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Edited by W. R. Lethaby. 

npHE series will appeal to handicraftsmen in the industrial 
-^ and mechanic arts. It consists of authoritative state- 
ments by experts in every field for the exercise of ingenuity, 
taste, imagination — the whole sphere of the so-called *' de- 
pendent arts." 


BOOKS. A Handbook for Amateurs, Bookbinders, 
and Librarian^. By Douglas Cockerell. With 
1 20 Illustrations and Diagrams by Noel Rooke, and 
$ collotype reproductions of binding. i2mo. 
$1.2$ net; postage, 12 cents additional. 

Book for Students and Workers in Metal. By H. 
Wilson. With 160 Diagrams and 16 full-page 
Illustrations. i2mo. ;(( 1.40 net ; postage, 12 cents 


WORKMANSHIP. By George Jack. With 
Drawings by the Author and other Illustrations. 

STAINED-GLASS WORK. a Text-Book for 
Students and Workers in Glass. By C. W. Whall. 
With Diagrams by two of his Apprentices, and 
other Illustrations. $i.^ net. 


** . . ." j4nd remembering these^ trtut Pindar for the 
truth of his saying J that to the cunning woriman — ^and 
let me solemnly enforce the 'tvords by odMng^ that to him 
only)— 'knowledge comes undeceitfulJ* 

— RusKiN (" Aratra Pcntclici"). 

<« * Very cool of Tom^ as East thought but didnt say, 
*■ seeing as how he only came out of Egypt himself last 
night at bed'-time,' " 

— ("Tom Brown's Schooldays"). 












' ^^' ^\M-^.H.^ 

jL't- 1:3 1905 



* \^J^ 


Pubhshed May^ J906 


To his Pupils and Assistants^ whoy if they 
have learned as much from him as he has 
from themy have spent their time profitably ; 
and whoy if they have etyoyed learning as 
much as he has teachings have spent it happily ; 
this little book it Defeated by their Affectionate 
Master and Servant y 



In issuing these volumes of a series of Editor's 
Handbooks on the Artistic Crafts, it will ^retace 
be well to state what are our general 

In the first place, we wish to provide 
trustworthy text-books of workshop prac- 
tice, from the points of view of experts 
who have critically examined the methods 
current in the shops, and putting aside 
vain survivals, are prepared to say what 
is good workmanship, and to set up a 
standard of quality in the crafts which 
are more especially associated with de- 
sign. Secondly, in doing this, we hope 
to treat design itself as an essential part 
of good workmanship. During the last 
century most of the arts, save painting 
and sculpture of an academic kind, were 
little considered, and there was a tendency 
to look on '* design" as a mere matter 


Editor's of appearance. Such " ornamentation " as 
Preface there was was usually obtained by following 
in a mechanical way a drawing provided 
by an artist who often knew little of 
the technical processes involved in pro- 
duction. With the critical attention given 
to the crafts by Ruskin and Morris, it 
came to be seen that it was impossible 
to detach design from craft in this way, 
and that, in the widest sense, true design 
is an inseparable element of good qua- 
lity, involving as it does the selection of 
good and suitable material, contrivance 
for special purpose, expert workmanship, 
proper finish, and so on, far more than 
mere ornament, and indeed, that orna- 
mentation itself was rather an exuberance 
of fine workmanship than a matter of 
merely abstract lines. Workmanship when 
separated by too wide a gulf from fresh 
thought — that is, from design — inevitably 
decays, and, on the other hand, ornamen- 
tation, divorced from workmanship, is 
necessarily unreal, and quickly falls into 
affectation. Proper ornamentation may 
be defined as a language addressed to the 
eye; it is pleasant thought expressed in 
the speech of the tool. 

In the third place, we would have this 


series put artistic craftsmanship before Editor's 
people as furnishing reasonable occupa- Preface 
tions for those who would gain a liveli- 
hood. Although within the bounds of 
academic art, the competition, of its kind, . 
is so acute that only a very few per cent, 
can fairly hope to succeed as painters and 
sculptors ; yet, as artistic craftsmen, there 
is every probability that nearly every 
one who would pass through a sufficient 
period of apprenticeship to workman- 
ship and design would reach a measure 
of success. 

In the blending of handwork and 
thought in such arts as we propose to 
deal with, happy careers may be found 
as far removed from the dreary routine 
of hack labour as from the terrible un- 
certainty of academic art. It is desirable 
in every way that men of good education 
should be brought back into the produc- 
tive crafts : there are more than enough 
of us "in the city/' and it is probable 
that more consideration will be given in 
this century than in the last to Design 
and Workmanship. 

Our last volume dealt with one of the 



Editor's branches of sculpture, the present treats of 
Preface one of the chief forms of painting. Glass- 
painting has been, and is capable of again 
becoming, one of the most noble forms of 
Art. Because of its subjection to strict 
conditions, and its special glory of illumi- 
nated colour, it holds a supreme position in 
its association with architecture, a position 
higher than any other art, except, perhaps, 
mosaic and sculpture. 

The conditions and aptitudes of the 
Art are most suggestively discussed in the 
present volume by one who is not only an 
artist, but also a master craftsman. The 
great question of colour has been here 
opened up for the first time in our series, 
and it is well that it should be so, in con- 
nection with this, the pre-eminent colour- 

Windows of coloured glass were used 
by the Romans. The thick lattices found 
in Arab art, in which brightly-coloured 
morsels of glass are set, and upon which 
the idea of the jewelled windows in the 
story of Aladdin is doubtleiss based, are 
Eastern ofF-shoots from this root. 

Painting in line and shade on glass was 
probably invented in the West not later 
than the year iioo, and there are in 


France many examples, at Chartres, Le Editor's 
Mans, and other places, which date back Preface 
to the middle of the twelfth century. 

Theophilus, the twelfth-century writer 
on Art, tells us that the French glass was 
the most famous. In England the first 
notice of stained glass is in connection 
with Bishop Hugh's work at Durham, of 
which we are told that around the altar 
he placed several glazed windows remark- 
able for the beauty of the figures which 
they contained; this was about 1175. 

In the Fabric Accounts of our national 
monuments many interesting facts as to 
mediaeval stained glass are preserved. The 
accounts of the building of St. Stephen's 
Chapel, in the middle of the fourteenth 
century, make known to us the procedure 
of the mediaeval craftsmen. We find in 
these first a workman preparing white 
boards, and then the master glazier draw- 
ing the cartoons on the whitened boards, 
and many other details as to customs, 
prices, and wages. 

There is not much old glass to be 
studied in London, but in the museum at 
South Kensington there are specimens of 
some of the principal varieties. These 
are to be found in the Furniture corridor 


Editor's and the corridor which leads from it. 

Preface Close by a fine series of English coats of 
arms of the fourteenth century, which are 
excellent examples of Heraldry, is placed 
a fragment of a broad border probably of 
late twelfth-century work. The thirteenth 
century is represented by a remarkable 
collection, mostly from the Ste. Chapelle 
in Paris and executed about 1248. The 
most striking of these remnants show a 
series of Kings seated amidst bold scrolls 
of foliage, being parts of a Jesse Tree, 
the narrower strips, in which are Prophets, 
were placed to the right and left of the 
Kings, and all three made up the width of 
one light in the original window. The 
deep brilliant colour, the small pieces of 
glass used, and the rich backgrounds 
are all characteristic of mid-thirteenth- 
century glazing. Of early fifteenth-cen- 
tury workmanship are the large single 
figures standing under canopies, and these 
are good examples of English glass of 
this time. They were removed from 
Winchester College Chapel about 1825 
by the process known as restoration. 


January 1905. 



The author must be permitted to explain Author's 
that he undertook his task with some re- Preface 
luctance, and to say a word by way of 
explaining his position. 

I have always held that no art can be 
taught by books, and that an artist's best 
way of teaching is directly and personally 
to his own pupils, and maintained these 
things stubbornly and for long to those 
who wished this book written. But I 
have such respect for the good judgment 
of those who have, during the last eight 
years, worked in the teaching side of 
the art and craft movement, and, in 
furtherance of its objects, have com- 
menced this series of handbooks, and 
such a belief in the movement, of which 
these persons and circumstances form a 
part, that I felt bound to yield on the 
condition of saying just what I liked in 

xvii B 

Author's my own way, and addressing myself only 
Preface ^q students, speaking as I would speak 
to a class or at the bench, careless of the 
general reader. 

You will find yourself, therefore, reader, 
addressed as "Dear Student." (I know 
the term occurs further on.) But because 
this book is written for students, it does 
not therefore mean that it must all be 
brought within the comprehension of the 
youngest apprentice. For it is becoming 
the fashion, in our days, for artists of 
merit — painters, perhaps, even of dis- 
tinction — to take up the practice of one 
or other of the crafts. All would be 
well, for such new workers are needed, 
if it was indeed the practice of the craft 
that they set themselves to. But too 
often it is what is called the designing for 
it only in which they engage, and it is 
the duty of every one speaking or writing 
about the matter to point out how fatal 
is that error. 

One must provide a word, then, for such 
as these also here if one can. 

Indeed, to reckon up all the classes to 
whom such a book as this should be 
addressed, we should have, I think, to 
name : — 


( 1 ) The worker in the ordinary " shop/' Author's 
who is learning there at present, to our Preface 
regret, only a portion of his craft, and 

who should be given an insight into the 
whole, and into the fairyland of design. 

(2) The magnificent and superior artist, 
mature in imagination and composition, 
fully equipped as a painter of pictures, 
perhaps even of academical distinction, 
who turns his attention to the craft, and 
without any adequate practical training 
in it, which alone could teach its right 
principles, makes, and in the nature of 
things is bound to make, great mistakes — 
mistakes easily avoidable. No such thing 
can possibly be right. Raphael himself 
designed for tapestry, and the cartoons are 
priceless, but the tapestry a ghastly failure. 
It could not have been otherwise under 
the conditions. Executant separated from 
designer by all the leagues that lie between 
Arras and Rome. 

(3) The patron, who should know 
something of the craft, that he may not, 
mistrusting, as so often at present, his own 
taste, be compelled to trust to some one 
else's Name, and of course looks out for 
a big one. 

(4) The architect and church digni- 


Author's tary who, having such grave responsibilities 
Preface jj^ their hands towards the buildings of 
which they are the guardians, wish, natu- 
rally, to understand the details which form 
a part of their charge. And lastly, a new 
and important class that has lately sprung 
into existence, the well-equipped, picked 
student — brilliant and be-medalled, able 
draughtsman, able painter; young, thought- 
ful, ambitious, and educated, who, instead 
of drifting, as till recently, into the over- 
crowded ranks of picture-making, has now 
the opportunity of choosing other weapons 
in the armoury of the arts. 

To all these classes apply those golden 
words from Ruskin's "Aratra Pentelici''* 
which are quoted on the fly-leaf of the 
present volume, while the spirit in which 
I myself would write in amplifying them 
is implied by my adopting the comment 
and warning expressed in the other sen- 
tence there quoted. The face of the arts 
is in a state of change. The words 
"craft" and ''craftsmanship,'* unheard a 
decade or two ago, now fill the air; we 
are none of us inheritors of any worthy 
tradition, and those who have chanced to 
grope about for themselves, and seem to 
have found some safe footing, have very 


little, it seems to me, to plume or pride Author's 

themselves upon, but only something to Prrfacc 

be thankful for in their good luck. But 

''to have learnt faithfully" one of the 

'' ingenuous arts " (or crafts) is good luck 

and is firm footing ; we may not doubt it 

who feel it strong beneath our feet, and 

it must be proper to us to help towards it 

the doubtless quite as worthy or worthier, 

but less fortunate, who may yet be in 

some of the quicksands around. 

It also happens that the art of stained 
glass, though reaching to very high and 
great things, is in its methods and pro- 
cesses a simple, or at least a very limited, 
one. There are but few things to do, 
while at the same time the principles of 
it touch the whole field of art, and it is 
impossible to treat of it without discussing 
these great matters and the laws which 
guide decorative art generally. It happens 
conveniently, therefore, as the technical 
part requires less space, that these things 
should be treated of in this particular 
book, and it becomes the author s delicate 
and difficult task to do so. He, there- 
fore, wishes to make clear at starting the 
spirit in which the task is undertaken. 

It remains only to express his thanks 


Author's to Mr. Drury and Mr. Noel Heaton for 
Preface j^gip respectively, with the technical and 
scientific detail ; to Mr. St. John Hope 
for permission to use his reproductions 
from the Windsor stall-plates, and to Mr. 
Selwyn Image for his great kindness in 
revising the proofs. 


January 1905. 




Editor's Preface xi Contents 

Author's Preface xvii 


Introdttctoiy, and Conceniing the Raw Material . 29 


Cttttins (elementary)— The Diamond— The Wheel- 
Sharpening — How to Cut — ^Amount of Force — 
The Beginner's Mistake — Tapping— Possible and 
Impossible Cuts — " Grozeing " — Defects of the 
Wheel— The Actual Nature of a "Cut" in 
Glass 33 


Painting (elementary) — Pigments — Mixing — How to 
Fill the Brush — Outline — Examples — Industry — 
The Needle and Stick— Completing the Outline . 56 


Contents CHAPTER IV 


Matting — Badgering — How to preserve Correctness of 
Outline — Difficulty of Large Work — Ill-ground 
Pigment — The MuUer — Overground Pigment — 
Taking out Lights— " Scrubs "—The Need of a 
Master 72 


Cutting (advanced)— The Ideal Cartoon— The Cut- 
line — Setting the Cartoon — Ti^ansferring the Cut- 
line to the Glass — Another Way — Some Principles 
of Taste — Countercharging 83 


Painting (advanced) — Waxing-up — Cleanliness — 
Further Methods of Painting — Stipple — Dry 
Stipple — Film — Effects of Distance — Danger of 
Over-Painting — Frying . . . . « 94 


Firing — ^Three Kinds of Xiln — Advantages and Disad- 
vantages — The Gas-Kiln — Quick Firing — Danger 
— Sufficient Firing — Soft Pigments — Difference in 
Glasses— "Stale" Work— The Scientific Facts- 
How to Judge of Firing — Drawing the Kiln . 105 


The Second Painting — Disappointment with Fired 
Work— A False Remedy— A Useful Tool— The 
Needle — A Resource of Desperation — The Middle 
Course — Use of the Finger — ^The Second Piainting 
— Procedure ^ • .118 


CHAPTER IX Contents 


Of Staining and Adding — Yellow Stain — Adding — 
Caution required in Use — Remedy for Burning 
— Uses of Adding — Other Resources of Stained 
Glass Work 129 


Leading-Up and Fixing — Setting out the Bench — 
Relation of Leading to mode of Fixing in the 
Stone — Process of Fixing — Leading-Up Resumed 
—Straightening the Lead— The **Lathykin"— 
The Cutting-Knife— The Nails— The Stopping- 
Knife — Knocking Up 133 


Soldering — Handling the Leaded Panel — Cementing 
— Redpe for Cement — The Brush — Division of 
Long Lights into Sections — How Joined when 
Fixed — Banding — Fixing — Chipping out the Old 
Glazing — Inserting the New and Cementing • 144 



Introductory — ^The Great Questions — Colour — Light 
— ^Architectural Fitness — Limitations — Thought 
— Imagination — Allegory 154 


Of Economy— The Englishman's Wastefulness— Its 
Good Side— Its Excess— Difficulties— A Calcu- 
lation—Remedies 156 




Of Perfection — In Little Things— Cleanliness— Alert- 
ness — But not Hurry — Realising your Conditions 
— False Lead-Lines — Shutting out Light — Bars — 
Their Number — Their Importance — Precedence 
— Observing your Limitations — A Result of 
Complete Training — The Special Limitations of 
Stained Glass — Disguising the Lead-Line— No ML 
Realism — No violent Action — Self-Effacement — 
No Craft- Jugglery — Architectural Fitness founded 
on Architectural Knowledge — Seeing Work in 
5t^if— Sketching in Glass— The Artistic Use of 
the Lead — Stepping Back~*Accepting Bars and 
Leads — Loving Care — White Spaces to be In- 
teresting — Bringing out the " Quality " of the 
Glass — Spotting and Dappling — " Builders-Glaz- 
ing" v^jtcf Modem Restoring .... 163 


A F^w Little Dodges— A Clumsy Tool— A Sub- 
stitute — A Glass Rack — An Inconvenient Easel 
— A Convenient Easel — A Waxing-up Tool — 
An Easel with Movable Plates — Making the 
most of a Room — Handling Cartoons — Clean- 
liness— * Dust — The Selvage Edge — Drying a 
"Badger'*— A Comment 182 

OfColour 19S 

bf Architectural Fitness . ^ 234 




Of Thoaght, Imagination, and Allegory . . 248 


Of General Conduct and Procedure — Amount of 
L^itimate Assistance — The Ordinary Practice 
—The Great Rule— The Second Great Rule- 
Four Things to Observe— Art v. Routine— The 
Truth of the Case— The Penalty of Virtue in 
the Matter — The Compensating Privilege — 
Practical Applications — An Economy of Time 
in the Studio— Industry— Work " To Order "— 
— Clients and Patrons — And Requests Reason- 
able and Unreasonable— The Chief Difficulty the 
Chief Opportunity — But ascertain all Conditions 
before starting Work— Business Habits— Order— 
Accuracy— Setting out Cartoon Forms— An Artist 
must Dream— But Wake— Three Plain Rules ' . 264 

A String of Beads 290 

Some Suggestions as to the Study of Old Glass . . 308 

On the Restoring of Ancient Windows '315 




Hints for the Curriculum of a Technical School for 
Stained Glass — Examples for Painting — Examples 
of Drapery — Drawing from Nature — Ornamental 
Design 321 

Notes on the Collotype Plates . . .327 

The Collotype Plates 337 

Glossary 369 

Index 373 






You are to know that stained glass means Intro- 
pieces of coloured glasses put together with ductory 
strips of lead into the form of windows ; 
not a picture painted on glass with coloured 

You know that a beer bottle is 
blackish, a hock bottle orange-brown, a 
soda-water bottle greenish-white — these 
are the colours of the whole substance 
of which they are respectively made. 

Break such a bottle, each little bit is 
still a bit of coloured glass. So, also, 
blue is used for poison bottles, deep 
green and deep red for certain wine 
glasses, and, indeed, almost all colours 
for one purpose or another. 


Intro- Now these are the same glass, and 

<iuctory coloured in the same way as that used 
for church windows. 

Such coloured glasses are cut into the 
shapes of faces, or figures, or robes, or 
canopies, or whatever you want and what- 
ever the subject demands; then features 
are painted on the faces, folds on the 
robes, and so forth — not with colour, 
• merely with brown shading ; then, when 
this shading has been burnt into the 
glass in a kiln, the pieces are put to- 
gether into a picture by means of grooved 
strips of lead, into which they fit. 

This book, it is hoped, will set forth 
plainly how these things are done, for 
the benefit of those who do not know ; 
and, for the benefit of those who do 
know, it will examine and discuss the 
right principles on which windows should 
be made, and the rules of good taste and 
of imagination, which make such a differ- 
ence between beautiful and vulgar art ; 
for you may know intimately all the pro- 
cesses I have spoken of, and be skilful in 
them, and yet misapply them, so that your 
window had better never have been made. 

Skill is good if you use it wisely and 
for good end ; but craft of hand employed 


foolishly is no mohre use to you tan Intro- 
swiftness of foot would be upon the broad ductory 
road leading downwards — ^the cripple is 

A clear and calculating brain may be 
used for statesmanship or science, or 
merely for gambling. You, we mil 
say, have a true eye and a cunning 
hand ; will you use them on the passing 
fashion of the hour — the morbid, the 
trivial, the insincere — or in illustrating 
the eternal truths and dignities, the 
heroisms and sanctities of life, and its 
innocencies and gaieties.^ 

This book, then, is divided into two 
parts, of which the intention of one is 
to promote and produce skilfulness of 
hand, and of the other to direct it to 
worthy ends. 

The making of glass itself — of the 
raw material — the coloured glasses used 
in stained-glass windows, cannot be treated 
of here. What are called "Antiques" 
are chiefly used, and there are also special 
glasses representing the ideals and ex- 
periments of enthusiasts — Prior's ** Early 
English " glass, and the somewhat similar 
"Norman" glass. These glasses, however, 
are for craftsmen of experience to use : they 


Intro- require mature skill and judgment in the 
ductory using; to the beginner, "Antiques" are 
enough for many a day to come. 

How to know the Right and Wrong Sides 
of a Piece of ^^ Antique " Glass. — Take up 
a sheet of one of these and look at it. 
You will notice that the two sides look 
different; one side has certain little de- 
pressions as if it had been pricked with 
a pin, sometimes also some wavy streaks. 
Turn it round, and, looking at the other 
side, -you still see these things, but 
blurred, as if seen through water, while 
the surface itself on this side looks 
smooth ; what inequalities there are being 
projections rather than depressions. Now 
the side you first looked at is the side 
to cut on, and the side to paint on, and 
it is the side placed inwards when the 
window is put up. 

The reason is this. Glass is made into 
sheets by being blown into bubbles, just 
as a child blows soap-bubbles. If you 
blow a soap-bubble you will see streaks 
playing about in it, just like the wavy 
streaks you notice in the glass. 

The bubble is blown, opened at the 
ends, and manipulated with tools while 
hot, until it is the shape of a drain-pipe ; 


then cut down one side and opened out Intro- 
upon a flattening-stone until the round ductory 
pipe is a flat sheet; and it is this stone 
which gives the glass the different texture, 
the dimpled surface which you notice. 

Some glasses are " flashed " ; that is to 
say, a bubble is blown which is mainly 
composed of white glass ; but, before blow- 
ing, it is also dipped into another coloured 
glass — ^red, perhaps, or blue — ^and the two 
are then blown together, so that the red 
or blue glass spreads out into a thin film 
closely united to, in fact fused on to, 
and completely one with, the white glass 
which forms the base; most '*Ruby" 
glasses are made in this way. 


Cutting (elementary) — The Diamond — The Wheel — 
Sharpening — How to Cut — Amount of Force 
— The Beginner's Mistake — Tapping — Possible 
and Impossible Cuts — " Grozeing " — Defects of 
the Wheel— The Actual Nature of a " Cut '* 
in Glass. 

No written directions can teach the use Cutting 
of the diamond ; it is as sensitive to the (elementary) 
hand as the string of a violin, and a good 

c 33 

Cutting workman feels with a most delicate 

(elementary) touch exactly where the cutting edge 

is, and uses his tool accordingly. 

Every apprentice counts 
on spoiling a guinea 
diamond in the leam- 
ing» which will take 
him from one to two 

Most cutters now use 
the wheel, of which illus- 
trations are given (figs, i 
and 2). 

The wheels themselves 
are good things, and cut 
as well as the diamond, 
in some respects almost 
better; but many of the 
handles are very unsatis- 
factory. From some of 
them indeed one might 
suppose, if such a thing 
were conceivable, that 
the maker knew noth- 
ing of the use of the 
For it is held thus (fig. 5), the pres- 
sure of the forefinger both guiding the cut 
and supplying force for it: and they 



Figs, i and 2. 

give you an edge to press 
on (fig. i) instead of a sur- 
face ! In some other pat- 
terns, indeed, they do give 
you the desired surnce, 
but the tool is so thin that 
there is nothing to grip. 
What ought to be done 
is to reproduce the shape 
of the old wooden handle 
of the diamond proper " 
(figs. 3 and 4). 

The foregoing passage 
must, however, be ampli- 
fied and modified, but this 
I will do further on, for 
you will understand the 
reasons better if I insert it 
after what I had written 
further with regard to the 
cutting of glass. 

H01V to Sharpen the Wheel 
Cutter. — The right way to 
do this is difficult to de- 
scribe in writing. You 
must, first of all, grind 
down the " shoulders " of 
the tool, through which 
the pivot of the wheel 


Figs. 3 and 4, 


Cutting goes, for they are made so large that the 
(elementary) ^hecl Cannot rcach the stone (fig. 6), and 

must be reduced (fig. 7). Then, after 
first oiling the pivot so that the wheel 




may run easily, you must hold the tool Cutting 
as shown in fig. 8, and rub it swiftly up (elementary) 
and down the stone. The angle at which 
the wheel should rest on the stone is 
shown in fig. 9. You will see that the 
angle at which the wheel meets the stone 
is a little blunter than the angle of the 
side of the wheel itself. You do not 
want to make the tool 
too sharpy otherwise you 
will risk breaking down 
the edge, when the wheel 
will cease to be truly 
circular, and when that 
occurs it is absolutely 
useless. The same thing 
will happen if the wheel ^^ /^ 
is checked in its revolu- 
tion while sharpening, 
and therefore the pivot must be kept 
oiled both for cutting and sharpening. 

It is a curious fact to notice that the 
tool, be it wheel or diamond, that is too 
sharp is not, in practice, found to make 
so good a cut as one that is less sharp; 
it scratches the glass and throws up a 
line of splinters. 

How to Cut Glass. — Hold the cutter as 
shown in the illustration (fig. 5), a little 


Figs. 6 and 7. 

Cutting sloping towards you, but perfectly upright 

(elemenury) laterally; draw it towards you, hard 

enough to make it just Wte the glass. If 

it leaves a mark you can hardly see it is 

a good cut (fig, iob), but if it scratches 

a white line, throwing up glass-dust as it 
goes, either the tool is faulty, or you are 
pressing too hard, or you are applying 
the pressure to the wheel unevenly and 
at an angle to the direction of the cut 
(fig. ioa). Not that you can make the 
wheel move udeways in the cut actually ; 


it will keep itself straight as a ploughshare Cutdag 

keeps in its furrow, but it will press side- (elementMy) 

ways, and so break down 

the edges of the furrow, 

while if you exi^erate 

this enough it will actually 

leave the furrow, and, 

ceasing to cut, will "skid " 

aside over the glass. As 'iq- » 

to pressure, all cutters- begin by pressing 

much too hard ; the tool having started 

biting, it should be kept only just biting 
while drawn along. The cut should be 

Cutting almost noiseless. You think you're not cut- 

(elementaiy) (j^g because you don't hear it grate, but 

hold the glass sideways to the light and 

you will see the silver line quite continuous. 

Having made your cut, take the glass 
up ; hold it as in fig. ii, press downward 
mth the thumbs and upward with the 
fingers, and the glass will come apart. 

But you want to cut shaped pieces as 


well as straight. You cannot break these Cucuog 
directly the cut is made, but, holding the (elementary) 
glass as in fig. 12, and pressing it firmly 
with the left thumb, jerk the tool up by 
little, sharp jerks of the fingers only, so 

as to tap along the underside of your 
cut. You will see a little silver line 
spring along the cut, shoinng that the 
glass is dividing; and when that silver 
line has sprung from end to end, a gentle 
pressure will wing the glass apart. 


Cattiog This upward jerk must be sharp and 

(elementary) swift, but must be calculated so as only 
just to reach the glass, being checked just 
at the right point, as one hammers a 
nail when one does not want to stir the 
work into which the nail is driven. A 
pushing stroke, a blow that would go 

Fig. 13. 

FI6. 14. 

much further if the glass were not there, 
is no use; and for this reason neither 
the elbow nor the hand must move; the 
knuckles are the hinge upon which the 
stroke revolves. 

But you can only cut certain shapes — 
for instance, you cannot cut a wedge- 
sha^d gap out of a piece of glass (fig. 
1 3) ; however tenderly you handle it, it 


will split at point A. The nearest you Cutting 
can go to it is a curve; and the deeper (elenieiKwy) 
the curve the more difficult it is to get 
the piece out. In fig. 14 A is an average 
easy curve, B a difficult one, C impossible, 
except by " groseing " or " grozeing " as 
cutters call it ; that is, after the cut is 
made, setting to work to patiently bite 
the piece out with pliers (fig. 15). 

Now, further, you must understand that 
you must not cut round all the sides of a 
shaped piece of glass at once ; indeed, you 
must only cut one ade at a time, and draw 
your cut right up to the edge of the glass, 
and break away the whole piece which 
contains the side you are cutting before 
you go on to another. 

Thus, in fig. 16, suppose the shaded 

Cutting portion to be the shape that you wish to 
(eleroeotary) ^ut Out of the piece of glass, A, B, C, D. 
You must lay your gauge anglewise down 
upon the piece. Do not try to get the 
sides parallel to the shapes of your gauge, 
for that makes it much more difficult ; 
angular pieces break off the easiest 

Now, then, cut the most difficult piece first. 
That marked i. Perhaps you mil not 
cut it quite true ; but, if not, then shift 
the gauge slightly on to another part of 
the curve, ano very likely it may fit that 
better and so come true. 

