://www.corpusvitrearum.org/ (last accessed 27 November 2018).
433
considered, and the conservation diagrams established by the Corpus Vitrearum historians recorded the ancient interventions and the technical particularities of the materials in the stained-glass windows. In Great Britain in the 1970s, Roy Newton conducted innovative research on the deterioration of medieval glass.16 He examined the different layers of glass using a stereo-scan technique, the precursor of current X-ray tomography, and he also evaluated the methods for protecting stained glass by external protective glazing, using infrared thermography.17 He recognised the quality of the chemical cleaning proposed by Bettembourg, but was vividly opposed to protective coatings. He put forward the advantages of external protective glazing, which not only prevents any contact with rain water and pollutants on the external surface of the glass, but also reduces condensation on the interior surface, which is a source of deterioration of the grisaille and proliferation of micro-organisms. Following the sometimes turbulent debates during the triennial and biennial seminars of the Corpus Vit rearum,18 in 1989 the Committee for Conservation and Technology, in conjunction with the International Council on Monuments and Sites, (Icomos), published the first Guidelines for the Preservation of Monumen tal Stained Glass, aimed at establishing the ethical and technical bases for restoration interventions on historical stained-glass windows.19 The introduction to this document states that the same care and ethics must be applied to the preservation of stained-glass windows as for any other works of art, such as easel paintings or polychrome sculptures. Referring to the Charter of Venice of 1964,20 the directives insist on the need for precise records, a prudent approach, both for the cleaning of glass and its reintegration, based upon multidisciplinary work, and using experienced restorers. Preventive conservation, which involves the application of so-called “isothermal” glazing, with ventilation taking the air from inside the building, and regular monitoring of the state of preservation, is extensively covered. 16 17
Newton and Davison, Conservation of Glass. Newton, “Experimental studies of the protection of medieval windows”. 18 Created in Strasbourg, at the 5th Colloquium of the cvma in 1965. 19 Bacher, Stained Glass. 20 The Second International Congress of Architects and Technicians of Historical Monuments, in Venice, 25– 31 May 1964, adopted 13 resolutions, the first one being the International Restoration Charter, better known as the Venice Charter; the second one, put forward by unesco, provided for the creation of icomos: http://www.icomos.org/charters/ venice_e.pdf (last accessed 27 November 2018).
434 Pallot-Frossard 2.2 Current Research on Materials Over the last 30 years, scientific research on ancient stained-glass has increased considerably. In the United States, this was pursued with the research by Robert Brill at the Corning Museum,21 and in Great Britain with the work by Jan Freestone at the British Museum laboratories, now London University,22 as well as David Dungworth of English Heritage.23 In Belgium, research has been carried out by Olivier Schalm24 and Koen Janssens25 at Antwerp University. All their scientific investigations have contributed to a better understanding of the composition of ancient glass, with its classification into categories according to production method, period, and location. Today, several groups of glass are classified by their chemical composition: the soda-lime-silica or soda type for antique glass and certain medieval types of glass, such as blue glass; the potash-lime-silica or potash type for glass from the Middle Ages; and the so-called hlla (High Lime Low Alkali) type, rich in lime and poor in alkalis, from the end of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.26 This archaeometrical research continues today, and aims to identify the provenance of the glass, the production workshops, and even the batch specific to a given building or to a group of windows. As an example, Jan Freestone analysed several samples of glass at York Minster using inductively coupled plasma mass spectrometry, in order to determine precisely their quantitative chemical composition and to classify them by typology according to their trace elements.27 In France a major campaign analysing 12th-and 13th-century stained-glass by using ion-beam techniques on a particle accelerator has been in progress since 2006.28 The team, led by Claudine Loisel and Fanny Bauchau of the lrmh, in collaboration with Claire Pachéco and the team of the Centre de recherche et de restauration des musées de France, has benefitted from the preservation and restoration operations on major French sites, in particular Chartres Cathedral. This method, which is non-invasive, 21
Robert Brill worked for more than 40 years at the Corning Museum of Glass. Among his numerous publications on ancient glass, see especially: Brill, Chemical Analyses; and id., “Scientific studies”. 22 Freestone et al., “Multidisciplinary investigation”. 23 Dungworth, “Historic window glass”. 24 Schalm, “Composition of 12–18th century window glass in Belgium”. 25 Janssens, Modern Methods. 26 These are general types, to which we should add mixed alkali glass. 27 Freestone et al., “Multidisciplinary investigation”. 28 Particle induced X-Rays emission (pixe) on the accelerator aglae at the C2RMF in France.
enables the systematic characterisation of the composition of the glass and its grisaille paint. The scope of this project, as yet unpublished, is to establish a vast database of French medieval stained-glass windows, whose material composition can be compared with those from other sites in Europe, and thus identify the trade routes of materials and dissemination of technologies (Figure 26.3). In Italy, Marco Verità and Bruno Profilo, at the Stazione sperimentale del Vetro in Murano, undertook the characterisation of ancient grisaille and silver stain, and analysed glass from many Italian medieval sites, such as Orvieto Cathedral.29 Among their results published in 2004, they describe a fragment of glass discovered during excavations in the lagoon in Venice which exhibited traces of silver stain, dated between the 9th and 11th century, which establishes the appearance of this technique further back in time than other authors had assumed.30 In recent years, the interest in the materials of ancient stained-glass windows has also included their lead cames, whose morphology and composition have been studied by Laurence Cuzange and Annick Texier,31 and their iron armatures through the research by Maxime l’Héritier and Philippe Dillmann.32 They have made a considerable contribution to furthering knowledge of the techniques employed for working ancient metals, as well as studying the role that the latter played in Gothic architecture. Another approach for understanding ancient materials and techniques is that of experimental archaeology. Attempts have been made to reproduce the ancient technologies, as described in treatises.33 Mention should be made of the work conducted by the multidisciplinary teams who translated the original sources and experimented with the techniques described by the 14th-century Italian glazier, Antonio da Pisa. They also analysed the materials employed: red flashed glass that was engraved using “goldsmith’s water” (nitric acid); silver stain applied a tempera; and lead cames cast in moulds consisting of an alloy, previously considered impossible, of lead and copper. These experiments have provided a better understanding of the medieval techniques for painting, engraving, and manufacture of the lead network.34 29 30
31 32 33 34
Verità et al., “Studio conservativo”. That is, much earlier than the 14th century, generally thought to have been the period of the first appearance of this technique: Verità, “Composition, structure et mécanisme”; Vaghi et al., “Silver stain”. Cuzange and Texier, “Caractérisation des plombs anciens”. L’Héritier, “Le métal dans l’architecture”. See Kurmann-Schwarz, Ch. 20 in this volume. Lautier and Sandron, Antoine de Pise.
Stained Glass: Heritage and Creation, Materiality in all its States
3 Research on the Weathering and Conservation of Stained Glass Beyond archaeometric knowledge, there are also advances in research into the deterioration of glass under environmental conditions, and on conservation methods in various countries. In Germany, at the Bundesanstalt für Materialforschung und prüfung (Federal Institute for Material Research and Testing) in Berlin, Wolfgang Müller and his team worked on preservation and restoration methods, as well as the deterioration of medieval stained glass, and in particular on the browning of glass due to the oxidation of the manganese contained in many medieval glasses (Figure 26.4).35 In parallel, new research was carried out by Wolfgang Krumbein,36 Rainer Drewello,37 and Thomas Warscheid38 on the important role of microorganisms in the weathering of glass. In Munich, at the Bayerisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege (Bavarian Institute for the Preservation of Monuments), Hannelore Marschner evaluated different techniques for re-fixing grisaille through accelerated ageing tests, in order to advise restorers on durable, compatible, and, if possible, reversible products.39 A few years later the Fraunhofer-Institut für Silicatforschung (Fraunhofer Institute for Silicate Research) carried out research on conservation methods and products to be used as protective coatings for glass, or for fixing fragile glass paint. These products, based on sol-gel techniques, like Ormocer,Ⓡ an inorganic-organic hybrid polymer, or sza, a consolidant based on silicium and zirconium alkoxydes, showed better stability and durability than the organic products previously used.40 In Italy, Marco Verità has summarized well the corrosion mechanism of ancient glass and the role of the pH. We now understand how acidic attack provokes the leaching of the alkali of the glass, whereas an alkaline solution leads to the destruction of the glass network (corrosion). Furthermore, he pointed out the crucial role of mechanical stresses, induced by environmental fluctuations of temperature and humidity, in the various layers of a weathered glass, and between the paint layer and the glass substrate, which have different thermal expansion coefficients.41 In France, the weathering of ancient glass has been thoroughly studied by Guy Libourel and Jérome 35 36 37 38 39 40
41
Müller, “Verwitterungsschäden”. Krumbein et al. “Biocorrosion and biodeterioration”. Drewello and Weissmann, “Microbially influenced corrosion”. Warscheid, “The evaluation of biodeterioration processes”. Bertelmann and Marschner, “Alternatives au Paraloïd B72”. Römich and Fuchs, “Stained glass conservation”. However these products have been rarely employed in restorations because of the concerns of conservators and curators regarding long-term effects and reversibility/retreatability. Verità, “Modern and ancient glass”.
