glass, affected the glazier’s colour scheme. For all that, the fashion of a window was, mutatis mutandis, that of the painting, carving, embroidery, goldsmith’s work, enamel and other craftsmanship of the period. The design of an ivory triptych is very much that of a three-light window. There is a little enamelled shrine of German workmanship in the Victoria and Albert Museum which might almost have been designed for glass; and the famous painted ceiling at Hildesheim is planned precisely on the lines of a medallion window of the 13th century. By that time glass had fallen into ways of its own, and there were already various types of design which we now recognize as characteristic of the first great period, in some respects the greatest of all.
Pre-eminently typical of the first period is the “medallion window.” Glaziers began by naïvely accepting the iron bars across the light as the basis of their composition, and planned a window as a series of panels, one above the other, between the horizontal crossbars and the upright lines of the border round it. The next step was to mitigate the extreme severity of this composition by the introduction of a circular or other medallion within the square boundary lines. Eventually these were abandoned altogether, the iron bars were shaped according to the pattern, and there was evolved the “medallion window,” in which the main divisions of the design are emphasized by the strong bands of iron round them. Medallions were invariably devoted to picturing scenes from Bible history or from the lives of the saints, set forth in the simplest and most straightforward manner, the figures all on one plane, and as far as possible clear-cut against a sapphire-blue or ruby-red ground. Scenery was not so much depicted as suggested. An arch or two did duty for architecture, any scrap of foliated ornament for landscape. Simplicity of silhouette was absolutely essential to the readableness of pictures on the small scale allowed by the medallion. As it is, they are so difficult to decipher, so confused and broken in effect, as to give rise (the radiating shape of “rose windows” aiding) to the misconception that the design of early glass is kaleidoscopic—which it is not. The intervals between subject medallions were filled in England (Canterbury) with scrollwork, in France (Chartres) more often with geometric diaper, in which last sometimes the red and blue merge into an unpleasant purple. Design on this small scale was obviously unsuited to distant windows. Clerestory lights were occupied by figures, sometimes on a gigantic scale, entirely occupying the window, except for the border and perhaps the slightest pretence of a niche. This arrangement lent itself to broad effects of colour. The drawing may be rude; at times the figures are grotesque; but the general impression is one of mysterious grandeur and solemnity.
The depth and intensity of colour in the windows so far described comes chiefly from the quality of the glass, but partly also from the fact that very little white or pale-coloured glass was used. It was not the custom at this period to dilute the colour of a rich window with white. If light was wanted they worked in white, enlivened, it might be, by colour. Strictly speaking, 13th-century glass was never colourless, but of a greenish tint, due to impurities in the sand, potash or other ingredients; it was of a horny consistency, too; but it is convenient to speak of all would-be-clear glass as “white.” The greyish windows in which it prevails are technically described as “in grisaille.” There are examples (Salisbury, Châlons, Bonlieu, Angers) of “plain glazing” in grisaille, in which the lead lines make very ingenious and beautiful pattern. In the more usual case of painted grisaille the lead lines still formed the groundwork of the design, though supplemented by foliated or other detail, boldly outlined in strong brown and emphasized by a background of cross-hatching. French grisaille was frequently all in white (Reims, St Jean-aux-Bois, Sens), English work was usually enlivened by bands and bosses of colour (Salisbury); but the general effect of the window was still grey and silvery, even though there might be distributed about it (the “five sisters,” York minster) a fair amount of coloured glass. The use of grisaille is sufficiently accounted for by considerations of economy and the desire to get light; but it was also in some sort a protest (witness the Cistercian interdict of 1134) against undue indulgence in the luxury of colour. At this stage of its development it was confined strictly to patternwork; figure subjects were always in colour. For all that, some of the most restful and entirely satisfying work of the 13th century was in grisaille (Salisbury, Chartres, Reims, &c.).
The second or Middle period of Gothic glass marks a stage between the work of the Early Gothic artist who thought out his design as glazing, and that of the later draughtsman who conceived it as something to be painted. It represents to many the period of greatest interest—probably because of its departure from the severity of Early work. It was the period of more naturalistic design; and a touch of nature is more easily appreciated than architectural fitness. Middle Gothic glass, halting as it does between the relatively rude mosaic of early times and the painter-like accomplishment of fully-developed glass painting, has not the salient merits of either. In the matter of tone also it is intermediate between the deep, rich, sober harmonies of Early windows and the lighter, brighter, gayer colouring of later glass. Now for the first time grisaille ornament and coloured figurework were introduced into the same window. And this was done in a very judicious way, in alternate bands of white and deep rich colour, binding together the long lights into which windows were by this time divided (chapter-house, York minster). A similar horizontal tendency of design is noticeable in windows in which the figures are enshrined under canopies, henceforth a feature in glass design. The pinnaclework falls into pronounced bands of brassy yellow between the tiers of figures (nave, York minster) and serves to correct the vertical lines of the masonry. Canopywork grew sometimes to such dimensions as quite to overpower the figure it was supposed to frame; but, then, the sense of scale was never a directing factor in Decorated design. A more interesting form of ornament is to be found in Germany, where it was a pleasing custom (Regensburg) to fill windows with conventional foliage without figurework. There is abundance of Middle Gothic glass in England (York, Wells, Ely, Oxford), but the best of it, such as the great East window at Gloucester cathedral, has features more characteristic of the 15th than of the 14th century.
The keynote of Late Gothic glass is brilliancy. It had a silvery quality. The 15th century was the period of white glass, which approached at last to colourlessness, and was employed in great profusion. Canopywork, more universal than ever, was represented almost entirely in white touched with yellow stain, but not in sufficient quantities to impair its silveriness. Whatever the banality of the idea of imitation stonework in glass, the effect of thus framing coloured pictures in delicate white is admirable: at last we have white and colour in perfect combination. Fifteenth-century figurework contains usually a large proportion of white glass; flesh tint is represented by white; there is white in the drapery; in short, there is always white enough in the figures to connect them with the canopywork and make the whole effect one. The preponderance of white will be better appreciated when it is stated that very often not a fifth or sixth part of the glass is coloured. It is no uncommon thing to find figures draped entirely in white with only a little colour in the background; and figurework all in grisaille upon a ground of white latticework is quite characteristic of Perpendicular glass.
One of the most typical forms of Late English Gothic canopy is where (York minster) its slender pinnacles fill the upper part of the window, and its solid base frames a picture in small of some episode in the history of the personage depicted as large as life above. A much less satisfactory continental practice was to enrich only the lower half of the window with stained glass and to make shift above (Munich) with “roundels” of plain white glass, the German equivalent for diamond latticework.
A sign of later times is the way pictures spread beyond the confines of a single light. This happened by degrees. At first the connexion between the figures in separate window openings was only in idea, as when a central figure of the crucified Christ was flanked by the Virgin and St John in the side lights. Then the arms of the cross would be carried through, or as it were