Then follow with one of those marked. 

2 or 3. Probably it would be safest to Cutting 

cut the larger and more difficult piece («lcm«ntary) 

first, and get both the curved cuts right by 

your gauge; then you can be quite sure 

of getting the very easy small bit off quite 

truly, to fit into its place with both of 

them. Go on with 4, and then with one 

of those marked 5 or 6. Probably it 

would still be best to cut the curved piece 

first, unless you think that shortening it 

by cutting ofF the small corner-piece first 

will make the curved cut easier by making 

it shorter. 

In any case you must only cut one side 
at a time, and break it away before you 
make the cut for another side. 

Take care that you do not go back in 
your cut. You roust try and make it 
quite continuous onwards ; for if you go 
back in the cut, where your tool has 
already thrown up splinters, it will spoil 
your tool and spoil your cut also. 

Difficult curves, that it is only just pos- 
sible to get out by groseing, ought never 
to be resorted to, except for some very 
sufficient reason. A cartoonist who knows 
the craft will avoid setting such tasks to 
the cutter; but, unfortunately, many 
cartoonists do not know the craft. If 


Cottbg people were taught the complete craft as 
(ekmeoiiry) they should be, this book would not have 
been written. 

Here let me say that we cannot pos- 
sibly within the narrow limits of it go 
thoroughly into all the very wide range 
of subjects connected with glass — the 
chemis^, the permanence, the purity of 
materials. With the exception of the 
practice of the craft, probably we shall 
not be able to go thoroughly into any one 
of them ; but I shall endeavour to mention 
them all, and to do so sufficiently to in- 
dicate the directions in which work and 
research and experiment may be made, 
for they are all three much needed in 
several directions. 

It becomes, for instance, now my task, 
in modifying the passage some pages back 
as I promised, to go into one of these 
subjects in the light of inquiries made 
since the passage in question was written ; 
and I let it for the time being stand just 
as it was, without the additional informa- 
tion, because it gives a picture of how 
such things crop up and of the way in 
which such investigations may be made, 
and of how useful and pleasant they 
may be. 


Here then let us have — Cuttiog 



Through the agent for the wheel*cutter 
in England I communicated with the 
maker and inventor in America, and told 
him of out difficulties and perplexities 
over here, and chiefly with regard to two 
points. First, the awkwardness of the 
handle, which causes the glaziers here to 
use the tool bound round with wadding, or- 
enclosed in a bit of india-rubber pipe ; and, 
secondly, the bluntness of the ^^ jaws'* which 
hold the wheel, and which must be ground 
down (and are in universal practice ground 
down), before the tool can be sharpened. 

His reply called attention to a number 
of different patterns of handle, the exist- 
ence of which, I think, is not generally 
known, in England at any rate, and some 
of which seem to more or less meet the 
difficulties we experience, most of them 
also being made with malleable iron 
handles, so that fresh cutting-wheels can 
be inserted in the same handle. His 
letter also entered into the question of 
the actual dynamics of ^^ cutting,'* main- 
taining, I think rightly, that a ** cut " 
is made by the edge of the wheel (this 


Ctttting not being very sharp) fordng the particles 
(elementary) of the glass down into the mass of it by 

With regard to the old-fashioned pat- 
tern of tool which we chiefly use in this 
country, the very sufficient explanation is 
that they continue to make it because 
we continue to demand it, a circumstance 
which, as he declares, is a mystery to the 
inventor himself ! Nevertheless, as we do 
so, and, in spite of the variety of newer 
tools on the market, still go on grinding 
down the jaws of our favourite, and wrap- 
ping round the handle with cotton-wool, 
let us try and put this matter straight, 
and compare our requirements with the 
advantages oflFered us. 

There are three chief points to be 
cleared up. (i) The actual nature of a 
" cut " in glass ; (2) the question of 
sharpening the tool and grinding down of 
the jaws to do so; and (3) the "mys- 
tery" of our preference for a particular 
tool, although we all confess its awkward- 
ness by the means we take to modify it. 

(i) With regard, then, to the nature 
of a ** cut " in glass I am disposed entirely 
to agree with the theory put forward by 
the inventor of the wheel, which an 


examination of the cuts under the micro- Catting 
scope, or even a 6 diameter lens, certainly (elementary) 
also tends to confirm. 

What happens appears to my non-scien- 
tific eyes to be this. 

Glass is one of the most fissile or 
" splittable " of all materials ; but it is so 
just in the same way that ice is, and just 
in the opposite way to that in which slate 
or talc is. 

Slate or talc splits easily into thin layers 
or laminse, because U already lies in such 
layers^ and these will come apart when 
the force is applied between them: but 
it will only split into the lamina of which 
it already is composed^ and along the line 
of the fissures which already exist between 

Glass, on the contrary (and the same 
is true of ice, or for that matter of cur- 
rant-jelly and such like things), appears 
to be a substance which is the same in all 
directions, or nearly so, and therefore as 
liable to split in one direction as in an- 
other, and is so loosely held together that, 
once a splitting force is applied, the crack 
spreads very rapidly and easily, and there- 
fore smoothly and in straight lines and in 
even planes. 

D 49 

Catting The diamond, or the wheel-cutter, is 

(clemciitarj) such a force. Being pressed on to the 
surface, it forces down the particles, and 
these start a series of small vertical splits, 
sometimes nearly through the whole thick- 
ness of the glass, though invisibly so until 
the glass is separated. And mark, that it 
is the starting of the splits that is the 
important thing; there is no object in 
making them de^y it is only wasted force ; 
they will continue to split of themselves 
if encouraged in the proper way (see 
Plates IX. and X.). Try this as follows. 

Take a bit of glass, say 3 inches by 2, 
and make the very smallest dint you 
can in it, in the middle of the narrowest 
dimension. You cannot make one so 
small that the glass will hold together 
if you try to break it across. It will 
break across in a straight line, springing 
from each end of the tiny cut. The cut 
may be only J of an inch long; less — 
it may be only A, A — as small as you 
will, the glass will break across just the 


Because the cut has started it splitting 
at each end ; and the material being the 
same all through, the split will go straight 

• 50 

on in the direction in which it has started ; Cuttibg 
there is nothing to turn it aside. (elementary) 

So also the pressure of the wheel starts 
a continuous split, or series of splits, 
downwards^ into the thickness of the glass. 
No matter how small a distance these go 
in, the glass will come asunder directly 
pressure is applied. 

Now, if you press too hard in cutting, 
another thing takes place. 

Imagine a quantity of roofing-slates 
piled flat one on top of another, all the 
piles being of equal height and arranged 
in two rows, side by side, so close that 
the edges of the slates in one row touch 
the edges of those in the other row, along 
a central line. 

Wheel a wheelbarrow along that line 
over the edges of both. 

What would happen ? 

The top layer of slates would all come 
cocking their outer edges up as the barrow 
passed over their inner ones, would they 

Now, just so, if you press hard on your 
glass-cutting wheel, it will press down the 
edges of the groove, and though there are 
no layers already made in the glass, the 
pressure will split off a thin layer from the 


Cutting top surface of the glass on each side in 
(dcmcntory) flakes as it goes along (Plate X., d, e). 

This is what gives the noise of the cut, 
c-r-r-r-r-r- ; and as the thing is no use the 
noise is no use; like a good many other 
things in life, the less noise the better 
work, much cry generally meaning little 
wool, as the man found out who shaved 
the pig. 

But the wheel or the diamond is not 
quite the same as the wheel of the wheel- 
barrow, for it has a wedge-shaped edge. 
Imagine a barrow with such a wheel; 
what then would happen to your slates? 
besides being cocked up by the wheel, they 
would also be pushed (?«/, surely ? 

This happens in glass. You must not 
imagine that glass is a rigid thing; it is 
very elastic, and the wedge-like pressure 
of the wheel pushes it out just as the 
keel of a boat pushes the water aside in 
ripples (Plate X., d, e). 

All these, observations seem to me to 
bear out the theory of the inventor, and 
perhaps to some extent to explain it. I 
am much tempted to carry them further, 
and ask the questions, why a pen-knife 
as well as a wheel will not make a cut in 
glass, but will make a perfectly definite 


scratch on it if the glass is placed under Cutting 
water ? and why this line so made will yet (elementary) 
not serve for separating the glass? and 
why a piece of glass can be cut in two 
(roughly, to be sure, but still cut in two) 
with a pair of scissors under water, a thing 
otherwise quite impossible ? 

But I do not think that the knowledge 
of these questions will help the reader to 
do better stained-glass windows, and there- 
fore I will not pursue them. 

(2) The question of sharpening the tool 
is soon disposed of. 

If the tool is to be sharpened, the jaws 
must be ground down, whether the maker 
grinds them down originally or whether 
we do it. Is sharpening worth while, since 
the tool only costs a few pence ? 

Well, it's a question each must decide 
for himself; but I will just answer two 
small difficulties which affect the matter. 

If grinding the jaws loosens the pivot, it 
can be hammered tight again with a punch. 
If sharpening wears out the oil-stone (as it 
undoubtedly does, and oil-stones are ex- 
pensive things), a piece of fine polished 
Westmoreland slate will do as well, and 
there is no need to be chary of it. Even 
a piece of ground-glass with oil will do. 


Cutting (3) But now as to the handle. I am 

(elementary) fij-gt to explain the amusing "mystery" 

why the old pattern shown 
in fig. I still sells. 

It is because the British 
working-man is convinced 
that the wheels in this 
handle are better quality 
than any others. 

Is he right, or is it only 
an instance of his love for 
and faith in the thing he 
has got used to ? 

Or can it be that all 
workmen do not know of 
the existence of the other 
types of handle } In case 
this is so, I figure some 
(fig. 17). Or is it that the 
wheel for some reason runs 
less truly in the malle- 
able iron than in the cast 
iron ? 

Certain it is that the 
whole trade here prefers 
these wheels, and I am bound to say 
that as far as my experience goes they 
seem to me to work better than those in 
other handles. 


U (J 

Fig. 17. 

But as to all the handles themselves, I Cutting 
must now voice our general complaint. (elementary) 

( 1 ) They are too light. 

For tapping our heavy antique and slab- 
glasses we wish we had a heavier tool. 

(2) They are too thin in the handle for 
comfort, at least it seems so to me. 

(3) The three gashes cut out of the 
head of the tool decrease the weight, and 
if these were omitted the tool would gain. 
Their only use that I can conceive of is 
that of a very poor substitute for pliers as 
a "groseing" tool, if one has forgotten 
one's pliers. But (as Serjeant Buzfuz might 
say) " who does forget his pliers ? " 

The whole question of the handle is 
complicated by the fact that some cutters 
rest the tool on the forefinger and some on 
the middle finger in tapping, and that a 
handle the sections of which are calculated 
for the one will not do equally well for the 

But the whole thing resolves itself into 
this, that if we could get a tool, the handle 
of which corresponded in all its curves, di- 
mensions, and sections with the old-estab- 
lished diamond, I think we should all be 
glad; and if the head; wheel, and pivot 
were all made of the quality and material 


Cutting of which fig. I is now made, but with the 
(elementary) handle as I describe, many of us, I think, 
would be still more glad ; and if these 
remarks lead in any degree to such results, 
they at least of all the book will have been 
worth the writing, and will probably be its 
best claim to a white stone in Israel, as re- 
moving one more solecism from " this so- 
called twentieth century." 

I shall now leave this subject of cutting 
for the present, and describe, up to about 
the same point, the processes of painting, 
taking both on to a higher stage later — 
as if, in fact, I were teaching a pupil ; for 
as soon as you can cut glass well enough to 
cut a piece to paint on, you should learn 
to paint on it, and carry the two things on 
step by step, side by side. 


Painting (elementary) — Pigments — Mixing — How to 
Fill the Brush — Outline — Examples — Industry — 
The Needle and Stick — Completing the Outline. 

Painting The pigments for painting on glass are 

(elementary) powders, being the oxides of various 

minerals, chiefly iron. There are others ; 


but take it thus — that the iron oxide Paiating 
is a red pigment, and the others are in- («l«n»entary) 
troduced, mainly, to modify this. The 
red pigment is the best to use, and goes 
ofF less in the firing; but, alas! it is a 
detestably ugly cohur^ like red lead ; and, 
do what you will, you cannot use it on 
white glass. Agunst clear sky it looks 
pretty well in some lights, but get it in 
a side-light, or at an angle, and the whole 
window looks like red brick ; while, seen 
against any background except clear sky, 
it always looks so from all points of view. 
There are various makers of these pig- 
ments. Some glass-painters make their 
own, and a beginner with any knowledge 
of chemistry would be wise to work in 
that direction. 

I need not discuss the various kinds of 
pigment ; what follows is a description of 
my own practice in the matter.. 

To Mix the Pigment for Painting. — Take 
a teaspoonful of red tracing-colour, and 
a rather smaller spoonful of intense black, 
put them on a slab of thick ground-glass 
about 9 inches square, and drop clean 
water upon them till you can work them 
up into a paste with the palette-knife 
(fig. i8) ; work them up for a minute or 


PiintiDg SO, till the paste is smooth and the lumps 
(elementary) broken up, and then add about three 
drops of strong gum made from the purest 
white gum-arabic dissolved in cold 
water. Any good chemist will 
sell this, but its purity is a matter 
of great importance, for you want 
the maidmum of adhesiveness with 
the minimum of the material. 

Mix the colour well up with the 
knife ; then take one of those long- 
haired sable brushes, which are 
called "riggers" (fig. 19), and 
which all artists'- colourmen sell, 
and fill it with the colour, diluting 
it with enough water to make it 
quite thin. Do not dilute all the 
pigment ; keep most of it in a 
tidy lump, merely moist, as you 
ground it and not further wetted, 
at the corner of your slab; but 
always keep a portion diluted in a 
small '* pond " in the middle of 
your palette. 
Fig. 18. ^"^ '" ^^ ^^ Brush with Pig- 
ment. — Now you must note that this 
is a heavy powder floating free in water, 
therefore it quickly sinks to the bottom of 
your little " pond." Each time you fill your 


brush you must '^ stir up the mud" for the Paintiog 

" mud " 13 what you want to get in your (elfmeotary) 

brush, and not only so, but you want to 

get your brush evenly full of it from tip 

to base, therefore you must splay out the 

hairs Hat against the glass, till all are 

wet, and then in 

taking it off the 

palette, " twiddle " 

it to a point quickly, i 

This takes long to | 

desciibe, but it does 

not take a couple 

of seconds to do. 

You must have the 

patience to spend so 

much pains on it, 

and even to fill the 

brush very often, 

nearly for each 

touch; then you will 

get a .clear, smooth, manageable stroke 

for your outline, and save time in the 


How to Paint in Outline. — Make some 
strokes (fig. 20) on a piece of glass and 
let them dry; some people like them to 
stick very tight to the glass, some so that 
a touch of the finger removes them ; you 

Painting must find which suits you by -and -by, 
(elementary) ^nd vary the amount of gum accordingly ; 
but to begin, I would advise that they 
should be just removable by a moderately 
hard rub with the finger, rather less hard 
a rub than you close a gummed envelope 

Practise now for a time the making of 

strokes, large 
and small, 
dark and light, 
broad and fine ; 
and when you 
have got com- 
mand of your 
tools, set your- 
self the task 
of doing the 
same thing, 
Fig. 20. copying an ex^ 

ample placed underneath your bit of glass. 
You will find a hand-rest (fig. 21) an 
assistance in this. 

It is difficult to give any list of examples 
suitable for this stage of glass, but the kind 
of line employed on the best heraldry is 
always good for the purpose. The splendid 
illustrations of this in Mr. St. John-Hope's 
book of the stall-plates of the Knights of 

the Garter at Windsor, examples of which Painting 
by the author's courtesy I am allowed to («l«n«tary) 
reproduce (figs. 22~22a), are ideal for 
bold outline-work, and fascinatingly inte- 
resting for their own sake. In most of 
these there is not only excellent practice 
in outline^ and a great deal of it, but, mixed 
with it, practice also in flat washes, which 

FlO. 21. 

it is a good thing to be learning side by 
side with the other. 

And here let me note that there are 
throughout the practice of glass-painting 
many methods in use at every stage. Each 
person, each firm of glass-stainers, has his 
own methods and traditions. I shall not 
trouble to notice all these as we come to 
them, but describe what seems to me to be 
the best practice in each case ; but I shall 
here and there give a word about others. 

For instance : if you use sugar or treacle 
instead of gum, you get a rather smoother- 


Painting working pigment, and after it is dry you 

(elementary) ^an moisten it as often as you will for 

further work by merely breathing on the 

surface ; and perhaps if your aim is outline 
onfy, it may be well to try it ; but if you 
wish to pass shading-colour over it you 
must use gum, for you cannot do so over 




Painting treacle colour; nor do I think treacle serves 
(dcmcnury) gQ ^^n fQj. ^}^g ^g^t process I am to describe, 

which here follows. 

How to complete the Outline better than 
you possibly can by One Tracing. — When you 
take up a bit of glass from the table, after 
having done all you can to make a correct 
tracing, you will be disappointed with the 
result. It will have looked pretty well on 
the table with the copy showing behind it 
and hiding its defects, but it is a different 
thing when held up to the searching day- 
light. This must not, however, discourage 
you. No one, not the most skilful, could 
expect to make a perfect copy of an original 
(if that original had any fineness of line or 
sensitiveness of touch about it) by merely 
tracing it downwards on the bench. You 
must put it upright against the daylight, 
and mend your drawing, freehand, faith- 
fully by the copy. 

These remarks do not, in a great degree, 
apply to the case of hard outlines specially 
prepared for literal translation. I am speak- 
ing of those where the outline is, in the 
artistic sense, sensitive and refined, as in a 
Botticelli painting or a Holbein drawing, 
and to copy these well you want an easel. 

For this small work any kind of frame 


with a sheet of glass in it, and a ledge to Paintiag 
rest your bit of glass on and a leg to stand (elementary) 
out behind, will do, and by all means get 
it made (fig. 23); but do not spend too 
much on it, for later on you mil want a 
bigger and more complicated thing, which 
will be described in its proper place — that 
is to say, when we come to it ; and we shall 

Fig. 23. 

come to it when we come to deal with work 
made up of a number of pieces of glass, as 
all windows must be. 

This that you have now, not being a 
window but a bit of glass to practise 
on, what 1 have described above will do 
for it. 

A note to be always industrious and to work 
with all your might. — I advise you to put 

E 65 

Painting this work on an easel ; but this is not the 
(elementary) ^^y such work is usually done; — ^wherc 
the work is done as a task (alas, that it 
could ever be so !) it is held listlessly in 
the left hand while touched with the 
right ; but no artist can afford to be at 
this disadvantage, or at any disadvantage. 

Fancy a surgeon having to hold the 
limb with one hand while he uses the 
lancet with the other, or an astronomer, 
while he makes his measurement, bung- 
lingly moving his telescope by hand while 
he pursues his star, instead of having it 
driven by the clock ! 

You cannot afford to be less keen or 
less in earnest, and you want both hands 
free — ay ! more than this — your whole 
body free : you must not be lazy and sit 
glued to your stool ; you must get up and 
walk backwards and forwards to look at 
your work. Do you think art is so easy 
that you can afford to saunter over it ? 

Do, I beg you, dear reader, pay at- 
tention to these words; for it is true 
(though strange) that the hardest thing I 
have found in teaching has been to get 
the pupil to take the most reasonable care 
not to hamper and handicap himself by 
omitting to have his work comfortably 


and conveniently placed and his tools and Patntug 

materials in good order. You shall find a (cle«cntory) 

man going on painting all day, working 

in a messing, muddling way — ^wasting time 

and money — because his pigment has not 

been covered up when he left ofF work 

yesterday, and has got dusty and full of 

" hairs " ; another will waste hour after 

hour, cricking his neck and squinting at 

his work from a corner, when thirty 

seconds and a little wit would move his 

work where he would get a good light 

and be comfortable ; or he will work with 

bad tools and grumble, when five minutes 

would mend his tools and make him 


An artist's work — any artist's, but es- 
pecially a glass-painter's — ^should be just 
as finished, precise, clean, and alert as a 
surgeon's or a dentist's. Have you not 
in the case of these (when the afiluir has 
not been too serious) admired the way in 
which the cool, white hands move about, 
the precision with which the finger-tips 
take up this or that, and when taken up 
use it "just i(?," neither more nor less: 
the spotlessness and order and perfect 
finish of every tool and material, from 
those fearsome things which (though you 


Painting prefer not to dwell on their uses) you can- 
(elementary) ^^^ |^g|p admiring, down to the snowy 

cotton-wool daintUy poked ready through 
the holes in a little silver beehive ? Just 
such skill, handling, and precision, and 
just such perfection of instruments, I 
urge as proper to painting. 

ff^hat Tools are wanted to complete the 
Outline. — I will now describe those tools 

which you want at this 
stage, that is, to mend 
your outline with. 

You want the brush 
which you used in the 
first instance to paint 
it with, and that has 
already been described ; 
but you also want 
points of various fine- 
FiG. 24. ness to etch it away 

with where it is too 
thick ; these are the needle and the stick 
(fig. 24) ; any needle set in a handle will 
do, but if you want it for fine work, take 
care that it be sharp. "How foolish," 
you say; "as if you need tell us that." 
On the contrary, — nine people out of 
ten need telling, because they go upon 
the assumption that a needle must be 

sharp, *'as sharp as a needle/' and can- Painting 

not need sharpening, — and they will go (elementary) 

on for 365 days in a year wondering 

why a needle (which must be sharp) should 

take out so much coarser a light than they 


Now as to " sticks " ; if you make a 
point of soft wood it lasts for three or 
four touches and then gets "furred" at 
the point, and if of very hard wood it 
slips on the glass. Bamboo is good ; but 
the best of all — ^that is to say for broad 
stick-lights — is an old, sable oil-colour 
brush, clogged with oil and varnish till 
it is as hard as horn and then cut to a 
point; this "clings" a little as it goes 
over the glass, and is most comfortable 
to use. 

I have no doubt that other materials 
may be equally good, celluloid or horn, 
for example; the student must use his 
own ingenuity on such a simple matter. 

How to Complete the Outline. — With the 
tools above described complete the out- 
line — by adding colour with the brush 
where the lines are too fine, and by taking 
it away with needle or stick where they 
are too coarse; make it by these means 
exactly like the copy, and this is all you 




Painting need do. But as an example of the degree 
(elemenury) of correctness attainable (and therefore to 
be demanded) are here inserted two illus- 
trations (figs. 25 and 26), one of the 
example used, and the other of a copy 
made from it by a young apprentice. 


Matting — Badgering — ^How to prciervc Correctness of 
Outline — Difficulty of Large Work — Ill-ground 
Pigment — The Muller — Overground Pigment — 
Taking out Lights—" Scrubs "—The Need of 
a Master. 

Matting Take your camel hair matting-brush (fig. 
27 or 28); fill it with the pigment, try 
it on the slab of the easel till it seems 
just so full that the wash you put on will 
not run down till you have plenty of time 
to brush it flat with the badger (fig. 29). 

Have your badger ready at hand and 
very clean^ for if there is any pigment on 
it from former using, that will spoil the 
very delicate operation you are now to 

Now rapidly, but with a very light 
hand, lay an even wash over the whole 

piece of glass on which the outline is Matting 
painted; use vertical strokes, and try to 
get the touches to just meet each other 
without overlapping ; but there is a very 
important thing to observe in holding the 
brush. If you hold it so (fig- 30) you 

cannot properly regulate the pressure, and 
also the pigment runs away downwards, 
and the liush gets dry at the point ; you 
must hold it so {fig. 3 1 ), then the curve 
of the hair makes the brush go lightly 
over, the surface, while also, the body of 

the brush being pointed downwards, the 
point you are using is always being re- 

It takes a very skilful workman indeed 

Fig. 39. 

to put the strokes so evenly side by side 
that the result looks flat and not stripy ; 
indeed you can hardly hope to do so, but 
you can get rid of what "stripes" there 
are by taking your badger and " stabbing " 

the surface of the painting with it very 
rapidly, moving it from wde to side so as 
never to stab twice in the same spot; this 
by degrees makes the colour even, by 
taking a little oflF the dark part and 
putting it on the light ; but the result 
will Jock mottled, not flat and smooth. 
Sometimes this may be agreeable, it de- 
pends on what you are painting ; but if 
you wish it to be 
smooth, just give 
a last stroke or 
two over the 
whole glass side- 
ways, tnat is to 
say, holding the 
badger so that it 
stands quite per- 
pendicular to the 
glass, move it, 
always stUl perpen- 
dicular, across the whole surface. You 
must not sway it from side to side, or 
kick it up at the end of each stroke like a 
man white-washing ; it 'must movt along 
so that the points of the hairs are all just 
lightly touching the glass all the time. 

How to Ensure the Drawing of a Face 
being kept Correct while Painting. — If you 


Fig 30. 

MatuDg adopt the plan of doing the first painting 
over an unfired outline, you must be very 
careful that the outline is not brushed out 
of drawing in the process. If you have 
sufficient skill it need not be so, for it is 
quite possible — if all the conditions as to 
adhesiveness are right — and if you are 
light-handed enough — to so lay and badger 
the "matt" that the outline beneath shall 
only be gently softened, and not blurred 
or moved from 
its place. But 
in any case the 
best plan is at 
the same time 
that you trace 
the outline of a 
Pig ,, head on to the 

glass to trace it 
also with equal care on to a piece of tracing 
paper,andarrange three or four well-marked 
points, such as the corner of the mouth, the 
pupil of the eye, and some point on the back 
of the head or neck, so that these cannot 
possibly shift, and that you may be able at 
any time to get the tracing back into its 
proper place, both on the cartoon and on 
the piece of glass on whidh you are to 
paint the head. On which [riece of glass 

also your first care should be that these Matting 
three or four points should be clearly 
marked and unmovable; then during the 
whole progress of the painting you will 
always be able to verify the correctness of 
the drawing by placing your piece of 
tracing paper over the glass, and so seeing 
that nothing has shifted its place. 

It requires a good deal of patience and 
practice to lay matt successfully over un- 
fired outline. It is a question of the 
amount and quality of the gum, the con- 
dition of your brush, even the dryness 
or dampness of the air. You must try 
what degree of gum suits you best, both 
in the outline and in the matt which you 
are to pass over it. Try it a good many 
times on a slab of plain glass or on the 
plate of your easel first, before you try 
on your painting. Of course it's a much 
easier thing to matt successfully over a 
small piece than over a large. A head 
as big as the palm of your hand is not 
a very severe test of your powers; but 
in one as large as the whole of your hand, 
say a head seven inches from crown to 
chin, the problem is increased quite im- 
measurably in difficulty. The real test 
is being able to produce in glass a real 


Matting facsimile of a head by Botticelli or 
Holbein, and when you can do that 
satisfactorily you can do anything in 

Do not aim to get too much in the first 
painting, at any rate not till you have 
had long practice. Be content if you get 
enough modelling on a head to turn the 
outline into a more sensitive and artistic 
drawing than it could be if planted down, 
raw and hard, upon the bare, cold glass. 
After all it is a common practice to fire 
the outline separately, and anything be- 
yond this that you get upon the glass 
for first fire is so much to the good. 

But besides the quality of the gum 
you will find sometimes differences in the 
quality or condition of the pigment. It 
may be insufiSiciently ground ; in which 
case the matt, in passing over, will rasp 
away every vestige of the outline, so 
delicate a matter it is. 

You can tell when colour is not ground 
sufiSiciently by the way it acts when laid 
as a vertical wash. Lay a wash, moist 
enough to "run," on a bit of your 
easel-slab; it will run down, making a 
sort of seaweed - looking pattern — clear 
lanes of light on the glass with a black 


grain at the lower end. Those are the Mattiog 
bits of unground material : under a 
lOO-diameter microscope they look like 
chunks of ironstone or road metal, or of 
rusty iron, and you*ll soon understand 
why they have scratched away your 
tender outline. 

You must grind such colour till it is 
smooth, and an old-fashioned granite 
muiler is the thing, not a glass one. 

Now, after all this, how am I to excuse 
the paradox that it is possible to have the 
colour ground too fine ! All one can say 
is that you " find it so." It can be so fine 
that it seems to slip about in a thin, oily 
kind of way. 

It's all as you find it; the diflFerences 
of a craft are endless; there is no fore- 
casting of everything, and you must buy 
your experience, like everybody else, and 
find what suits you, learning your skill 
and your materials side by side. 