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Sterpenich in Nancy,42 and more recently by Tiziana Lombardo at the University of Créteil, who has attempted to establish a predictive model for the deterioration of glass over time.43 The so-called manganese browning of glass due to the oxidation of the manganese, already studied by Müller,44 is now better understood thanks to the work of Olivier Schalm on archaeological glass,45 and by Jessica Ferrand on stained glass, who presented a PhD thesis, using synchrotron radiation to identify the manganese oxidation rates in medieval glass samples.46 She also showed the role of microorganisms in the weathering process, previously studied by Geneviève Orial and Thomas Warsheid.47 Following this work, an evaluation of the possible treatments to recover transparency of glass has been carried out at the lrmh.48 In parallel, research on preventive conservation, already launched by Bettembourg and Newton, has been pursued. In Germany, Stefan Oidtmann, from a long dynasty of glaziers in Linnich, wrote a PhD thesis in engineering on the protection of stained glass by double glazing,49 where he reviewed the different systems existing in Europe, and performed climatic measurements in situ and in climatic chambers, to evaluate the effectiveness of the main construction types.50 As an additional tool, already developed to simulate glass corrosion,51 the scientists at the Fraunhofer-Institut für Silicatforschung at Bronnbach (Germany), including Hannelore Römich, used highly reactive glass models, with compositions approaching that of medieval glass, to evaluate the effectiveness of protective measures against environmental effects.52 Recently, two research projects funded by the European Commission, called VIDRIO and CONSTGLASS, have led to important advances in the field of stained-glass conservation. The first aimed at evaluating the effectiveness of protective glazing, including thermal and microbiological effects and the deposition of atmospheric particles.53 The second aimed to assess the impact of the 42 Sterpenich, “Altération des vitraux médiévaux”; Libourel, “Caractérisation microstructurale”. 43 Lombardo et al., “Long-term assessment”. 44 Müller, “Verwitterungsschäden”. 45 Schalm et al., “Manganese staining”. 46 Ferrand, J., “Le phénomène de brunissement des vitraux médiévaux”. 47 Orial, “Incidence bactérienne”. 48 Venault de Bourleuf et al., “The browning phenomenon”. 49 At Eindhoven University (Netherlands). 50 Oidtmann et al., “Schutzverglasungen”. 51 Römich et al, “Deterioration of glass by atmospheric attack”; Römich, “Laboratory experiments”. 52 Römich, “Evaluation of protective glazing systems”. 53 Bernardi et al., “Conservation of stained glass windows”.
436 Pallot-Frossard preservation and restoration materials and methods applied between 1950 and 1980, such as edge bonding adhesives, grisaille consolidants, and protective coatings. These projects validated the protective role of isothermal glazing54 and the durability of certain restoration products, but also the failure of using organic coatings.55 The laboratory analyses, with the precision available from modern techniques, are supplemented nowadays by non-invasive and portable methods, such as X-ray fluorescence spectrometry, in widespread use nowadays on ancient glass, or Raman spectrometry, which allow on-site investigations and enable the research to avoid sampling the glass itself.56 Ion-beam analyses, like those performed on AGLAE, also allow systematic studies of the composition of glass without sampling. In order to pass on the results of research undertaken in different laboratories throughout Europe, in 1993, the Committee for Conservation and Technology of the Corpus Vitrearum organized for the first time a forum in Erfurt, Germany, on the preservation and technology of historic stained glass, that was open to curators, architects, glaziers, and stained-glass restorers. Nine other meetings followed this forum, which enabled fruitful exchanges between professionals on technical as well as ethical matters.57 In 2008, the Corpus Vitrearum Conservation Committee became the International Scientific Committee for the Conservation of Stained Glass, in association with icomos. In 2004, the latter published a new version of the Guidelines for the Conservation and Restoration of Stained Glass, concentrating more on ethical questions than on techniques, thus ensuring the evolution of the professionals working in this field.58 4 Materials for Passing On: Conservation Principles and the Practice of Restoration Principles for the conservation of older glass have evolved along with technological advances and new 54 Protective glazing installed outside the original window, with a space between both windows and natural ventilation, insured by openings in the upper and lower part of the original window, taking the air from the inside of the building. 55 Pallot-Frossard et al., “Le projet européen Constglass”. 56 Tournié, “Analyse Raman”; Colomban, “On site identification and dating”. 57 For the list of the fora and related publications, see the website of the International Scientific Committee for the Conservation of Stained Glass: http://sgc.lrmh.fr/ (last accessed 27 November 2018). 58 Guidelines for the Conservation and Restoration of Stained Glass: http://sgc.lrmh.fr/file/CVConservationGuidelines2.pdf (last accessed 27 November 2018).
understandings of the ethics of preservation, and this has impacted its practitioners. It has not been a straightforward process, but has swung, pendulum like, in one direction and then the other. Up until the Second World War, stained-glass restoration was assigned to traditional glaziers, trained either in art schools, or trained on the job in workshops, benefiting from the experience of their forebears. Restoration work consisted of greater or lesser degrees of cleaning, by extended soaking with the possible addition of chemicals; total replacement of the leading; the repair of broken pieces with mending leads and grozing (or trimming down) of the ancient pieces; and the replacement of pieces from previous restorations, which were considered out of tune with the newest painted pieces. Restorations, that is repairs, were carried out in the same way as creations, using the same techniques and a clear intention to follow the historical line of traditional glaziers since the Middle Ages. There was no mention at that time of “conservation”. In France, the technological developments which appeared during the 1970s encouraged a far more conservation-oriented approach, thanks to controlled and localized cleaning using poultices impregnated with chemicals and bonding of broken pieces using silicone-based adhesives. The latter have gradually replaced the use of mending leads, which mutilate the ancient pieces and disrupt the contour lines of the leading. Such bonding techniques also enabled the replacement of old mending leads, providing that the pieces were not too drastically grozed in the past. The lost transparency and legibility of the pictorial composition was thus recovered, without affecting the proper preservation of the ancient material. However, the intervention was generally limited to the painted pieces considered essential, such as the faces or hands, ignoring background pieces or the clothing of the figures. Re-leading, often considered necessary to increase the strength of the glazing, is still quite common, and often even systematically applied. The traditional workshops were in charge of the restoration work and gradually learned the new techniques promoted and overseen by the lrmh, which they apply with variable success, often due to the costs of the more complex operations. It was only in 1982 that in France a stained glass speciality was introduced into the Master de conservation- restauration des biens culturels de l’université Paris 1 (Curriculum for cultural asset conservation-restoration at the University of Paris 1).59 Over the last 30 years, some 20 professionals have received this training; they 59
Initially it was a four-year degree, now it is a five-year Master’s degree.
Stained Glass: Heritage and Creation, Materiality in all its States
acquire a solid grounding in natural sciences, which enables them to better understand the phenomena that they observe. This education complements the sound practical experience acquired during their workshop training. They adopt an ethical approach, based on respect for ancient materials in all their historical aspects and techniques. However, the integration of these new professionals into the world of stained-glass restoration has been long and arduous. It was only after the year 2000 that some of them were able to work directly on major buildings, such as Chartres or Troyes Cathedral and the Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, thanks to the gradual introduction into the tendering process of an obligation to involve a graduate restorer for certain interventions. Elsewhere in Europe specific university courses have been established for stained-glass restoration, such as in Antwerp (Belgium),60 Erfurt (Germany),61 and York (United Kingdom).62 In each case they are five-year Master’s degrees, which may in some cases be followed by a PhD, such as in Antwerp. These initiatives are gradually establishing the idea that the conservation-restoration of works of art may become a university discipline in its own right. The gradual involvement of stained-glass conservators, supported by the contribution of heritage curators, has resulted in a progressive evolution of the conservation principles for stained-glass windows throughout the world.63 Cleaning is undertaken with great care, and we have gone from treating an entire panel to treating a single piece of glass, using gels or gentle cleaning with cotton swabs (Figure 26.5), specifically adapted to each case encountered, with regular inspection under a binocular microscope.64 The newly found knowledge of ancient leads has resulted in greater respect for the leading and the end of systematic re-leading, supplanted instead by local interventions. The repair of pieces has been improved with the advent of new, more precise adhesives like epoxy resins, and the use of copper foils. Very particular attention has been paid to the documentation prior to interventions and to the restoration reports, which are fundamental for the work of future restorers. Finally, the principle of safeguarding ancient stained glass by external protective glazing has become 60
61
62 63 64
The conservation- restoration section at the University of Antwerp, founded in 1988, has been, since 1 October 2013, integrated into the Faculty of Design Sciences at Antwerp (UA or Universiteit Antwerpen). A Master’s degree on the conservation of stained glass was launched in 1997, at the University of Applied Science in Erfurt (Germany). The MA was launched in October 2008; it is a two-year course. Jägers, “Conservation, materials and methods”. Römich, “Cleaning: a balancing act”.
