 |
* * * * *
There are strenuous things enough for you in the work itself without wasting your strength on these. We will speak of them presently; but a word first upon originality.
Don't strive to be original; no one ever got Heaven's gift of invention by saying, "I must have it, and since I don't feel it I must assume it and pretend it;" follow rather your master patiently and lovingly for a long time; give and take, echo his habits as Botticelli echoed Filippo Lippi's, but improve upon them; add something to them if you can, as he also did, and pass then on, as he also did, to the little Filippo—Filippino—making him a truer and sweeter heart than his father, out of the well of truth and sweetness with which Botticelli's own heart was brimming. Do this, but at the same time expect with happy patience, as a boy longs for his manhood, yet does not try to hasten it and does not pretend to forestall it, the time when some fresh idea in imagination, some fresh method in design, some fresh process in craftsmanship, will come to you as a reward of patient working—and come by accident, as all such things do, lest you should think it your own and miss the joy of knowing that it is not yours but Heaven's.
And when this comes, guard it and mature it carefully. Do not throw it out too lavishly broadcast with the ostentation of a generous genius having gifts to spare. Share it with proved and worthy friends, when they notice it and ask you about it, but in the meanwhile develop and cultivate it as a gardener does a tree. And this leads me to the most important point of all—namely, the value, the all-sufficing value, of one new step on the road of Beauty. If such is really granted you, consider it as enough for your lifetime. One such thing in the history of the arts has generally been enough for a century; how much more, then, for a generation.
For indeed there is only one rule for fine work in art, that you should put your whole strength, all the powers of mind and body into every touch. Nothing less will do than that. You must face it in drawing from the life. Try it in its acutest form, not from the posed, professional model, who will sit like a stone; try it with children, two years old or so; the despair of it, the exhaustion: and then, in a flash, when you thought you had really done somewhat, a still more captivating, fascinating gesture, which makes all you have done look like lead. Can you screw your exhaustion up again, sacrifice all you have done, and face the labour of wrestling with the new idea? And if you do? You are sick with doubt between the new and the old. You ask your friends; you probably choose wrong; your judgment is clouded by the fatigue of your previous toil.
But you have gained strength. That is the real point of the thing. It is not what you have done in this instance, but what you have become in doing it. Next time, fresh and strong, you will dash the beautiful sudden thought upon the paper and leave it, happy to make others happy, but only through the pains you took before, which are a small price to pay for the joy of the strength you have gained.
This is the rule of great work. Puzzle and hesitation and compromise can only occur because you have left some factor of the problem out of count, and this should never be. Your business is to take all into account and to sacrifice everything, however fascinating and tempting it may be in itself, if it does not fit in as part of an harmonious whole. Remember in this case, when loth to make such sacrifice, the old saying that "there's as good fish in the sea as ever came out." Brace yourself to try for something still better. Recast your composition. If it is defective, the defect all comes from some want of strenuousness as you went along. It is like getting a bit of your figure out of drawing because your eye only measured some portion of it with one or two portions of the rest and not with the whole figure and attitude. Every student knows the feeling. So in your composition: you may get impossible levels, impossible relations between the subject and the surrounding canopy: perhaps one coming in front of the other at one point and the reverse at another point. You drew the thing dreamily: you were not alert enough. And now you must waste what you had got to love, because though it's so pretty it is not fitting.
But sometimes it will happen that some line of your composition is thus hacked off by no fault of yours, by some mismeasurement of a bar by your builder, or some change of mind or whim of your client, who "likes it all but"—— (some vital feature). As we have said, this is not quite a fair demand to be made upon the artist, but it will sometimes occur, whatever we do. Pull yourself together, and, before you stand out about it and refuse to change, consider. Try the modification, and try it in such an aroused and angry spirit as shall flame out against the difficulty with force and heat. Let the whole thing be as fuel of fire, and the reward will be given. The chief difficulty may become—it is more than an even chance that it does become—the chief glory, and that the composition will be like the new-born Phoenix, sprung from the ashes of the old and thrice as fair.
Then also strike while the iron is hot, and work while you're warm to it. When you have done the main figure-study and slain its difficulty you feel braced up, your mind clear, and you see your way to link it in with the surroundings. Will you let it all get cold because it is toward evening and you are physically tired, when another hour would set the whole problem right for next day's work; now, while you are warm, while the beauty of the model you have drawn from is still glowing in you with a thousand suggestions and possibilities? You will do in another hour now what would take you days to do when the fire has died down—if you ever do it at all.
It is after a day's work such as this that one feels the true delight of the balm of Nature. For conquered difficulty brings new insight through the feeling of new power; and new beauties are seen because they are felt to be attainable, and by virtue of the assurance that one has got distinctly a step nearer to the veil that hides the inner heart of things which is our destined home.
It is after work like this, feeling the stirrings of some real strength within you, promising power to deal with nature's secrets by-and-by, that you see as never before the beauty of things.
The keen eyes that have been so busy turn gratefully to the silver of the sky with the grey, quiet trees against it and the watery gleam of sunset like pale gold, low down behind the boughs, where the robin, half seen, is flitting from place to place, choosing his rest and twittering his good-night; and you think with good hope of your life that is coming, and of all your aspirations and your dreams. And in the stillness and the coolness and the peace you can dwell with confidence upon the thought of all the Unknown that is moving onward towards you, as the glow which is fading renews itself day by day in the East, bringing the daily task with it.
You feel that you are able to meet it, and that all is well; that there are quiet and good things in store, and that this constant renewal of the glories of day and night, this constant procession of morning and evening as the world rolls round, has become almost a special possession to you, to which only those who pay the price have entrance, an inheritance of your own as a reward of your endeavour and acquired power, and leading to some purposed end that will be peace.
* * * * *
Stained-glass, stained-glass, stained-glass! At night in the lofty church windows the bits glow and gloom and talk to one another in their places; and the pictured angels and saints look down, peopling the empty aisles and companioning the lamp of the sanctuary.
* * * * *
The beads worth threading seem about all threaded now, and the book appears to be done. Thus we have gone on then, making it as it came to hand, blundering, as it seems to me, on the borders of half a dozen literary or illiterate styles, the pen not being the tool of our proper craft; but on the whole saying somehow what we meant to say: laughing when we felt amused, and being serious when the subject seemed so, our object being indeed to make workers in stained-glass and not a book about it. Is it worth while to try and put a little clasp to our string of beads and tie all together?