Now these are the chief processes of 
painting, as far as laying on colour goes ; 
but you still have much of your work 
before you, for the way in which light 
and shade is got on glass is almost more 
in "taking oflF" than in "putting on." 
You have laid your dark " matt " all over 


MattiDg the glass evenly ; now the next thing is 
to remove it wherever you want light or 

How to Finish a Shaded Painting out of 
the Even Matt. — ^This is done in many 

Fig. 32. 

ways, but chiefly with those tools which 
painters call "scrubs," which are oil-colour 
hog-hair brushes, either worn down by 
use, or rubbed down on 6ne sand-paper 
till they are as stiff* as you like them to 
be. You want them diffierent in this: 

Some harder, some softer; some round, Matting 
some square, and of various sizes (figs. 
32 and 33), and with these you brush the 
matt away gently and by degrees, and 
so make a light and shade drawing 
of it. It is exactly like the process of 
mezzotint, where, after a surface like 
that of a file 
has been labori- 
ously produced I 
over the whole 
copper- plate, 
the engraver 
removes it in 
leaving the ori- 
ginal to stand 
entirely only 
for the darkest 

of all shadows, ^"'' ^^ 

and removing it alt entirely only in the 
highest lights. 

There is nothing for this but practice ; 
there is nothing more to K// about it; as the 
conjurers say, "That's how it's done." You 
will find difficulties, and as these occur you 
willthinkthis a most defective book. "Why 
on earth," you will say, " didn't he tell us 
about this, about that, about the other ? " 
r 8x 

Matting Ah, yes ! it is a most defective book ; 

if it were not, I would have taken good 
care not to write it. For the worst thing 
that could happen to you would be to 
suppose that any book can possibly teach 
you any craft, and take the place of a 
master on the one hand, and of years of 
practice on the other. 

This book is not intended to do so; 
it is written to give as much information 
and to arouse as much interest as a book 
can; with the hope that if any are in a 
position to wish to learn this craft, and 
have not been brought up to it, they may 
learn, in general, what its conditions are, 
and then be able to decide whether to 
carry it further by seeking good teaching, 
and by laying themselves out for a patient 
course of study and practice and many 
failures and experiments. While, with re- 
gard to those already engaged in glass- 
painting, it is of course intended to arouse 
their interest in, and to give them infor- 
mation upon, those other branches of 
their craft which are not generally taught 
to those brought up as glass-painters. 



Cutting (advaDced) — The Ideal Cartoon — The Cut- 
line — Setting the Cartoon — Transferring the 
Cut-line to the Glass — Another Way — Some 
Principles of Taste — Countercharging. 

We have only as yet spoken of the pro- Cutting 
cesses of cutting and painting in themselves, (advanced) 
and as they can be practised on a single bit 
of glass ; but now we must consider them 
as applied to a subject in glass where many 
pieces must be used. This is a differ- 
ent matter indeed, and brings in all the 
questions of taste and judgment which 
make the difference between a good 
window and an inferior one. Now, first, 
you must know that every differently 
coloured piece must be cut out by itself, 
and therefore must have a strip of lead 
round it to join it to the others. 

Draw a cartoon of a figure, bearing this 
well in mind: you must draw it in such a 
simple and severe way that you do not set 
impossible or needlessly difficult tasks to 
the cutter. Look now, for example, at 
the picture in Plate V. by Mr. Selwyn 
Image — how simple the cutting ! 



Cutting You think it, perhaps, too "severe**? 

(advanced) You do not like to see the leads so plainly. 
You would like better something more 
after the "Munich" school, where the 
lead-line is disguised or circumvented. If 
so, my lesson has gone wrong ; but we must 
try and get it right. 

You would like it better because it is 
"more of a picture**; exactly, but you 
ought to like the other better because it is 
"more of a window.*' Yes, even if all 
else were equal, you ought to like it 
better, because the lead-lines cut it up. 
Keep your pictures for the walls and your 
windows for the holes in them. 

But all else is /r^/ equal : and, supposing 
you now standing before a window of the 
kind I speak of, I will tell you what has 
been sacrificed to get this " picture- 
window ** " like a picture.'* Stained-glass 
has been sacrificed ; for this is not stained- 
glass, it is painted glass — that is to say, 
it is coloured glass ground up into powders 
and painted on to white sheets of glass : a 
poor, miserable substitute for the glorious 
colour of the deep amethyst and ruby- 
coloured glasses which it pretends to ape. 
You will not be in much danger of using 
it when you have handled your stained- 


glass samples for a while and learned to Cutting 
love them. You will love them so much (advanced) 
that you will even get to like the severe 
lead-line which announces them for what 
they are. 

But you must get to reasonably love it 
as a craft limitation, a necessity, a thing 
which places bounds and limits to what 
you can do in this art, and prevents tempt- 
ing and specious tricks. 

How to Make a " Cut-line T — But now, 
all this being granted, how are we to set 
about getting the pieces cut? First of 
all, I would say that it is always well to 
draw most, if not all, of the necessary 
lead-lines on the cartoon itself. By the 
necessary lead-lines I mean those which 
separate different colours; for you know 
that there must be a lead-line between 
these. Then, when these are drawn, it 
is a question of convenience whether to 
draw in also the more or less optional 
lead-lines which break up each space of 
uniform colour into convenient - sized 
pieces. If you do not want your cartoon 
afterwards for any other purpose you may 
as well do so: that is, first **set" the 
cartoon if it is in charcoal or chalk, and 
then try the places for these lead-lines 


Cutting lightly in charcoal over the drawing: 

(adyanced) working thus, you can dust them away 

time after time till they seem right to 

you, and then either set them also or 

not as you choose. 

A good, useful setting-mixture for large 
quantities is composed by mixing equal 
parts of "white polish" and methylated 
spirit; allowing it to settle for a week, 
and pouring off all that is clear. It is used 
in the ordinary way with a spray diffuser, 
and will keep for any length of time. 

The next step is to make what is called 
the cut-line. To do this, pin a piece of 
tracing-cloth over the whole cartoon ; 
this can be got from any artistVcolourman 
or large stationer. Pin it over the cartoon 
with the dull surface outwards, and with 
a soft piece of charcoal draw lines iV ^^ i 
of an inch wide down the centre of all 
the lead-lines : remove the cloth from the 
cartoon, and if any of the lines look 
awkward or ugly, now that you see them 
by themselves undisguised by the drawing 
below, alter them, and then, finally, with 
a long, thin brush paint them in, over 
the charcoal, with water-colour lamp- 
black, this time a true sixteenth of an 
inch wide. Don't dust the charcoal off 


first, it makes the paint cling much better Cutting 
to, the shiny cloth. (advanced) 

When this is done, there is a choice 
of three ways for cutting the glass. One 
is to make shaped pieces of cartridge-paper 
as patterns to cut each bit of glass by; 
another is to place the bits of glass, one 
by one, over the cut-line and cut free- 
hand by the line you see through the 
glass. This latter process needs no de- 
scription, but you cannot employ it for 
dark glasses because you cannot see the 
line through : for this you must employ 
one of the other methods. 

How to Transfer the Cutting-line on to the 
Glass. — ^Take a bit of glass large enough 
to cut the piece you want ; place it, face 
upwards, on the table ; place the cut-line 
over it in its proper place, and then slip 
between them, without moving either, a 
piece of black **transfer paper": then, with 
a style or hard pencil, trace the cutting- 
line down on to the glass. This will not 
make a black mark visible on the glass, 
it will only make a grease mark, and that 
hardly visible, not enough to cut by; 
but take a soft dabber — a lump of cotton- 
wool tied up in a bit of old handkerchief — 
and with this, dipped in dry whitening or 


Cutting powdered white chalk, dab the glass all 
(advanced) Qygj. . ^j^g^ blow the surface and you will 
see a clear white line where the whitening 
has stuck to the greasy line made by the 
transfer paper; and by thi$ you can cut 
very comfortably. 

But a third way is to cut the shape of 
each piece of glass out in cartridge-paper ; 
and to do this you put the cut-line down 
over a sheet of " continuous-cartridge " or 
" cartoon " paper, as it is called, and press 
along all the lines with a style or hard 
pencil, so as to make a furrow on the 
paper beneath ; then, after removing the 
cut-line, you place a sheet of ordinary 
window-glass below the paper and cut out 
each piece, between the " furrows " leaving 
a/«// ^ of an inch. This sixteenth of an 
inch represents the " heart " or core of the 
future kad; it is the distance which the 
actual bits of glass lie one from the other 
in the window. You must use a very 
sharp pen-knife, and you will find that, 
cutting against glass, each shape will have 
quite a. smooth edge ; and round this you 
can cut with your diamond. 

This method, which is far the most 
accurate and craftsmanly way of cutting 
glass, is best used with the actual diamond : 


in that case you feel the edge of the paper 
all the time with the diamond-spark ; but 
in cutting with the wheel you must not 
rest against the edge of the paper ; other- 
wise you will be sure to cut into it. Now, 
whichever of all these processes you em- 
ploy, remember that 
there must be a full 
iV of an inch left be- 
tween each piece of 
glass and all its neigh- 

The reason why you 
leave this space be- 
tween the pieces is that 
the core of the lead is 
about that or a little 
less in thickness : the 
closer the glass fits to 
this the better, but no 
part of the glass must 
go nearer to its neigh- 
bour than this, otherwise the work will 
be pressed outwards, and you will not be 
able to get the whole of the panel within 
its proper limits. 

Fig. 34 is an illustration of various 
kinds and sizes of lead ; showing some 
with the glass inserted in its place. By 


Fig. 34, 


Cutting all means make your leads yourself, 
(adnaced) for many of those ready 

made are not lead at all, 
' or not pure lead. Get 

the parings of sheet lead 
from a source you can 
trust, and cast them 
roughly in moulds as 

the shears by which 
the strips may be cut; fig. 37 is the 
lead-mill or " vice " by which they are 

milled and run into their final shape ; 
fig. 38 the "cheeks" or blocks through 

which the lead passes. The working of Cutting 
such an instrument is a thing that is («l™nced) 
understood in a few minutes with the 
instrument itself at hand, but it is cum- 
brous to explain in writing, and not worth 

which mould the outside of 
the lead in its passage. These combined 
movements, by a continuous pressure, 
squeeze out the strip of lead into about 
twice its length; correspondingly decreas- 
ing its thickness and finishing it as it goes. 

Cooiiig Some principles of good lasu and common 

(ad»aoced) jgy^g ^fj^ regard to the cutting up of a 

Window ; according to which the Cartoon and 

Design must be modified. — Never di^iitse 

the lead-iine. Cut the necessary parts first. 

Fig. 38. 

as I said^^before ; cut the optional parts 
simply ; thinking most of craft-conveni- 
ence, and not much of realism. 

Do not, however, go to the extent of 
making two lead-ltnes cross each other. 


Fig. 39 shows the two kinds of joint, A 
being the wrong one (as I hold), and 
B the right one; but, after all, this is 
partly a question of taste. 

Do not cut borders and other minor 
details into measured spaces; cut them 

Do not cut leafage too much by the 

Fig. 39. 

outlines of the groups of leaves — or wings 
by the outlines of the groups of feathers. 

Do not outline with lead-lines any 
forms of minor importance. 

Do not allow the whole of any figure to 
cut out dark against light, or light against 
dark ; but if the figure is ever so bright, 
let an inch or two of its outline tell out 
as a dark against a spot of still brighter 
light ; and if it is ever so dark, be it red 




or blue as strong as may be, let an inch or 
two of its outline tell out against a still 
stronger dark in the background, if you 
have to paint it pitch-black to do so. 

By this " countercharging " (as heralds 
say), your composition will melt together 
with a pleasing mystery; for you must 
always remember that a window is, after 
all, only a window, it is not the church, 
and nothing in it should stare out at you 
so that you cannot get away from it; 
windows should " dream," and should be 
so treated as to look like what they are, 
the apertures to admit the light ; subjects 
painted on a thin and brittle film, hung in 
mid-air between the light and the dark. 


Painting (advanced ) — Waxing-up — Cleanliness — 
Further Methods of PaintiDg — Stipple — Dry 
Stipple — Film — Effects of Distance — Danger 
of Over-Painting — Frying. 

Painting I HAVE mentioned all these points of 
(advanced) judgment and good taste we have just 
finished speaking of, because they are 
matters that must necessarily come before 
you at the time you are making the 
cartoon, the preliminary drawing of the 


window, and before you come to handle Paintbg 
the glass at all. (adTanced) 

But it is now necessary to tell you how 
the whole of the glass, when it is cut, 
must be fixed together, so that you can 
both see it and paint upon it as a whole 
picture. This is done as follows : — 

First place the cut-line (for the making 
of which you have already had instruc- 
tions) face upwards on the bench, and 
over it place a sheet of glass, as 
large at least as the piece you mean to 
paint. Thick window-glass, what glass- 
makers call "thirty-two ounce sheet" — 
that is, glass that weighs about thirty- 
two ounces to the square foot — will do 
well enough for very small subjects, but 
for anything over a few square feet, it is 
better to use thin plate-glass. This is 
expensive, but you do not want the best ; 
what is called " patent plate " does quite 
well, and cheap plate-glass can often be 
got to suit you at the salvage stores, 
whither it is brought from fires. 

Having laid your sheet of glass down 
upon the cut-line, place upon it all the 
bits of glass in their proper places ; then 
take beeswax (and by all means let it 
be the best and purest you can get ; get 


Painting it at a chemist's, not at the oil-shop)* 
(advanced) and heat a few ounces of it in a sauce- 
pan, and when all of it is melted — not 
before, and as little after as may be — 
take any convenient tool, a pen-knife or 
a strip of glass, and, dipping it rapidly 
into the melted wax, convey it in little 
drops to the points where the various 
bits of glass meet each other, dropping 
a single drop of wax at each joint. It 
is no advantage to have any extra drops 
along the sides of the bits ; if each comer 
is properly secured, that is all that is 
needed (fig. 40). 

Some people use a little resin or tar 
with the wax to make it more brittle, so 
that when the painting is finished and the 
work is to be taken down again oflF the 
plate, the spots of wax will chip oflF more 
easily. I do not advise it. Boys in the 
shop who are just entering their appren- 
ticeship get very skilful, and quite pro- 
perly so, in doing this work ; waxing up 
yard after yard of glass, and never drop- 
ing a spot of wax on the surface. 

It is much to be commended : all things 
done in the arts should be done as well as 
they can be done, if only for the sake of 
character and training ; but in this case it 


is a positive advantage that the work should Painting 
be done thus cleanly, because if a spot of (adT»Dc«l) 

Fig. 40. 

wax is dropped on the surface of the glass 
that is to be painted on, the spot must be 
carefully^ scraped off, and every vestige of 
o 97 

Painting it removed with a wet duster dipped in a 
(advanced) ij^^ig g^t of some kind — pigment does 

well — otherwise the glass is greasy and the 
painting will not adhere. 

For the same reason the wax-saucepan 
should be kept very clean, and the wax 
frequently poured ofF, and all sediment 
thrown away. A bit of cotton-flufF ofF 
the duster is enough to drag a "lump" 
out on the end of the waxing-tool, which, 
before you have time to notice it, will be 
dribbling over the glass and perhaps spoil- 
ing it ; for you must note that sometimes 
it is necessary to re-wax down unfired 
work, which a drop of wax the size of a 
pinhole, flirted off from the end of the 
tool, will utterly ruin. How important, 
then, to be cleanly. 

And in this matter of removing such 
spots from fired work, do please note that 
you should use the knife and the duster 
alternately for each spot. Do not scrape a 
batch of the spots off first and then go 
over the ground again with the duster — 
this can only save a second or two of 
time, and the merest fraction of trouble ; 
and these are ill saved indeed at the cost 
of doing the work ill. And you are sure 
to do it so, for when the spot is; scraped 


ofF it is very difficult to see where it was ; Painting 
you are sure to miss some, in going over (advanced) 
the glass with a duster, and you will dis- 
cover them again, to your cost and annoy- 
ance, when you matt over them for the 
second painting : and, just when you cannot 
afford to spare a single moment — in some 
critical process — they will come out like 
round o's in the middle of your shading, 
compelling you to break off your work 
and do now what should have been done 
before you began to paint. 

But the best plan of all is to avoid 
the whole thing by doing the work cleanly 
from the first. And it is quite easy ; for 
all you have to do is to carry the tool 
horizontally till it is over the spot where 
you want the wax, and then, by a tilt of 
the hand, slide the drop into its place. 

Further Methods of Painting. — ^There 
are two chief methods of treating the 
matt — one is the " stipple," and the other 
the " film " or badgered matt. 

The Stipple. — When you have put on 
your matt with the camel-hair brush, take 
a stippling brush (fig. 41) and stab the 
matt all over with it while it is wet. A 
great variety of texture can be got in 
this way, for you may leave off the pro- 


Ptinting cess at any moment ; if you leave it off 

(idvanced) sooD, the work will be soft 

and blurred, for, not being 

dry, the pigment wilt spread 

j^in as soon as you leave 

off: but, if you choose, 

you can go on stippling till 

the whole is dry, when the 

pigment will gather up into 

little sharp spots like pepper, 

and the glass between them 

will be almost clear. You 

must bear in mind that you 

cannot use scrubs over work 

like the last described, and 

cannot use them to much 

• advantage over stipple at 

all. You can draw a needle 

through ; but as a rule you 

do not want to take lights 

out of stipple, since you can 

complete the shading in the 

single process by stippling 

more or less according to the 

light and shade you want. 

A very coarse form of the 

Fig 4. process is "dry" stippling, 

where you stipple straight 

on to the sun^e of the dear glass, with 


pigment taken up off the palette by the PamtiBg 
stippling brush itself: for coarse distant (a<i^anccd) 
work this may be sometimes useful. 

Now as to film. We have spoken of 
laying on an even matt and badgering it 
smooth ; and you can use this with a cer- 
tain amount of stipple also with very good 
effect ; but you are to notice one great rule 
about these two processes, namely, that the 
same amount of pigment obscures much more 
light used in film than used in stipple. 

Light spreads as it comes through open- 
ings ; and a very little light let, in pin- 
holes, through a very dark matt, will, at 
a distance, so assert itself as to prevail 
over the darkness of the matt. 

It is really very little use going on to 
describe the way the colour acts m these 
various processes ; for its behaviour varies 
with every degree of all of them. One 
may gradually acquire the skill to com- 
bine all the processes, in all their degrees, 
upon .a single painting; and the only 
way in which you can test their relative 
value, either as texture or as light and 
shade, is to constantly practise each pro- 
cess in all its degrees, and see what results 
each has, both when seen near at hand 
and also when seen from a distance. It 


Painting is useless to try and learn these things 
(adranced) from written directions ; you must make 
them your own, as precious secrets, by 
much practice and much experiment, 
though it will save you years of both to 
learn under a good master. 

But this question of distance is a most 
important thing, and we must enlarge upon 
it a little and try to make it quite clear. 

Glass-painting is not like any other paint- 
ing in this respect. 

Let us say that you see an oil-painting — 
a portrait — ^at the end of the large room in 
some big Exhibition. You stand near it 
and say, " Yes, that is the King " (or the 
Commander-in-Chief), "a good likeness; 
however do they do those patent-leather 
boots ? " But after you have been down 
one side of the room and turn round at 
the other end to yawn, you catch sight of 
it again; and still you say, "Yes, it*s a 
good likeness," and "really those boots 
are very clever ! " But if it had been your 
own painting on glass^ and sitting at your 
easel you had at last said, " Yes, — now it's 
like the drawing — thafs the expression," 
you could by no means safely count on 
being able to say the same at all distances. 
You may say it at ten feet off, at twenty, 

1 02 

and yet at thirty the shades may all gather Painting 
together into black patches ; the drawing (adTanced) 
of the eyelids and eyes may vanish in one 
general black blot, the half-tones on the 
cheeks may all go to nothing. These 
actual things, for instance, wUl be the result 
if the cheeks are stippled or scrubbed, and 
the shade round the eyes left as 2ifilm — 
ever so slight a film will do it. Seen near, 
you see the drawing through the film ; but 
as you go away the light will come pour- 
ing stronger and stronger through the 
brush or stipple marks on the cheeks, 
until all films will cut out against it like 
black spots, altering the whole expression 
past recognition. 

Try this on simple terms : — 
Do a face on white glass in strong out- 
line only : step back, and the face goes to 
nothing; strengthen the outline till the 
forms are quite monstrous — the outline of 
the nose as broad as the bridge of it — still, 
at a given distance, it goes to nothing ; the 
expression varies every step back you take. 
But now, take a matting brush, with a film so 
thin that it is hardly more than dirty water ; 
put it on the back of the glass (so as not to 
wash up your outline) ; badger it flat, so 
as just to dim the glass less than ^^ground 


Painting glass " IS dimmed; — and you will find your 
(adranccd) outline look almost the same at each dis- 
tance. It is the pure light that plays tricks, 
and it will play them through a pinhole. 

And now, finally, let us say that you 
may do anything you can do in the paint- 
ing of glass, so long as you do not lay the 
colour on too thick. The outline-touches 
should be flat upon the glass, and above all 
things should not be laid on so wet, or laid 
on so thick, that the pigment forms into a 
" drop " at the end of the touch ; for this 
drop, and all pigment that is thick upon 
the glass like that, -will " fry " when it is 
put into the kiln : that is to say, being so 
thick, and standing so far from the surface 
of the glass, it will fire separately from the 
glass itself and stand as a separate crust 
above it, and this will perish. 

Plate IX. shows the appearance of the 
bubbles or blisters in a bit of work that 
has fried, as seen under a microscope of 
20 diameters ; and if you are inclined 
to disregard the danger of this defect as 
seen of its natural size, when it is a mere 
roughness on the glass, what do you think 
of it now ? You can remove it at once 
by scraping it with a knife ; and indeed, if 
through accident a touch here and there 


does fry, it is your only plan to so remove Painting 
it. All you can scrape ofF should be scraped {^^^^^^) 
off and repainted every time the glass comes 
from the kiln ; and that brings us to the 
important question of f ring. 


Firing — Three Kinds of Kiln — Advanuges and 
Disadvantages — The Gas-Kiln — Quick Firing 
— Danger — Sufficient Firing — Soft Pigments — 
Difference in Glasses— " Stale ** Work— The 
Scientific Facts — ^How to Judge of Firing — 
Drawing the Kiln. 

The way in which the painting is attached Firing 
to the glass and made permanent is by 
firing it in a kiln at great heat, and thus 
fusing the two together. 

Simple enough to say, but who is to 
describe in writing this process in all its 
forriis ? For there is, perhaps, nothing in 
the art of stained-glass on which there is 
greater diversity of opinion and diversity 
of practice than this matter of firing. But 
let us make a beginning by saying that 
there are, it may be said, three chief modi- 
fications of the process. 

First, the use of the old, closed, coke 
or turf kiln. 

Second, of the closed gas-kiln. 


Firing And third, of the open gas-kiln. 

The first consists of a chamber of brick 
or terra-cotta, in which the glass is placed 
on a bed of powdered whitening, on iron 
plates, one above another like shelves, and 
the whole enclosed in a chamber where the 
heat is raised by a fire of coke or peat. 

This, be it understood, is a slow method. 
The heat increases gradually, and applies 
to the glass what the kiln-man calls a 
"good, soaking heat." The meaning of 
this expression, of course, is that the 
gradual heat gives time for the glass and 
the pigment to fuse together in a natural 
way, more likely to be good and per- 
manent in its results than a process 
which takes a twentieth part of the time 
and which therefore (it is assumed) must 
wrench the materials more harshly from 
their nature and state. 

There are, it must be admitted, one or 
two things to be said for this view which 
require answering. 

First, that this form of kiln has the 
virtue of being old ; for in such a thing 
as this, beyond all manner of doubt, was 
fired all the splendid stained-glass of the 
Middle Ages. 

Second, that by its use one is entirely 

1 06 


preserved from the dangers attached to Firing 
the misuse of the gas-kiln. 

But the answers to these two things are — 

First, that the method employed in the 
Middle Ages did not invariably ensure 
permanence. Any one who has studied 
stained-glass must be familiar with cases in 
which ancient work has faded or perished. 

The second claim is answered by the 
fact, I think beyond dispute, that all ob- 
jections to the use of the gas-kiln would 
be removed if it were used properly ; it is 
not the use of it as a process which is in 
itself dangerous, but merely the misuse of 
it. People must be content with what is 
reasonable in the matter; and, knowing 
that the gas -kiln is spoken of as the 
" quick-firing " kiln, they must not insist 
on trying to fire foo quick. 

Now I have the highest authority (that of 
the makers of both kiln and pigment )to sup- 
port my own conviction, founded on my own 
experience, in what I am here going to say. i 

Observe, then, that up to the point at 
which actual fusion commences — that is, 
when pigment and glass begin to get soft 
— there is no advantage in slowness, and 
therefore none in the use of fuel as against 
gas — ^no possible disadvantage as far as the 


Firing work goes : only it is time wasted. But 
where people go wrong is in not observing 
the vital importance of proceeding gently 
when fusion does commence. For in the 
actual process of firing, when fusion is 
about to commence, it is indeed all-im- 
portant to proceed gently ; otherwise the 
work will "fry," and, in fact, it is in 
danger from a variety of causes. Make 
it, then, your practice to aim at twenty 
to twenty-five minutes, instead of ten or 
twelve, as the period during which the 
pigment is to be fired, and regulate the 
amount of heat you apply by that standard. 
The longer period of moderate heat means 
safety. The shorter period of great heat 
means danger, and rather more than danger. 
Fig. 42 is the closed gas-kiln, where the 
glass is placed in an enclosed chamber; 
fig. 43 is the open gas-kiln, where the gas 
plays on the roof of the chamber in which 
the glass lies; fig. 44 shows this latter. 
But no written description or picture is 
really sufficient to make it safe for you to use 
these gas-kilns. You would be sure to have 
some serious accident, probably an explo- 
sion ; and as it is absolutely necessary for you 
to have instruction, either from the maker 
or the experienced user of them, it is useless 

for me to tell lamely what they could show Firing 
thoroughly. I shall therefore leave this 

essentially tcchmcal part of the subject, and, 
omitting these details, speak of the few 
principles which regulate the firing of glass. 


Firing And the first is to fire it enough. What- 

ever pigment you use, and with whatever 
flux, none will be permanent if the work 
is under-fired; indeed I believe that under- 
firing is far more the cause of stained-glass 
perishing than the use of untrustworthy 
pigment or flux ; although it must always 
be borne in mind that the use of a soft 
pigment, which will " fire beautifully " at 
a low heat, with a fine gloss on the surface, 
is always to be avoided. The pigment is 
fused, no doubt; but is it united to the 
glass ? What one would like to have 
would be a pigment whose own fusing- 
point was the same, or about the same, as 
that of the glass itself, so that the surface, 
at least, of the piece of glass softens to re- 
ceive it and lets it right down into itself. 
You should never be satisfied with the 
firing of your glass unless it presents two 
qualifications : first, that the surface of the 
glass has melted and begun to run together; 
and second, that the fused pigment is quite 
glossy and shiny, not the least dull or rusty 
looking, when the glass is cool. 

" What one would like to have." 

And can you not get it ? 

Well, yes ! but you want experience and 
constant watchfulness — in short, " rule of 


thumb." For every difFerent glass difFers Firing 
in hardness, and you never know, except 
by memory and constant handling of the 
stuiF, exactly what your materials are going 
to do in the kiln ; for as to standardising, 
so as to get the glass into any known rela- 
tion with the pigment in the matter of 
fusing, the thing has never, as far as I 
know, been attempted. It probably could 
not be done with regard to all, or even 
many, glasses — nor need it ; though perhaps 
it might be well if a nearer approach to it 
could be achieved with regard to the manu- 
facture of the lighter tinted glasses, the 
"whites" especially, on which the heads 
and hands are painted, and where conse- 
quently it is of such vital importance that 
the painting should have careful justice 
done to it, and not lose in the firing through 
uncertainty with regard to conditions. 

Nevertheless, if you observe the rule to 
fire sufficiently, the worst that can happen 
is a disappointment to yourself from the 
painting having to an unnecessary extent 
" fired away " in the kiln. You must be 
patient, and give it a second painting ; and 
as to the " rule of thumb," it is surprising 
how one gets to know, by constant handling 
the stuff, how the various glasses are going 

H 113 

Firing to behave in the fire. It was the method 
of the Middle Ages which we are so apt 
to praise, and there is much to be said for 
practical, craftsmanly experience, especially 
in the arts, as against a system of formulas 
based on scientific knowledge. It would 
be a pity indeed to get rid of the accidental 
and all the delight which it brings, and we 
must take it with its good and bad. 