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widespread in Europe for historic stained-glass windows.65 Different types of protective systems have been used: heat-formed transparent panes reproducing the surface topography of the ancient stained-glass panels (Figure 26.6); or panels of transparent stained-glass, according to the decisions of the owners and prime contractors. Several manuals edited in France,66 and in Belgium,67 together with the Guidelines of the Cor pus Vitrearum greatly favour the adoption of these new principles.68 Nevertheless, current approaches in France still remain, to a certain extent, linked to the personal sensitivities of those in charge of heritage. Thus, after an initial commitment to the removal of ancient mending leads intended to enhance the legibility of the overall composition, and to re-establish the balance between the coloured transparency of the stained glass and the opacity of the lead structure, certain sites like Chartres Cathedral have seen a return to the retaining of a relatively high proportion of mending leads, because they are considered historically important to preserve, in the spirit of the Venice Charter (Figures. 26.7 and 26.8). An equilibrium remains to be found between respect for the work of art and its legibility and that of its evolution over time. Indeed, the recognition of stained glass as a pictorial art in its own right involves considering all its components, its lead structure, the glass, and the paint, in a critical analysis of the work and its past interventions. This approach must result in thoughtful, case- specific choices, instead of the systematic application of principles considered to be “archaeologically correct”, for the preservation of all the historical layers. On the subject of filling voids in the glass, the level of intervention is of the utmost importance: lacunae affecting the lines or the matt paint, the pane of glass, or the entire panel, are not treated in the same way.69 The issue is undoubtedly more delicate than in other forms 65
In France for all historical items dating from before the 16th century, elsewhere more generally adopted for historic windows, independently of their period. 66 The Manuel de conservation, restauration et création de vitraux, was issued by the French Ministry of Culture in 1993 and again in 2006. 67 In Belgium, the manual, Les vitraux anciens. Note technique visant à l’établissement d’un cahier des charges type, pour la restauration des vitraux anciens et de valeur was published in 1987, thanks to a collaboration between the Institut royal du Patrimoine artistique, the CV Belgium, the Commission royale des monuments et des sites, and glaziers, Vanden-Bemden, Note technique. A new version was published in 2009, Lecocq, La conservation et la restauration des vitraux. 68 Also see Raguin, “Conservation and restoration of stained glass”. 69 Pallot-Frossard, “La restauration des vitraux”.
438 Pallot-Frossard of art which do not depend on transparency, such as wall paintings. Indeed, any void creates a hole of light which interferes with the perception of the work, not so much due to the absence of the imagery as by the violent introduction of white light into the spectator’s line of sight, without being filtered through the coloured and painted glass. Numerous experiments were conducted over the last 20 years to restore the legibility of artworks without misleading the spectator as to the nature of the intervention undertaken by modern restorers. This included: illusionist insertions with a signature on the painted pieces or on plating over the glass; semi-illusionist panes with a cross-hatch system inspired by the tratteggio employed in the restoration of primitive Italian works; non-illusionist panes such as in the Bibliothèque Municipale in Troyes where the voids in the stained-glass window by Linard Gontier have been treated as “contemporary”; and solid- coloured pieces in the local tint, as in Gloucester Cathedral (United Kingdom). The use of reversible resin-based paints have sometimes resulted in excessive pictorial restoration directly on the ancient pieces, so work needs to proceed by assuming that future restorers will always be able to “un-restore” the pieces, given all the risks of over- interpretation involved in this type of intervention. For lacunae in the glazing itself, prime contractors quite often propose present-day creations in accompanying panels, such as those in France in the church at Villeret, where creations by Flavie Vincent-Petit have been added to show off the restored 16th-century stained-glass windows to best advantage.70 5 Ever-Changing Materials and Shapes: Stained Glass in the 21st Century After many centuries of existence, which have given it all its patrimonial value, it is now quite justifiable to question whether the art of stained glass still has a role to play in today’s world, and whether its techniques are still appropriate to the creativity of present-day artists. The functions that glass fulfils are still valid: there is a need to close the apertures in religious and public buildings, to provide light by means of them, and to express a religious or artistic message through them. However, the shapes and techniques employed have greatly evolved since the Second World War. Contemporary stained-glass works have most often been applied to religious architecture, modern style civil architecture being ill-suited to stained glass, apart from some notable 70
Pallot, “La création de verrières d’accompagnement”.
exceptions, such as the stained-glass creations by Udo Zembok for Troyes Cathedral car park in 2007.71 In speculating about the position of stained glass today, we also have to consider the respective roles of artists and glaziers. Indeed, if creative artists have always played an important conceptual role at the project level, especially since the First World War and the Ateliers d’art sacré movement,72 the position of current creators –“visual artists” often far removed from the use of traditional techniques –needs to be redefined within the chain of creation. The dialogue established between the author of the project and its producer takes various forms, and has resulted in variable success. One can legitimately wonder about the future of present-day creations, especially those which make use of modern materials such as synthetic polymers, whose durability is still unknown. Will they be considered ancient works, and regarded with the same respect for their original materials, or, on the contrary, will techniques be used for their ability to offer identical reproduction? Will it be possible to preserve all the elements of the original creation to enable such “restorations” once the artist is long gone?73 5.1 Traditional Techniques Serving a New Style of Expression The first path followed by artists, painters, and glaziers, was that of “tradition”, something that appeared frozen in the 19th century; put simply, stained-glass windows had to consist of panes of coloured glass cut out and mounted in a leaded network. From this basic configuration, however, the variation in the techniques used by modern artists was considerable. Certain artists, building on the experience of traditional glaziers, use all the techniques available to their trade, such as grisaille and silver stain painted glass, and the engraving of flashed glass, as was used by Marc Chagall at Reims Cathedral,74 or more recently by Jean-Michel Alberola at Nevers Cathedral.75 Others have adopted a more minimalist approach and prefer unpainted glass, including Imi Knoebel at Reims Cathedral,76 or Gottfried Honegger
71
Realized by the Parot workshop: David (ed.), Chagall, Soulages, Benzaken. 72 Ateliers d’art sacré is the name of an artistic movement created in France in 1919 by Maurice Denis, George Desvallières and the Reverend Couturier to renew sacred art in religious buildings. 73 Tollet (ed.), Le vitrail monumental. 74 With the Jacques Simon workshop, in 1974. 75 With the Defert workshop, and later Duchemin, between 1992–2008: Lagier, Les couleurs du ciel. 76 With the Jacques Simon and Duchemin workshops, in 2011: Lemoine, Imi Knoebel à Reims.
Stained Glass: Heritage and Creation, Materiality in all its States
in Saint-Paul’s Cathedral in Liège.77 The graphics of the lead cames are used for their inherent value rather than as a technical constraint to be overcome. The windows created by these artists and glaziers are a kind of mosaic of coloured glass, whose pieces are themselves more or less elaborately worked and where, in some cases, the colour seeps from the lead structure through the engraving or the enamels. The creative artist may be more or less involved in the window’s elaboration. Thus, Gérard Garouste in Talant78 carefully selects his glass and orders the manufacture of large bullions of coloured glass, seeking different colour gradations generated by the differences in thickness, and studies the art of painting on glass. Imi Knoebel, on the other hand, has difficulty taking into account the technical constraints imposed by the medium of stained glass; his designs compel the glazier to make complex cuts, always at the very limit of mechanical fracture, in a desire for predominance of the concept at the limits of the material. Alongside those stained-glass windows by creative visual artists who are independent from the workshops, contemporary works conceived in the traditional workshops continue to develop, with mixed success. Among the notable creations from recent years are those by Sylvie Gaudin at Saint-Gervais in Paris in 1993,79 or those by Jean-Dominique Fleury at Pons in 1995–99.80 5.2 New Technologies Serving New Aesthetics The second pathway followed by contemporary artists is technical innovation, with respect to both the materials and how they are used. Undoubtedly in order to distance themselves from the highly “divided” nature of traditional stained glass, and also as part of the lineage of past innovations, which they push to the limit, certain artists have opted for large volumes of uncut glass, such as the glazings by Jean Ricardon for the Cistercian church in Acey.81 Mention must also be made of all the thermoplastic techniques, which allow interesting 77
Between 2013–16, realized by the Loire workshop in Lèves (France): http://www.koregos.org/fr/yvette-vanden-bemden- gottfried- h onegger- a - l a- c athedrale- s aint- p aul- d e- l iege/ auteurs-du-reporticle/ (last accessed 27 November 2018). 78 In France, in the Côte d’Or, with the Parot workshop: Lyon, Garouste à Talant. 79 https:// w ww.patrimoine- h istoire.fr/ Patrimoine/ Paris/ Paris-Saint-Gervais-Saint-Protais.htm (last accessed 27 November 2018). 80 France, Charente- Maritime, in 2003: Tollet, Le vitrail contemporain. 81 Produced by the Pierre-Alain Parot workshop in France, Jura, between 1991–94: Viatte, Les verrières de l’église abbatiale cis tercienne Notre-Dame d’Acey.