There was a little boy (was he six or seven or eight?), and his seat on Sunday was opposite the door in the fourteenth-century chancel of the little Norman country church. There the great, tall windows hung in the air around him, and he used to stare up at them with goggle-eyes in the way that used to earn him household names, wondering which he liked best. And for months one would be the favourite, and for months another would supplant it; his fancy would change, and now he liked this—now that. Only the stone tracery-bars, for there was no stained-glass to spoil them. The broad, plain flagstones of the floor spread round him in cool, white spaces, in loved unevenness, honoured by the foot-tracks which had worn the stone into little valleys from the door and through the narrow, Norman chancel-arch up towards the altar rails, telling of generations of feet, long since at rest, that had carried simple lives to seek the place as the place of their help or peace.
Plain rush-plaited hassocks and little brass sconces where, on lenten nights, in the unwarmed church, glimmered the few candles that lit the devotion of the strong, rough sons of the glebe, hedgers and ditchers, who came there after daily labour to spell out simple prayer and praise. But it was best on the summer Sunday mornings, when the great spaces of blue, and the towering white clouds looked down through the diamond panes; and the iron-studded door, with the wonderful big key, which his hands were not yet strong enough to turn, stood wide open; and outside, amongst the deep grass that grew upon the graves, he could see the tortoise-shell butterflies sunning themselves upon the dandelions. Then it was that he used to think the outside the best, and fancy (with perfect truth, as I believe) that angels must be looking in, just as much as he was looking out, and gazing down, grave-eyed, upon the little people inside, as he himself used to watch the red ants busy in their tiny mounds upon the grass plot or the gravel path; and he wondered sometimes whether the outside or the inside was "God's House" most: the place where he was sitting, with rough, simple things about him that the village carpenter or mason or blacksmith had made, or the beautiful glowing world outside. And as he thought, with the grave mind of a child, about these things, he came to fancy that the eyes that looked out through the silver diamond-panes which kept out the wind and rain, mattered less than the eyes that looked in from the other side where basked the butterflies and flowers and all the living things he so loved; awful eyes that were at home where hung the sun himself in his distances and the stars in the great star-spaces; where Orion and the Pleiades glittered in the winter nights, where "Mazzaroth was brought forth in his season," and where through the purple skies of summer evening was laid out overhead the assigned path along which moved Arcturus with his sons.
APPENDIX I
SOME SUGGESTIONS AS TO THE STUDY OF OLD GLASS
Every one who wants to study glass should go to York Minster. Go to the extreme west end, the first two windows are of plain quarries most prettily leaded, and showing how pleasant "plain-glazing" may be, with silvery glass and a child-like enjoyment of simple patterning, unconscious of "high art." But look at the second window on the north side. What do you see? You see a yellow shield? Exactly. Every one who looks at that window as he passes at a quick walk must come away remembering that he had seen a yellow shield. But stop and look at it. Don't you like it—I do! Why?—well, because it happens to be by good luck just right, and it is a very good lesson of the degree in which beauty in glass depends on juxtaposition. I had thought of it as a particularly beautiful bit of glass in quality and colour—but not at all! it is textureless and rather crude. I had thought of it as old—not at all: it is probably eighteenth-century. But look what it happens to be set in—the mixture of agate, silver, greenish and black quarries. Imagine it by itself without the dull citron crocketting and pale yellow-stain "sun" and "shafting" of the panel below—without the black and yellow escutcheon in the light to its right hand—even without the cutting up and breaking with black lead lines of its own upper half. In short, you could have it so placed that you would like it no better, that it would be no better, than the bit of "builder's glazing" in the top quatrefoil of the next window, which looks like, and I fancy is, of almost the very same glass, but clumsily mixed, and, fortunately, dated for our instruction, 1779.
I do not know any place where you can get more study of certain properties of glass than in the city of York. The cathedral alone is a mine of wealth. The nave windows are near enough to see all necessary detail. There is something of every period. And with regard to the nave and clerestory windows, they have been so mauled and re-leaded that you need not be in the least afraid of admiring the wrong thing or passing by the right. You can be quite frank and simple about it all. For instance, my own favourite window is the fifth from the west on the south side. The old restorer has coolly slipped down one whole panel below its proper level in a shower of rose-leaves (which were really, I believe, originally a pavement), and, frankly, I don't know (and don't care) whether they are part of his work in the late eighteenth century or the original glass of the late fourteenth. I rather incline to think that they came out of some other window and are bits of fifteenth-century glass. The same with the chequered shield of Vernon in the other light. I daresay it is a bit of builder's glazing—but isn't it jolly? And what do you think of the colour of the little central circle half-way up the middle light? Isn't it a flower? And look at the petal that's dropped from it on to the bar below! or the whole of the left-hand light; well, or the middle light, or the right-hand light? If that's not colour I don't know what is. I doubt if it was any more beautiful when it was new, perhaps not so beautiful. Compare it, for example, with the window in the same wall (I think next to it on the west, which has been "restored"). The window exactly opposite seems one of the least retouched, and the least interesting; if you think the yellow canopies disagreeable in colour don't be ashamed to say so: they are not unbeautiful exactly, I think, but, personally, I could do with less of them. Yet I should not be surprised to be assured that they are all genuine fourteenth-century. In the north transept is the celebrated "Five Sisters," the most beautiful bit of thirteenth-century "grisaille" perhaps in existence. That is where we get our patterns for "kamptulicon" from; but we don't make kamptulicon quite like it. If you want a sample of "nineteenth-century thirteenth-century" work you have only to look over your left shoulder.
A similar glance to the right will show you "nineteenth-century fifteenth-century" work—and show it you in a curious and instructive transition stage—portions of the two right-hand windows of the five being old glass worked in with new, while the right-hand one of all is a little abbot who is nearly all old and has shrunk behind a tomb, wondering, as it seems to me, "how those fellows got in," and making up his mind whether he's going to stand being bullied by the new St. Peter. In the south transept opposite, all the five eastern windows are fifteenth-century, and some of them very well preserved, while those in the southern wall are modern. The great east window has a history of its own quite easily ascertainable on the spot and worthy of research and study. Then go into the north ambulatory, look at the third of the big windows. Well, the right-hand light; look at the bishop at the top in a dark red chasuble, note the bits of dull rose colour in the lower dress, the bit of blackish grey touching the pastoral staff just below the edge of the chasuble, look at the bits of sharp strong blue in the background. Now I believe these are all accidents—bits put in in releading; but when the choir is singing and you can pick out every separate note of the harmony as it comes down to you from each curve of the fretted roof, if you don't think this window goes with it and is music also, you must be wrong, I think, in eye or ear. But indeed this part of the church and all round the choir aisles on both sides is a perfect treasure-house of glass.