The second rule with regard to the ques- 
tion of firing is to take care that the work 
is not " stale " when it goes into the kiln. 
Every one will tell you a diflFerent tale 
about many points connected with glass, 
just as doctors disagree in every afiFair of 
life. In talking over this matter of keep- 
ing the colour fresh — even talking it over 
with one's practical and experienced friends 
generally — one will sometimes hear the re- 
mark that " they don't see that delay can 
do it much harm ; '' and when one asks, 
" Can it do it any good ? " the reply will 
be, ** Well, probably it would be as well to 
fire it soon ; " or in the case of mixing, 
" To use it fresh." Now, if it would be 
" as well " — ^which really means " on the 
safe side'* — then that seems a sufiicient 
reason for any reasonable man. 

But indeed I have always found it one 


of the chiefest difficulties with pupils to Firing 
get them to take the most reasonable 
precautions to make quite sure of anything. 
It is just the same with matters of 
measurement, although upon these such 
vital issues depend. How weary one 
gets of the phrase "it's not far out" — 
the obvious comment of a reasonable man 
upon such a remark, of course, being that 
if it is out at all it*s, at any rate, too far 
out. A French assistant that I had once 
used always to complain of my demanding 
(as he expressed it) such " rigorous accu- 
racy." But there are only two ways — ^to be 
accurate or inaccurate ; and if the former 
is possible, there is no excuse for the latter. 

But as to this question of freshness of 
colour, which is of such paramount im- 
portance, I may quote the same authority 
I used before — that of the maker of the 
colour — to back my own experience and 
previous conviction on the point, which 
certainly is that fresh colour, used the 
same day it is ground and fired the same 
day it is used, fires better and fires away 
less than any other. 

The facts of the case, scientifically, I 
am assured, are as follows. The pigment 
contains a large amount of soft glass in 


Firing a very fine state of division, and the 
carbonic acid, which all air contains (espe- 
cially that of workshops), will immediately 
begin to enter into combination with the 
alkalis of the glass, throw out the silica, 
and thus disintegrate what was brought 
together in the first instance when the 
glass was made. The result of this is 
that this intruder (the carbonic acid) has 
to be driven out again by the heat of the 
kiln, and is quite likely to disturb the 
pigment in every possible way in the pro- 
cess of its escape. I have myself some- 
times noticed, when some painted work 
has been laid aside unusually long before 
firing, some white efflorescence or crystal- 
lisation taking place and coming out as a 
white dust on the painted surface. 

Now it is not necessary to know here, 
in a scientific or chemical sense, what has 
actually taken place. Two things are 
evident to common sense. One, that the 
change is organic, and the other that it 
is unpremeditated; and therefore, on both 
grounds, it is a thing to avoid, which 
indeed my friend's scientific explanation 
sufficiently confirms. It is well, therefore, 
on all accounts to paint swiftly and con- 
tinuously, and to fire as soon as you can ; 


and above all things not to let the colour Firing 
lie about getting stale on the palette. 
Mix no more for the day than you mean to 
use ; clean your palette every day or nearly 
so ; work up all the colour each time you 
set your palette, and do not give way to 
that slovenly and idle practice that is 
sometimes seen, of leaving a crust of dry 
colour to collect, perhaps for days or weeks, 
round the edge of the mass on your palette, 
and then some day, when the spirit moves 
you, working this in with the rest, to im- 
peril the safety of your painting. 

How to Know when the Glass is Fired 
Sufficiently. — This is told by the colour 
as it lies in the kiln — that is, in such a kiln 
that you can see the glass ; but who can 
describe a colour? You have nothing 
for this but to buy your experience. But 
in kilns that are constructed with a peep- 
hole, you can also tell by putting in a 
bright iron rod or other shining object 
and holding it over the glass so as to see 
if the glass reflects it. If the pigment is 
raw it will (if there is enough of it on the 
glass to cover the surface) prevent the piece 
of glass from reflecting the rod ; butdirectly 
it is fired the pigment itself becomes glossy, 
and then the surface will reflect. 


FiriDg This is all a matter of practice ; nothing 

can describe the "look" of a piece of 
glass that is fired. You must either 
watch batch after batch for yourself and 
learn by experience, or get a good kiln- 
man to point out fired and unfired, and 
call your attention to the slight shades of 
colour and glow which distinguish one 
from the other. 

On Taking the Glass out of the Fire. — 
And so you take the glass out of the 
fire. In the old kilns you take the fire 
away from the gkss, and leave the glasis 
to cool all night or so ; in the new, you 
remove it and leave it in moderate heat at 
the side of the kiln till it is cool enough 
to handle, or nearly cold. And then you 
hold it up and look at it. 


The Second Painting — Disappointment with Fired 
Work— A False Remedy— A Useful Tool— 
The Needle — A Resource o^ Desperation — 
The Middle Course— Use of the Finger— The 
Second Painting — Procedure. 

The Second And when you have looked at it, as I 
Painting said just now you should do, your first 
thought will be a wish that you had never 

been born. * For no one, I suppose, ever The Second 
took his first batch of painted glass out of Painting 
the kiln without disappointment and with- 
out wondering what use there is in such 
an art. For the painting when it went in 
was grey, and silvery, and sharp, and crisp, 
and firm, and brilliant. Now all is altered ; 
all the relations of light and shade are 
altered; the sharpness of every brush- 
mark is gone, and everything is not only 
"washed out" to half its depth, but 
blurred at that. Even if you could get 
it, by a second painting, to look exactly 
as it was at first, you think: "What a 
waste of life ! I thought I had done ! 
It was right as it was ; I was pleased so 
far ; but now I am tired of the thing ; I 
don*t want to be doing it all over again." 

Well, my dear reader, I cannot tell you 
a remedy for this state of things — it is one 
of the conditions of the craft ; you must 
find by experience what pigment, and what 
glass, and what style of using them, and 
what amount of fire give the least of 
these disappointing results, and then make 
the best of it; and make up your mind 
to do without certain cflFects in glass, 
which you find are unattainable. 

There is, however, one remedy which I 


The Second suppose all glass-painters try, but eventu- 
Paintmg ^^^y discard. I suppose we have all passed 
through the stage of working very dark, 
to allow for the firing-ofF; and I want to 
say a word of warning which may prevent 
many heartaches in this matter. I having 
passed through them all, there is no reason 
why others should. Now mark very care- 
fully what follows, for it is difficult to 
explain, and you cannot afford to let the 
sense slip by you. 

I told you that a film left untouched 
would always come out as a black patch 
against work that was pierced with the 
scrub, however slightly. 

Now, herein lies the difficulty of work- 
ing with a very thick matt ; for if it is 
thick enough on the cheek and brow of 
a face to give strong modelling when 
fired, fhen whenever it has passed over the 
previous outline-paintings for exampk, in the 
eyes^ mouthy nostrils^ &ff., you will find that the 
two together have become too thick for the scrub 
to move. 

Now you do not need, as an artist, 
to be told that it is fatal to allow any 
part of your painting to be thus beyond 
your control ; to be obliged to say, " It's 
too dark, but unfortunately I have no 

1 20 

tools that will lighten it — it will not The Second 
yield to the scrub." Paintiiig 

However, a certain amount can be done 
in this direction by using, on the shadows 
that are Just too strong for 
the scrub, a tool made by 
grinding down on sand- 
paper a large hog -hair 
brush, and, of these, what 
are called stencil-brushes 
are as good as any (fig. 45 ). 

You do not use this by 
(^i^ging it over the glass 
as you drag a scrub, but 
by pricking the whole of 
the surface which you wish 
to lighten. This will make 
little pinholes all over it, 
which will be sufficient to 
let the patch of shadow 
gently down to the level i 
of the surrounding lighter ' 
modelling, and will pre- 
vent your dark shadows ' 
looking like actual "patches," as we de- 
scribed them doing a little way back. 

Further than this you cannot go : for 
I cannot at all see how the next process 
I am to describe can be a good one, though 

The Second I once thought, as I suppose most do, that 
Painting it would really solve the .difficulty. What 
I allude to is the use of the needle. 

Of Work Etched out with a Needk. — 
The needle is a very good and useful 
tool for stained glass, in certain opera- 
tions, but I am now to speak of it as 
being used over whole areas as a sub- 
stitute for the scrubs in order to deal with 
a matt too dense for the scrub to penetrate. 

The needle will, to be sure, remove 
such a matt ; that is to say, will remove 
lines out of it, quite clear and sharp, and 
this, too, out of a matt so dense, that 
what remains does not fire away much in 
the kiln. Here is a tempting thing 
then ! to have one*s work unchanged 
by the fire ! And if * you could achieve 
this without changing the character of 
the work for the worse, no doubt this 
method would be a very fine thing. But 
let me trace it step by step and try to 
describe what happens. 

You have painted your outline and you 
put a very heavy matt over it. 

Peril No. I . — If your matt is so dense 
that it will not^re offj it must very nearly 
approach the point of density at which it 
will fry. How then about the portions 


of it which have been painted on, as I The Second 
have said, over another layer of pigment Painting 
in the shape of the outline ? Here is a 
danger. But even supposing that all is 
safe, and that you have just stopped short 
of the danger point. You have now 
your dense, rich, brown matt, with the 
outline just showing through it. Proceed 
to model it with the needle. The first 
stroke will really frighten you ; for a 
flash of silver light will spring along after 
the point of the needle, so dazzling in 
contrast to the extreme dark of the matt 
that it looks as if the plate had been cut 
in two, while the matt beside it becomes 
pitch-black by contrast. Well, you go on, 
and by putting more strokes, and reducing 
the surrounding darkness generally, you 
get the drawing to look grey — but you 
get it to look like a grey pen-drawing or 
etchings not like a painting at all. We 
will suppose that this seems to you no 
disadvantage (though I must say, at once, 
that I think it a very great one) ; but 
now you come to the deep shadows ; and 
these, I need hardly say, cut themselves 
out, more than ever, like dark patches or 
blots, in the manner already spoken of. 
You try pricking it with the brush I have 


The Second described for that operation, and it will 
Painting ^Qt do it ; then you resort to the needle 
itself, and you are startled at the little, 
hard, glittering specks that come jumping 
out of the black shadow at each touch. 
You get a finer needle, and then you 
sharpen even that on the hone; and 
perhaps then, by pricking gingerly round 
the edges of the shadows, you may get 
the drawing and modelling to melt 
together fairly well. But beware ! for 
if there is one dot of light too many, 
the expression of the head goes to the 
winds. Let us say that such a thing 
occurs; you have pricked one pinhole 
too many round the corner of the 

What can you do ? 

You take your tracing-brush and try to 
mend it with a touch of pigment ; and 
so on, and so on ; till you timidly 
say (feeling as if you had been walking 
among egg-shells for the last hour), 
" Well, I fhink it will do, and I daren't 
touch it any more." And supposing by 
these means you get a head that looks 
really what you wanted ; the work is all 
what glass-painters call ** rotten " ; liable 
to flake off at the least touch ; isolated 


bits of thick crust, cut sheer out from The Second 
each other, with clear glass between. Painting 

In short, the thing is a niggling and 
botching sort of process to my mind, 
and I hope that the above description is 
sufficiently life-like to show that I have 
really given it a good trial myself — ^with, 
as a result, the conclusion certainly 
strongly borne home to me, that the 
delight of having one's work unchanged 
by the fire is too dearly purchased at 
the cost of it. 

How to get the greatest degree of Strength 
into your Painting without Danger. — Short 
of using a needle then, and a matt that 
will only yield to that instrument, I would 
advise, if you want the work strong, that 
you should paint the matt so that it will 
just yield, and only just, and that with 
difficulty, to the scrub; and, before you 
use this tool, just pass the finger, lightly, 
backwards and forwards over the matted 
surface. This will take out a shimmer 
of light here and there, according to the 
inequalities of the texture in the glass 
itself; the first touches of the scrub will 
not then look so startling and hard as if 
taken out of the dead, even matt; and 
also this rubbing of the finger across the 


The Second surface seems to make the matt yield more 
Painting easily to the tool. The dust remaining 
on the surface perhaps helps this; any- 
how, this is as far as you can go on the 
side of strength in the work. You can 
of course " back " the work, that is, paint 
on the back as well as the front — a mere 
film at the back ; but this is a method of 
a rather doubtful nature. The pigment on 
the back does not fire equally well with 
that on the front, and when the window 
is in its place, that side will be, you must 
bear in mind, exposed to the weather. 

I have spoken incidentally of rubbing 
the glass with the finger as a part of 
painting ; but the practice can be carried 
further and used more generally than I 
have yet said : the little " pits *' and 
markings on the surface of the glass, 
which I mentioned when I spoke of the 
" right and wrong sides *' of the material, 
can be drawn into the service of the 
window sometimes with very happy effect. 
Being treated with matt and then rubbed 
with the finger, they often produce very 
charming varieties of texture on the glass, 
which the painter will find many ways of 
making useful. 

Of the Second Painting of Glass after it has 


been Fired. — So far we have only spoken of The Second 
the appearance of work after its first fire, Painting 
and its influence upon choice of method 
for first painting ; but there is of course the 
resource which is the proper subject of 
this chapter, namely, the second painting. 

Very small work can be done with one 
fire ; but only very skilful painters can 
get work, on any large scale, strong 
enough for one fire to serve, and that 
only with the use of backing. Of course 
if very faint tones of shadow satisfy you, 
the work can be done with one fire ; but 
if it is well fired it must almost of 
necessity be pale. Some people like it 
so — it is a matter of taste, and there can 
be no pronouncement made about it ; but 
if you wish your work to look strong in 
light and shade — stronger than one paint- 
ing will make it — I advise you, when the 
work comes back from the fire and is 
waxed up for the second time (which, in 
any case, it assuredly should be, if only 
for your judgment upon it), to proceed 
as follows. 

First, with a tracing-brush, go over all 
the lines and outlined shadows that seem 
too weak, and then, when these touches 
are quite dry, pass a thin matt over the 


The Second whole, and with stippling-brushes of 
Painting various sizes, stipple it nearly all away 
while wet. You will only have about 
five minutes in which to deal with any 
one piece of glass in this way, and in the 
case of a head, for example, it needs a skil- 
ful hand to complete it in that short space 
of time. The best plan is to make several 
" shots " at it ; if you do not hit the mark 
the first time, you may the second or the 
third. I said ** stipple it nearly all away " ; 
but the amount left must be a matter of 
taste; nevertheless, you must note that 
if you do not remove enough to make 
the work look "silvery," it is in danger 
of looking "muddy.** All the ordinary 
resources of the painter*s art may be 
brought in here : retouching into the half- 
dry second matt, dabbing with the finger 
— in short, all that might be done if the 
thing were a water-colour or an oil- 
painting ; but it is quite useless to attempt 
to describe these deftnesses of hand in 
words : you may use any and every method 
of modifying the light and shade that 
occurs to you. 



Of Staining and Aciding — Yellow Stain — Adding — 
Caution required in Use — Remedy for Burning 
— Uses of Aciding — Other Resources of Stained- 
Glass Work. 

Yellow stain, or silver stain as some call Of Stain- 
it, is made in various ways from silver — a^-^ 
chloride, sulphate, and nitrate, I under- ^ °^ 
stand, are all used. The stain is laid on 
exactly like the pigment, but at the back 
of the glass. It does not work very 
smoothly, and some painters like to mix 
it with Venice turpentine instead of water 
to get rid of this defect ; whichever you 
use, keep a separate set of tools and a 
separate palette for it, and always keep 
them clean and the stain fresh mixed. 
Also you should not fire it with so strong 
a heat, and therefore, of course, you should 
never fire pigment and stain in the same 
batch in the kiln; otherwise the stain 
will probably go much hotter in colour 
than you wish, or will get muddy, or will 
"metal" as painters call it — that is, get 
a horny, burnt-sienna look instead of a 
clear yellow. 

I 129 

Of Stain- How to Etch the Flash off a Flashed Glass 
ing and ^^'/^ Acid, — ^There is only one more pro- 
Aci ing ^^gg^ having to do with painting, which I 
shall describe, and that is " aciding/* By 
this process you can etch the flash oflF the 
flashed glasses where you like. The process 
is the same as etching — you " stop-out " 
the parts that you wish to remain, just as 
in etching; but instead of putting the 
stopping material over the whole bit of 
glass and then scratching it ofF^ as you do 
in copper-plate etching, it is better for the 
most part to paint the stopping on where 
you want it, and this is conveniently done 
with Brunswick black, thinned down with 
turpentine ; if you add a little red lead to 
it, it does no harm. You then treat it to 
a bath of fluoric acid diluted with water 
and placed in a leaden pan; or, if it is 
only a touch you want, you can get it off 
with a mop of cotton-wool on a stick, 
dipped in the undiluted acid ; but be care- 
ful of the fumes, for they arc very acrid 
and disagreeable to the eyes and nose; 
take care also not to get the acid on your 
finger-ends or nails, especially into cuts or 
sore places. For protection, india-rubber 
finger-stalls for finger and thumb are very 
good, and you can get these at any shop 

where photographic materials arc sold. If 0£ Stain- 
you do get any of the acid on to your ^-^^ 
hands or into a cut, wash them with * ^^ 

diluted carbonate of soda or diluted 
ammonia. The acid must be kept in a 
gutta-percha bottle. 

When the aciding is done» as far as you 
want it, the glass must be thoroughly 
rinsed in several waters ; do not leave any 
acid remaining, or it will continue to act 
upon the glass. You must also be careful 
not to use this process in the neighbour- 
hood of any painted work, or, in short, in 
the neighbourhood of any glass that is of 
consequence, the fumes from the acid 
acting very strongly and very rapidly. 
This process, of course, may be used in 
many ways : you can, by it, acid out a 
diaper pattern, red upon white, white upon 
red ; and blue may be treated in the same 
fashion ; the white lights upon steel 
armour, for instance, may be obtained in 
this way with very telling effect, getting 
indeed the beautiful combination of steely 
blue with warm brown which we admire 
so in Burne-Jones cartoons; for the 
brown of the pigment will not show 
warm on the blue, but will do so directly 
it passes on to the white of the acided 


Of Stain- parts. This is the last process I need 
j?^*°^ describe; the many little special refine- 
^ °^ ments to be got by playing games with 
the lead-lines; by thickening and thin- 
ning them ; by doubling glass, to get depth 
and intensity, or to blend new tints; — 
these and such like are the things that any 
artist who does his own work and practises 
his own craft can find out, and ought to 
find out, and is bound to find out, for 
himself — they are the legitimate reward 
of the hand and heart labour spent, 
as a craftsman spends them, upon the 
material. Suffice it to say that in spite 
of the great skill which has been em- 
ployed upon stained-glass, ancient and 
modern, and employed in enormous 
amount; and in spite of the great and 
beautiful* results achieved; we may yet 
look upon stained-glass as an art in which 
there are still new provinces to explore — 
walking upon the old paths, guided by 
the old landmarks, but gathering new 
flowers by the way. 

We must now, then, turn our attention 
to the mechanical processes by which the 
stained-glass window is finished off. 



Leading-Up and Fixing — Setting out the Bench — 
Relation of Leading to mode of Fixing in the 
Stone — Process of Fixing — Leading-Up Resumed 
— Straightening the Lead — The "Lathykin" 
— The Cutting- Knife — The Nails — The 
Stopping- Knife — Knocking Up. 

You first place your cut-line, face upward, Leading- 
upon the bench, and pin it down there. ^P *"^ 
You next cut two "straight-edges" of ^™°^ 
wood, one to go along the base line of the 
section you mean to lead up, and the other 
along the side that lies next to you on the 
bench as you stand at work; for you 
always work from one side^ as you will soon 
see. And it is important that you should 
get these straight-edges at a true right 
angle, testing them carefully with the set- 
square. Fig. 46 represents a bench set 
out for leading-up. 

You must now build the glass together, 
as a child puts together his puzzle-map, 
one bit at a time, working from the base 
corner that is opposite your left hand. 

But first of all you must place a strip 
of extra wide and flat lead close against 


Leading- each of your straight-edges, so that the 
Up and core of the lead corresponds with the out- 

It will be right here to explain what 

relation the extreme outside measurement 
of your work should bear to the daylight 
azes of the openings that it has to fill. 

I think we may say that, whatever the Lciding- 
" mouldings '* may be on the stone, there Up and 
ii always a flat piece at exact right angles """^ 
to the face of the wall in which the 
^ndow stands, and it is in this flat piece 
that the groove is cut to receive the glass 

(fig- 47). 

Now, as the glazed light has to fill 
the daylight opening, there must obviously 
be a piece beyond die "daylight" size to 

go into the stone. By slipping the glazed 
light in sidewtefs, and even, in lat^e lights, 
by bending it slightly into a bow, you can 
just get into the stone a light an inch, or 
newly so, wider than the opening; but 
the best way is to use an extra wide lead 
cm the outside of your light, and bend 
back the outside leaf of it both front and 
back so that they stand at right angles 

Leading- to the Surface of the glass (fig. 48). By 
Up and this means you can reduce the size of the 
"^"^ panel by almost J of an inch on each 
side ; you can push the panel then, with- 
out either bending or slanting it much, 
up to its groove ; and, putting one side 
as far as it will go into the groove, you 
can bend back again into their former 
place the two leaves of the lead on the 
_ opposite side; and when you 

have done that slide them as 
, far as they will go into their 
groove, and do the same by 
the opposite pur. You will 
then have the panel in its 
groove, with about J of an 
Fig 48. '^^^^ *° hold by and i of an 
inch of lead showing. Some 
people fancy an objection to this; per- 
haps in very small windows it might 
look better to have the glass "flush" 
with the stone; but for myself I like 
to see a little showing of that outside 
lead, on to which so many of the leads 
that cross the glass are fastened. Any- 
way you must bear the circumstance in 
mind in fixing down your straight-edges 
to start glazing the work ; and that 
is why I have made this digresMon by 

mentioning now slomething that properly Leading- 
belongs to fixing. I Up and 

Now before begirtining to glaze you must **"*^ 
stretch and straighten the lead ; and this is 
done as follows (figjr. 49 — Frontispiece), 

Hold the "calmf" of lead in your left 
hand, and run thef finger and thumb of 
your right hand d own the lead so as to 
get the core all one way and not at all 
twisted : then, hc^lding one end firmly 
under your rigfnt foot, take tight hold 
of the other end with your pliers, and 
pull with nearly all your force in the 
direction of your right shoulder. Take 
care not to pull in the direction of your 
face ; for if you do, and the lead breaks, 
you will break some of your features also. 
It is very important to be careful that 
the lead is truly straight and not askew, 
otherwise, when you use it in leading, the 
glass will never keep flat. The next 
operation is to open the lead with a piece 
of hard wood, such as boxwood or lignum^ 
vit^e (fig. 50), made to your fancy for 
the purpose, but something like the dia- 
gram, which glaziers call a " lathykin " 
(as I understand it). For cutting the 
lead you must have a thin knife of good 
steel. Some use an old dinner-knife, 




some a paktte-knife cut down — either 
square across the blade or at an angle — it 
is a matter of taste (fig. 51). 

Having laid down your leads A and 
B (fig. 52), put in the corner piece of 
glass (No. I ) ; two of its sides will then 
be covered, leaving one uncovered. Take 

Fig. 52. 

a strip of lead and bend it round the 
uncovered edge, and cut it off at D, so 
that the end fits close and true against 
the core of lead A. And you must take 
notice to cut with a perfectly vertical cut^ 
otherwise one side will fit close and the 
other will leave a gap. 

In fig. 53 A represents a good joint, 
B a bad one. Bend it round and cut it 


Up and 



Leading- ofF Similarly at E. Common sense will 
Up and tell you that you must get the angle 
*^**™8 correct by marking it with a slight in- 
cision of the knife in its place before you 
take it on to the bench for the final cut. 

Slip it in, and push it in nice and tight, 
and put in piece No. 2. 

But now look at your cut-line. Do 
you see that the inner edges of pieces 2, 
3, and 4 all run in a fairly smooth curve, 
along which a continuous piece of lead will 

A Fig. 53 B 

bend quite easily? Leave, then, that edge, 
and put in, first, the leads which divide 
No. 2 from No. 3, and No. 3 from No. 4. 
Now don't forget ! the long lead has to come 
along the inside edges of all three ; so the 
leaf of it will overlap those three edges 
nearly | of an inch (supposing you are 
using lead of i inch dimension). You 
must therefore cut the two little bits we 
are now busy upon | of an inch short of the 
top edge of the glass (fig. 54), for the inside 
leads only meet each other ; it is only the 
outside lead that overlaps. 





How the Loose Glass is held in its place Leadiog- 
tohile Leading. — This is done with nails Up and 


Fig. 54. 
driven into the glazing table, close up 
against the edge of the lead ; and the best 
of all for the purpose are bootmakers* 
" lasting nails " ; therefore no more need 
be said about the matter ; " use 
no other" (fig. 55). 

And you tap them in with two 
or three sharp taps ; not of a 
hammer, for you do not want to 
waste time taking up a fresh tool, 
but with the end of your lead- 
ing-knife which is called a " stop- 
ping-knife" (fig. $6), and which 
lead-workers generally make for 
themselves out of an oyster-knife, 
by bending the blade to a convenient 
working angle for manipulating the lead, 
and graving out lines in the lower part 


of the handle, into which they run solder. Leading- 
terminating it in a solid lump at the butt- ^f^fjf 
end which forms an excellent substitute 
for a hammer. 

Now as soon as you have got the bits 
I, 2, 3, 4 in their places, with the leads 
F, G and H, I between them, you can 
take out the nails along the line K, F, H, 
M, one by one as you come to them, 
starting from K ; and put along that line 
one lead enclosing the whole lot, replacing 
the nails outside it to keep all firm as 
you work; and you must note that you 
should look out for opportunities to do 
this always, whenever there is a long line 
of the cut-line without any abrupt corners 
in it. You will thus save yourself the 
cutting (and afterwards the soldering) 
of unnecessary joints ; for it is always 
good to save labour where you can 
without harm to the work ; and in this 
case the work is all the better for it« 

Now, when you have thus continued 
the leading all the way across the panel, 
put on the other outside lead, and so work 
on to a finish. 

When the opposite, outside lead is put 
on, remove the nails and take another 
stra^ht-edge and put it against the lead, 



and "knock it up'* by hitting the 
straight-edge until you get it to the 
exact size ; at the same time taking 
your set-square and testing the corners 
to see that all is at right angles. 

Leave now the panel in its place, with 
the straight-edges still enclosing it, and 
solder ofF the joints. 



Soldering — Handling the Leaded Panel — Cementing 
— Recipe for Cement — The Brush — Division 
of Long Lights into Sections — How Joined 
when Fixed — Banding — Fixing — Chipping out 
the Old Glazing — Inserting the New and 

If the leads have got tarnished you 
may brush them over with the wire 
brush (fig. 57), which glaziers call a 
" scratch-card " ; but this is a wretched 
business and need never be resorted to 
if you work with good lead and work 
" fresh and fresh," and finish as you go, 
not letting the work lie about and get 
stale. Take an old-fashioned tallow 
"dip" candle, and put a little patch 
of the grease over each joint, either by 
rubbing the candle itself on it, or by 

melting some of it in a saucepan and 
applying it with a brush. Then take 
your soldering-iron (fig. 58) and get it 
to the proper heat, which you must learn 
by practice, and proceed to " tin " it by 
rubbing it on a sheet of tin with a little 
solder on it, and also some resin and a 
little glass-dust, until the "bit" (which is 
of copper) has a bright tin face. Then, 

Fic. 57- 
holding the stick of solder in the left 
hand, put the end of it down close to the 
joint you wish to solder, and put the end 
of the iron against it, "biting off" as it 
were, but really melting off, a little bit, 
which will form a liquid drop upon the 
joint. Spread this drop so as to seal 
up the joint nice and smooth and even, 
and the thing is done. Repeat with all 
the joints; then turn the panel over and 
do the opposite side. 

K 145 

Solderiog How to Handle Leaded 

Lights. — I said " turn the 
panel over." But that 
brings to mind a caution 
that you need about the 
handling of leaded lights. 
You must not — as I once 
saw a man do — start to 
hold them as a waiter 
does a tray. You must 
note that thin glass in the 
sheet and also leaded 
lights, especially before 
cementing, are not rigid, 
and cannot be handled as 
if they were panels of 
wood ; you must take 
care, when carrying them, 
or when they lean against 
the wall, to keep them as 
nearly upright as they 
will safely stand, and the 
inside one leaning against 
a board, and not bearing 
its own weight. And in 
laying them on the bench 
or in lifting them off it, 
you must first place them 
F,G 58 so that the middle line of 


them corresponds with the edge of the Soldering 
bench, or table, and then turn them on 
that as an axis, quickly, so that they do 
not bear their own weight longer than 
necessary (figs. 59 and 60). 