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volumetric effects, such as the creations at Maguelone Cathedral,82 conceived by Robert Morris, which feature the particularity of being three-dimensional volumes of glass, with different surface waves evocative of the waves at the surface of the nearby sea, in order to achieve the desired coloured effects on their glass, without resorting to cutting and leading-up.83 Other creators use enamel on large areas, such as Kim En Joong in Saint-Paul’s Cathedral in Liège,84 or fusing techniques, like Thierry Gilhodez at the church in Jazeneuil.85 In the field of glass and enamels, technological innovations are numerous and some are still in the experimental stage, but will no doubt soon be in use due to the plastic effects which they allow. Portuguese teams of creators and scientists have developed luminescent enamels containing different rare earths enriched with Europium, whose effects are spectacular, since the luminescence is only visible under ultraviolet light.86 The use of such new technologies demands great rigour in the choice of materials and a sound knowledge of their behaviour in the environment. Thus, certain workshops have specialized in these highly technical creations, and managed to establish a constructive dialogue with the artists. 5.3 New Information and Graphics Technologies: the Role of the Artist These new technologies may also be employed for full- scale reproductions, using photographic techniques and digital printing. This may consist of using photography as an extension of what had already been achieved by 19th-century glaziers, such as Maréchal de Metz, who applied the patents by Samson and Lafon de Camarsac for producing patterns reproduced on the glass using photographic techniques, which are subsequently glazed by firing.87 This technique was utilised, for example, for the windows by Gérard Collin-Thiébaut in the north wing of the transept of Tours Cathedral, combining photographic reproduction on the glass and traditional painting.88 82 France, Hérault, between 1999–2002. 83 Produced by the Duchemin workshop: David, Chagall, Soulages, Benzaken. 84 Realized by the Loire workshop in Lèves, France, in 2013: http:// w ww.kimenjoong- v itraux.com/ l isting/ c athedrale- saint-paul-de-liege/ (last accessed 27 November 2018). 85 France, Vienne, in 2005: http://chemindetraverse.over- blog.com/article-eglise-de-jazeneuil-123880105.html (last accessed 27 November 2018). 86 Quintas, “Contemporary stained glass using luminescent enamels”. 87 Vincent-Petit, “Le vitrail photographique au XIXe siècle”. 88 Realized by the Parot workshop, France, between 2011– 13: David, Chagall, Soulages, Benzaken.
440 Pallot-Frossard However, photography may also be employed using the same technique as 19th-century non-fired photographic glazing. This is how the glazings at the Saint- Cosme priory at La Riche were produced by Eric Linard, on a project by the artist Zao-Wou-Ki.89 The initial project consisted of a series of Indian ink originals produced by the artist in 2005 and never published. These ink sketches were reproduced by digigraphy, using special UV-resistant inks on a transparent polyester film sandwiched between two plates of glass and two sheets of butyl. The combination forms a single volume for each window opening with no cuts. Despite its extremely high aesthetic quality, this type of work nevertheless poses a problem of principle: the actual method employed distances the work from conventional artistic creation, in which the project is conceived by the artist intended for the building in which it is to be placed, and is subsequently interpreted by the artist himself or by the glazier in order to translate it at the scale of execution under the chosen glazing technique. In this case, however, an existing work was selected, with the agreement of the artist, to be transposed mechanically onto a translucent medium, with minimal, if any, involvement of the creator in person. This is, therefore, closer to large-scale reproduction than to truly original creation. Even if she adopted similar techniques, this approach is completely different from that adopted in the Saint-Martin church in Latour90 by the artist Marie-Christophe Lambert, who created a specific project for the church, in collaboration with the Saint-Gobain Company, for the application of enamels by printing techniques (Figure. 26.9). Certain artists, looking beyond the already extensive range of possibilities provided by all the derivatives of glass, have decided to make use of more unusual materials in the field of stained glass. This has included using polymers, and in particular adhesives, in order to replace the traditional lead-based assemblies, or the superimposition of different pieces or plates of glass. The most famous example is certainly the large window in the south wing of the transept of Cologne Cathedral, a work by Gerhard Richter,91 representing an area of some 113 m2 consisting of small squares of blown glass (9.6 cm per side) in 72 different colours, assembled together with a black silicone adhesive attached to a glass backing plate by a flexible silicone gel. If one considers artistic creation today as having a potential patrimonial value, then the same care must be applied during its elaboration, as is the case for the 89 90 91
France, Indre et Loire, in 2010: http://www.ucpl.fr/prieure/ (last accessed 27 November 2018). Belgium, in the Luxembourg province, in 2017. Germany, realized by Gerix Glass studios, in 2007: Diederichs, Gerhard Richter: Zufall.
preservation of ancient works. Beyond selecting the artist, this involves choosing an experienced workshop capable of implementing the most traditional as well as the most innovative techniques, with particular concern for its responsibility with regard to the future, using materials of the highest possible quality. It has often been said, quite justifiably, that the final quality of the work is largely dependent on the quality of the association of the artist and the technician, who is often a creator in his own right, but who, in parallel, also undertakes a constant “techwatch” within his field on new products and new techniques. However, innovation does not mean the adoption of all the new techniques that appear on the market without considering their endurance over time. This control on the use of materials must be based, first of all, on dialogue with glass scientists and industry, in order to ascertain the composition of the products being proposed and the endurance tests which they may have been subjected to, and then on the observation of works already produced. The professional who produces the work is therefore positioned at the interface between the creator, whose mental projection he must satisfy, and the world of research and industry, which provides the innovative techniques and products.92 5.4 Individual Expression or Respect for the Context? The question of inserting a contemporary creation within patrimonial buildings is a crucial concern with respect to the treatment of the glazing, due to the major role which glass and lighting play in architectural perception. The buildings which lend themselves to the exercise are various and the problems encountered all the more so. For cathedrals, whose stained-glass windows have been completely destroyed during the last wars, or churches which have retained ancient stained- glass windows, but whose glasswork suffers from voids and where the material losses transmit white light, the approach must necessarily be different. When all the windows at a given site have been lost, a programme must be defined, which may be entirely aesthetic in nature, imposed by the people in charge of historical monuments, or iconographic in the broadest sense of the term, established by the religious authority, which involves itself to a varying degree. This programme may result in a state order or an open bid competition; these procedures may result in monographic type creations, or collections of works commissioned from different artists. The historic example of a monographic work is 92 Pallot- Frossard, innovantes”.
“Vitrail
contemporain
et
techniques
Stained Glass: Heritage and Creation, Materiality in all its States
that at Charleville-Mezières,93 where all the apertures were entrusted to René Durrbach from 1961 to 1978. This type of project became renowned more recently in Villenauxe-la-Grande,94 where David Tremlett created a series of 24 windows, together with the Jacques Simon workshops, following an extensive international competition. In most cases the visual effect is that of a kind of enveloping unity, which runs from window to window and provides the building with a very strong luminous presence. One might sometimes question the dialectics between architectural exploitation and artistic expression, but the unity is unquestionable. Among “collections” of contemporary creations, the most famous example is at Nevers Cathedral,95 where variations in colour and lighting dominate over unity, sometimes at the expense of architectural perception and the reciprocal exploitation of the works. One may of course consider that a building which receives these collective creations is thus closer to an ancient building, that has had its glazing introduced and modified throughout its long history, than a building which receives a monographic work, which is an eminently contemporary concept. However, such collective exercises are perilous, and the choice of artists ready to play in this euphonic score is fundamental. Creation in ancient buildings with preserved but incomplete glazing is more demanding, as there is a need to ensure visual compatibility not only with the architecture itself, but also with the older extant glass. Although the appreciation of contemporary creation may be subjective, the recognized main objective remains the achievement of harmony, which preserves the perception of ancient artworks as well as contemporary works. It can only be attained by attentive observation and comprehension of existing works by the creator, and personal discipline founded on modesty. One can therefore enjoy, as such, the creations by Imi Knoebel in Reims, but surely one cannot deny that they visually overpower both the architecture of the chapels where they have been introduced and the adjacent windows by Marc Chagall in the centre chapel, and the more modest ones in the south by Steinheil.96 A different example is given by the recent creation by Marc Mulders in Sint Janskerk in Gouda,97 (Figure 26.10) that is more respectful of the luminous atmosphere created by the ancient stained-glass windows. Time will no doubt gradually play its part in the 93 France, in the Ardennes, realized by André Seurre and Jacqueline Nicol: Perrot, Le vitrail français contemporain. 94 France, Aube: David, Chagall, Soulages, Benzaken. 95 France, Nièvre: Lagier, Les couleurs du ciel. 96 Created by Coffetier and Steinheil in 1859. 97 In The Netherlands, in 2016.