If you want an instance of what I said (p. 212) as to "added notes turning discord into harmony," look at the patched east window of the south choir aisle. Mere jumble—probably no selection—yet how beautiful! like beds of flowers. Did you ever see a bed of flowers that was not beautiful?—often and often, when the gardener had carefully selected the plants of his ribbon-bordering; but I would have you think of an old-fashioned cottage garden, with its roses and lilies and larkspur and snapdragon and marigolds—those are what windows should be like.
In addition to the minster, almost every church in the city has some interesting glass; several of them a great quantity, and some finer than any in the cathedral itself. And here I would give a hint. Never pass a church or chapel of any sort or kind, old or new, without looking in. You cannot tell what you may find.
And a second hint. Do not make written pencil notes regarding colour, either from glass or nature, for you'll never trouble to puzzle them out afterwards. Take your colour-box with you. The merest dot of tint on the paper will bring everything back to mind.
Space prevents our making here anything like a complete itinerary setting forth where glass may be studied; it must suffice to name a few centres, noting a few places in the same district which may be visited from them easily. I name only those I know myself, and of course the list is very slight.
YORK. And all churches in the city.
GLOUCESTER. Tewkesbury, Cirencester.
BIRMINGHAM. (For Burne-Jones glass.) Shrewsbury, Warwick, Tamworth, Malvern.
WELLS.
OXFORD. Much glass in the city, old and new. Fairford.
CAMBRIDGE. Much glass in the city, old and new.
CANTERBURY.
CHARTRES. (If there is still any left unrestored.) St. Pierre in the same town.
SENS.
TROYES. AUXERRE.
Of the last two I have only seen some copies. For glass by Rossetti, Burne-Jones, and Madox-Brown, consult their lives.
There are many well-known books on the subject of ancient glass, Winston, Westlake, &c., which give fuller details on this matter.
APPENDIX II
ON THE RESTORING OF ANCIENT WINDOWS
Let us realise what is done.
And let us consider what ought to be done.
A window of ancient glass needs releading. The lead has decayed and the whole is loose and shaky. The ancient glass has worn very thin, pitted almost through like a worn-out thimble with little holes where the alkalis have worked their way out. It is as fragile and tender as an old oil-painting that needs to be taken off a rotten canvas and re-lined. If you examine a piece of old glass whose lead has had time to decay, you will find that the glass itself is often in an equally tender state. The painting would remain for years, probably for centuries yet, if untouched, just as dust, without any attachment at all, will hang on a vertical looking-glass. But if you scrape it, even only with the finger-nail, you will generally find that that is sufficient to bring much—perhaps most—of the painting off, while both sides of the glass are covered with a "patina" of age which is its chief glory in quality and colour, and which, or most of which, a wet handkerchief dipped in a little dust and rubbed smartly will remove.
In short, here is a work of art as beautiful and precious as a picture by Titian or Holbein, and probably, as being the chief glory of some stately cathedral, still more precious, which ought only to be trusted to the gentle hands of a cultivated and scientific artist, connoisseur, and expert. The glass should all be handled as if it were old filigree silver. If the lead is so perished that it is absolutely impossible to avoid taking the glass down, it should be received on the scaffold itself, straight from its place in the stone, between packing-boards lined with sheets of wadding—"cotton-wool"—attached to the boards with size or paste, and with, of course, the "fluffy" side outwards. These boards, section by section, should be finally corded or clamped ready for travelling before being lowered from the scaffold; if any pieces of the glass get detached they should be carefully packed in separate boxes, each labelled with a letter corresponding to one placed on the section as packed, so that there may be no chance of their place ever being lost, and when all is done the whole window will be ready to be gently lowered, securely "packed for removal," to the pavement below. The ideal thing now would be to hire a room and do the work on the spot; but if this is impossible on account of expense and the thing has to bear a journey, the sections, packed as above described, should be themselves packed, two or three together, as may be convenient, in an outer packing-case for travelling. It should be insured, for then a representative of the railway must attend to certify the packing, and also extra care will be taken in transit.
Arrived at the shop, the window should be laid out carefully on the bench and each bit re-leaded into its place, the very fragile pieces between two bits of thin sheet-glass.
Unless this last practice is adopted throughout, the ordinary process of cementing must be omitted and careful puttying substituted for it. While if it is adopted the whole must be puttied before cementing, otherwise the cement will run in between the various thicknesses of glass. It would be an expensive and tedious and rather thankless process, for the repairer's whole aim would be to hide from the spectator the fact that anything whatever had been done.
What does happen at present is this. A country clergyman, or, in the case of a cathedral, an architectural surveyor, neither of whom know by actual practice anything technically of stained-glass, hand the job over to some one representing a stained-glass establishment. This gentleman has studied stained-glass on paper, and knows as much about cutting or leading technically and by personal practice, as an architect does of masonry, or stone-carving—neither more nor less. That is to say, he has made sketch-books full of water-colour or pencil studies, and endless notes from old examples, and has never cut a bit of glass in his life, or leaded it.
Well, he assumes the responsibility, and the client reposes in the blissful confidence that all is well.
Is all well?
The work is placed in the charge of the manager, and through him it filters down as part of the ordinary, natural course of events into the glazing-shop. Here this precious and fragile work of art we have described is handed over to a number of ordinary working men to treat by the ordinary methods of their trade. They know perfectly well that nobody above them knows as much as they, or, indeed, anything at all of their craft. Division of labour has made them "glaziers," as it has made the gentlemen above stairs, who do the cartoons or the painting, "artists." These last know nothing of glazing, why should glaziers know anything of art? It is perfectly just reasoning; they do their very best, and what they do is this. They take out the old, tender glass, with the colour hardly clinging to it, and they put it into fresh leads, and then they solder up the joints. And, by way of a triumphant wind-up to a good, solid, English, common-sense job, with no art-nonsense or fads about it, they proceed to scrub the whole on both sides with stiff grass-brushes (ordinarily sold at the oil-shops for keeping back-kitchen sinks clean), using with them a composition mainly consisting of exactly the same materials with which a housemaid polishes the fender and fire-irons. That is a plain, simple, unvarnished statement of facts. You may find it difficult of belief, but this is what actually happens. This is what you are having done everywhere, guardians of our ancient buildings. You'll soon have all your old windows "quite as good as new." It's a merry world, isn't it?