How to Cement a Leaded Light. — The 
next process is the cementing of the 
light so as to fill up the grooves of the 
lead and make all weather-proof. This 
is done with a mixture composed as 
follows : — Whitening, | to plaster of Paris 
\ ; add a mixture of equal quantities of 
boiled linseed-oil and spirit of turpentine 
to make a paste about as thick as treacle. 
Add a little red lead to help to harden 
it, some patent dryer to cause it to dry, 
and lamp-black to colour. 

This must be put in plenty on to the 
surface of the panel and well scrubbed 
into the joints with a hard fibre brush ; 
an ordinary coarse " grass brush " or 
" bass brush," with wooden back, as sold 
for scrubbing brushes at the oil shops, 
used in all directions so as to rub the 
stuff into every joint. 

But you must note that if you have 
" plated " {i.e. doubled) any of the glass 
you must, before cementing, putty those 
places. Otherwise the cement may pro- 


Soldering bably run in between the two, producing 
' blotches which you have no means of 

reaching in order to remove them. 

Fto. 59. 

You can, if you like, clean away all the 
cement along tfie edges of the leads ; but 
it is quite easy to be too precise and neat 


in the matter and make the work look Solderiog 


Fig. to. 

hard. If you do it, a blunted awl mil 
serve your turn. 

One had better mention everything, 


and therefore I will here say that, of 
course, a large light must be made in 
sections ; and these should not exceed 
four feet in height, and less is better. In 
fixing these in their place when the 
window is put up (an extra wide flat 
lead being used at the top and bottom 
of each section), they are made to 

overlap ; and if you 
wish the whole 
drainage of the 
window to pass in- 
to the building, of 
course you will put 
your section thus — 
(fig. 6 1 a) ; while if 
you wish the work 
to be weather-tight 
you will place it 
thus — (fig. 6 1 b). It is just as well to make 
every question clear if one can, and there- 
fore I mention this. Most people like 
their windows weather - tight, and, of 
course, will make the overlapping lead the 
top one; but it's a free country, and I 
don't pretend to dictate, content if I make 
the situation clear to you, leaving you to 
deal with it according to your own fancy. 
All is now done except the banding. 


Fig. 61 a. Fig. 61 b. 

How to Band a Leaded Light. — Banding Soldering 
means the putting on of the little ties of 
copper wire by which the window has to 
be held to the iron crossbars that keep it 
in its place. These ties are simply short 
lengths of copper wire, generally about 
four inches long, but varying, of course, 
with the size of the bar that you mean to 
use ; and these are to be soldered vertically 
(fig. 62) on to the face of the light at any 
convenient places along the line where the 
bar will cross. In fixing the window, these 
wires are to be pulled tight round the bar 
and twisted up with pliers, and the twisted 
end knocked down flat and neat against 
the bar. 

And this is the very last operation in 
the making of a stained-glass window. 
It now only remains to instruct you as 
to what relates to the fixing of it in its 

How to Fix a Window in its Place. — There 
is^ almost always, a groove in the stone- 
work to receive the glass ; and, except in 
the case of an unfinished building, this is, 
of course, occupied by some form of plain 
glazing. You must remove this by chipping 
out with a small mason's chisel the cement 
with which it is fixed in the groove, and 

SolderiDg common sense will tell you to begin at the 

Fig. 62. 
bottom and work upwards. This done, 

untwist the copper bands from the bars Soldering 
and put your own glass in its place, re- 
fixing the bars (or new ones) in the places 
you have determined on to suit your design 
and to support the glass, and fixing your 
glass to them in the way described, and 
pointing the whole with good cement. 
The method of inserting the new glass 
is described at p. 135. 

But that it is good for a man to feel the 
satisfaction of knowing his craft thoroughly 
there would be no need to go into this, 
which, after all, is partly masons' work. 
But I, for my part, cannot understand the 
spirit of an artist who applies his art to a 
craft purpose and has not, at least, a strong 
wish to know all that pertains to it. 




Introductory — The Great Questions — Colour — Light 
— Architectural F itoess — Limitations — Thought 

— Imagination — Allegory. 


Intro- The foregoing has been written as a hand- 
ductory book to use at the bench, and therefore I 
have tried to keep myself strictly to de- 
scribing the actual processes and the ordi- 
nary practice and routine of stained-glass 

But can we leave the subject here ? 

If we were speaking of even the smallest 
of the minor arts and crafts, we should 
wish to say something of why they are 
practised and how they should be practised, 
of the principles that guide them, of the 
spirit in which they should be undertaken, 
of the place they occupy in human affairs 


and in our life on earth. How much more Intro- 
then in an Art like this, which soars to the ductory 
highest themes, which dares to treat, which 
is required to treat, of things Heavenly 
and Earthly, of the laws of God, and of 
the nature, duty, and destinies of man ; 
and not only so, but must treat of these 
things in connection with, and in subservi- 
ence to, the great and dominant Art of 
Architecture ? 

We must not shrink, then, from saying 
all that is in our mind : we must ask our- 
selves the great questions of all art. We 
must investigate the How of them, and 
even face the Why. 

Therefore here (however hard it be to 
do it) something must be said of such great 
general principles as those of colour, of 
light, of architectural fitness, of limita- 
tions, of thought and imagination and 
allegory; for all these things belong to 
stained-glass work, and it is the right or 
wrong use of these high things that makes 
windows to be good or to be bad. 

Let us, dear student, take the simplest 
things first, not beca^use they are the 
easiest (though they perhaps are so), but 
because they will gradually, I hope, warm 
up our wits to the point of considering 

Intro- these matters, and so prepare the way for 

ductory ^h^t IS hardest of all. 

And I think a good subject to begin 
with is that of Economy generally, taking 
into consideration both time and materials. 


Of Economy — The Englishman's Wastefulness — Its 
Good Side — Its Excess — Difficulties — A Calcu- 
lation — Remedies. 

Of Those who know work in various countries 
Economy jnust surely have arrived at the conclusion 
that the Englishman is the most wasteful 
being on the face of the globe ! He only 
thinks of getting through the work, or 
whatever it may be, that he has purposed 
to himself, attaining the end immediately 
in view in the speediest manner possible 
without regard to anything else, lavish of 
himself and of the stuff he works with. 
The picture drawn by Robert Louis 
Stevenson in "Treasure Island" of John 
Silver and his pirates, when about to start on 
their expedition, throwing the remainder 
of their breakfast on the bivouac fire, care- 
less whence fresh supplies might come, is 


" English all over." This is the character Of 
of the race. It has its good side, this Economy 
grand disdain — it wins Battles, Victoria 
Crosses, Humane Society's medals, and 
other things well worth the winning; 
brings into port many a ship that would 
else be lost or abandoned, and, year in, year 
out, sends to sea the lifeboats on our rest- 
less line of coast. It would be something 
precious indeed that would be worth the 
loss of it ; but there is a medium in all 
things, and when a master sees — as one now 
at rest once told me he often had seen — a 
cutter draw his diamond down a bit of the 
margin out of which he had just cut his 
piece, in order to make it small enough to 
throw away, without being ashamed, under 
the bench, he must sometimes, I should 
think, wish the man were employed on 
some warlike or adventurous trade, and that 
he had a Hollander or Italian in his place, 
who would make a whole window out of 
what the other casts away. 

At the same time, it must be confessed 
that this is a very difficult matter to ar- 
range ; and it is only fair to the workman 
to admit that under existing conditions of 
work and demand, and even in many cases 
of the buildings in which the work is done, 


Of the way docs not seem clear to have the 
Economy whole of what might be wished in this 
matter. I will point out the difficulties 
against it. 

First, unless some system could be in- 
vented by which the amount of glass issued 
to any workman could be compared easily 
and simply with the area of glazed work 
cut from it, the workman has no induce- 
ment to economise; for, no record being 
kept of the glass saved, he knows that he 
will get no credit by saving, while the 
extra time that he spends on economy 
will make him seem a slower workman, 
and so he would be blamed. 

Then, again, it is impossible to see the 
colour of glass as it lies on the bench.; he 
has little choice but to cut each piece out 
of the large sheet ; for if he got a clutter 
of small bits round him till he happened 
to want a small bit, he would never be 
able to get on. 

There is no use, observe, in niggling 
and cheese- paring. There should be a 
just balance made between the re- 
spective values of the man's time and 
the material on which it is spent ; and to 
this end I now give some calculations 
to show these — calculations rather start- 


ling, considered in the light of what one Of 
knows of the ordinary practices and Economy 

The antique glasses used in stained- 
glass work vary in price from is. a foot 
to 5s., the weight per foot being about 
32 oz. 

The wage of the workmen who have to 
deal with this costly material varies from 
8d. to IS. per hour. 

The price of the same glass thrown 
under the bench, and known as " cuUet," 
is £1 per TON. 

Let us now do a little simple arith- 
metic, which, besides its lesson to the 
workers, may, I think, come as a revela- 
tion even to some employers who, content 
with getting work done quickly, may 
have hardly realised the price paid for that 

I ton = 20 cwt. 
80 qrs. 


32 0Z.=s2lb., 160 

therefore -^ 2)2 240 lbs. 

1 1 20 =s number of square feet 

in a ton. 


Of The worth of this at is. a foot (whites) 

Economy jg . 

-^ 20) 1 1 20{sSs6 PER TON. 



At 28. 6d. per foot (the best of pot- 
metal blues, and rubies generally) : — 


2^ times 56 s 140 5^140 PER TON. 

At 5s. a foot (gold-pink, and pale pink, 
Venetian, and choice glasses generally) : — 


Therefore these glasses are worth re- 
spectively — 56 times, 140 times, and 280 
times as much upon the bench as they are 
when thrown below it ! And yet I ask 
you — employer or employed — is it not the 
case that, often — shall we not say ** gene- 
rally " ? — in any given job as much goes 
below as remains above if the work is in 
fairly small pieces? Is not the accom- 
panying diagram a fair illustration (fig. 
63) of about the average relation of the 
shape cut to its margin of waste ? 


Employers estimate this waste variously. Of 
I have heard it placed as high as two- Economy 
thirds ; that is to say, that the glass, when 
leaded up, only measured one-third of the 
material used, or, in other words, that the 
workman had wasted twice as much as he 

Fia. 63. 
used. This, I admit, was told me in my 
character as customer^ and by way of ex- 
plaining what I considered a high charge 
for work ; but I suppose that no one with 
experience of stained-glass work would be 
L 161 

Of disposed to place the amount of waste 
Economy lower than one-half. 

Now a good cutter will take between 
two and three hours to cut a square foot 
of average stained-glass work, fairly simple 
and large in scale ; that is to say, suppos- 
ing his pay one shilling an hour — which is 
about the top price — the material he deals 
with is about the same value as his time 
if he is using the cheapest glasses only. If 
this then is the case when the highest- 
priced labour is dealing only with the 
lowest-priced material, we may assume it 
as the general rule for stained-glass cutting, 
on the average^ that " labour is less costly than 
the material on which it is spent^'* and I 
would even say much less costly. 

But it is not to be supposed that the 
little more care in avoiding waste which 
I am advocating would reduce his speed 
of work more than would be represented 
by twopence or threepence an hour. 

But I fear that all suggestions as to 
mitigating this state of things are of little 
use. The remedy is to play into each 
other's hands by becoming, all of us, 
complete, all-round craftsmen; breaking 
down all the unnatural and harmful 
barriers that exist between "artists" and 


"workmen,'* and so fitting ourselves to 
take an intelligent interest in both the 
artistic and economic side of our work. 

The possibility of this all depends on 
the personal relations and personal in- 
fluence in any particular shop — and em- 
ployers and employed must worry the 
question out between them. I am content 
with pointing out the facts. 




Of Perfection — In Little Things — Cleanliness — 
Alertness — But not Hurry — Realising your Con- 
ditions — False Lead-Lines — Shutting out Light 
— Bars — Their Number — Their Importance — 
Precedence — Observing your Limitations — A 
Result of Complete Training — The Special 
Limitations of Stained-Glass — Disguising the 
L ead - L ine — No full Realism — No violent 
Action — Self- Effacement — No Craft- Jugglery — 
Architectural Fitness founded on Architectural 
Knowledge — Seeing Work in Situ — Sketching 
in Glass — The Artistic Use of the Lead — 
Stepping Back — Accepting Bars and Leads — 
Loving Care — White Spaces to be Interesting — 
Bringing out the ^^ Quality'' of the Glass — 
Spotting and Dappling — ** Builders-Glazing " 
versus Modem Restoring. 

The second question of principle that I 
would dwell upon is that of perfection. 


Of Per- 

Of Per- Every operation in the arts should be 

fecdoQ perfect. It has to be so in most arts, 
from violin-playing to circus-riding, be- 
fore the artist dare make his bow to the 

Placing on one side the question of 
the higher grades of art which depend 
upon special talent or genius — the great 
qualities of imagination, composition, form 
and colour, which belong to mastership — 
I would now, in this book, intended for 
students, dwell upon those minor things, 
the doing of which well or ill depends 
only upon good-will, patience, and in- 

Any one can wash a brush clean ; any 
one can keep the colour on his palette 
neat ; can grind it all up each time it is 
used; can cover it over with a basin or 
saucer when his work is over; and yet 
these things are often neglected, though 
so easy to do. The painter will neglect 
to wash out his brush; and it will be 
clogged with pigment and gum, get dry, 
and stick to the palette, and the points 
of the hair will tear and break when it 
is removed again by the same careless 
hand that left it there. 

Another will leave portions of his 


colour, caked and dry, at the edges of OfPcr- 
his palette for weeks, till all is stale ; and fcction 
then, when the spirit moves him, will 
some day work this in, full of dirt and 
dust, with the fresher colour. Every- 
thing, everything should be done well! 
from the highest forms of painting to 
tying up a parcel or washing out a brush ; 
— ^all tools should be clean at all times, 
the handles as well as the hair — there is 
no excuse for the reverse ; and if your tools 
are dirty, it is by the same defect of your 
character that will make you slovenly in 
your work. Painting does not demand the 
same actual swiftness as some other arts ; 
nevertheless each touch that you place 
upon the glass, though it may be de- 
liberate, should be deft, athletic, perfect 
in itself; the nerves braced, the attention 
keen, and the powers of soul and body as 
much on the alert as they would need to 
be in violin-playing, fencing, or dissecting. 
This is not to advocate hurry. That is 
another matter altogether, for which also 
there is no excuse. Never hurry, or ask an 
assistant to hurry. Windows are delayed, 
even promises broken (though that can 
scarce be defended), there may be " ire in 
celestial minds '* ; but that is all forgotten 


Of Per- when we are dead ; and we soon shall be, 
fection but not the window. 

Another thing to note, which applies 
generally throughout all practice, is the 
wisdom of getting as near as you can to 
your conditions. For instance, the bits 
of glass in a window are separated by lead- 
lines; pitch-black, therefore, against the 
light of day outside. Now, when waxed 
up on the plate in the shop for painting, 
these will be separated by thin cracks of 
light, and in this condition they are 
usually painted. Can't you do better 
than that? Don't you think it's worth 
while spending half-an-hour to paint false 
lead-lines on the back of the plate? A 
ha'p'orth of lamp-black from the oil-shop, 
with a little water and treacle and a long- 
haired brush, like a coach-painter's, will do 
it for you (see Plate XIII. ). 

Another thing: when the window is 
in its place, each light will be surrounded 
with stone or brick, which, although not 
so black as the lead-lines, will tell as a 
strong dark against the glass. See there- 
fore that while you are painting, your 
glass is surrounded by dark, or at any rate 
not by clear, glittering light. Strips of 
brown paper, pinned down the sides of the 

1 66 

light you are painting, will get the thing Of Per* 
quite near to its future conditions. frction 

As you have been told, the work is 
fixed in its place by bars of iron, and these 
ought by no means to be despised or 
ignored or disguised, as if they were a 
troublesome necessity: you must accept 
fully and willingly the conditions of your 
craft ; you must pride yourself upon so 
accepting them, knowing that they are 
the wholesome checks upon your liberty 
and the proper boundaries of the field in 
which you have your appointed work. 
There should, in any light more than a 
foot wide, be bars at every foot through- 
out the length of the light; and these 
bars should be | inch, f inch, or i inch in 
section, according to the weight of the 
work. The question then arises : Should 
the bars be set out in their places on the 
paper, before you begin to draw the 
cartoon, or should you be perfectly free 
and unfettered in the drawing and then 
make the bars fit in afterwards, by moving 
them up and down as may be needed to 
avoid cutting across the faces, hands, &c. 

I find more diflSiculty in answering this 
than any other technical question in this 
book. I do not think it can be answered 


Of Per- with a hard and fast " Yes " or " No." It 
fcction depends on the circumstances of the case. 
But I incline towards the side of making 
it the rule to put the bars in first, and 
adapt the composition to them. You 
may think this a surprising view for an 
artist to take. "Surely/* you will say, 
" that is putting the cart before the horse, 
and making the more important thing 
give way to the less!" But my feeling 
is that reasonable limitations of any kind 
ought never to be considered as hin- 
drances in a work of art. They are part 
of the problem, and it is only a spirit 
of dangerous license which will consider 
them as bonds, or will find them irksome, 
or wish to break them through. Stained- 
glass is not an independent art. It is 
an accessory to architecture, and any 
limitations imposed by structure and 
architectural propriety or necessity are 
most gravely to be considered and not 
lightly laid on one side. And in this 
connection it must be remembered that 
the bars cannot be made to go anywhere 
to fit a freely designed composition : they 
must be approximately at certain dis- 
tances on account of use ; and they must 
be arranged with regard to each other in 

the whole of the window on account of Of Per- 
appearance. fcction 

You might indeed find that, in any 
single light, it is quite easy to arrange 
them at proper and serviceable distances, 
without cutting across the heads or hands 
of the figures; but it is ten chances to 
one that you can get them to do so, and 
still be level with each other, throughout 
a number of lights side by side. 

The best plan, I think, is to set them 
out on the side of the cartoon-paper be- 
fore you begin, but not so as to notice 
them ; then first roughly strike out the 
position your most important groups or 
figures are to occupy, and, before you go 
on with the serious work of drawing, see 
if the bars cut awkwardly, and, if they 
do, whether a slight shifting of them will 
clear all the important parts; it often 
will, and then all is well; but I do not 
shrink from slightly altering even the 
position of a head or hand, rather than 
give a laboured look to what ought to be 
simple and straightforward by " coaxing " 
the bars up and down all over the win- 
dow to fit in with the numerous heads 
and hands. 

If, by the way, I see fit in any case to 


Of Per- adopt the other plan, and make my com- 
fccdon position first, placing the bars afterwards 
to suit it, I never allow myself to shift 
them from the level that is convenient 
and reasonable for anything except a head ; 
I prefer even that they should cut across 
a hand, for instance, rather than that they 
should be placed at inconvenient intervals 
to avoid it. 

The principle of observing your limita-* 
tions is, I do not hesitate to say, the most 
important, and far the most important, 
of all principles guiding the worker in 
the right practising of any craft. 

The next in importance to it is the 
right exercise of all legitimate freedom 
within those limitations. I place them in 
this order, because it is better to stop 
short, by nine-tenths, of right liberty, than 
to take one-tenth of wrong license. But 
by rights the two things should go to- 
gether, and, with the requisite skill and 
training to use them, constitute indeed 
the whole of the practice of a craft. 

Modern division of labour is much 
against both of these things, the observ- 
ance of which charms us so in the ancient 
Gothic Art of the Middle Ages. 

For, since those days, the craft has 


never been taught as a whole. Reader! Of Per- 
this book cannot teach it you — no book Section 
can; but it can make you — and it was 
written with the sole object of making 
you — wish to be taught it, and determine 
to be taught it, if you intend to practise 
stained-glass work at all. 

Modern stained-glass work is done by 
numerous hands, each trained in a special 
skill — to design, or to paint, or to cut, 
or to glaze, or to fire, or to cement — but 
none are taught to do all ; very few are 
taught to do more than one or two. How, 
then, can any either use rightful liberty 
or observe rightful limitations? They 
do not know their craft, upon which 
these things depend. And observe how 
completely also these two things depend 
upon each other. You may be rightly 
free, because you have rightly learnt 
obedience ; you know your limitations, 
and, therefore^ you may be trusted to 
think, and feel, and act for yourself. 

This is what makes old glass, and in- 
deed all old art, so full of life, so full 
of interest, so full of enjoyment — in 
places, and right places, so full even of 
"fun." Do you think the charming 
grotesques that fill up every nook and 


Of Per- corner sometimes in the minor detail of 
fection mediaeval glass or carving could ever 
be done by the method of a "superior 
person " making a drawing of them, and 
an inferior person laboriously translating 
them m facsimile into the material ? They 
are what they are because they were the 
spontaneous and allowed license and play 
of a craftsman who knew his craft, and 
could be trusted to use it wisely, at any 
rate in all minor matters. 


The limitations of stained-glass can 
only be learnt at the bench, and by years 
of patient practice and docile service ; but 
it may be well to mention some of them. 

Tou must not disguise your lead-line. You 
must accept it willingly, as a limitation of 
your craft, and make it contribute to the 
beauty of the whole. 

"But I have a light to do of the 
'Good Shepherd,* and I want a land- 
scape and sky, and how ugly lead-lines 
look in a pale-blue sky! I get them 
like shapes of cloud, and still it cuts 
the sky up till it looks like * random- 
rubble' masonry." Therefore large spaces 
of pale sky are "taboo," they will not 


do for glass, and you must modify your Of Pcr- 
whole outlook, your whole composition, fection 
to suit what will do. If you must have 
sky, it must be like a Titian sky — deep 
blue, with well-defined masses of cloud — 
and you must throw to the winds reso- 
lutely all idea of attempting to imitate 
the softness of an English sky ; and even 
then it must not be in a large mass : you 
Can always break it up with branched- 
work of trees, or with buildings. 

There should be no full realism of any 

No violent action must assert itself in a 

I do not say that there must not, in 
any circumstances, be any violent action — 
the subject may demand it ; but, if so, it 
must be so disguised by the craftsmanship 
of the work, or treated so decoratively, 
or so mixed up with the background or 
surroundings, that you do not see a figure 
in violent action starting prominently out 
from the window as you stand in the 
church. But, after all, this is a thing 
of artistic sense and discretion, and no 
rules can be formulated. The Parthenon 
frieze is of figures in rapid movement. 
Yet what repose! And in stained-glass 


Of Per- you must aim at repose. Remember, — it 
fectton 13 an accessory to architecture; and who 
is there that does not want repose in 
architecture ? Name me a great building 
which does not possess it? How the 
architects must turn in their graves, or, 
if living, shake in their shoes, when they 
see the stained-^lass man turned into 
their buildings, to display himself and 
spread himself abroad and blow his 
trumpet ! 

Efface yourself, my friend ; sink your- 
self ; illustrate the building ; consider its 
lines and lights and shades ; enrich it, com- 
plete it, make people happier to be in it. 

There must be no craft-jugglery in stained-- 

The art must set the craft simple prob- 
lems ; it must not set tasks that can only 
be accomplished by trickery or by great 
effort, disproportioned to the importance 
of the result. But, indeed, you will 
naturally get the habit of working ac- 
cording to this rule, and other reasonable 
rules, if you yourself work at the bench — 
all lies in that. 

There must be nothing out of harmony with 
the architecture. 

And, therefore, you must know some- 


thing of architecture, not in order to Of Per- 
imitate the work of the past and try to fection 
get your own mistaken for it, but to learn 
the love and reverence and joy of heart of 
the old builders, so that your spirit may 
harmonise with theirs. 

Do not shrink from the trouble and expense 
of seeing the work in situ, and then^ if neces^ 
sary, removing it for correction and amend- 

If you have a large window, or a 
series of windows, to do, it is often not 
a very great matter to take a portion 
of one light at least down and try it 
in its place. I have done it very often, 
and I can assure you it is well worth 


But there is another thing that may 
help you in this matter, and that is to 
sketch out the colour of your window in 
small pieces of glass — in fact, to make a 
scale-sketch of it in glass. A scale of 
one inch to a foot will do generally, 
but all difficult or doubtful combina- 
tions of colour should be sketched larger 
— full size even — before you venture 
to cut. 

Of Per- Work should be kept flat by leading. 

fection One of the main artistic uses of the 

leadwork in a window is that, if properly 
used, it keeps the work flat and in one 
plane, and allows far more freedom in the 
conduct of your picture, permitting you 
to use a degree of realism and fulness of 
treatment greater than you could do with- 
out it. Work may be done, where this 
limitation is properly accepted and used, 
which would look vulgar without it ; and 
on the other hand, the most Byzantine 
rigidity may be made to look vulgar if 
the lead-line is misused. I have seen 
glass of this kind where the work was all 
on one plane, and where the artist had so 
far grasped proper principles as to use 
thick leads, but had curved these leads in 
and out across the folds of the drapery as if 
they followed its ridges and hollows — the 
thing becoming, with all its good-will to 
accept limitations, almost more vulgar 
than the discredited "Munich-glass" of 
a few years ago, which hated and dis- 
guised the lead-lines. 

Tou must step back to look at your work as 
often and as far as you can. 

Respect your bars and lead-lines^ and let 
them be strong and many. 


Every bit of glass in a window should look Of Per- 
'' cared for y ^^^^^^ 

If there is a lot of blank space that you 
" don't know how to fill," be sure your 
design has been too narrowly and frugally 
conceived. I do not mean to say that there 
may not be spaces, and even large spaces, 
of plain quarry-glazing, upon which your 
subject with its surrounding ornament may 
be planted down, as a rich thing upon a 
plain thing. I am thinking rather of a case 
where you meet with some sudden lapse 
or gap in the subject itself or in its orna- 
mental surroundings. This is apt specially 
to occur where it is one which leads rather 
to pictorial treatment, and where, unless 
you have "canopy" or "tabernacle" work, 
as it is called, surrounding and framing 
everything, you find yourself at a loss how 
to fill the space above or below. 

Very little can be said by way of general 
rule about this ; each case must be decided 
on its merits, and we cannot speak without 
knowing them. But two things may be 
said : First, that it is well to be perfectly 
bold (as long as you are perfectly sincere), 
and not be afraid, merely because they are 
unusual, of things that you really would 
like to do if the window were for yourself. 

M 177 

Of Per- There are no hard and fast rules as to 
fection what may or may not be done, and if you 
are a craftsman and designer also— as the 
whole purpose of this book is to tell you 
you must be — many methods will suggest 
themselves of making your glass look inte- 
resting. The golden rule is to handle every 
bit of it yourself, and then you will be 
interested in the ingenuity of its arrange- 
ment ; the cutting of it into little and big 
bits; the lacework of the leads; thickening 
and thinning these also to get bold con- 
trasts of strong and slender, of plain and 
intricate; catching your pearly glass like 
fish, in a net of larger or smaller mesh ; 
for, bear in mind always that this question 
relates almost entirely to the wA^V^r glasses. 
Colour has its own reason for being there, 
and carries its own interest ; but the most 
valuable piece of advice that I can think of 
in regard to stained-glass treatment (apart 
from the question of subject and meaning) 
is to make your white spaces interesting. 

The old painters felt this when they 
diapered' their quarry-glazing and did 
such grisailte work as the '^Five Sisters** 
window at York. Every bit of this last 
must have been put together and painted 
by a real craftsman delighting in his work. 


The drawing is free and beautiful ; the Of Per- 
whole work is like jewellery, the colour fcction 
scheme delightfully varied and irregular. 
The work was loved : each bit of glass 
was treated on its merits as it passed 
through hand. Working in this way all 
things are lawful ; you may even put a 
thin film of "matt" over any piece to 
lower it in tone and give it richness, or 
to bring out with emphasis some quality 
of its texture. Some bits will have lovely 
streaks and swirling lines and bands in 
them — "reamy," as glass-cutters call it — 
or groups of bubbles and spots, making 
the glass like agate or pebble ; and a gentle 
hand will rub a little matt or film over 
these, and then finger it partly away to 
bring out its quality, just as a jeweller 
foils a stone. This is quite a difiFerent 
thing from smearing a window all over 
with dirt to make it a sham-antique ; and 
where it is desirable to lower the tone of 
any white for the sake of the window, and 
where no special beauties of texture exist, 
it is better, I think, to matt it and then 
take out simple patterns from the matt : not 
outlined at all, but spotted and streaked 
in the matt itself, chequered and petalled 
and thumb-marked, just as nature spots 


Of Per- and stripes and dapples, scatters daisies on 

fection ^j^^ grass and snowflakes in the air, and 

powders over with chessboard chequers 

and lacings and " oes and eyes of light," 

the wings of butterflies and birds. 