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integration of these creations into cultural heritage, and grant retrospective appreciation for these new creations. 6 Conclusion In the 21st century, the art of stained glass is both a subject for research into its ancient representations, and a project for contemporary creations. These possibilities clearly demonstrate the living, and ever-evolving nature of the medium of glass. The close and fruitful relationship between architecture and its glazing determines the specific nature of this monumental art and will ensure its future, since stained-glass windows number among the most original artistic expressions of mankind.98 Bibliography Secondary Sources
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This paper is an updated and more complete version of an article published in French in 2014: Pallot-Frossard, “Patrimoine et création, la matière dans tous ses états”. The author would particularly like to acknowledge the help of Hannelore Römich, Elizabeth Pastan, and Brigitte Kurmann- Schwarz for their reading of the text and helpful amendments. She would also like to thank Taco Hermans, Isabelle Lecocq, Aletta Rambaut, and Stefan Trümpler for providing her with examples of contemporary creations in their respective countries.
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f igure 24.1a Interior view of the rotunda to the south-west (1772–83). Abbey church of St. Blasien.
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f igure 24.1b Reconstruction of the glazing of the left south-west window of St. Blasien with panels from the Freiburg charterhouse (1772–83).
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f igure 24.2 L. Sommer, View of the Stuttgart Kunstkammer in the “Altes Lusthaus”, engraving (17th century).
f igure 24.3 Catalogue of stained-glass panels in the collection of Balthasar L. Künast (1668). Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek.
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f igure 24.4 “Kriegerisches Kabinett”, view of a window (1785–86). Wörlitz, Gothic House, window xxiii.
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f igure 24.5 V.W.P. Heideloff, View of the interior of the church in the Hohenheim garden, colored etching (c.1785–95). Hohenheim (Stuttgart), Universitätsarchiv.
f igure 24.6 J.W. Wendt, View of the east side windows in the “Rittersaal” in the castle of Erbach, watercolor (c.1805–07). Erbach, Gräfliche Rentkammer, Katalog Nr. 1.
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f igure 25.1 Sir John Soane (designer), Monk’s Parlour window, roundels and springline panels originally in contemporary glass (c.1823). London, Sir John Soane’s Museum.
f igure 25.2 Fernand Desmoulin, Drawing of Zola in his Study at Médan (1887). Médan, Maison Zola.
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f igure 25.3 A, B Photographs of Henry C. Lawrence’s home in New York City, illustrating his installation techniques using light boxes and natural light (c.1919).
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f igure 25.4 The Gothic Chapel, Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
f igure 25.5 Fold-out Map of Victoria and Albert Museum, London, second floor showing the stained-glass installation on the “Bridge” (1930). Karl Baedeker, London and its Environs, London, 1930.
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f igure 26.1 Jerusalem, detail of the scene of the Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, panel before cleaning in 1974 (c.1150). Chartres Cathedral, the Infancy window, bay 50.
f igure 26.2 Jerusalem, detail of the scene of the Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, panel after cleaning in 1974 (c.1150). Chartres Cathedral, the Infancy window, bay 50.
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f igure 26.3 Analysis of the glass composition of a 12th-century panel from the abbey of Saint-Denis (c.1145) by pixe (particle induced X-ray emission) on aglae accelerator, at the C2RMF.
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f igure 26.4 Jean Courtois, The Meal at the House of Simon, detail of manganese browning on a head (1534). La Ferté-Bernard (France), parish church of Notre-Dame-des-Marais, bay 5.
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f igure 26.5 Gentle cleaning of a panel with cotton swabs.
f igure 26.6 Isothermal protective glazing using heat-formed transparent panes (St. Thomas window). Chartres Cathedral, bay 23
Figures for Part 6
f igure 26.7 The Annunciation, detail of the head of the Archangel Gabriel, before restoration (c.1210–1220) , Chartres Cathedral, choir clerestory, bay 100 (c. Isabelle Baudoin-Louw)
457
f igure 26.8 The Annunciation, detail of the head of the Archangel Gabriel, after restoration (c. 1210–1220), Chartres Cathedral, choir clerestory, bay 100 (c. Isabelle Baudoin-Louw)
458
f igure 26.9 Marie-Christophe Lambert, La Salette, window created in collaboration with Saint-Gobain Company, printing technique on glass (2017). Latour, Belgium, parish church of Saint-Martin.
Figures for Part 6
Figures for Part 6
f igure 26.10 Marc Mulders, New window created in honor of Erasmus (2016). Gouda, The Netherlands, Sint Jans Kerk.
459
Index Compiled by Marilyn M. Beaven. Please note:the pages for the figures are indicated by numbers in bold at the end of the citation. Alberti, Leon Battista 109 Angers, Pays de la Loire Cathedral of Saint-Maurice 44–45 Martyrdom of Saint Catherine window 44, 87 Entombment of the Virgin window 44, 87. See also Mary, Virgin Life of Antonio da Pisa 350, 52, 356, 434. See also workshops, artists, Italian Amman, Jost, The Glass Painter 340, 387 archeometry, or scientific studies of medieval glass 432, 434 Analysis of a12th century panel from the Abbey of Saint-Denis 454 conservation principles and practices 436–37 Gentle cleaning of a panel with cotton swabs 437, 456 icomos International Council on Monuments and Sites 433 Guidelines for the Preservation of Monumental Stained Glass 436 ion beam techniques on a particle accelerator 434 in Belgium, Olivier Schalm and Koen Jansens, Antwerp University 434 in Great Britain, Roy Newton, stereo scan technique 433 Jan Freestone, British Museum laboratories, and David Dungworth, British Heritage 434 in France, Martha Spitzer Aronson, scanning electro microscope and microprobe 432 Jean-Marie Bettembourg, chemist lrmh 432–33 Robert Collongues and Monique Perez y Jorba, corrosion studies 432 in United States, Robert Brill, Corning Museum, 434 Isothermal protective glazing using heat formed transparent panes, (St. Thomaswindow) Chartres Cathedral 457 preventative conservation 433 weathering and conservation 435–436 Jean Courtois, The Meal at the House of Simon, detail, La Ferté-Bernard, parish church of Notre-Dame des Marais 435, 455 New 21st century stained glass made with old and new techniques 436–40, 458–459
Marie-Christophe Lambert, Window created in collaboration with Saint-Gobain Company 440, 458 Marc Mulders, New window created in honor of Erasmus, Gouda, Netherlands, Sint Janskerk 440–441, 459 reversible paints 434, 438 weathering crusts 433–36, 451 detail of the scene of the Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, before cleaning, Chartres Cathedral, Infancy window 453 detail of the scene of the Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, after cleaning, Chartres Cathedral, Infancy window 453 architecture See also windows and architecture Ardagger, Austria collegiate church of St. Margaret 229 St. Margaret’s window 175–76, 251, 260 Arnstein an der Lahn, Germany, former Premonstratensian Abbey church 37, 147–48 Typological window 149, 171 Moses receiving the ten Commandments 148, 171 Moses and the burning bush 149, 172 Gerlachus, Arnstein abbey monk painter 149, 172 artists audience for stained glass 202, 206 aesthetic diffusion 209–10 St. Cheron window 202, 257 donors of windows 203, 257, 264–66 light effects 204 modern vs medieval perception 205–11 perception 203–04 the work of art, the audience, and the maker 202 Assisi Basilica of San Francesco in Assisi 350, 390 auctioneers and dealers of stained glass Hampp, John Christopher, of Norwich 315 Paterson, London 315 Augsburg, Bavaria Cathedral, Prophets 16, 30, 36, 81 Importance in 15th and 16th centuries 67–69 Auxerre, Burgundy Cathedral of Saint-Étienne 190, 255 Legend of St. Margaret window 229, 260