APPENDIX III
Hints for the Curriculum of a Technical School for Stained-Glass—Examples for Painting—Examples of Drapery—Drawing from Nature—Ornamental Design.
Examples for Painting.—I have already recommended for outline work the splendid reproductions of the Garter Plates at Windsor. It is more difficult to find equally good examples for painting; for if one had what one wished it would be photographed from ideal painted-glass or else from cartoons wisely prepared for glass-work. But, in the first case, if the photographs were from the best ancient glass—even supposing one could get them—they would be unsatisfactory for two reasons. First, because ancient glass, however well preserved, has lost or gained something by age which no skill can reproduce; and secondly, because however beautiful it is, all but the very latest (and therefore not the best) is immature in drawing. It is not wise to reproduce those errors. The things themselves look beautiful and sincere because the old worker drew as well as he could; but if we, to imitate them, draw less well than we can, we are imitating the accidents of his production, and not the method and principle of it: the principle was to draw as well as he could, and we, if we wish to emulate old glass, must draw as well as we can. For examples of Heads nothing can be better than photographs from Botticelli and other early Tuscan, and from the early Siennese painters. Also from Holbein, and chiefly from his drawings. There is a flatness and firmness of treatment in all these which is eminently suited to stained-glass work. Hands also may be studied from the same sources, for though Botticelli does not always draw hands with perfect mastery, yet he very often does, and the expression of them, as of his heads, is always dignified and full of sweetness and gentleness of feeling; and as soon as we have learnt our craft so as to copy these properly, the best thing is to draw hands and heads for ourselves.
Examples of Drapery.—To me there is no drapery so beautiful and appropriate for stained-glass work in the whole world of art, ancient or modern, as that of Burne-Jones, and especially in his studies and drawings and cartoons for glass; and if these are not accessible, at least we may pose drapery as like it as we can, and draw it ourselves and copy it. But I would, at any rate, earnestly warn the student against the "crinkly-crankly" drapery imitated from Duerer and his school, which fills up the whole panel with wrinkles and "turnovers" (the linings of a robe which give an opportunity for changing the colour), and spreads out right and left and up and down till the poor bishop himself (and in nine cases out of ten it is a bishop, so that he may be mitred and crosiered and pearl-bordered) becomes a mere peg to hang vestments on, and is made short and dumpy for that end.
There is a great temptation and a great danger here. This kind of work, where every inch of space is filled with ornament and glitter, and change and variety and richness, is indeed in many ways right and good for stained-glass; which is a broken-up thing; where large blank spaces are to be avoided, and where each little bit of glass should look "cared for" and thought of, as a piece of fine jewellery is put together in its setting; and if craftsmanship were everything, much might be said for these methods. There is indeed plenty of stained-glass of the kind more beautiful as craftsmanship than anything since the Middle Ages, much more beautiful and cunning in workmanship than Burne-Jones, and yet which is little else but vestments and curtains and diaper—where there is no lesson taught, no subject dwelt on, no character studied or portrayed. If we wish it to be so—if we have nothing to teach or learn, if we wish to be let alone, to be soothed and lulled by mere sacred trappings, by pleasant colours and fine and delicate sheen and the glitter of silk and jewels—well and good, these things will serve; but if they fail to satisfy, go to St. Philip's, Birmingham, and see the solemnities and tragedies of Life and Death and Judgment, and all this will dwindle down into the mere upholstery and millinery that it is.
Drawing from Nature.—There is a side of drawing practice almost wholly neglected in schools, which consists, not in training the eye and hand to correctly measure and outline spaces and forms, but in training the finger-ends with an H.B. pencil point at the end of them to illustrate texture and minute detail. It is necessary to look at things in a large way, but it is equally necessary to look at them in a small way; to be able to count the ribs on a blade of grass or a tiny cockle-shell, and to give them in pencil, each with its own light and shade. I find the whole key to this teaching to lie in one golden rule—not to frighten or daunt the student with big tasks at first. A single grain of wheat, not a whole ear of corn; some tiny seed, tiny shell; but whatever is chosen, to be pursued with a needle-pointed pencil to the very verge of lens-work. I must yet again quote Ruskin. "You have noticed," he says,[9] "that all great sculptors, and most of the great painters of Florence, began by being goldsmiths. Why do you think the goldsmith's apprenticeship is so fruitful? Primarily, because it forces the boy to do small work and mind what he is about. Do you suppose Michael Angelo learned his business by dashing or hitting at it?"
Ornamental Design.—It is impossible here to enter into a description of any system of teaching ornament. At p. 294 I have given just as much as two pages can give of the seed from which such a thing may spring. In some of the collotypes from the finished glass the patterns on quarry or robe which spring from this seed may be traced—very imperfectly, but as well as the scale and the difficulties of photography and the absence of colour will allow.
What I find best, in commencing with any student, is to start four practices together, and keep them going together step by step, side by side, through the course, one evening for each, or some like division.
Technical Work.—Cutting, glazing, &c.
Painting Work.—By graduated examples, from simple outline up to a head of Botticelli.
Ornament, as described; and
Drawing from Nature, in the spirit and methods we have spoken of.
Moulding the whole into a system of composition and execution, tempered and governed as it goes along by judiciously chosen reading and reference to examples, ancient or modern.
[9] "Ariadne Florentina," p. 108.
NOTES ON THE COLLOTYPE PLATES
It is obvious that stained-glass cannot be adequately shown in book-illustration.
For instance, we cannot have either the scale of it or the colour—two rather vital exceptions. These collotypes are, therefore, put forth as mere diagrams for the use of students, to call their attention to certain definite points and questions of treatment, and no more pretending than if they were black-board drawings to give adequate pictures of what glass can be or should be.
This is one reason, too, for the omission of all attempt to reproduce ancient glass. It was felt that it should not be subjected to the indignity of such very imperfect representation, and especially as so many much larger books on the subject exist, where at least the scale is not so ill-treated.
But, besides, if one once began illustrating old glass, one would immediately seem to be setting standards for present-day guidance, and this could only be done (if done) with many annotations and exceptions and with a much larger range of examples than is possible here.
The following illustrations, therefore, show the attempts of a group of workers who have endeavoured to carry into practice the principles set forth in this book. It has not been found possible in all cases to get photographs from the actual glass—always a very difficult thing to do. The illustrations can be seen much better by the aid of a moderately strong reading-lens.