So man has always loved to work when 
he has been let to choose, and when nature 
has had her way. Such is the delightful 
art of the basket and grass-cloth weaver of 
the Southern seas ; of the ancient Cyprian 
potter, the Scandinavian and the Celt. It 
never dies; and in some quiet, merciful 
time of academical neglect it crops up 
again. Such is the, often delightful, 
" builders-glazing " of the " carpenters- 
Gothic " period, or earlier, when the south 
transept window at Canterbury, and the 
east and west windows at Cirencester, and 
many such like, were rearranged with old 
materials and new by rule of thumb and 
just as the glazier " thought he would." 
Heaven send us nothing worse done 
through too much learning! I daresay 
he shouldn't have done it ; but as it came 
to him to do, as, probably, he was ordered 
to do it, we may be glad he did it just so. 
In the Canterbury window, for instance, 
no doubt much of the old glass never 
belonged to that particular window; it 

1 80 

may have been, sinfully, brought there OfPcr- 
from windows where it did belong. At Action 
Cirencester there are numbers of bits of 
canopy and so forth, delightful fifteenth- 
century work, exquisitely beautiful, put 
in as best they could be ; no doubt from 
some mutilated window where the figures 
had been destroyed — for, if my memory 
serves me, most of them have no figures 
beneath — and surrounded by little 
chequered work, and stripes and banding 
of the glaziers* own fancy. A modern 
restorer would have delighted to supply 
sham-antique saints for them, imitating 
fifteenth - century work (and deceiving 
nobody), and to complete the mutilated 
canopies by careful matching, making 
the window entirely correct and unin- 
teresting and lifeless and accomplished 
and forbidding. The very blue-bottles 
would be afraid to buzz against it ; 
whereas here, in the old church, with the 
flavour of sincerity and simplicity around 
them, at one with the old carving and the 
spirit of the old time, they glitter with 
fresh feeling, and hang there, new and 
old together, breaking sunlight ; irre- 
sponsible, absiurd, and delightful. 



A Few Little Dodges — A Clumsy Tool — A Sub- 
stitute — A Glass Rack — ^An IncoQTenient Easel 
— A Conrenieiit Easel — A Waxing^up Tool — 
An Easel with Morable Plates — Making the 
most of a Room — Handling Cartoons — Cleanli- 
ness — Dust — The Selvage Edge — Drying a 
« Badger " — A Comment. 

A Few Here, now, follow some little practical 
-k!^^^ hints upon work in general ; mere receipts; 
^" description of time-saving methods and 
apparatus which I have separated from 
the former part of the book; partly 
because they are mostly exceptions to 
the ordinary practice, and partly be- 
cause they are of general application, the 
common-sense of procedure, and will, I 
hope, after you have learnt from the 
former parts of the book the individual 
processes and operations, help you to 
marshal these, in order and proportion, 
so as to use them to the greatest advan- 
tage and with the best results. And truly 
our stained-glass methods are most waste- 
ful and bungling. The ancient Egyptians, 
they say, made glass, and I am sure some 

of our present tools and apparatus date 
from the time of the Pyramids. 


What shall we say, for 
instance, of this instru- 
ment (fig. 64), used for 
loading some forms of 
kiln ? 

The workman takes 
the ring-handle in his 
right hand, rests the 
shaft in the crook of his 
left elbow, puts the fork 
under an iron plate loaded 
with glass and weighing 
about forty pounds, and 
then, with tug and strain, 
lifts it, ready to slip ofF 
and smash at any moment, 
and, grunting, transfers 
it to the kiln. A little 
mechanical appliance 
would save nine- tenths 
of the labour, a stage on 
wheels raised or lowered 
at will (a thing which 
not be hard to invent) would bring it 
from the bench to the kiln, and then^ if 


A Few 


Fig. 64. 

surely should 

A Few 



needs be, and no better method could be 
found, the fork might be used to put it 

Meanwhile, as a temporary step in the 
right direction, I illustrate a little apparatus 
invented by Mr. Heaton, which, with the 
tray made of some lighter substance than 
iron, of which he has the secret, decreases 
the labour by certainly one-third', and I 

Fig. 65. 

think a half (fig. 65). It is indeed only a 
sort of half-way house to the right thing, 
but, tested one against the other with 
equal batches of plates, its use is certainly 
less laborious than that of the fork. 
And that is a great gain; for the con- 
sequence of these rough ways is that the 
kiln-man, whom we want to be a quiet, 
observant man, with plenty of leisure and 

with all his strength and attention free to 
watch the progress of a process or experi- 
ment, like a chemist in his laboratory, 

A Few 


Fig. 66. 

has often two-thirds of it distracted by 
the stress of needless work which is only 
fit for a navvy, and the only tendency of 
which can be towards turning him into one. 



Dodges Then the cutter, who throws away half 

the stufF under his bench ! How easy it 
would be, if things were thought of from 
the beginning and the place built for the 
work, to have such width of bench and 
space of window that, along the latter, 
easily and comfortably within reach, 
should run stages, tier above tier, of 
strong sheet or thin plate glass, sloping 
at such an angle that the cuttings might lie 
along them against the light, with a fillet 
to stop them from falling off. Then it 
would be a pleasure, as all handy things 
are, for the workman to put his bits of 
glass there, and when he wanted a piece of 
similar colour, to raise his head and choose 
one, instead of wastefuUy cutting a fresh 
piece out of the unbroken sheet, or wasting 
his time rummaging amongst the bits on 
the bench. A stage on the same principle 
for choosing glass is illustrated in fig. 67. 

But it is in easels that improvement 
seems most wanted and would be most 
easy, and here I really must tell you a 


Having once some very large lights to 
paint, against time, the friends in whose 

shop I was to work 
(wishing to give me 
every advantage and to 
save time, nad had 
special easels made to 
take in the main part 
of each light at once. 
But an "Easel," in 
stained- glass work, 
meaning always the 
single slab of plate- 
glass in a wooden frame, 
these were of that type. 
I forget their exact size 
and could hazard no 
guess at their weight, 
but it took four men to 
get one from the ground 
on to the bench. Why, 
I wanted it done a dozen 
times an hour ! and 
should have wished to 
be able to do it at any 
moment. Instead of that 
it was, " Now then. 
Bill ; ease her over ! " 
"Steady!" "Now 
lift ! " " All together, 
boys ! " and so forth. I 
wonder there wasn't a 



A Few strike ! But did no one, then, ever see in 

T\!^^^ a club or hotel a plate-glass window about 

^^* as big as a billiard-table, and a slim waiter 

come up to it, and, with a polite " Would 

you like the window open, sir ? " quietly 

lift it with one hand ? 


Fig. 6 8 is a diagram of the kind of easel 
I would suggest. It can either stand on the 
bench or on the floor, and with the touch 
of a hand can be lifted, weighing often 
well over a hundredweight, to any height 
the painter pleases, till it touches the roof, 
enabling him to see at any moment the 
whole of his work at a distance and against 
the sky, which one would rather call an 
absolute necessity than a mere convenience 
or advantage. 

Some of these things were thought out 
roughly by myself, and have been added 
to and improved from time to time by my 
painters and apprentices, a matter which 
I shall say a word on by-and-by, when we 
consider the relations which should exist 
between these and the master. 


Meanwhile here is another little tool 
(fig. 69), the invention of one of my 

A Few 


A Few youngest 


" hands " (and heads), and 
really a prsuse- 
worthy inven- 
tion, though 
indeed a ^mple 
and self-evident 
matter enough. 
The usual tool 
for waxing - up 
is (l) a strip 
of glass, (2) a 
penknife, (3) a 
stick of wood. 
The thing most 
to be wished for 
in whatever is 
used being, of 
course, that it 
should retain the 
heat. This youth 
argued: "If they 
use copper for 
..p because it retains 
' heat so well, why 
Fig. 69. "ot use copper 

for the waxing- 

up tool ? besides, it can be made into a pen 

which will hold more wax," 

So said, so done; nothing indeed to A Few 
make a fuss about, but part of a very ^*?** 
wholesome spirit of wishing to work ^ *" 
with handy tools economically, instead of 
blundering and wasting. 


But to return for a moment to the 
easel. I find it very convenient not to 
have it made all of one plate of glass, 
but to divide it so that about four plates 
make the whole easel of five feet high. 
These plates slip in grooves, and can be 
let in either at the top or bottom, the 
latter being then stopped by a batten and 
thumbscrews. By this means a light of 
any length can be painted in sections 
without a break. For supposing you 
work from below upwards, and have done 
the first five feet of the window, take out 
all the glass except the top plate, shift this 
down to the bottom^ and place three empty 
plates above it, and you can join the 
upper work to the lower by the sample 
of the latter left in its place to start you, 


The great point is to be able to get away 
as far as you can from your work. And I 


A Few advise you, if your room is small, to have 
^^^ a fair-sized mirror (a cheval-glass) and 
^" place it at the far end of your room 
opposite the easel where you are painting, 
and then, standing close by the side of 
your easel, look at your work in the 
mirror. This will double the distance at 
which you see it, and at the same time 
present it to you reversed; which is no 
disadvantage, for you then see everything 
under a fresh aspect and so with a fresh 
eye. Of course, by the use of two mir- 
rors, if they be large enough, you can put 
your work away to any distance. You 
must have seen this in a restaurant where 
there were mirrors, and where you have 
had presented to you an endless procession 
of your own head, first front then back, 
going away into the far distance. 


Well, it's really like insulting your in- 
telligence ! And if I hadn't seen fellows 
down on their hands and knees rolling 
and unrolling cartoons along the dirty 
floor, and sprawling all over the studio so 
that everybody had to get out of the way 
into corners, I wouldn't spend paper and 
ink to tell you that by standing the roll 


upright and spinning it gently round with A Few 
your hands, freeing first one edge and J^^* 
then another, you can easily and quietly ^" 

unroll and sort out a bundle of a dozen 
cartoons, each twenty feet long, on the 
space of a small hearth-rug ; but bo it is 
(fig. 70), and in just the same way you 
can roll them up again, 


You should have drawers in the tables, 
and put the palettes away in these with 
the colour neatly covered over with a basin 
when you leave work. Dust is a great 
enemy in a stained-glass shop, and it 
must be kept at arm's length. 


Otherwise the tracing cloth being all cockled 
at the edge, which, however, is not very 
noticeable, will not lie flat, and you will be 
puzzled to know why it is that you cannot 
get your cut-line straight; tear oflF the edge, . 
and it lies perfectly flat, without a wrinkle. 


I expect you'd try to dry it in front of 
the fire, and there'd be a pretty eight- 

N 193 


shilling frizzle ! But the Way is this : First A Few 
sweep the wet brush downwards with all J;"^^^ 
your force, just as you shake the worst ^^* 
cff the wet off a dripping umbrella, then 
take the handle of the brush between the 
palms of your hands^ with the hair pointing 
downwards, and rub your hands smartly 
together, with the handle between them, 
just as an Italian waiter whisks up the 
chocolate. This sends the hair all out like 
a Catherine-wheel, and dries the brush with 
quite astonishing rapidity. Come now! 
you'd never have thought of that ? 

And why have I reserved these hints 
till now? surely these are things of the 
work-bench, practical matters, and would 
have come more conveniently in their 
own place ? Why have I — do you ask — 
after arousing your attention to the 
"great principles of art," gone back 
again all at once to these little matters ? 

Dear reader, I have done so deliberately 
to emphasise the First of principles, that 
the right learning of any craft is the 
learning it under a master, and that all 
else is makeshift; to drive home the 
tesson insisted on in the former volumes 
of this series of handbooks, and gathered 


A Few into the sentence quoted as a motto on 

Little the fly-leaf of one of them, that " An 

° ^^' art can only be learned in the workshop 

of those who arc winning their bread 

by it." 

These little things we have just been 
speaking of occurred to me after the 
practical part was all written ; and I de- 
termined, since it happened so, to put 
them by themselves, to point this very 
lesson. They are just typical instances of 
hundreds of little matters which belong 
to the bench and the workshop, and 
which cannot all be told in any book; 
and even if told can never be so fully 
grasped as they would be if shown by 
master to pupil. Years — centuries of 
practice have made them the common- 
places of the shops; things told in a 
word and learnt in an instant, yet which 
one might go on for a whole lifetime 
without thinking of, and for lack of 
which our lifetime's work would sufi^er. 

Man's work upon earth is all like that. 
The things are there under his very nose, 
but he never discovers them till some acci- 
dent shows them ; how many centuries of 
sailing, think you, passed by before men 
knew that the tides went with the moon ? 


Why then write a book at all, since A Few 
it is not the best way ? Little 

Speaking for myself only, the reasons -Lio^ig** 
appear to be : First, because none of these 
crafts is at present taught in its ful- 
ness in any ordinary shop, and I would 
wish to give you at least a longing to 
learn yours in that fulness ; and, second, 
because it seems also very advisable to 
interest the general reader in this ques- 
tion of the complete teaching of the crafts 
to apprentices. To insist on the value 
and necessity of the daily and hourly 
lessons that come from the constant 
presence, handling, and use of all the 
tools and materials, all the apparatus and 
all the conditions of the craft, and from 
the interchange of ideas amongst those 
who are working, side by side, making 
fresh discoveries day by day as to what 
materials will do under the changes 
that occur in conditions that are ever 

However, one must not linger further 
over these little matters, and it now be- 
comes my task to return to the great lead- 
ing principles and try to deal with them, 
and the first cardinal principle of stained- 
glass work surely is that of Colour. 




Of Colour But how hopeless to deal with it by way 
of words in a book where actual colour 
cannot be shown 1 

Nevertheless, let us try. 

. . . One thinks of morning and evening; 
... of clouds passing over the sun; of 
the dappled glow and glitter, and of faint 
flushes cast from the windows on the 
cathedral pavement ; of pearly white, like 
the lining of a shell; of purple bloom 
and azure haze, and grass -green and 
golden spots, like the budding of the 
spring ; of all the gaiety, the sparkle, and 
the charm. 

And then, as if the evening were draw- 
ing on, comes over the memory the picture 
of those graver harmonies, in the full glow 
of red and blue, which go with the deep 
notes of the great organ, playing requiem 
or evening hymn. 

Of what use is it to speak of these 


things? The words fall upon the ear, OfCplqur 
but the eye is not filled. 

All stained-^lass gathers itself up into 
this one subject ; the glory of the heavens 
is in it and the fulness of the earth, and we 
know that the showing forth of it cannot 
be in words. 

Is it any use, for instance, to speak of 
these prinu-oses along the railway bank, 
and those silver buds of the alder in the 
hollow of the copse ? 

One thinks of a hint here and a hint 
there; the v,ery sentences come in frag- 
ments. Yet one thing we may say securely: 
that the practice of stained-glass is a very 
good way to learn colour, or as much of 
it as can come by learning. 

For, consider : — 

A painter has his colour-box and pal- 

And if he has a good master he m^y 
learn by degrees how to mix his colour 
into harmonies ; 

Doing a little first, cautiously ; 

Trying the problem in one or two simple 
tints ; learning the combinations of these 
in their various degrees of lighter or 
darker : 

Exhausting, as much as he can, the 


Of Colour possibilities of one or two pigments, and 
then adding another and another; 

But always with a very limited number 
of actual separate ones to draw upon ; 

All the infinity of the whole world of 
colour being in his own hands, and the 
difficulty of dealing with it laid as a 
burden upon his own shoulders, as he 
combines, modifies, mixes, and dilutes 

He perhaps has eight or ten spots of 
pure colour, ranged round his palette ; and 
all the rest depends upon himself. 

This gives him, indeed, one side of the 
practice of his art ; and if he walks warily, 
yet daringly, step by step, learning day by 
day something more of the powers that lie 
in each single kind of pamt, and as he 
learns it applying his knowledge, bravely 
and industriously, to add strength to 
strength, brightness to brightness, rich- 
ness to richness, depth to depth, in ever 
clearer, fuller, and more gorgeous har- 
mony, he may indeed become z great 

But a more timid or indolent man gets 
tired or afraid of putting the clear, sharp 
tints side by side to make new combina- 
tions of pure and vivid colour. 


And even a man industrious, alert, Of Colour 
and determined may lose his way and 
get confused amongst the infinity of 
choice, through being badly taught, and 
especially through being allowed at first 
too great a range, too wide a choice, too 
lavish riches. 

A man so trained, so situated, so 
tempted, stands in danger of being con- 
tented to repeat old receipts and formulas 
over and over, as soon as he has acquired 
the knowledge of a few. 

Or, bewildered with the lavishness of 
his means and confused in his choice, 
tends to fall into indecision, and to smear 
and dilute and weaken. 

I cannot help thinking that it is to this 
want of a system of gradual teaching of 
the elementary stages of colour in painting 
that we owe, on the one side, the fashion 
of calling irresolute and undecided tints 
" art " colours ; and, on the other hand, 
the garishness of our modern exhibitions 
compared with galleries of old paintings. 
For Titian's burning scarlet and crimson 
and palpitating blue; and Veronese's 
gold and green and white and rose are 
certainly not " art colours " ; and I 
think we must feel the justice and truth 


Of Colour from garishness on the other ; but it is 
only a means — the fact of salvation lies 
always in one's own hands — for we must, I 
fear, admit that "garishness" and "irre- 
solution " are not unknown in stained- 
glass itself, in spite of the resources and 
safeguardings we have attributed to the 
material. Speaking, therefore, now to 
stained-glass painters themselves, we 
might say that these faults in their own 
art, as too often practised in our days, 
arise, strange as it may seem, from ignor- 
ance of their own material, that very 
material the knowledge of which we have 
just been recommending as a safeguard 
against these very faults to the students 
of another art. 

And this brings us back to our subject. 

For the foregoing discussion of painters' 
methods has all been written to draw a 
comparison and emphasise a contrast. 

A contrast from which you, student 
of stained-glass, I hope may learn much. 

For as we have tried to describe the 
methods of the painter in oil or water 
colours, and so point out his advantages 
and disadvantages, so we would now 
draw a picture of the glass-painter at 
work ; if he works as he should do. 


For the painter of pictures (we said) Of Colour 
has his colour-box of a few pigments, 
from which all his harmonies must come 
by mixing them and diluting them in 
various proportions, dealing with infinity 
out of a very limited range of materials, 
and required to supply all the rest by his 
own skill and memory. 

Coming each day to his work with 
his palette clean and his colours in their 
tubes ; 

Beginning, as it were, all over again 
each time ; and perhaps with his heart 
cold and his memory dull. 

But the glass-painter has his specimens 
of glass round him ; some hundreds, 
perhaps, of all possible tints. 

He has, with these, to compose a 
subject in colour ; 

There is no getting out of it or 
shirking it ; 

He places the bits side by side, with 
no possibility (which the palette gives) 
of slurring or diluting or dulling them ; 
he must choose from the clear hard tints ; 

And he has the whole problem before 
him ; 

He removes one and substitutes 
another ; 


Of Colour "This looks better;" "That is a 
pleasant harmony;*' "Ah! but thi^ 
makes it sing ! *' 

He gets them into groups, and com- 
bines them into harmonies, tint with 
tint, groupl with group: 

If he is wise he has them always by 
him ; 

Always ready to arrange in a movable 
frame against the window ; 

He cuts little bits of each ; he waxes 
them, or gums them, into groups on 
sheets of glass ; 

He tries all his effects in the glass 
itself ; he sketches in glass. 

If he is wise he does this side by side 
with his water-colour sketch, making 
each help the other, and thinking in 
glass ; even perhaps making his water- 
colour sketch afterwards from the glass. 

Is it not reasonable ? 

Is it not far more easy, less dangerous ? 

He has not to rake in his cold and 
meagre memory to fish out some poor 
handful of all the possible hstrmonies ; 

To repeat himself over and over again. 

He has all the colours burning round 
him ; singing to him to use them ; 
sounding all their chords. 



Is it not the Way ? Is it not common Of Colotur 
sense ? 

Tintfe ! pure tints ! What great things 
they are. 

I remember an old joke of the pleasant 
Du Maurier, a drawing representing two 
fashionable ladies discussing the after- 
noon's occupation. One says : " It's 
quite tob dull to see tolourS at Madame 
St. Aldegonde's ; suppose we go to the Old 
Masters' Exhibition ! " 

Rather too bad ! but the ladies were not 
so altogether frivolous as might at first 
appear. I am afraid Punch meant that 
they were triflers who looked upon 
colour in dress as important, and colour 
in pictures as a thing which would do for 
a dtiU day. But they were not quitfc sd 
far astray as this ! There are other things 
in pictures besides colour which can be 
seen with indifferent light. But to match 
clear tint against clear tint, and put 
together harmonies, there is no getting 
away from the problem ! It is all sheer, 
hard exercise; you want all your light 
for it; there is no slurring or diluting, 
no " glazing " or " scumbling/' and it 
should form a part of the teachirig, and 
yet it never does so, in our academies 


Of Colour and schools of art. A curious matter 
this is, that a painter's training leaves 
this great resource of knowledge ne- 
glected, leaves the whole thing to 
memory. Out of all the infinite possible 
harmonies only getting what rise in the 
mind at the moment from the unseen. 
While ladies who want to dress beauti- 
fully look at the things themselves, and 
compare one with another. And how 
nicely they dress. If only painters 
painted half as well. If the pictures in 
our galleries only looked half as har- 
monious as the crowd of spectators below 
them! I would have it part of every 
painter's training to practise some craft, 
or at least that branch of some craft, 
which compels the choosing and arranging, 
in due proportions for harmony, of clear, 
sharp glowing colours in some definite 
j material, from a full and lavish range 
: of existing samples. It is true that 
! here and there a painter will arise who 
has by nature that kind of instinct or 
memory, or whatever it is, that seems 
; to feel harmonies beforehand, note by 
note, and add them to one another 
with infallible accuracy ; but very few 
possess this, and for those who lack I 

am urging this training. For it is a Of Colour 
case of 

** the little more and how much it it, 
And the little less and what worlds away/' 

Millais hung a daring crimson sash over 
the creamy-white bed-quilt, in the glow 
of the subdued night-lamp, in his pic- 
ture of " Asleep," and we all thought 
what a fine thing it was. But we have 
not thought it so fine for the whole 
art world to burst into the subsequent 
imitative paroxysm of crashing discords 
in chalk, lip-salve, and skim -milk, which 
has lasted almost to this day. 

At any rate, I throw out this hint for 
pupils and students, that if they will get 
a set of glass samples and try combina- 
tions of colour in them, they will have 
a bracing and guiding influence, the 
strength of which they little dream of, 
regarding one of the hardest problems 
of their art. 

This for the student of painting in 
general : but for the glass-painter it is 
absolutely essential — the central point, 
the breath-of-life of his art. 

To live in it daily and all day. 

To be ever dealing with it thus. 

o 209 

Of Colour To handle with the hands constantly. 

To try this piece, and that piece, the 
little more and the little less. 

This is the be-all and end-all, the 
beginning and the end of the whole 
matter, and here therefore follow a few 
hints with regard to it. 

And there is one rule of such dominat- 
ing importance that all other hints group 
themselves round it; and yet, strangely 
enough, I cannot remember seeing it 
anywhere written down. 

Take three tints of glass — a purple, let 
us say, a crimson, and a green. 

Let it be supposed that, for some 
reason, you desire that this should form 
a scheme of colour for a window, or part 
of a window, with, of course, in addition, 
pure white, and probably some tints more 
neutral, greenish-whites and olives or greys, 
for background. 

You choose your purple (and, by-the- 
bye, almost the only way to get a satis- 
factory one, except by a happy accident 
now and then, is to double gold-pink with 
blue ; this is the only way to get a purple 
that will vibrate, palpitating against the 
eye like the petal of a pansy in the sun). 
Well, you get your purple, and you gel 


your green — not a sage-^recn, or an **art- Of Colour 
green/' but a cold, sharp green, like a leaf 
of parsley, an aquamarine, the tree in the 
"Eve" window at Fairford, grass in an 
orchard about sunset, or a railway-signal 
lamp at night. 

Your crimson like a peony, your 
white like white silk; and now you are 

You put slabs of these — equal-sized 
samples, we will suppose — ^side by side, 
and see " if they will do." 

And they don't " do " at all. 

Take away the red. 

The green and the purple do well 
enough, and the white. 

But you want the red, you say. 

Well, put back a tenth part of it. 

And how now .? 

Add a still smaller bit of pale pink. 

And how now ? 

Do you see what it all means.? It 
means the rule we spoke of, and which 
we may as well, therefore, now announce : 

" Harmony in colour depends not 
only upon the arranging of right % 
colours together, but the arrang- i 
ing of the right quantities and the ' 
right degrees of them together." 


Of Colour To which may be added another, hpropos 
of our bit of " pale pink." 

The harshest contrasts, even dis- 

I believe that these are the two, and 
I would even almost say the only two, 
great leading principles of the science of 
colour, as used in the service of Art ; and 
we might learn them, in all their fulness, 
in a country walk, if we were simple 
enough to like things because we like 
them, and let the kind nurse, Nature, 
take us by the hand. This very problem, 
to wit : Did you never see a purple ane- 
mone ? against its green leaves ? with a 
white centre.^ and with a thin ring of 
crimson shaded ofF into pink } And did 
you never wonder at its beauty, and 
wonder how so simple a thing could 
strike you almost breathless with pure 
physical delight and pleasure ? No doubt 
you did ; but you probably may not have 
asked yourself whether you would have 
been equally pleased if the purple, green, 
and red had all been equal in quantity, 
and the pale pink omitted. 

I remember especially in one particular 
window where this colour scheme was 


adopted — an "Anemone-coloured" win- Of Colour 

dow — the modification of the one splash 

of red by the introduction of a lighter 

pink which suggested itself in the course 

of work as it went along, and was the 

pet fancy of an assistant — ^readily accepted. 

The window in question is small and 
in nowise remarkable, but it was in the 
course of a ride taken to see it in its 
place, on one of those glorious mornings 
when Spring puts on all the pageantry 
of Summer, that the thoughts with which 
we are now dealing, and especially the 
thoughts of the infinite suggestion which 
Nature gives in untouched country and 
of the need we have to drink often at 
that fountain, were borne in upon the 
writer with more than usual force. 

To take in fully and often the glowing 
life and strength and renewal direct from 
Nature is part of every man's proper 
manhood, still more then of every artist's 
artistry and student's studentship. 

And truly 'tis no great hardship to 
go out to meet the salutary discipline 
when the country is beautiful in mid- 
April, and the road good and the sun 
pleasant. The Spring air sets the blood 
racing as you ride, and when you stop 


Of Colour and stand for a moment to enjoy these 
things, ankle-deep in roadside grass, you 
can seem to hear the healthy pulses beat- 
ing and see the wavy line of hills beating 
with them, as you look at the sun- 
warmed world. 

It is good sometimes to think where 
we are in the scheme of things, to realise 
that we are under the bell-glass of this 
balmy air, which shuts us in, safe from 
the pitch-dark spaces of infinite cold, 
through which the world is sweeping at 
eighteen miles a second; while we, with 
all our little problems to solve and work 
to do, are riding warm by this fireside, 
and the orange-tip butterflies with that 
curious pertinacity of flight which is 
speed without haste are keeping up their 
incessant, rippling patrol, to and fro along 
the length of every sunny lane, above the 
ditch-side border of white-blossomed keck! 

What has all this to do with stained- 
glass ? 

Everything, my boy ! Be a human ! 
For you have got to choose your place 
in things, and to choose on which side 
you will work. 

A choice which, in these days, more 
than ever perhaps before, is one between 


such things as these and the money* Of Colour 
getting which cares so little for them. 
I have tried to show you one side by 
speaking of a little part of what may be 
seen and felt on a spring morning, along a 
ridge of untouched hills in " pleasant Hert- 
fordshire : " ^ if you want to see the other 
side of things ride across to Buntingford, 
and take the train back up the Lea Valley. 
Look at Stratford (and smell it) and 
imagine it spreading, as no doubt it will, 
where its outposts of oil-mill and factory 
have already led the way, and think of 
the valley full up with slums, from Lea 
Bridge to Ponders End ! For the present 
writer can remember — and that not half 
a lifetime back — ^Edmonton and Totten- 
ham, Brondesbury and Upton Park, sweet 
country villages where quiet people lived 
and farmed and gardened amidst the or- 
chards, fields, and hawthorn lanes. 