St. Nicholas iconia legend window 190, 255 Baldung Grien, Hans 64–65, 69–70 Adoration of the Magi window 64, 100 Eberstein/Sonnenberg Alliance, heraldic panel 69–70, 105 Beauvais, Hauts-de-France Cathedral of Saint-Étienne 143, 216–25, 258–59 –axial Virgin chapel 216, 258–59 Bishop Saint window 217–18, 220, 259 clerestory windows 224, 259 Infancy window 216–17, 219, 258 Jesse Tree window 222, 259 Theophilus window 218–20, 259 style and dating 219–20 Benedictine order 30 Bernard of Clairvaux, abbot of Clairvaux 145, 283 BibliaPauperum(c. 1464–65) 12, 207, 311 Bourges, Centre-Val de Loire Cathedral of Saint-Étienne 295–304, 328, 330 Stained-glass workshop 295–97 cartoon use 296 choir screen 301–02 grisaille windows 301–03 Henri de Sully, Archbishop 303 St. Thaddeus the Apostle window 295, 329 organization of stained-glass programs 297–301, 266, 330 Palais Jacques Coeur Master of Jacques Coeur, Galley Ship with the arms of Jacques Coeur 139, 166 Canterbury Canterbury Cathedral 190 Cure of Roger of Valgnes(?) and Godwin of Boxgrove window 190, 255 shrine of Thomas Becket 190 Cambridge, England King’s College Chapel 13, 315 Cartoons. See workshops, cartoons Cennini, Cennino, painter of Florence, Librodell’arte See also 337, 350, 351. workshops Cistercian order 123 Charlemagne 28–29, 50, 144, 90 Chaucer, Geoffrey, “Prologue”to the Tale of Beryn 207 Chartres, Centre-Val de Loire Cathedral of Notre-Dame 37, 88–89 Charlemagne window 50, 179, 90
462 Index Chartres, Centre-Val de Loire (Cont.) Christ surrounded by the24 Elders of the Apocalypse,south transept rose 143, 168 “Belle-Verrière” 37, 51, 56, 146–47, 150, 179, 80, 91 Legend of St.Lubin window 51, 92 Legend of St. Eustace window 53, 94 Legend of St. James window 56, 96 St. Julian and his wife mourn over the bodies of his parents 56, 96 St. Cheron window 54, 57, 95 St. Matthew window 52, 93 Creation of Eve, Good Samaritan window 54–55, 94 relics 49–53 sainte châsse, with the Virgin’s veil 50–51, 90 Fourth Crusade 52 restorations of the 20th century 121–23, 89 rebuilding after the fire of 1194 54–58 two glazing campaigns 54 Glorification of the Virgin Master 55 Master of St. Cheron 54, 57, 95 St. Eustace Master 54–55, 183, 94 St. James Master 56, 96 St. Lubin Master 51, 55, 92 Good Samaritan Master 54–55, 94 workshop collaborations 55–58.See also windows, rose window Chemillé-sur-Indrois, Centre-Val de Loire church of Saint-Vincent 42–43 Entombment of Christ window 42–43, 85 Chenu, Pays de la Loire church of Saint-Martin 43–44, 85 Virgin and Child window 43–44, 85 Life of Christand Bishops composite window 43–44, 86 Christ Annunciation panel 144–45, 170 William Mundeford, The Crowning with Thorns and the Second Mocking of Christwindow, St. Peter Mancroft 368, 397 Crucifixion window 13, 41, 43–44, 144, 76, 84, 169 Ecce Homo window 12, 75 in Glory window 43–44, 86 Entombment window 42–43, 86 Cistercian order 19, 283 former Abbey of Pontigny, Burgundy 283, 326 fra Magio of San Galgano, Master at Siena Cathedral 353–54, 389 collectors of stained glass and their collections 418–19 Count Franz i of Erbach-Erbach, Gothic Revival Hall 316 Dixon, Eleanor and Fitz Eugene, Ronaele, near Philadelphia, 425 Jerningham, George William, Baron Stafford, Costessey chapel in Norfolk, England 316
Gardner, Isabella Stewart, Fenway Court, Boston 426–27, 452 Hearst, William Randolph 425 Lawrence, Henry, New York City, 425– 26, 451 Leopold iii Frederick Franz, Duke of Anhalt-Dessau, Gotisches Haus at Wörlitz, near Dessau 316 Morgan, J. Pierpont of Boston 316, 427 Neaves, Sir Thomas, Dagnam Hall 315 Pitcairn, Raymond, Glencairn, Bryn Athyn, PA 425 Pratt, George DuPont, Killenworth, Long Island, NY 316, 425 Prince Freidrich of Prussia, palace on the Wilhelmstrasse in Berlin 316 Sloane, Sir John, London 420 Sir John Sloane, Monks Parlor window 421, 450 Spitzer, Frédéric, Paris 423–24 Stukeley, Revd. William, Stamford, English antiquarian 419–20 Walpole, Horace, Strawberry Hill, Richmond, England 315–16, 421 Wörlitz 406–7, 412–13, 448 Zola, Émile, author, collector, Paris and Médan 423, 450. See also museums Collaboration. See workshops, division of labor/collaboration Constantinople, Byzantium 30–31, 81 contracts 11, 38, 63, 134, 137, 342–43. See also fabric accounts, wills Corpus VitrearumMediiAevii(cvma) 10, 176, 179, 206, 376, 406, 418, 433, 436– 37 Cult of Saints 227 divide between clergy and laity 227–29 Diderot and D’Alembert, Vitrier 137 Didron, Alphonse, Annales Archéologiques 211 donors 11–13, 31, 62, 65, 182, 343. See also female donors Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry ii of England 41, 203, 244–45, 84, 264 Elizabeth de Burgh, founded the Franciscan house in Walsingham 365, 393 Löffelholz, Dr. Johannes and Katherina Dintner 64–65, 100 Margaret of Denmark (?) 239, 246, 262 Maximilian i, Emperor 65–66, 68, 101, 104 margraves of Brandenbourg- Ansbach 65–66, 101 Pfinzing, Melchior 65–66, 101 Shoemakers Shoemakers offering a stained-glass window, detail of the Good Samaritan window 193–94, 203, 255 Shoemakers presenting a window on an altar, detail of St. Stephen window 203, 257
Downtham Market, Norfolk, England parish church of St. Edmond, St. Barnabas window 364, 392 Duccio, Italian painter Siena, Glazed oculus choir window 353–54, 389 Duchamps, Marcel, Fresh window 109, 158 Durandus, William, Bishop of Mende, Rationale divinorumofficiorum 111, 143–44, 151 Dürer, Albrecht Design for the St. George window 63, 97 Moses and the Ten Commandments window 63, 98 Bamberg Bishop’s window 63–64, 99 Death on horseback 64, 100 Margraves window 64–66, 101 Provost SixtusTucher at an open grave 64, 100 Passion (1507–13), Large Passion (1498) 11 St. Jerome in his cell, 109, 157 Eleanor of Aquitaine, Queen of England 37, 41, 84, 203, 245, 84, 264 fabric accounts 10–11 Fairford, England St. Mary’s parish church 12, 179, 182 female donors 239–48, 262–66 Blanche d’Avaugour, 378, 381 Guillauned’Harcourt window at Évreux Cathedral Elizabeth von Stöffeln 242–43 Virgin and Child with Elizabeth von Stöffeln, Abbess of Heiligkreuztal 242, 263 Elizabeth, Queen (Habsburg) 245– 46, 265 Eleanor of Aquitaine 37, 244–45 Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II of England as donors, window 37, 244, 84, 264 identification 239–40, 262 images and class 240–41, 265–66 Lemmel, Katerina 246–47 stained glass program for the convent of Maria Mai Margaret of Denmark (?) 239, 246 Female donor offering a window 239, 246, 262 Marguerite of Lèves 245 Marguerite of Lèves praying in front of the image of the Virgin, window 245, 265 Matilda de Courtenay 246 Countess Matilda offering a window 246, 266 women and family images 241–44 Anonymous couple before a statue of the Virgin 243, 264 Sophia Overstolz 246 Sophia Overstolz and her husband Gobelinus von der Schafportzen, window 246, 266
463