PLATE I.—Part of East Window, St. Anselm's, Woodridings, Pinner, by Louis Davis. The design, cartoons, and cut-line made, all the glass chosen and painted, and the leading superintended by the artist.
PLATE II.—Another portion of the same window, by the same. Scenes from the Life of St. Anselm. Executed under the same conditions as the above. The freehand drawing and the varying thickness of the leads in the quarry work should be noted.
PLATE III.—Window in St. Peter's Church, Clapham Road—"Blessed are they that Mourn," by Reginald Hallward. The whole of the work in this instance, including cutting, leading, &c., is done by the artist himself. As an instance of how little photography can do, it is worth while to describe such a small item as the scroll above the figure. This is of glass most carefully selected (or most skilfully treated with acid), so that the ground work varies from silvery-white to almost a pansy-purple, and on this the verse is illuminated in tones varying from pale primrose to the ruddiest gold—the whole forming a passage of lovely colour impossible to achieve by any system of "copying." It is work like this and the preceding that is referred to on p. 266.
PLATE IV.—Central part of Window in Cobham Church, Kent, by Reginald Hallward. Executed under the same conditions as the preceding.
PLATE V.—Part of Window in Ardrahan Church, Galway—"St. Robert" by Selwyn Image. From the cartoon. See p. 83.
PLATE VI.—Two Designs for Domestic Glass, by Miss M. J. Newill. From the cartoons.
PLATE VII.—"The Dream of St. Kenelm," by H. A. Payne. The author had the pleasure of watching this work daily while in progress. It was done entirely by the artist's own hand, by way of a specimen "masterpiece" of craftsmanship, and the aim was to use to the full extent every resource of the material.
PLATE VIII.—Six "Quarries"—"Day and Night," "The Spirit on the Face of the Waters," "Creation of Birds and Fishes," "Eden," and "The Parable of the Good Seed," by Pupils of H. A. Payne, Birmingham School of Art. These lose very much by reduction, and should be seen with a lens magnifying 2-1/2 diameters. They are the designs of the pupils themselves (boys in their teens), and are examples of bold outline untouched after tracing. They are more elaborate than would be desirable for ordinary quarry glazing; being intended for interior work on a screen, to be seen close at hand with borrowed light.
PLATE IX.—Micro-photographs. 1. A piece of outline that has "fried" in the kiln. Magnified 20 diameters. See p. 104.
2. A small Diamond seen from above. Magnified 10-1/2 diameters. The white horizontal line is the cutting edge.
3. _A larger Diamond that has been "re_set_." That is to say, _re-ground_: the diagonal marks like a St. Andrew's Cross show the grinding down of the old facets by which the new cutting edge has been produced. Magnified 10-1/2 diameters.
4. No. 2 seen from the side. Magnified 10-1/2 diameters; the cutting edge faces towards the left.
PLATE X.—Micro-photographs of Glass-cutting Very difficult to explain. "A" is a sheet of glass seen in section multiplied 15-1/2 diameters. The black marks along the top edge are diamond-cuts, good and bad, coming straight towards the spectator. The two outside ones are very bad cuts, far too violent, and have split off the surface of the glass. Of the two inner ones the left-hand one is an ideally good cut, no disturbance of the surface having occurred; the right-hand a fairly good one, but a little unnecessarily hard. Passing over B for the present—C is a similar piece of glass also magnified 15-1/2 diameters, with wheel-cuts seen endwise (coming towards the spectator). The one on the left is a very bad cut, the surface of the glass having actually split off in flakes, the next to it is a perfect cut where the surface is intact, and note that though not a quarter so much pressure has been employed, the split downward into the glass is deeper and sharper than in the violent cut to the left, as is also the case with the two other moderately good cuts to the right.
D, E—Wheel-cuts. In these we are looking down upon the surface of the glass. They are bad cuts, multiplied 20 diameters; the direction of the cut is from left to right. In the upper figure the flake of glass is split completely off but is still lying in its place. In the lower one the left-hand half is split, and the right-hand only partially so, remaining so closely attached to the body of the glass as to show (and in an especially beautiful and perfect manner) the rainbow-tinted "Newton's rings" which accompany the phenomenon of "Interference," for an explanation of which I must refer the reader to an encyclopaedia or some work on optics. Good cuts seen from above are simply lines like a hair upon the glass, but the diamond-cut is a coarser hair than the wheel-cut.
If you now hold the illustration upside down, what then becomes the top edge of section C shows a wheel-cut seen sideways along the section of the glass which it has divided, the direction of this cut being from left to right.
In the same way section "A" seen upside down gives the appearance of a diamond-cut, also from left to right, and multiplied 15-1/2 diameters, while "B" held in the same position gives the same cut multiplied 78 diameters. The nature of these things is discussed at p. 48.
In their natural colour, and under strong light, they are very beautiful objects under the microscope. Even a 10-diameter "Steinheil lens," or still better its English equivalent, a Nelson lens, will show them fairly, and some such instrument, opening out a new world of beauty beyond the power of ordinary vision, ought, one would think, to be one of the possessions of every artist and lover of Nature.
The illustrations that follow are from the work of the author and his pupils conjointly. Those in which no design has been added are for clearness' sake described as "by the author"; but it is to be understood that in all instances the transcribing of the work in the glass has been the work of pupils under his supervision. All design of diaper, canopy, lettering, and quarries is so, in all the examples selected.
PLATE XI.—From Gloucester Cathedral—"St. Boniface" by the author and his pupils.
PLATE XII.—From the same—"The Stork of Iona" and "The Infant Church," by the same. Canopies from Oak and Ivy.
PLATE XIII.—Portion of a Window in progress (destined for Ashbourne Church), by the author. This has been specially photographed on the easel, to show how near, by the use of false leadlines, &c., the work can be got, during its progress, to approach to its actual conditions when finished.
PLATE XIV.—Drawings from Nature, by the author's pupils. Pieced together from various drawings by three different hands; made in preparation for design of Oak "canopy." See p. 324 and Plate XI.
PLATE XV.—Part of East Window of School Chapel, Tonbridge, by the author. From the cartoon: the figure playing the dulcimer is underneath the manger, above which is seated the Virgin and Child.
PLATE XVI.—Figure of one of the Choir of "Dominations." From Gloucester, by the author and his pupils.