Here now live, in mile after mile of 
jetry-building, the "hands" who, never 
taught any craft or work worthy of a 
man, spend their lives in some little single 
operation that, as it happens, no machine 
has yet been invented to perform ; month 
after month, year after year, painting, let 

1 West of the road between Welwyn and Hitchin, 


Of Colour us say, endless repeats of one pattern to 
use as they are required for the borders 
of pious windows in the churches of this 

This is the "other side of things," 
much commended by what is looked on 
as "robust common sense"; and with 
this you have — nothing to do. Your 
place is elsewhere, and if it needs be 
that it seems an isolated one, you must 
bear it and accept it. Nature and your 
craft will solve all; live in them, bathe 
in them to the lips; and let nothing 
tempt you away from them to measure 
things by the standard of the mart. 

Let us go back to our sunny hillside. 
"It is good for us to be here," for this 
also is Holy Ground; and you must 
indeed be much amongst such things if 
you would do stained^lass, for you will 
never learn all the joy of it in a dusty 

" So hard to get out of London ? " 

But get a bicycle then;— -only sit up- 
right on it and go slow — ^and get away 
from these bricks and mortar, to where 
we can see things like these ! those dande- 
lions and daisies against the deep, green 
grass ; the blazing candles of the sycamore 


buds against the purple haze of the oak Of Colour 
copse; and those willows like pufFs of 
grey smoke where the stream winds. Did 
you ever? No, you never! Well — do 
it then ! 

But indeed, having stated our principles 
of colour, the practice of those principles 
and the influence of nature and of nature's 
hints upon that practice are infinite, both 
in number and variety. The flowers of 
the field and garden; butterflies, birds, 
and shells; the pebbles of the shore; 
above all, the dry seaweeds, lying there, 
with the evening sun slanting through 
them. These last are exceedingly like 
both in colour and texture, or rather in 
colour and the amount of translucency, 
to fine old stsdned-glass ; so also are dead 
leaves. But, in short, the thing is endless. 
The *• wine when it is red " (or amber, as 
the case may be), even the whisky and 
water, and whisky without water, side by 
side, make just those straw and ripe-corn 
coloured golden-yellows that are so hard 
to attain in stained-glass (impossible indeed 
by means of yellow-stain), and yet so much 
to be desired and sought after. 

Will you have more hints still ? Well, 
there are many tropical butterflies, chiefly 


Of Colour among the Pierina^ with broad spaces of 
yellow dashed with one small spot or flush 
of vivid orange or red. Now you know 
how terrible yellow and red may be made 
to look in a window ; for you have seen 
"ruby" robes in conjunction with "yellow- 
stain," or the still more horrible combina- 
tion where ruby has been acided oflF from 
a yellow base. But it is a question of 
the actual quality of the two tints and 
also of their quantity. What I have 
spoken of looks horrible because the 
yellow is of a brassy tone, as stain so 
often is, especially on green-white glasses, 
and the red inclining to puce — jam-colour. 
It is no use talking, therefore, of "red 
and yellow " — ^we must say what red and 
what yellow, and how much of each. A 
magenta-coloured dahlia and a lemon put 
together would set, I should think, any 
teeth on edge; yet ripe corn goes well 
with poppies, but not too many poppies — 
while if one wing of our butterfly were 
of its present yellow and the other wing 
of the same scarlet as the spot, it would 
be an ugly object instead of one of the 
delights of God. It is interesting, it is 
fascinating to take the hint from such 
things — to splash the golden wings of 

your Resurrection Angel as he rolls away Of Colour 

the stone with scarlet beads of sunrise, 

not seen but felt from where you stand 

on the pavement below. I ^ant the reader 

to fully grasp this question of quantity^ 

so I will instance the flower of the mullein 

which contains almost the very tints of 

the " lemon," and the " dahlia " I quoted, 

and yet is beautiful by virtue of its quan-- 

titles: which may be said to be of a 

"lemon" yellow and yet can bear (ay! 

can it not ?) the little crimson stamens in 

the heart of it and its sage-green leaves 


And there is even something besides 
"tint" and "quantity." The way you 
distribute your colour matters very much. 
Some in washes, some in splashes, some 
in spots, some in stripes. What will 
" not do " in one way will often be just 
right in the other: yes, and the very 
way you treat your glass when all is 
chosen and placed together — matt in one 
place, film in another, chequering, cross- 
hatching, clothing the raw glass with 
texture and brit^ing out its nature and 
its life. 

Do not be afraid; for the things that 
yet remain to do are numberless. Do 


Of Colour you like the look of deep vivid vermilion- 
red, upon dark cold green ? Look at the 
hip-loaded rose-briar burning in the last 
rays of a red October sunset ! You get 
physical pleasure from the sight ; the eye 
seems to vibrate to the harmony as the 
ear enjoys a chord struck upon the strings. 
Therefore do not fear. But mind, it must 
be in nature's actual colour, not merely 
" green " and " red " : for I once saw the 
head of a celebrated tragic actress painted 
by a Dutch artist who, to make it as 
deathly as he could, had placed the ashen 
face upon a background of emerald-green 
with spots of actual red sealing-wax. The 
eye was so affected that the colours swung 
to and fro, producing in a short time a 
nausea like sea-sickness. That is not 

The training of the colour-sense, like 
all else, should be gradual; springing as 
it were from small seed. Be reticent, try 
small things first. You are not likely to 
be asked to do a great window all at 
once, even if you have the misfortune 
to be an independent artist approaching 
this new art without a gradual training 
under the service of others. Try some 
simple scheme from the things of Nature. 


Hyacinths look well with their leaves : Of Colour 
therefore that green and that blue, with 
the white of April clouds and the black 
of the tree-stems in the wood are colours 
that can be used together. 

You must be prepared to find almost 
a sort of penalty in this habit of looking 
at everything with the eye of a stained- 
glass artist. One seems after a time to 
see natural objects with numbers attached 
to them corresponding with the numbers 
of one's glasses in the racks: butterflies 
flying about labelled " No. 50, deep," or 
"75^, pale," or a bit of "123, special 
streaky " in the sunset. But if one does 
not obtrude this so as to bore one's 
friends, the little personal discomfort, if 
it exists, is a very small price to pay for 
the delight of living in this glorious fairy- 
land of colour. 

Do not think it beneath your dignity 
or as if you were shirking some vital 
artistic obligation, to take hints from these 
natural objects, or from ancient or modern 
glass, in a perfectly frank and simple 
manner ; nay, even to match your whole 
colour scheme, tint for tint, by them if 
it seems well to you. You may get h^lp 
anywhere and from anything, and as much 


Of Colour as you like ; it will only be so much more 
chance for you; so much richer a store 
to choose from, so much stronger resource 
to guide to good end ; for after all, with 
all the helps you can get, much lies in 
the doing. Do what you like then — as 
a child : but be sure you do like it : and 
if the window wants a bit of any particular 
tint, put it there, meaning or no meaning. 
If there is no robe or other feature to 
excuse and account for it in the spot 
which seems to crave for it, — put the 
colour in, anywhere and anyhow — ^in the 
background if need be — a sudden orange 
or ruby "quarry'* or bit of a quarry, 
as if the thing were done in purest 
waywardness. "You would like a bit 
there if there were an excuse for it?" 
Then there is an excuse — the best of 
all — that the eye demands it. Do it 

But to work in this way (it hardly 
need be said) you must watch and work 
at your glass yourself; for these hints 
come late on in the work, when colour, 
light and shade, and design are all fusing 
together into a harmony. You can no 
more forecast these final accidents, which 
are the flower and crown and finish of 


the whole, than you could forecast the Of Colour 
lost "Chord";— 

*^ Whicb came from the soul of the organ, 
And entered into mme/' 

It ** comes from the soul '* of the window. 

We all know the feeling — the climaxes, 
exceptions, surprises, suspensions, in which 
harmony delights ; the change from the 
last bar of the overture to the first of 
the opening recitative in the " Messiah," 
the chord upon which the victor is 
crowned in "The Meistersingers," the 
59th and 60th bars in HandeFs "Every 
Valley." (I hope some of us are ** old- 
fashioned" enough to be unashamed of 
still believing in Handel !) 

Or if it may be said that these are 
hardly examples of the kind of accidental 
things I have spoken of, being rather, 
indeed, the deliberately arranged climax 
to which the whole construction has been 
leading, I would instance the 12th (com- 
plete) bar in the overture to "Tann- 
hauser," the 20th and 22nd bar in Chopin's 
Funeral March, the change from the 
minor to major in Schubert's Romance 
from *' Rosamunde," and the 24th bar 
in his Serenade (Standcben)^ the 13th 


Of Colour and following bars of the Crescendo in 
the Largo Appassionato of Beethoven's 
Op. 2. Or if you wish to have an 
example where all is exception, like one 
of the south nave windows in York 
Minster, the opening of the " Sonata Ap- 
passionata/' Op. 57. 

Now how can you forecast such things 
as these ! 

Let me draw another instance from 
actual practice. I was once painting a 
figure of a bishop in what I meant to be 
a dark green robe, the kind of black, 
and yet vivid, green of the summer leaf- 
age of the oak; for it was St. Boniface 
who cut down the heathen oak of Frisia. 
But the orphreys of his cope were to be 
embroidered in gold upon this green, and 
therefore the pattern had first to be 
acided out in white upon a blue-flashed 
glass, which yellow stain over all would 
afterwards turn into green and gold. 
And when all was prepared and the 
staining should have followed, my head 
man sent for me to come to the shop, and 
there hung the figure with its dark green 
robe with orphreys of deep blue and stiver. 

"I thought you'd like to look at it 
before we stained it,'* said he. 


"Stain it!" I said. "I wouldn't Of Colour 
touch it; not for sixpence three-far- 
things ! " 

There was a sigh of relief all round 
the shop, and the reply was, **Well, so 
we all thought ! *' 

Just so ; therefore the figure remained, 
and so was erected in its place. Now 
suppose I had had men who did what they 
were told, instead of being encouraged to 
think and feel and suggest ? 

A serious word to you about this ques- 
tion of staining. It is a resource very 
easily open to abuse — to excess. Be care- 
ful of the danger, and never stain without 
first trying the effect on the back of the 
easel-plate with pure gamboge, and if you 
wish for a very clear orange-stain, mix 
with the gamboge a little ordinary red 
ink. It is too much the custom to 
** pick out " every bit of silver " canopy " 
work with dottings and stripings of 
yellow. A little sometimes warms up 
pleasantly what would be too cold — and 
the old men used it with effect : but the 
modern tendency, as is the case in all 
things merely imitative, is to overdo it. 
For the old men used it very differently 
from those who copy them in the way I 

p 225 

Of Colour am speaking of, and, to begin with, used 
it chiefly on pure white glass. Much 
modern canopy work is done on greenish- 
white, upon which the stain immediately 
becomes that greenish-yellow that I have 
called " brassy.** A little of this can be 
borne, when side by side with it is placed 
stain upon pure white. The reader will 
easily find, if he looks for them, plenty 
of examples in old glass, where the stain 
upon the white glass has taken even a 
rosy tinge exactly like that of a yellow 
crocus seen through its white sheath. 
It is perhaps owing partly to patina on 
the old glass, which " scumbles *' it ; but 
I have myself sometimes succeeded in 
getting the same effect by using yellow- 
stain on pure white glass. A whole win- 
dow, where the highest light is a greenish 
white, is to me very unpleasant, and when 
in addition yellow-stain is used, unbear- 
able. This became a fashion in stained- 
glass when red-lead-coloured pigments, 
started by BarfTs formula, came into 
general use. They could not be used 
on pure white glass, and therefore pure 
white glass was discarded and greenish- 
white used instead. I can only say that 
if the practice of stained-glass were prc- 


sented to me with this condition — of Of Colour 
abstaining from the use of pure white — 
I would try to learn some useful trade. 

There is another question of ideals in 
the treatment of colour in stained-glass 
about which a word must be said. 

Those who are enthusiastic about the 
material of stained-glass and its improve- 
ment are apt to condemn the degree of 
heaviness with which windows are ordi- 
narily painted, and this to some extent 
is a just criticism. But I cannot go the 
length of thinking that all matt-painting 
should be avoided, and outline only used ; 
or that stained-glass material can, except 
under very unusual conditions and rn 
exceptional situations, be independent of 
this resource. As to the slab-glasses — 
**Early-English," "Norman," or "stamped- 
circles ** — which are chiefly affected by this 
question, the texture and surface upon 
which their special character depends is 
sometimes a very useful resource in work 
seen against, or partly against, background 
of trees or buildings; while against an 
entirely " borrowed " light perhaps, some- 
times, it can almost dispense with any 
painting. The grey shadows that come 
from the background play about in the 


Of Colour glass and modify its tones, doing the 
work of paintingy and doing it much 
more beautifully. But this advantage 
cannot always be had, for it vanishes 
against clear sky. It is all, therefore, a 
question of situation and of aspect, and I 
believe the right rule to be to do in all 
cases what seems best for every individual 
bit of glass — that each piece should be 
"cared for*' on its merits and " nursed," 
so to speak, and its qualities brought out 
and its beauty heightened by any and every 
means, just as if it were a jewel to be cut 
(or left uncut) or foiled (or left unfoiled) 
— ^as Benvenuto Cellini would treat, as he 
tells you he did treat, precious stones. 
There is a fashion now of thinking that 
gems should be uncut. Well, gems are 
hardly a fair comparison in discussing 
stained-glass ; for in glass what we aim 
at is the effect of a composition and com- 
bination of a multitude of things, while 
gems are individual things, for the most 
part, to be looked at separately. But I 
would not lay down a rule even about 
jems. Certainly the universal, awkward, 
Faceting of all precious stones — ^which is 
a relic of the mid-Victorian period — ^is a 
vulgarity that one is glad to be rid of; but 

if one wants for any reason the special Of Colour 
sparkle, here or there, which comes from 
it, why not use it? I would use it in 
stained'-glass — have done so. If I have 
got my window already brilliant and the 
whites pure white, and still want, over and 
above all this, my " Star of the Nativity," 
let us say, to sparkle out with a light that 
cannot be its own, shall I not use a faceted 
** jewel" of glass, forty feet from the eye, 
where none can see what it is but only what 
it does, just because it would be a gross 
vulgarity to use it where it would pretend 
to be a diamond ? 

The safe guide (as far as there can be a 
guide where I have maintained that there 
should not be a rule) is, surely, to gener- 
ally get the depth of colour that you want 
by the glass itself, if you can^ and therefore 
with that aim to deal with rich, full- 
coloured glass and to promote its manu- 
facture. But this being once done and the 
resource carried to its full limit, there is 
no reason why you should deny yourself the 
further resource of touching it with pig- 
ment to any extent that may seem fit to 
you as an artist, and necessary to get the 
efiect of colour and texture that you arc 
suming at, in the thing seen as a whole. 


Of Colour As to the exaggeration of making acci- 
dental streaks in the glass do duty for 
folds of drapery, and manufacturing glass 
(as has been done) to meet this purpose, I 
hold the thing to be a gross degradation 
and an entire misconception of the relation 
of materials to art. You may also lay this 
to mind, as a thing worthy of consideration, 
that all old glass was painted, and that 
no school of stained-glass has ever existed 
which made a principle of refusing this 
aid. I would never argue from this that 
such cannot exist, but it is a thing to 
be thought on. 

Throw your net, then, into every sea, 
and catch what you can. Learn what 
purple is, in the north ambulatory at 
York ; what green is, in the east window 
of the same, in the ante-chapel of New 
College, Oxford, and in the "Adam and 
Eve " window in the north aisle at Fair- 
ford ; what blue and red are, in the 
glorious east window of the nave at 
Gloucester, and in the glow and gloom of 
Chartres and Ginterbury and King*s Col- 
lege, Cambridge. And when you have 
got all these things in your mind, and 
gathered lavishly in the field of Nature 
also, face your problem with a heart 

heated through with the memory of them Of Colour 
ally and with a will braced as to a great 
and arduous task, but one of rich reward. 
For remember this (and so let us draw 
to an end), that in any large window the 
spaces are so great and the problems so 
numerous that a few colours and group- 
ings of colour, however well chosen, will 
not suffice. Set out the main scheme of 
colours first : those that shall lead and 
preponderate and convey your meaning 
to the mind and your intended impres- 
sion to the eye. But if you stop here, 
the effect will be hard and coarse and cold - 
hearted in its harmonies, a lot of banging 
notes like a band all brass, not out of 
tune perhaps, but craving for the infinite 
embroidery of the strings and wood. 

When, therefore, the main relations of 
colour have been all set out and decided 
for your window, turn your attention to 
small differences, to harmonies round the 
harmonies. Make each note into a chord, 
each tint into a group of tints, not only 
the strong and bold, but also the subtle 
and tender ; do not miss the value of small 
modifications of tint that soften brilliance 
into glow. Study how Nature does it on 
the petals of the pansy or sweet- pea. 


Of Colour You think a pansy is purple, and there an 
end? but cut out the pale yellow band, 
the orange central spot, the faint lilacs 
and whites in between, and where is your 
pansy gone ? 

• ••••• 

And here I must now leave it to you. 
But one last little hint, and do not smile 
at its simplicity. 

For the problem, after all, when you 
have gathered all the hints you can from 
nature or the past, and collected your 
resources from however varied fields, re- 
solves itself at last into one question — 
" How shall I do it in glass ? " And the 
practical solving of this problem is in 
the handling of the actual Ints of coloured 
glass which are the tools of your craft. 
And for manipulating these I have found 
nothing so good as that old-fashioned toy 
— ^still my own delight when a sick-bed 
enforces idleness — the kaleidoscope. A 
sixpenny one, pulled to pieces, will give 
you the knowledge of how to make it ; and 
you will find a "Bath-Oliver" biscuit- tin, 
or a large-sized millboard "postal-roll" 
will make an excellent instrument. But 
the former is best, because you also then 
have the lid and the end. If you cut 

away all the end of the lid except a OfColoor 
rim of one-eighth of an inch, and insert 
in its place with cement a piece of 
ground'glass, and then, inside this, have 
another lid of clear glass cemented on to 
a rim of wood or millboard, you can, in 
the space between the two, place chips 
of the glasses you think of using; and, 
replacing the whole on the instrument, a 
few minutes of turning with the hand 
will give you, not hundreds, but thou- 
sand of changes, both of the arrangement, 
and, what is far more important, of the ^ 
proportions of the various colours. You 
can thus in a few moments watch them 
pass through an almost infinite succession 
of changes in their relation to each other, 
and form your judgment on those changes, 
choosing finally that which seems best. 
And I really think that the fact of these 
combinations being presented to us, as 
they are by the action of the instrument, 
arranged in ordered shapes, is a help to 
the judgment in deciding on the harmonies 
of colour. It is natural that it should be 
so. " Order is Heaven's first law." And 
it is right that we should rejoice in things 
ordered and arranged, as the savage in 
his string of beads, and reasonable that we 


Of Colour should find it easier to judge them in order 
rather than confused. 

Each in his place. How good a thing 
it is ! how much to be desired ! how well 
if we ourselves could be so, and know of 
the pattern that we make ! For our lives 
are like the broken bits of glass, sadly 
or brightly coloured, jostled about and 
shaken hither and thither, in a seeming 
confusion, which yet we hope is some- 
where held up to a light in which each 
one meets with his own, and holds his 
place ; and, to the Eye that watches, plays 
his part in a universal harmony by us, as 
yet, unseen. 


Of Archi- 



Come, in thought, reader, and stand in 
quiet village churches, nestling amongst 
trees where rooks are building ; or in gaps 
of the chalk downs, where the village 
shelters from the wind ; or in stately 
cathedrals, where the aisles echo to the 
footstep and the sound of the chimes 
comes down, with the memory of the cen- 
turies which have lived and died. Here 



the old artists set their handmark to live Of Archi- 

now they are gone, and we who see it ^?5^*^ 

to-day sec, if our eye be single, with what 

sincerity they built, carved, or painted 

their heart and life into these stones. In 

such a spirit and for such a memorial you 

too must do your work, to be weighed by 

the judgment of the coming ages, when 

you in turn are gone, in the same balance 

as theirs — perhaps even side by side with it. 

And will you dare to venture ? Have 
no fear if you also bring your best. But 
if we enter on work like this as to a 
mere market for our wares, and with no 
other thought than to make a brisk busi- 
ness with those that buy and sell ; we well 
may pray that some merciful scourge of 
small cords drive us also hence to dig or 
beg (which is more honourable), lest worse 
befall us ! 

And I do not say these things because 
this or that place is ** God's house." All 
places are so, and the first that was called 
so was the bare hillside ; but because you 
are a man and have indeed here arrived, 
as there the lonely traveller did, at the 
arena of your wrestling. But, granted 
that you mean to hold your own and put 
your strength into it, I have brought 


Of Archi- you to these grave walls to consult with 
tectural them as to the limits they impose upon 
^•'»"* your working. 

And perhaps the most important of all 
is already observed by your hing here^ for 
it is important that you should visit, 
whenever possible, the place where you 
are to do work ; if you are not able to do 
this, get all the particulars you can as to 
aspect and surroundings. And yet a re- 
servation must be made, even upon all 
this; for everything depends upon the 
way we use it, and if you only have an 
eye to the showing off of your work to 
advantage, treating the church as a mere 
frame for your picture, it would be better 
that your window should misfit and have 
to be cut down and altered, or anything 
else happen to it that would help to put 
it back and make it take second place. It 
is so hard to explain these things so that 
they cannot be misconstrued ; but you re- 
member I quoted the windows at St. 
Philip's, Birmingham, as an example of 
noble thought and work carried to the 
pitch of perfection and design. But that 
was in a classic building, with large, plain, 
single openings without tracery. Do you 
think the artist would have let himself go, 

in that full and ample way, in a beautiful Of Archi- 
Gothic building full of lovely architectural tcctural 
detail? Not so: rather would he have ^"°«" 
made his pictures hang lightly and daintily 
in the air amongst the slender shafts, as 
in St. Martin's Church in the same town, 
at Jesus College and at All Saints* Church, 
Cambridge, at Tamworth ; and in Lynd- 
hurst, and many another church where 
the architecture, to say truth, had but 
•slender claims to such respect. 

• .«..• 

In short, you must think of the building 
first, and make your windows help it. 
You must observe its scale and the spacing 
and proportions of its style, and place 
your own work, with whatever new feeling 
and new detail may be natural to you, well 
within those circumscribing bounds. 

But here we find ourselves suddenly 
brought sharp up, face to face with a 
most difficult and thorny subject, upon 
which we have rushed without knowini 
it. " Must we observe then '* (you say 
" the style of the building into which we 
put our work, and not have a style of our 
own that is native to us ? 

" This is contrary to all you have been 
preaching ! The old men did not so. Did 



Of Archi- they not add the fancies of their own 
tectural time to the old work, and fill with their 
dainty, branching tracery the severe, round- 
headed, Norman openings of Peterborough 
and Gloucester ? Did fifteenth-century 
men do thirteenth-century glass when they 
had to refill a window of that date ? '* No. 
Nor must you. Never imitate, but graft 
your own work on to the old, reverently, 
and only changing from it so far forth as 
you, like itself, have also a living tradition, 
springing from mastery of craft — naturally, 
spontaneously, and inevitably. 

Whether we shall ever again have such 
a tradition running throughout all the 
arts is a thing that cannot possibly be 
foretold. But three things we may be 
quite sure of. 

First, that if it comes it will not be by 
way of any imitative revival of a past style ; 

Second, that it will be in harmony with 
the principles of Nature; and 

Third, that it will be founded upon the 
crafts, and brought about by craftsmen 
working in it with their own hands, on 
the materials of architecture, designing 
only what they themselves can execute, 
and giving employment to others only in 
what they themselves can do. 


A word about each of these three con- 

In the course of the various attempted 
revivals in architecture that have taken 
place during the past sixty years, it has 
been frequently urged both by writers and 
architects that we should agree to revive 
some one style of ancient art that might 
again become a national style of archi- 
tecture. It would, indeed, no doubt be 
better, if we must speak in a dead lan- 
guage, to agree to use only one, instead of 
our present confusion of tongues : but what, 
after all, is the adopting of this principle 
at all but to engage once again in the re- 
planting of a full-grown tree — the mistake 
of the Renaissance and the Gothic revival 
repeated ? Such things never take firm root 
or establish healthy growth which lives and 
goes on of its own vitality. They never 
succeed in obtaining a natural, national 
sympathy and acceptance. The move- 
ment is a scholarly and academic one, and 
the art so remains. The reaction against 
it is always a return to materials, and 
almost always the first result of this is a 
revival of simplicity. People get tired of 
being surrounded with elaborate mould- 
ings and traceries and other architectural 


Of Archi- 

Of Archi- 

features, which are not the natural growth 
of their own day but of another day long 
since dead, which had other thoughts and 
moods, feelings and aspirations. " Let us 
have straightforward masonry and simple 
openings, and ornament them with some- 
thing from Nature." 

So in the very midst of the pampered 
and enervated over-refinement of Roman 
decay, Constantine did something more 
than merely turn the conquering eagle 
back, against the course of the heavens, 
for which Dante seems to blame him,^ 
when he established his capital at Byzan- 
tium; for there at once upon the new 
soil, and in less than a single century, 
sprang to life again all the natural modes 
of building and decoration that, despised 
as barbaric, had been ignored and for- 
gotten amid the Roman luxury and sham. 

It is a curious feature of these latest 
days of ours that this searching after 
sincerity should seem to be leading us 
towards a similar revival; taking even 
very much the same forms. We went 
back, at the time of the Gothic revival, 
to the forgotten Gothic art of stained- 
glass; now tired, as it would seem, of 

* Paradise, canto vi. i. 

the insincerity and mere spirit of imita- 
tion with which it and similar arts have 
been practised, a number of us appear to 
be ready to throw it aside, along with 
scholarly mouldings and traceries, and 
build our arts afresh out of the ground, 
as was done by the Byzantines, with plain 
brickwork, mosaic, and matched slabs of 
marble. Definite examples in recent archi- 
tecture will occur to the reader. But I am 
thinking less of these — which for the most 
part are deliberate and scholastic revivals 
of a particular style, founded on the study 
of previous examples and executed on rigid 
academic methods — than of what appears 
to be a widespread awakening to principles 
of simplicity, sincerity, and common sense 
in the arts of building generally. Signs 
are not wanting of a revived interest in 
^)uilding — a revived interest in materials 
for their own sake, and a revived practice 
of personally working in them and ex- 
perimenting with them. One calls to 
mind examples of these things, growing 
in number daily — plain and strong fur- 
niture made with the designer's own 
hands and without machinery, and en- 
joyed in the making — made for actual 
places and personal needs and tastes; 

« HI 


Of Archi- 

houses built in the same spirit by archi- 
tects who condescend to be masons also ; 
an efFort here and an efFort there to revive 
the common ways of building that used 
to prevail — and not so long ago — ^for the 
ordinary housing and uses of country- 
folk* and country-life, and which gave us 
cottages, barns, and sheds throughout the 
length and breadth of the land ; simple 
things for simple needs, built by simple 
men, without self-consciousness, for actual 
use and pleasant dwelling; traditional 
construction and the habits of making 
belonging to the country-side. These 
still linger in the time-honoured ways 
of making the waggon and the cart 
and the plough; but they have vanished 
from architecture and building except in 
so far as they are being now, as I have 
said, consciously and deliberately revived 
by men who are going back from academic 
methods, to found their arts once more 
upon the actual making of things with 
their own hand and as their hand and 
materials will guide them. 

This was what happened in the time 
to which I have referred : in the dawn 
of the Christian era and of a new civilisa- 
tion ; and it has special interest for us of 


to-day, because it was not a ease of an 
infant or savage race, beginning all things 
from seed ; but the revival, as in Sparta, 
centuries before it, of simplicity and 
sincerity of life, in the midst of enerva- 
tion, luxury, and decay. 

This seems our hope for the future. 

There has already gathered together 
in the great field of the arts of to-<iay 
a little Byzantium of the crafts setting 
itself to learn from the beginning how 
things are actually made, how built, 
hammered, painted, cut, stitched ; casting 
aside theories and academical thought, 
and founding itself upon simplicity, and 
sincerity^ and materials. And the architect 
who condescends, or, as we should rather 
say, aspires, to be a builder and a master- 
mason, true director of his craft, will, if 
things go on as they seem now going, 
find in the near future a band around 
him of other workers so minded, and 
will have these bright tools of the ac- 
cessory crafts ready to his hand. This 
it is, if anything, that will solve all the 
vexed questions of "style," and lead, if 
anything will, to the art of the times to 
be. For the reason why the nineteenth 
century complained so constantly that it 


Of Archi. 