Index Yolanda, daughter of Pierre Mauclerc 242, 262 wives, nuns, single women and widows 241–47, 262 Florence, Tuscany Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore 352–53, 358–59 Leonardo di Simone and Agnolo Gaddi, St Stephen and St. Gregory the Great,St. Sebastian and a female Martyr Saint window 358, 389 Basilica of Santa Croce 356–58 Unknown glazier and Taddeo Gaddi, St. Francis receiving the stigmata and sixstanding saints,window 391 Master 0f Figline, Franciscan saints and Popes 358, 391 Franciscan order 12, 352–53, 356–58 Elizabeth de Burgh, founder of the Franciscan house in Walsingham, England 365, 393 Freiburg 69–70 Gitschmann von Ropstein, Hans, glass- painting workshop 64–65, 69, 409, 445–46 Froxmere, Thomas 11, 75 Gautier de Varinfroy, architect at Tours cathedral 283 Giovanni di Bonino, glazier of Assisi and Orvieto 354–55 Stories of the life of the Virgin and Hebrew Prophets 354, 390 St. Francis and St. Claire 354, 390 glass manufacturing chronology in the Roman Empire 23–24 in the early medieval age 24–25 in Merovingian and Anglo-Saxon lands 26–28, 80 in Carolingian lands 28–29, 80 in 10th–12th Centuries 30–31, 81 Romanesque era 38–45 Gothic architecture. See windows, and Gothic architecture Gregory of Tours (d. 594), HistoriaFrancorum 38 Grodecki, analytical methodology 216 Grisaille, as a type of window 123–25, 282–92, 350–52, 355, 357–58, 376, 160, 325–28 at Saint-Denis Grisaille panel with bulging quarries centered on a drollery 309, 331 composition 282 early 13th century French 284–85 mid 13th century French 285–87 end of 13th century French 288–91 with silver stain 139, 282, 288, 291–2, 165, 328 locations in religious buildings 282, 326 theological context 285 with colored borders 285, 326
with color/grisaille combinations 286– 87, 285–86, 326 without color 288, 327 grisaille, paint on glass 16–17 Herrad of Landsberg, Abbess of Hohenbourg, Hortusdeliciarum 247, 275 Henry ii, King of England 37, 84 heraldic panels 62 Heraldry within medallion of a quarried window 134–36, 162 Heyward, William, workshop of Norwich 369–71 Fragments from a Te Deum window, East Harling, parish church of St. Peter and St. Paul 370, 398 Detail of St. Michael, from a panel painting on wood 370, 399 Hirsvogel workshop. See Nuremberg Holbein, Hans the Elder 67–68, 103–104 Last Judgement window 67, 103 Patron saints of the diocese of Eichstatt 67–68, 104 Hugh of Saint Victor 37, 147–48, 151 Jacobus de Voragine, Golden Legend 230, 233 Jean Pucelle, illuminator of Paris Hours of Jeanne d’Évreux 376 John of Salisbury, Bishop of Chartres 143 Karl van Mander, Het Leven 313 Kimberley, Norfolk, England parish church of St. Peter 366, 394 Kulmbach, Hans Süss von 11, 61, 64–66 Margraves window 64–66, 101 laity vs clergy 150, 227–29 Lassus, Jean-Baptiste, restorer Sainte- Chapelle, Paris 432 Laon, Hauts-de-France Cathedral of Notre-Dame 143, 167 Lausanne, Switzerland Cathedral of Notre-Dame Imago Mundirose 276, 323 Lenoir, Alexander, Musée des monuments français 208–09, 422–23 Le Mans, Centre-Val de Loire Cathedral of Saint-Julien 37, 39–42 Ascension window 39–41, 82 Infancy window 39, 84 windows and liturgy 42 Les Essards, Centre-Val de Loire, parish church 37–38 Calvary window 39–40, 83 Leonardo di Simone, glazier of Florence 351, 358–59, 389 Leonardo di Simone and Agnolo Gaddi, St Stephen and St. Gregory the Great, St. Sebastian, and a female Martyr Saint window 358, 389 light 111–12, 120–21, 124–25, 210–11, 285, 159–161
diaphanum 114–15 Gothic aesthetic 121 phenomenon of 112–13 window openings 109, 157 theology of 143–51 and visibility 124–25 liturgy, windows, and light 43–45, 126–27, 175, 179, 208 to anoint Kings 181–82 layered context 175–77, 251 light in motion 176 liturgy/divinaofficia 176, 180 liturgical inscriptions in glass 184, 254 miraculous visions 176 ordinals 178–79 programs in glass 179, 182–83, 251–52 relics and liturgy 180–82, 230–33, 261 ritual space and processions 177–80 in windows Angels singing, sanctus, sanctus, sanctus window, by John Thornton of Coventry, York Minster, England 184, 254 Baptism of Christ, central west window Chartres Cathedral 183, 252 Miracle of the Host from the St. Edward the Confessor window, Fécamp 176–77, 251 Redemption window, Christ Church Cathedral, Canterbury 179, 252 Seven Sacraments window, St. Mary’s Parish Church, Melbury Bubb, England 183, 253 The Seven Sacraments with Christ window, St. Michael’s Church, Doddiscombsleigh, England 183, 254 St. Margaret’s window, Saint Margaret’s collegiate church, Ardagger, Austria 175–76, 251, 260 St. John the Baptist baptizing Christ window Church of Saint-Foi, Normandy 183, 253 Lorsch, Abbey, Head of a Saint 30, 36 Mantegna, Andrea. See rose windows, at San Zeno in Verona Mary, Virgin Annunciation 110, 133–34, 151, 158, 162 John Mundeford, Visitation window, Norwich, St. Peter Mancroft 368, 395 John Mundeford, Visitation window, East Harling 368, 396 analogous to light 111, 134, 146 Life of 43–44, 86 Marie of Brabant, Queen 287, 290–91 Margaret of Antioch, St. 175–76, 227–35 Four scenes from the life of St. Margaret 232–33, 261 Legend of St. Margaret window, Auxerre Cathedral 229, 260
464 Index Margaret of Antioch, St. (Cont.) St. Margaret window, Ardagger, Austria 175–76, 229, 251, 260 St. Margaret from the Procession of the Relics window 232, 261 Martyrdom and Death of St. Margaret 232, 261 St. Margaret, Strasbourg Cathedral 234, 262 Master of Figline 355–57, 390 Mérode Triptych, 133–35, 162 Millais, John Everett, Mariana 110, 158 museums Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters, New York City, 427–28 Victoria and Albert, London 427, 452 narrative cycles in glass 189–92, 198, 208, 221 armatures, as directional aid 190–91 internal groupings 196–97 in sermons, song, and stories 191– 92, 197 in saint’s lives 227–28, 233–35 narrative windows Cure of Roger of Valgnes(?) and Godwin of Boxgrove window 190, 255 Good Samaritan window 193, 221, 255 Legend of Charlemagne window 179, 183, 195, 256 St. Lubin window 193, 198 St. Nicholas iconia legend window 190, 255 Shoemakers offering a stained-glass window 193, 255 patronage 193 pilgrimage destination 197 1n public places 192, 182–83 relic authentication 194–96 visual rhetoric: repetition, expansion, color coding 189–90, 255 Norfolk, England Attleborough, parish church of St. Mary, Musical Angel tracery panel 365, 393 Downtham Market, parish church of St. Edmond, St. Barnabuswindow 364, 392 Norwich, Cathedral of the Holy and undivided Trinity 363 King Street, excavation, Head of a bearded figure fragment 367, 394 St. Peter Mancroft, parish church 182 John Mundeford, Visitation window 368, 395 William Mundeford, The Crowning with Thorns and theSecond Mocking of Christ window 368, 397 East Harling, parish church of St. Peter and St. Paul 368, 396
John Mundeford, Visitation window 368 Great Walsingham, parish church of St. Peter Two tracery quatrefoils with the Coronation of the Virgin 365, 393 Mileham, parish church of St. John the Baptist, St. Catherine window 365, 394 Norton Subcourse, parish church of St. Mary, Seraph 364, 292 Normandy, France Évreux 381 Cathedral of Notre-Dame 76–77 donors and donations 377–79 Portrait of Louis of France, Count of Évreuxwindow 377–78, 382, 399 Canon Raoul de Ferrières window 377–78, 400 Virgin and Child and portrait of Bishop Jean du Prat window 377, 402 King Charles VI window 378, 402 St. Martin dividing his Cloak window 379, 401 Guillauned’Harcourt window, Blanche d’Avaugour, donor window 378 Rouen 28, 136, 140, 218, 220–21, 287, 291, 308, 315, 374–79, 381–2, 328 Abbey church of Saint-Ouen 136, 376 Cathedral of Notre-Dame 378–379 Nuremberg, Germany 13, 61, 63–67, 97 Saint-Sebald, parish church 63–64, 101 Bamberg bishop’s window 63– 64, 99 Hirsvogel workshop 63–65 Adoration of the Magi window 64, 100 Margraves window 64–65, 101 Moses and the Ten Commandments window 61, 63, 65, 98 Wolgemut workshop 65, 314 Orbais, Champagne former abbey church of Saint-Peter 144 Typological Crucifixion window 144, 169 Orvieto, Umbria Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin 350, 354–56, 390 Paris, church of Saint-Merry Saint Francis infirm tended by the Angels 136, 164 Pictor in Carmine, British Library Add. MS. 48353145, 147–48, 150 Plantagenet domain Romanesque stained glass 36–45 Poitiers, Poitou Cathedral of Saint-Pierre 41 Crucifixion window 41–42, 84 windows and liturgy 42