The names of the pupils whose work appears in Plate VIII. are J. H. Saunders and R. J. Stubington. In Plate XIV. A. E. Child, K. Parsons, and J. H. Stanley; and in the Plates XI. to XVI. J. Brett, L. Brett, A. E. Child, P. R. Edwards, M. Hutchinson, K. Parsons, J. H. Stanley, J. E. Tarbox, and E. A. Woore. The cuts in the text are by K. Parsons and E. A. Woore.
GLOSSARY
Antiques, coloured glasses made in imitation of the qualities of ancient glass.
Banding, putting on the copper "ties" by which the glazed light is attached to the supporting bars.
Base, (1) the light-tinted glass, white, greenish or yellow, on which the thin film of ruby or blue is imposed in "flashed" glasses; (2) the support of the niche on which the figure stands in "canopy work."
Borrowed light, a light not coming direct from daylight, but from the interior light of a building as in the case of a screen of glass. (The result is similar when a window is seen against near background of trees or buildings.)
Calm (of lead), the strip of lead, 3 to 4 feet long, as used for leading up the glass.
Canopy or "tabernacle work," the architectural framing in imitation of a carved niche in which the figure is placed. The vertical supports (sometimes used alone to frame in the whole light) are called "shafting."
Cartoon, the design of the window, full size, on paper.
Chasuble, the outermost sacrificial vestment of a bishop or priest.
Cope, the outermost ceremonial and processional vestment of a bishop or priest.
Core (of lead), the crossbar of the "H" section as shown in fig. 34.
Crocketting, the ornamenting of any architectural member at intervals with sculptured bosses or crockets.
Cullet, the waste cuttings of glass. Generally used over again in greater or less quantity as an ingredient in the making of new glass.
Cut-line, the tracing (containing the lead lines only) by which the work is cut and glazed.
Flux, the solvent which assists the melting of the metallic pigments in the kiln. Various materials are used, e.g. silica and lead, but unfortunately borax also is used, and I would warn the student to buy no pigment without a guarantee from the manufacturer that it does not contain this tempting but very dangerous and unstable ingredient. (See p. 112).
Form, the sheet of "continuous cartridge" or cartoon paper on which the dimensions, &c., are marked out for drawing the cartoon.
Gauge, (1) the shaped piece of paper by which the diamond is guided in cutting; (2) the standard of size and shape in any piece of repeated work (as quarry-glazing).
Grisaille (from Fr. gris, grey), work where a pattern, generally geometrical, in narrow coloured bands, is superimposed on a background of whitish, grey, or greenish glass diapered with painted work in outline or slight shading.
Groseing, the biting away the edge of the glass with pliers to make it fit. With regard to this word and to the term "calm," I have never found any one who could give a reason for the name or an authority as to its spelling, the various spellings suggested for the latter word including Karm, Calm, Carm, Kaim, and even Qualm! But while writing this book I in lucky hour consulted the treatise of Theophilus, and was delighted to find both words. The term he applies to the leads is "Calamus" (a reed), while his term for what we should call pliers is "Grosarium ferrum" (groseing iron). So that this question is set at rest for ever. Glaziers must henceforth accept the classic spellings "Calm" and "Groseing," and one may suppose they will be proud to learn that these everyday terms of their craft have been in use for 900 years, and are older than Westminster Abbey.
Lath, the ruler, 3 to 8 feet long, and marked with inches, &c., used in setting out the "forms."
Lathykin, doubtless old English "a little lath," described p. 137.
Lasting-nails, described p. 141.
Leaf (of lead), the two uprights of the "H" section (fig. 34).
Muller, a piece of granite or glass, flat at the base, for grinding pigment, &c.
Obtuse, an angle having a wider opening than a right-angle or "perpendicular."
Orphreys (aurifrigia, from Lat. aurum, gold), the bands of ornament on ecclesiastical vestments.
Patina, the film produced on various substances by chemical action (oxidation, sulphurisation, &c.), either artificially, as in bronze sculpture, or by age, as in glass.
Plating, the doubling of one glass with another in the same lead.
Quarries, the diamond, square, or other shaped panes used in plain-glazing.
Reamy, wavy or streaky glass. (See p. 179.)
Scratch-card, a wire brush to remove tarnish from lead before soldering (p. 144).
Setting, fixing a charcoal or chalk drawing on the paper by means of a spray of fixative.
Shafting, see "Canopy."
Shooting (in carpentry), the planing down of an edge to get it truly straight.
Squaring-out, enlarging (or reducing) any design by drawing from point to point across proportional squares.
Stippling, described p. 100.
Stopping-knife, the knife by which the glass and lead are manipulated in leading-up.
Tabernacle work, see "Canopy."
Template, the form in paper, card, wood, or zinc, of shaped openings, by which the correct figure is set out on the cartoon-form.
INDEX
Accidental qualities in glass, value of, 114
Accuracy in setting out forms, 286
Accuracy of measurement, 115, 285
Accuracy of work in the shop, rules for, formula for right angles, 286
Aciding, 130
Action, violent, to be avoided, 173
Advertising, 293
Allegory, 248
Allegory, true allegory the presentment of noble natures, 260
Ancient buildings, sacredness of, 245
Ancient glass, 171, 314, 321, 328
"Antique" glasses, 31
Architectural fitness, 234
Architecture, harmony with, 174
Architecture, stained-glass accessory to, 168
Architecture, subservient to, 155, 236
Armour, by use of aciding in flashed blue glass, 131
Art colours, 201
Artist, right claim to the title, 269
"Asleep," Millais' picture of, 209
Assistants, to be trained to mastership, 268
Auxerre, centre for study of glass, 315
Backing, 126
Badger, 72, 74
Badger, how to dry, 193
Banding, 151
Barff's formula for pigment, 226
Bars, 151, 159, 167
Bars and lead lines, 166, 176
"Beads," a string of, 190
Beethoven, colour, 224, 271
Bicycle, use of, 216
Birds, 217
Birmingham, Burne-Jones windows, 236, 324
Boniface, St., a question of staining, 224
Books, 255, 257
Borax, untrustworthy as flux, 370
Borrowed light, 227 (and Glossary)
Botticelli, 64, 78, 250, 297, 322
Brown, Madox, 203
Brush, how to fill, 58
Builders' glazing, 180
Buntingford, ride from, 216
Burne-Jones, 131, 203, 236, 250, 324
Burning, 129
Burnt umber, 203
Butterfly, 217
"Byzantium of the crafts," 243
Byzantine revival, 241
"Calm" of lead, 137 (and Glossary)
Cambridge, Burne-Jones windows, 237
Cambridge, centre for study of glass, 314
Cambridge, King's College, for blue and red, 230
Canopies, 245
Canopy, 177, 300
Canterbury, centre for study of glass, 314
Canterbury, for blue and red, 230
Cartoons, 83, 192
Cathedrals, 178, 180, 215, 230, 234, 238, 246, 282, 314
Cellini, 228
Cement and cementing, 147
Centres for study of glass, 314, 315
Chartres, centre for study of glass, 230, 314
Chartres, for blue and red, 230
Chief difficulty (in art) the chief opportunity, 301
Chopin, 223
Cirencester windows, 180
Cleanliness, 67, 164, 193
Clients, 279
Collotypes, notes on, 327-336
Colour, 198-231
Comfort in work, 67
Commission, one's first, 292
Conditions, importance of ascertaining at commencement, 283
Conduct, general, 264
Constantine and Byzantium, 240
Co-operation, 163, 265, 268, 274-6
Corn-colour, 217-218
Countercharging, 94
Covering up the pigment, 164
Craft, complete teaching of, 174, 197
Craftsman, right claims to the title, 269
Craftsmanship, revival of, 243 Middle Ages, 252
Cullet, value of, 159
Curriculum, 321-326
Cut-in glass, 49
Cut-line, 85, 89
Cutter and cartoonist, 44
Cutting, 37, 42, 47, 87, 162
Cutting, advanced, 83
Cutting-knife, 138
Cutting-wheel (see Wheel-cutter)
Dahlia, colour of, 218
Dante or Blake, perhaps needed today, 253
Dante on Constantine, 240
Dappling, 163
Dentist, precision of a, 67
Design, 167, 175, 325
Diamond, 33, 88, 331
Difficulty conquered brings new insight and new power, 302
Difficulty, the chief opportunity in a work of art, 282
Directing assistants, clearness in, promptness in, 277
Discords harmonised by added notes, 212
Distance, effect of, 102, 192
Division of labour, 170, 269
Docketing of papers, system of, 284
Dodges, a few little, 182
Doubling glass, 132
Drapery, 230, 322
Drawing from Nature, 324
Drawing, Ruskin's advice on fineness in work, 325
Du Maurier, 207
Duerer, revision of his work, 271
Dutch artist's portrait of actress, 220
"Early English" glass, 31, 227
Easels, 186, 191
Eccentricity to be avoided, 247
Economy, 156, 158
Egyptians, 182
English wastefulness, 156
Etching (see Aciding)
Examples for painting, 321
Examples for stained-glass work, Holbein, 322
Expression, influence of distance on, 102
Faceting of stones and glass, 228, 332
Fairford, green in Eve window, 211, 230
Fairford, old glass in, 314
False lead lines, 166
Fame and wealth good, but not at expense of work, 296
Fancy, safe guide in, 259
Film, 94, 101
Fine work in art, 298-303
Finish in work, precision and cleanliness, 67
Firing, 105-119
First duty of an artist, 248
Five Sisters window, 178, 311
Fixing, 135, 151
"Flashed" glass, 33
Flatness, desirable, obtained by leading, 176
Flowers, 217
Flux, 370
Forms, accuracy of, 286-289
Fresh methods and ideas come accidentally, 298
Freshness of work, advantage of, 116
Fried work, how to remove, 104
Frying, 104
Garish colour, 202
Garter plates, 61, 62, 70, 71
Gas-kiln, 108-10
Gauge for cutting, how to make, 88
General conduct, 264
Giotto, 252
Giorgione, 203
Glass, ancient, 328
Glass, how made, 32
Glass, how to wax up on plate, 95
Glass in relation to stonework, 134
Glass, Munich, 84, 176
Glass, Norman, 227
Glass, old, 308, 315
Glass, painted, 84
Glass-painter's methods described, 205
Glass-painting compared with mezzotint, 81
Glass-painting compared with oil-painting, 200
Glass, Prior's, 31
Glass, value of accidental qualities in, 114
Glasses, "antique," 31
Glazing, 151, 180
Glossary, 369
Gloucester for blue and red, 230
Gloucester, centre for study of glass, 314
"God's house," 235
Gold pink, value of, 160
Good Shepherd, 172
Gothic revival, the, 239
Groseing, 43 (and Glossary)
Groseing tool, substitute for, 55
"Grozeing" (see Groseing)
Gum-arabic, 58
Gum, quality and quantity of, 77
Handel, 223
Handling leaded lights, 146
Hand-rest, 61
Harmony in colour, the great rule of, 211
Harmony, universal, 234
Harmony with architecture, 174
Heaton's kiln-feeder, 184
Hertfordshire, ride through, 215
Holbein, 64, 78, 316, 322
Hollander, thrift of, 157
Hurry to be avoided, 165
Hyacinths and leaves, colour of, 221
Image, Selwyn, 83
Imagination, 248, 259
Industry, 65, 278
In situ, to try work, 175
Inspiration, nature of, discussed, 273
Italian, thrift of, 157
"Jacob's ladder," difficulty, 280
Joints, good and bad, 140
Jugglery, craft, to be avoided, 174
Kaleidoscope, 232
Kiln-feeder, a clumsy, 183
Kilns, 105
King, portrait of, 102
Knives, cutting and stopping, 138, 142
"Knocking up," 144
Labour and material, cost of, 162
Lamb, Charles, on Milton's Lycidas, 272
Large work, difficulty of, 77
L'Art Nouveau, 245
Lasting nails, 141
Lathykin, 137 (and Glossary)
Lea Valley, description of, 215
Lead, 89
Lead, "calm" of, 137 (and Glossary)
Lead, 90, 132, 137
Lead-line, 84, 172