Premonstratensian order 36–37. See also Arnstein an der Lahn Reims, Champagne abbey church of Saint-Remi of Reims 125–26, 139, 181–83, 270, 161, 320 rose windows 143, 269–78 at Chartres, west rose, Last Judgment window 143, 148, 269, 168, 319 interior view 272, 321 The dead rising from their tombswindow 272, 322 at Laon 143, 167 at Lincoln 269 interior view 271, 321 Metrical Life of St. Hugh 269 at Reims Cathedral 270, 320 at San Zeno in Verona 278, 324 Andrea Mantegna, Triptych for San Zeno 278, 325 design of 271–72 image in the Rothschild Canticles 277, 324 legibility of 272–73 and rota diagrams 274–75 as wheel of light 277–78, 328 roundels 136–40, 307–17, 163–65 definition of 307 making of 307, 333 in original urban setting 307, 309–10 at Ghent 309 Christ as the Man of Sorrows (?)roundel 309, 332 Cologne artist, The New and Old Dispensation roundel 311, 333 Dirk Crabeth, Banquet of Samuel and Saul, 311–13, 315, 334 Dirk Vellert, The Judgment of Cambyses roundel 313, 334 Jean Fouquet, Roundel with the Monogram of Laurent Girard 138, 164 Linard Gontier, Roundel of King Henri IV arriving at Notre-Dame of Paris 138, 165 Pieterskerkgracht, 9, Leiden 307– 08, 311–12 after the Pseudo-Ortkens, Susanna and the Elders roundel 311, 333 Roundel of the fox preaching to the farmyard roundel 138, 164 Reformation 311–12 painters of roundels Dirk Crabeth, Gouda 311–13, 334 Dirk Vellert, Amsterdam 311, 334 Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen, Amsterdam 311 Lucas van Leiden, Leiden 311, 313 Pieter Cornelisz, Leiden 310–11 the pseudo-Ortkens, painter of Brussels and Antwerp, 311, 333 subject matter 310–11 Sorgeloos in Poverty roundel 310, 332
465
Index workshops practices 312–313 print sources 312 Saint-Denis, Royal Abbey 16, 28, 32, 37, 120–21, 151, 178–79, 204, 221, 342. See also Suger, Abbot of Saint-Denis. Cross of St. Eligius 145, 204, 206 use of grisaille windows 284, 286–87 extant grisaille panel 309, 331 western rose window 270, 275 Saint-Quentin, Hauts-de-France, former collegiate church 124–25, 160 Salmon, Pierre, Dialogues de Pierre Salmon 135, 163 Sicard of Cremona, author 143 Siena, Tuscany Siena Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin 353–54 Duccio, Glazed oculus choir window 353, 389 silver stain See workshops, silver stain; grisaille, end of 13th century French Soissons, Cathedral of Saint-Gervais and Saint-Protais 120, 159 stained glass apotropaic quality 144 chemical composition 10–11 flux, soda or potash 39 manuscripts and stained glass 223–24 modern technology 14 printed design sources 62 style 66, 215–16, 221–23, 375–76 theology of 71, 229–30. See also windows and architecture, workshops, stained glass stained-glass artists 221–223 English Conesford glaziers, Norwich 366, 394 Curteys, Geoffrey, glazier of Norwich 363 Glasier, John, Stamford, roundel painter 314 Hadesco family, Adam and John, glaziers of Norwich 366 Heyward, William, workshop of Norwich 369–71 Mundeford, John, glazier of Norwich 368, 395–396 Mundeford, William, glazier of Norwich 368, 397 Nicholson, James, glazier 13 Prudde, John, King’s glazier 31 Sadler, Gilbert, glazier of Norwich 366 Simon de Lenne, glazier of Kings Lynne 365, 393 Thornton, John, glazier, (fl. 1405–33) 11, 14, 342, 345, 77–78 Wighton, John of Norwich, roundel painter 314, 369–370 Wynondswalde, John, of Peterborough, roundel painter 314 French Chastellain, Jean, glazier 13
Bellemare, Noel 13 Perier, Jehan, Master of the works, Chartres 54 le Vieil, Pierre 14, 16 German Baldung Grien, Hans, painter 61, 64–5, 69–70, 343, 409, 100, 105, 446 Beham, Sebald, painter 61, 67, 314 Breu, Jörg the Elder 67–68, 313–14 Battle scenes of Emperor Maximilian I 68, 104 Burgkmair, Hans, painter 67–8, 314 Dürer, Albrecht 12, 61, 63, 66, 314, 75, 97–100, 109–10, 312–14, 409, 411 Kulmbach, Hans Süss von 61–66, 71, 157, 314, 343, 101 Gerlachus, monk painter of the Premonstratensian Abbey at Arnstein an der Lahn 149–51, 172 Giltlinger, Gumpolt the Elder, painter/ workshop owner 66–68, 104 Hemmel von Andlau, Peter 61–2 Hirsvogel, Augustin, painter/ galzier 67, 313, 102 A wild boar hunting scene 67, 102 Hirsvogel, Veit, glazier 13, 64–66, 313, 100–101 Holbein, Hans the Elder 67–68, 103–104 Holbein, Hans the Younger 70–71 Pleydenwurff, Hans, painter/workshop owner 61 Schäufelein, Hans, painter 61, 314 Stimmer, Christoph, painter 71 Arms of ChristophStimmer 70, 106 Stimmer, Tobias 71 Wolgemut, Michael, painter/workshop owner 61–65, 313–14 Italian Anonymous of Sienna 337, 340 Antonio da Pisa, glazier 9–10, 15–18, 53, 337 Secreti per lovorar li vetri 9, 15 Giovanni di Bonino, glazier of Assisi and Orvieto 354–55 Stories of the life of the Virgin and Hebrew Prophets 354, 390 St. Francis and St. Claire 354, 390 Cennini, Cennino, Librodell’arte 13, 337 Leonardo di Simone, glazier of Florence 351, 358–59, 389 Master of Figline 355–57, 390–91 Taddeo Gaddi, painter Florence 357–58, 391 Netherlandish Vellert, Dirk 313–16 stained-glass collections, in Germany 405–414 antiquarian interest 409 appreciation of 408 cabinet of curiosities 410, 448 definitions 405–06 early museums 406–07 reuse 408–09, 445–46 secularization 412 suppression of monasteries 415
Strasbourg Cathedral of Notre-Dame 275, 322 workshop community 61–62, 66, 69 Musée de l’Oeuvre Notre-Dame WissembourgHead 30, 36, 81 Suger, Abbot of Saint-Denis 16, 32, 145, 147, 179, 204, 206–08, 342, 423 Taddeo Gaddi, painter Florence 357–58, 391 Unknown glazier and Taddeo Gaddi, St. Francis receiving the stigmata and six standingsaints window 391 texts, hagiographic 227–29. See also Jacobus de Voragine texts on glass making 61, 109, 135, 137, 145, 337–346 earliest medieval authors Antonio da Pisa, of Florence 337, 339–40 Anonymous of Siena 337, 340 Anonymous of Nuremberg 338, 340–41 Cennino Cennini of Florence and Padua 337–40 monk of Zagan monastery 338, 340 Theophilus of Germany 337–39 early workshop 341–42 languages: German, Italian, Latin 338 purpose of the early texts 343–44 separate trades, glass makers and glass painters 339 status of stained glass 346.See also Alberti, Leon Battista; Cennini, Cennino; Diderot and D’Alembert; Durandus, William; Salmon, Pierre; Sicard Theophilus, De DiversisArtibus 9, 14–18, 24–25, 36, 40, 53, 113, 204–06, 218–20, 346, 350–51, 356 Tours, Centre-Val de Loire Cathedral of Saint-Gatien 282–86, 325 Troyes, Champagne Cathedral of Saint-Étienne Procession of the relics window, St. Margaret 232, 261 collegiate church of Saint-Urbain 121, 232, 159 Vendôme, Centre-Val de Loire, La Trinité Abbey, Virgin and Child window 39, 41, 84 Villard de Honnecourt, artist 203, 270, 274 Viollet-le-Duc, Emmanuel, restorer Sainte- Chapelle, Paris 211, 270–71, 282, 285, 375, 432 weathering crusts 433 Westminster Abbey 11, 13, 362, 365 wills 11, 342, 367 windows/fenestration 109–10, 158 band windows 282, 301, 303, 309, 375, 378–79, 381, 159, 325 in domestic settings 132–41, 161–63 framing of 133, 140–41, 161 figural windows as images 110, 158
466 Index windows/ fenestration (Cont.) and Gothic architecture 119–120, 315, 377–78, 89, 159, 162 and heraldry 70, 135, 283, 290, 402 modes of reading 144 parts of 115–16, 132–34, 161–62 religious symbolism 133–34, 143–51, 162, 169–70 transparent/translucent 110 Tree of Jesse windows 147, 150, 179, 217, 219, 171 typological windows 144, 146, 169, 171 See also rose windows workshops glass making 10 window making 10, 14–20, 229–30, 362, 375–376 acid etching 18, 79
armature 20 bull’s-eye panes 109–10, 134, 157 cartoons 4, 10, 13–5, 17, 19, 54, 61, 63–70, 79, 84, 113–14, 207, 222, 296, 339–43, 345–46, 359, 364, 379, 282, 99–100 designs 75, 77, 97, 100–02, 104–05 cold paint 340 cutting 15, 77 division of labor/collaboration 4, 44, 55–58, 61, 69–70, 120, 209, 221–23, 283, 296, 342–43, 362, 105 glaziers marks 15 glaziers table 13–15, 77 grozing iron 16 firing process 16, 78 insertions and fusions 17–18, 78–79 leading 18–19, 79
pattern books 62 regulations 133, 283 silver stain 17, 308–09, 379, 78 study of, by regions 215–6 tools 16, 77 vidimus 61–62, 64, 67–70, 343 painting the glass 16–17, 78 Winston, Charles (1814–1864) English historian of stained glass 9 Wolgemut workshop, Nuremberg 61, 63, 65, 314 Moses and the Ten Commandments window 63, 98 York, England Minster 11–12 John Thornton, glazier for the Great East Window 11, 14, 342, 345, 78–79