Lead-lines, false, 166
Lead-mill, 91
Lead, purity of, 90
Lead, outer lead showing, 136
Leaded lights, how to handle, 146
Leading, 133
Leadwork, artistic use of, 176
Leadworkers, wage of, 159
Light, 227 (and Glossary)
Lights, 72, 146, 151
Limitations, 154, 170
Linnell's colour, 202
Lycidas, perfection of, 271
Lyndhurst, windows at, 237, 250
Maclou, St., at Rouen, 282
Man's work, nature of, 196
Master, book no substitute for, 82
Master, need of, 82, 195
Material and labour, cost of, 162
Matting, 72
Matting-brush, 73, 75
Matting over unfired outline, 76
"Measure thrice, cut once," 285
Measurement, accuracy of, 115, 285
Measurement, relation of glass to the stonework, 134
Meistersingers, the, 223
Mezzotint compared with glass-painting, 81
Michael Angelo, 271
Middle Ages, craftsmanship of, 252
Millais' picture of "Asleep," 209
"Millinery and upholstery" in glass, to avoid, 324
Morris, 203
Muller, 79
Munich glass, 84, 176
Music, illustration derived from, 223
Nails, 141
Nativity, star of, 229
Nature, 213, 217, 302, 324, 335
Neatness, 96
Needle, 68, 123
New College, 230
Niggling, no use in, 158
"Nimbus," withheld till the figure is finished, 263
"Norman" glass, 227
Novelty not essential to originality, 247
Numbers attached to natural objects, 221
Oil-painting and glass-painting compared, 198
Oil stone, substitutes for, 53
Old glass, 171, 308, 314, 321
Orange-tip butterfly, 214
Order, "Heaven's first law," 233
Orderliness, 284
Originality not to be striven after, 297
Ornament, system of teaching, 325
Outline, 59-82
Overpainting, danger of, 120
Oxford, centre for study of glass, 314
Oxford, New College, for green, 230
Oxide (see Pigment)
Painted glass, 84
Painter and glass-painter contrasted, 199
Painting, 56, 94, 118, 321
Painting, heaviness of, objected to by some, 227
Painting, rule regarding amount of, 229
Pansy, colour of, 232
Patrons, 264
Parthenon frieze, repose of, 173
Perfection, 163
Perpendicular, rules for raising a, 286
Peterborough, Gothic tracery in Norman openings, 238
Pictures, criticism on, 208
Pigment, 164, 226
Pigment, mixture of, 57
Pigment, oxide of iron, 57
Pigment, soft, danger of, 112
Pigment, unpleasant red, 57
Plain glazing, removing, 151
Plating, 147
Pliers, 43
Poppies, 218
Prices of stained glasses, 159
Principles of old work to be imitated, not accidents, 322
Prior's glass, 31
Publicity, danger of wasting time on pursuit of, 296
Punch, parody of the "Palace of Art," 250
Pupils' work, 335
Putty, substitute for cement in plated work, 318
Putty, to be used when glass is doubled, 147
Quarries, 331
Quarry glazing, with subject, 177
Rack for glass samples, 186
Realism to be avoided, 173
Recasting of composition, 301
Removing the plain glazing, 151
Repose in architectural art, 174
Rest for hand, 61
Restoration, 181, 245, 315
Resurrection, sunrise in, 219
Revivals, architectural, 239
Rich and plain work, 177
Right angles, formula for, 286
Roman decadence, 240
Room, to make the most of, 192
Rose-briar, colour of, in sunset, 220
Rossetti, 203
Ruby glass, 33
Ruby glass, value of, 160
"Rule of thumb," 113
Rules for work, 264, 286
Ruskin, 202, 255, 325
Sacredness of ancient buildings, 245
Schubert, 223
"Scratch-card," 144
Scrubs, 81
Sea-weeds, 217
Second painting, 118, 126, 127
Sections, how to join together in fixing, 150
Sections, large work made in, 150
"Seed," everything grown from, 291
Seed of ornament, 294
Selvage edge, to tear off, 193
Sens, centre for study of glass, 315
Setting mixture, 86
Sharpening diamonds, 33
Siennese painters, good work to copy in glass, 322
Single fire, 127
Sketching in glass, 175
Soldering, 144
Sparta, revival of simplicity in, 243
Special glasses, 227
Spotting, 163
Spring morning, ride on a, 214
Squaring outlines, 286
Stain, 129
"Stain it!", 225
Stain overfiring, result of, 129
Stained-glass, accessory to architecture, 168
Stained-glass, ancient, to be held sacred, 245
Stained-glass, definition and description of, 29
Stained-glass, diapering, spotting, and streaking, 179
Stained-glass, joys of, 303
Stained-glass, loving and careful treatment of, 177
Stained-glass, new developments of, 132
Stained-glass, prices of material, 159
Stained-glass, subservient to architecture, 155, 236
Stained-glass versus painted glass, 84
Staining, 225
Stale colour, danger of, 165
Stale work, disadvantage of, 114
Standardising, 113
Stencil brush, 121
Stepping back to inspect work, 176
Stevenson, R. L., 156
Stick, 68
Stipple, 99, 101
Stippling brush, 100
Stonework, relation of glass to, 134
Stopping-knife, 142
Streaky glass, imitating drapery, 230
Strength in painting, limits of, 125
Stretching the lead, 137
Style, 237, 246
Subject, right limits to importance of, 248
Sufficient firing, test of, 117
Sugar or treacle as substitute for gum, 62
Surgeon, precision of a, 67
Symbolism, proportion in, 262
Tabernacle (see Canopy)
Tamworth, 237
Tapping, 41
Taste, some principles of, 92
Technical school, curriculum of, 321
Templates to be verified, 289
Tennyson, his constant revision, 271
Texture of glass, use of, 126
Theseus, 260
Thought, imagination, allegory, 248
Ties for banding, 151
Thrift, 157
Time saved by accuracy and method, 290
Time-saving appliances, 277
Tinning the soldering iron, 145
Tints, method of choosing, 210
Titian, 173, 203, 271, 316
Tradition, 238, 242
Troyes, centre for study of glass, 315
Trying work in situ, 175
Turgenieff, proverb on accuracy, 285
Turpentine (Venice), 129
Tuscan painters, good work to copy in glass, 322
"Upholstery and millinery" in glass, to avoid, 324
Venus of Milo, 260
Veronese, 203
Village church, untouched, picture of, 305
Violent action to be avoided, 173
Wage of lead workers, 159
Waste, proportion of, to finished work, 162
Wastefulness, English, 156
Wax, best, 95
Wax, removing spots of, 98
Waxing-up, 95
Waxing-up, tool for, 188
Wells, centre for study of glass, 314
Wheel-barrow, comparison with wheel-cutter, 51
Wheel-cutters, 34, 35, 47, 53, 54, 56
White, pure, value of, 227
White spaces to be interesting, 178
Work in the shop, rules for, 286
Yellow and red together, 218
Yellow, certain tints hard to obtain, 217
Yellow stain, 129
York, centre for study of glass, 314
York Minster, glass in, 230, 308, 313
THE END
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