Of Archi- had " no style of architecture " was surely 
tectural because it had every style of architecture, 
and a race of architects who could design 
in every style because they could build 
in no style; knew by practical handling 
and tooling nothing of the real natures 
and capacities of stone or brick or wood 
or glass ; received no criticism from their 
materials; whereas these should have 
daily and hourly moulded their work 
and formed the very breath of its life, 
warning and forbidding on the one hand, 
suggesting on the other, and so directing 
over all. 

I have thought fit, dear student, to 
touch on these great questions in passing, 
that you may know where you stand ; 
but our real business is with ourselves : 
to make ourselves so secure upon firm 
standing ground, in our own particular 
province, that when the hour arrives, it 
may find in us the man. Let us there- 
fore return again from these bright hopes 
to consider those particular details of 
architectural fitness which are our proper 
business as workers in glass. 

What, then, in detail, are the rules 
that must guide us in placing windows 
in ancient buildings? But first — may we 


place windows in ancient buildings at all ? 
" No/' say some ; " because we have no 
right to touch the past ; it is * restoration/ 
a word that has covered, in the past," they 
say (and we must agree with them), " a 
mass of artistic crime never to be expiated, 
and of loss never to be repaired." " Yes," 
say others, " because new churches will be 
older in half-an-hour — half-an-hour older ; 
for the world has moved, and where will 
you draw the line ? Also, glass has to be 
renewed^ you must put in something, or 
some one must." 

Let each decide the question for him- 
self ; but, supposing you admit that it is 
permissible, what are the proper restric- 
tions and conditions ? 

You must not tell a lie, or " match " 
old work, joining your own on to it as 
if itself were old. 

Shall we work in the style of the " New 
art,*' then — "/V/ Nouveau'' ? the style 
of the last new poster? the art-tree, the 
art-bird, the art-squirm, and the ace of 
spades form of ornament ? 

Heaven in mercy defend us and forbid 

Canopies are venerable ; thirteenth-cen- 
tury panels and borders are venerable, the 


Of Archi. 

Of Archi. 

great traditional vestments are so, and 
liturgy, and symbolism, and ceremony. 
These are not things of one age alone, 
but belong to all time. Get, wherever 
possible, authority on all these points. 

Must we work in a "style," then — z 
" Gothic " style ? 


What rule, then f 

It is hard to formulate so as to cover 
all questions, but something thus : — 

Take forms, and proportions, and scale 
from the style of the church you are to 
work in. 

Add your own feeling to it from — 

(i) The feeling of the day, but the 
best and most reverent feeling. 

(2) From Nature. 

(3) From (and the whole conditioned 
by) materials and the knowledge of 

Finally, let us say that you must con- 
sider each case on its merits, and be ready 
even sometimes perhaps to admit that the 
old white glass may be better for a certain 
position than your new glass could be, 
while old stained-glass^ of course, should 
always be sacred to you, a thing to be 
left untouched. Even where new work 


seems justifiable and to be demanded, 
proceed as if treading on holy ground. 
Do not try crude experiments on vener- 
able and beautiful buildings, but be 
modest and reticent; know the styles of 
the past thoroughly and add your own 
fresh feeling to them reverently. And 
in thought do not think it necessary to 
be novel in order to be original. There 
is quite enough originality in making a 
noble figure of a saint, or treating with 
reverent and dignified art some actual 
theme of Scripture or tradition, and 
working into its detail the sweetness of 
nature and the skill of your hands, with- 
out going into eccentricity for the sake 
of novelty, and into weak allegory to 
show your originality and independence, 
tired with the world-old truths and laws 
of holy life and noble character. And 
this leads us to the point where we must 
speak of these deep things in the great 
province of thought. 







Of Thought, " The first thing one should demand of 
Imagbation, a man who calls himself an artist is that 
Ali^^ A^ has something to say^ some truth to 
*gory fg^^f^^ ^^f^g lesson to enforce. "DorCt you 

think so f •• 

Thus once said to mc an artist of re- 
spectable attainment. 

" / don^t care a hang for subject; give me 
good colour^ composition^ fine effects of lights 
skill in technique^ thafs all one wants. 'DorCt 
you think so ? " 

Thus once said to me a member of 
a window - committee, himself also an 

To both I answered, and would answer 
with all the emphasis possible — No ! 

The first duty of an artist, as of every 
other kind of worker, is to know his 
business; and, unless he knows it, all 
the *' truths" he wishes to "teach," and 
the lessons he wishes to enforce, are but 


degraded and discredited in the eyes of Of Thought, 
men by his bungling advocacy. Imagination, 

On the other hand, the artist who has yyj^ ^ 
trained himself to speak with the tongues 
of angels and after all has nothing to say, 
is also, to me, an imperfect being. What 
follows is written, as the whole book is 
written, for the young student, just be- 
ginning his career and feeling the pres- 
sure and conflict of these questions. For 
such I must venture to discuss points 
which the wise and the experienced may 
pass by. 

The present day is deluged with alle- 
gory; and the first thing three students 
out of four wish to attempt when they 
arrive at the stage of original art is the 
presentation, by figures and emblems, of 
some deep abstract truth, some problem 
of the great battle of life, some force of 
the universe that they begin to feel around 
them, pressing upon their being. Forty 
years ago such a thing was hardly heard 
of. In the sketching-clubs at the Aca- 
demies of that day, the historical, the 
concrete, or the respectably pious were all 
that one ever saw. We can hardly realise 
it, the art of the late sixties. The pre- 
Raphaelite brotherhood, as such, a thing 


Of Thought, of the past, and seemingly leaving few 
ImaginatioD, imitators. Burne -Joncs just heard of as a 
Allccory Strange, unknown artist, who wouldn't ex- 
hibit his pictures, but who had done some 
queer new kind of stained-^lass windows 
at Lyndhurst, which one might perhaps 
be curious to see when we went (as of 
course we must) to worship " Leighton's 
great altar-piece." Nay, ten years later, 
at the opening of the Grosvenor Gallery, 
the new, imaginative, and allegorical art 
could be met with a large measure of 
derision, and Punch could write, regarding 
it, an audacious and contemptuous parody 
of the " Palace of Art " ; while, abroad, 
Botticelli's Primavera hung over a door, 
and the attendants at the Uffizii were 
puzzled by requests, granted grudgingly 
yf granted), to have his other pictures 
placed for copying and study! Times 
have altogether changed, and we now see 
in every school competition — often set as 
the subject of such — abstract and allego- 
rical themes, demanding for their adequate 
expression the highest and deepest thought 
and the noblest mood of mind and views 
of life. 

It is impossible to lay down any hard 
and fast rule about these things, for each 


case must differ. There is such a thing as Of Thought, 
genius^ and where that is there is but small Imagination, 
question of rules or even of youth or age, J^ 
maturity or immaturity. And even apart 
from the question of genius the mind of 
childhood is a very precious thing, and 
"the thoughts of youth are long, long 
thoughts.*' Nay, the mere fact of youth 
with its trials, is a great thing ; we shall 
never again have such a chance, such 
fresh, responsive hearts, such capacity for 
feeling — for sufFering — that school of 
wisdom and source of inspiration ! It is 
well to record its lessons while they are 
fresh, to jot down for ourselves, if we 
can, something of the passing hours ; to 
store up their thoughts and feelings for 
future expression perhaps, when our 
powers of expression have grown more 
worthy of them; but it is not well to 
try to make universal lessons out of, or 
universal applications of, what we haven't 
ourselves learned. Our own proper 
lesson at this time is to learn our 
trade; to strengthen our weak hands 
and train the ignorance of our mind to 
knowledge day by day, strenuously, and 
only spurred on by the deep stirrings of 
thought and life within us, which gener- 


Of Thought, ally ought to remain for the present 
Imagination, unspoken. 

^y?° A great point of happiness in this dan- 

gerous and critical time is to have a 
definite trade; learnt in its completeness 
and practised day by day, step by step, 
upwards from its elements, in constant 
subservience to wise and kind master- 
ship. This indeed is a golden lot, and 
one rare in these days; and perhaps we 
must not look to be so shielded. This 
was the sober and happy craftsmanship of 
the Middle Ages, and produced for us 
all that imagery and ornature, instinct 
with gaiety and simplicity of heart, which 
decorates, where the hand of the ruthless 
restorer has spared it, the churches and 
cathedrals of Europe. 

But in these changeful days it would be 
rash indeed to forecast where lies the 
sphere of duty for any individual life. It 
may lie in the reconstruction by solitary, 
personal experiment, of some forgotten 
art or system, the quiet laying of founda- 
tion for the future rather than building 
the monument of to-day. Or perhaps the 
self-devoted life of the seer may be the 
Age's chief need, and it is not a Giotto 
that is wanted for the twentieth century 


but a Dante or a Blake, with the ac- Of Thought, 
companying destiny of having to prove ImagiMtion, 
as they did— Allegory 

** si come Ba di sale 
Lo pane altrui, e com'^ duro calle 
Lo scendere e'l salir per I'altrui scale." ^ 

But, however these things be, whether 
working happily in harmony with the 
scheme of things around us, and only con- 
cerned to give it full expression, or not ; 
whether we are the fortunate apprentices 
of a well -taught trade, gaining secure 
and advancing knowledge day by day, 
or whether we are lonely experimen- 
talists, wringing the secret from reluctant 
Nature and Art upon some untrodden 
path ; there is one last great principle that 
covers all conditions, solves all questions, 
and is an abiding rock which remains, 
unfailing foundation on which all may 
build ; and that is the constant measuring 
of our smallness against the greatness of 
things, a thing which, done in the right 

" how tastes of salt 
The bread of others^ and how is hard the passage 
To go down and to go up by othei^s stairs." 

— Paradise f xvii. 58. 


Of Thought, spirit, docs not daunt, but inspires. For 
ImaginattoD, ^hc greatness of all things is ours for the 

AJlceorv w^^^^^g* almost for the asking. 

The great imaginative poets and thinkers 
and artists of the mid-nineteenth century 
have drawn aside for us the curtain of 
the world behind the veil, and he would 
be an ambitious man who would expect 
to set the mark higher, in type of beauty 
or depth of feeling, than they have placed 
it for us; but all must hope to do so, 
even if they do not expect it; for the 
great themes are not exhausted or ever 
to be exhausted; and the storehouse of 
the great thought and action of the past 
is ever open to us to clothe our naked- 
ness and enrich our poverty; we need 
only ask to have. 

"Ah!" said Coningsby, "I should like 
to be a great man.*' 

The stranger threw at him a scrutinis- 
ing glance. His countenance was serious. 
He said in a voice of almost solemn 
melody — 

"Nurture your mind with great 
thoughts. To believe in the heroic 
makes heroes."^ 

All the great thoughts of the world 

^ Coningsby, Book iii. ch. i. 


are stored up in books, and all the great Of Thought, 

books of the world, or nearly all, have Imagination, 

been translated into English. You should AHcgory 

make it a systematic part of your life to 

search these things out and, if only by a 

page or two, try how far they fit your need. 

We do not enough realise how wide a 

field this is, how great an undertaking, 

how completely unattainable except by 

carefully husbanding our time from the 

start, how impossible it is in the span of 

a human life to read the great books 

unless we strictly save the time which so 

many spend on the little books. Ruskin's 

words on this subject, almost harsh in 

their blunt common sense, bring the matter 

home so well that I cannot refrain from 

quoting them.^ 

"Do you know, if you read this, that you 
cannot read that — ^that what you lose to- 
day you cannot gain to-morrow? Will 
you go and gossip with your housemaid, 
or your stable-boy, when you may talk 
with queens and kings; or flatter your- 
selves that it is with any worthy conscious^ 
ness of your own claims to respect that 
you jostle with the common crowd for 
entrAe here, and audience there, when all 

^ " Sesame and Lilies," Lecture L 



Of Thought, the while this eternal court is open to you. 
Imagination, ^ith its society wide as the world, multi- 
Alkgorv tudinous as its days, the chosen, and the 
mighty, of every place and time ? Into 
that you may enter always; in that you 
may take fellowship and rank according to 
your wish; from that, once entered into 
it, you can never be outcast but by your 
own fault; by your aristocracy of com- 
panionship there, your own inherent aris- 
tocracy will be assuredly tested, and the 
motives with which you strive to take 
high place in the society of the living, 
measured, as to all the truth and sincerity 
that are in them, by the place you desire 
to take in this company of the Dead." 

This is the great world of books that 
is open to you ; and how shall you find 
your way in it, in these days, amongst the 
plethora of the second and third and 
fourth rate, shouting out at you and be- 
sieging your attention on every stall ? It 
is no more possible to give you entire 
guidance towards this than to give com- 
plete advice on any other problem of life ; 
your own nature must be your guide, 
choosing the good and refusing the evil 
in the degree in which itself is good or 
evil. But one may name some landmarks, 


set up some guide-posts, and the best of all Of Thought, 
guidance surely is not that of a guide-post, Imagination, 
but that of a guide, a kindly hand of one AUcgorv 
who knows the way, to take your hand. 

Do you ask for such a guide ? A man 
of our own day, in full view of all its 
questions from the loftiest to the least, 
and heart and soul engaged in them, with 
deep and sympathetic wisdom born of his 
own companionship with all the great 
thoughts of the ages? One surely need 
not hesitate a moment in naming as the 
one for our special needs the writer we 
have just quoted. 

Scattered up and down the whole of 
his works is constant reference to and 
commentary upon the great themes of 
all ages, the great creeds of all peoples. 

"Queen of the Air," "Aratra Pente- 
lici," "Ariadne Florentina," '*The Morn- 
ings in Florence," "St Mark's Rest," 
" The Oxford Inaugural Lectures," " The 
Bible of Amiens," " Fors Clavigera." 

With these as portals you can enter by 
easy steps into the whole universe of 
great things: the divine myth and sym 
bolism of the old pagan world (as we call 
it) and of more recent Christendom; all 
the makers of ancient Greece and Italy 

R 257 

Of Thought, and of our own England; worship and 
Imagination, kingship and leadership, and the high 
. .?°^ thought and noble deed of all times, 
^gory ^^^ clustering in groups round these 
centres is the world of books. All Theo- 
logy, Philosophy, Poetry, Sacred History ; 
Homer, Plato, Virgil, the Bible, and the 
Breviary. The great doctors and saints, 
kings and heroes, poets and painters, 
Geromc and Dominic and Francis; St. 
Louis and Coeur - de - Lion ; Dante, St. 
Jerome, Chaucer, and Froissart; Bot- 
ticelli, Giotto, Angelico; the "Golden 
Legend '* ; and many another ancient or 
modern legend and story or passage from 
the history of some great and splendid 
life, or illuminating hint upon the beauties 
of liturgy and symbolism. They, and a 
hundred other things, are all gathered up 
and introduced to us in Ruskin's books ; 
and we are shown them from the exact 
standpoint from which they are most 
likely to appeal to us, and be of use. 
There never was a great world made 
so easy and pleasant of entrance for the 
adventuring traveller; you have only to 
enter and take possession. 

Do you incline towards myth and sym- 
bolism and allegory — the expression of 

abstract thought by beautiful figures ? Of Thought, 
Read the myths of Greece expounded to Imagination, 
you in their exquisite spirituality in the Allccorv 
"Queen of the Air." Or is your bent 
devotion and the devout life, expressed 
in thrilling story and gorgeous colour? 
Read, say, the life of St. Catherine or 
of St. George in the "Golden Legend." 
Or are you in love, and would express 
its spring-time beauty? Translate into 
your own native language of form and 
colour " The Romaunt of the Rose." 

For the great safeguard and guide in the 
perilous forest of fancy is to find enough 
interest in the actual facts of some history 
or the qualities of some heroic character, 
whether real or fabled, round which at 
first you may group your thought and 
allegory. Listen to them^ and try to 
formulate and illustrate their meaning, 
not to announce your own. Do not set 
puzzles, or set things that will be puzzling, 
without the highest and deepest reasons 
and the apostleship urgently laid upon 
you so to do — but let your allegory sur- 
round some definite subject, so that men 
in general can see it and say, " Yes, that 
is so and so," and go away satisfied rather 
than puzzied and aflRronted; leaving the 


Of Thought, inner few for whom you really speak, the 

Imagination, hearts that, you hope, are waiting for your 

Alkgory "^^ssage, to find it out (and you need have 

no fear that they will do so), and to say, 

"Yes, that means so and so, and it is a 

good thought." 

For, remember always that, even if you 
conceive that you have a mission laid upon 
you to declare Truth, it is most sternly 
conditioned by an obligation, as binding 
as itself and of as high authority, to set 
forth Beauty : the holiness of beauty 
equally with the beauty of holiness. No 
amount of good intent can make up for 
lack of skill ; it is your business to know 
your business. Youth always would begin 
with allegory, but the ambition of the good 
intention is generally in exactly the reverse 
proportion to the ability to carry it out in 
expression. But the true allegory that ap- 
peals to all is the presentment of noble 
natures and of noble deeds. Where, for 
most people at any rate, is the " allegory " 
in the Theseus or the Venus of Milo? 
Yet is not the whole race of man the 
better for them? 

Work, therefore, quietly and continu- 
ally at the great themes ready set for you 
in the story of the past and " understanded 

of the people," while you are patiently Of Thought, 
strengthening and maturing your powers Imagination, 
of art in safety, sheltered from yourself, ai? 
and sheltered from the condemnation due 
to the too presumptuous assumption of 
apostleship. For it is one thing to stand 
forth and say, " / have a message to deliver 
to the world,** and quite another to say, 
** There is such a message, and it has fallen 
to me to be its mouthpiece; woe is me, 
because I am a man of unclean lips.*' It 
is needless, therefore — ^nay, it is harmful 
— to be always breaking your heart against 
tasks beyond your strength. Work in 
some little province ; get foothold and 
grow outwards frojn it ; go on from 
weakness to strength, and then from 
strength to the stronger, doing the things 
you can do while you practise towards the 
things yoii hope to do, and illustrating im- 
personal themes until the time comes for 
you to try your own individual battle in 
the great world of thought and feeling; 
till, mature in strength equal to the por- 
trayal of great natures, the Angels of God 
as shown forth by you may be recog- 
nised as indeed Spirit, and His Ministers as 
flaming Fire. 

There is even yet one last word, and 


OfThottghty that is, in all the minor symbolism sur- 
Imagination, rounding your subjects, to observe a due 
All proportion. For you may easily be tempted 

to allow some beautiful little fancy, not 
essential to the subject, to find expression 
in a form or symbol that will thrust 
itself unduly on the attention, and will 
only puzzle and distract. 

Never let little things come first, and 
never let them be allowed at all to the 
damage, or impairing, or obscuring of the 
simplicity and dignity of the great things ; 
remembering always that the first function 
of a window is to have stately and seemly 
figures in beautiful glass, and not to arrest 
or distract the attention of the specta- 
tor with puzzles. Given the great themes 
adequately expressed, the little fancies may 
then cluster round them and will be 
carried lightly, as the victor wears his 
wreath ; while, on the other hand, if these 
be lacking no amount of symbolism or at- 
tribute will supply their place. " Cucullus 
non facit monachum^'* as the old proverb 
says — "It is not the hood that makes 
the monk," but the ascetic face you depict 
within it. Indeed, rather beware of trust- 
ing even to the ordinary, well-recognised 
symbols in common use, and being misled 



by them to think you have done some- Of Thought, 
thing you have not done; and rather Imagination, 
withhold these until the other be made ai?"^ 
sure. Get your figures dignified and your 
faces beautiful; show the majesty or the 
sanctity that you are aiming at in these 
alone, and your saint will be recognised 
as saintly without his halo of glory, and 
your angel as angelic without his tongue 
of flame. 

• •.•... 

In my own practice, when drawing from 
the life, I make a great point of keeping 
back all these ornaments and symbols of 
attribute, until I feel that my figure alone 
expresses itself fully, as far as my powers 
go, without them. No ornament upon 
the robe, or the crosier, or the sword; 
above all, no circle round the head, until 
— the figure standing out at last and 
seeming to represent, as near as may be, 
the true pastor or warrior it claims to re- 
present — the moment arrives when I say, 
"Yes, I have done all I can, — now he may 
have his nimbus ! '' 



Of General Conduct and Procedure — Amount of 
Legitimate Atsistance — The Ordinary Practice 
—The Great Rule— The Second Great Rule- 
Four Things to Observe — ^Art v. Routine — The 
Truth of the Case — The Penalty of Virtue in 
the Matter — The Compensating Privilege — 
Practical Applications — An Economy of Time 
in the Studio— Industry— Work "To Order" 
— Clients and Patrons — And Requests Reason- 
able and Unreasonable — The Chief Difficulty the 
Chief Opportunity — But ascertain all Conditions 
before starting Work — Business Habits — Order 
— Accuracy — Setting out Cartoon Forms — An 
Artist must Dream — But Wake — Three Plain 

Of General HAVING now described, as well as I can, 
Conduct ^j^g whole of your equipment— of hand, 
cedure *^^ head, and heart — your mental and 
technical weapons for the practice of 
stained-glass, there now follow a few 
simple hints to guide you in the use of 
them; how best to dispose your forces, 
and on what to employ them. This must 
be a very broken and fragmentary chapter, 
full of little everyday matters, very differ- 
ent to the high themes we have just been 
trjring to discuss — ^and relating chiefly to 


your conduct of the thing as a business, 
and your relationships with the interests 
that surround you ; modes of procedure, 
business hints, practical matters. I am 
sorry, just as you were beginning (I hope) 
to be warmed to the subject, and fired 
with the high ambitions that it suggests, 
to take and toss you into the cold world 
of matter-of-fact things ; but that is life, 
and we have to face it. Open the door 
into the cold air and let us bang at it 
straight away ! 

Now there is one great and plain ques- 
tion that contains all the rest; you do 
not see it now, but you will find it facing 
you before you have gone very far. The 
great question, " Must I do it all myself, 
or may I train pupils and assistants ? "" 

Let us first amplify the question and 
get it fairly and fully stated. Then we 
shall have a better chance of being able 
to answer it wisely. 

I have described or implied elsewhere 
the usual practice in the matter amongst 
those who produce stained-glass on a 
large scale. In great establishments the 
work is divided up into branches : de- 
signers, cartoonists, painters, cutters, lead- 
workers, kiln-men : none of whom, as a 


Of General 
and Pro- 


Of Genenl rule, know any branch of the work except 
Conduct their own. 

*°^^^!r' Obviously one of the principal conten- 
tions of this book is against the idea that 
such division, as practised, is an ideal 

On the other hand, you will gather that 
the writer himself uses the service of 

While in the plates at the end arc 
examples of glass where everything has 
been done by the artists themselves 
(Plates I., II., III., IV., VII.). 

I must freely confess that when I first 
saw in the work of these men the beauty 
resulting from the personal touch of the 
artist on the whole of the cutting and 
leading, a qualm of doubt arose whether 
the practice of admitting any other hand 
to my assistance was not a compromise to 
some extent with absolute ideal ; whether 
it were not the only right plan, after all, 
to do the whole oneself; to sit down 
to the bench with one*s drawing, and 
pick out the glass, piece by piece, on its 
merits, carefully considering each bit as 
it passed through hand ; cutting it and 
trimming it affectionately to preserve its 
beauties, and, later, leading it into its 


place with thicker or thinner lead, in the Of General 
same careful spirit. But I do not think Conduct 
so. I fancy the truth to be that the ^cedure" 
whole business should be opened up to all, 
and afterwards each should gravitate to 
his place by natural fitness. For the car- 
toonist once having the whole craft requires 
more constant practice in drawing to 
keep himself a good cartoonist than he 
would get if he also did all the other 
work of each window ; quantity being in 
this matter even essential to quality. I 
think we must look for more monumental 
figures, achieved by the delegation of 
minor craft matters, in short, by co-opera- 
tion. Nevertheless, I have never felt less 
certainty in pronouncing on any question 
of my craft than in this particular matter; 
whether, to get the best attainable results, 
one should do the whole of the work one- 
self. On the other hand, I never felt more 
certainty in pronouncing on any question 
of the craft, than now in laying down as 
an absolute rule and condition of doing 
good work at all : that one should be 
able to do the whole of the work oneself. 
That is the key to the whole situation, 
but it is not the whole key ; for follow- 
ing close upon it comes the rule that 


Of General springs naturally out of it ; that, being a 
Conduct master oneself, one must make it one*s 

"^cdur^' ^bj^c^ ^^ train all assistants towards 
mastership also : to give them the whole 
ladder to climb. This at least has been 
the case with the work of my own which 
is shown in the other collotypes. There 
has been assistance, but every one of those 
assisting has had the. opportunity to learn 
to make, and according to the degree of 
his talent is actually able to make, the 
whole of a stained-glass window himself. 
There is not a touch of painting on any 
of the panels shown which is not by a hand 
that can also cut and lead and design and 
draw, and perform all the other offices 
pertaining to stained-glass noted in the 
foregoing pages. 

Speaking generally, I care not whether 
a man calls himself Brown, or Brown and 
Co., or, co-operating with others, works 
under the style of Brown, Jones and 
Robinson, so long as he observe four 

(i) Not to direct what he cannot 
practise ; 

(2) To make masters of apprentices, or 
aim at making them ; 

(3) To keep his hand of mastery over 

the whole work personally at all stages; Of General 
and Conduct 

(4) To be prepared sometimes to make *'*^^^" 
sacrifices of profit for the sake of the Art, 
should the interests of the two clash. 

Such an one we must call an artist, a 
master, and a worthy craftsman. It is 
almost impossible to describe the deaden- 
ing influence which a routine embodying 
the reverse of these four things has upon 
the mind of those who should be artists. 
Under this influence not only is the sub- 
division of labour which places each succes- 
sive operation in separate hands accepted 
as a matter of course, but into each opera- 
tion itself this separation imports a spirit 
of lassitude and dulness and compliance 
with false conditions and limited aims 
which would seem almost incredible in 
those practising what should be an inspir- 
ing art. To men so trained, so employed, 
all counsels of perfection are foolishness ; 
all idea of tentative work, experiment, 
modification while in prc^ess, is looked 
upon as mere delusion. To them work 
consists of a series of never-varied formulas, 
all fitting into each other and combined to 
aim at producing a definite result, the like 
of which they have produced a thousand 


Of General times before and will produce a thousand 
Conduct times again. 

cJ^T " W^^^ ^^>" ^^^^ ^*^^' ^^ * ^^^^^ ^^ 
the writer, a man so trained, " it's a matter 

of judgment and experience. It's all non- 
sense this talk about seeing work at a 
distance and against the sky, and so forth, 
while as to the ever taking it down again 
for re-touching after once erecting it, that 
could only be done by an amateur. We 
paint a good deal of the work on the 
bench, and never see it as a whole until 
it's leaded up; but then we know what 
we want and get it." 

*' We know what we want ! " To what 
a pass have we come that such a thing 
could be spoken by any one engaged 
in the arts! Were it wholly and uni- 
versally true, nothing more would be 
needed in condemnation of wide fields 
of modern practice in the architectural 
and applied arts, for, most assuredly it 
is a sentence that could never be spoken 
of any one worthy of the name of artist 
that ever lived. Whence would you like 
instances quoted i Literature i Painting .? 
Sculpture.? Music? Their name is legion in 
the history of all these arts, and in the lives 
of the great men who wrought in them. 


For a taste — 

Did Michael Angelo "know what he 
wanted" when, half-way through his figure, 
he found the block not large enough, and 
had to make the limb too short ? 

Did Beethoven know, when he evolved 
a movement in one of his concerted pieces 
out of a quarrel with his landlady? and 
another, "from singing or rather roaring 
up and down the scale/' until at last he 
said, " I think I have found a motive " — 
as one of his biographers relates ? Tenny- 
son, when he corrected and re-corrected his 
poems from youth to his death ? Dlirer, 
the precise, the perfect, able to say, "It 
cannot be better done," yet re-engraving a 
portion of his best-known plate, and frankly 
leaving the rejected portion half erased ? ^ 
Titian, whose custom it was to lay aside 
his pictures for long periods and then 
criticise them, imagining that he was 
looking at them "with the eyes of his 
worst enemy " ? 

There is not, I suppose, in the English 
language a more "perfect" poem than 
" Lycidas." It purports to have been 
written in a single day, and its wholeness 
and unity and crystalline completeness 

Of General 
and Pro- 

* "Ariadne Florentina," p. 31. 


Of General give good colour to the jthought that it 
Conduct probably was so. 

and Pro- ^ ^ 

cedure ** Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills. 

While the still morn went out with sandals gray; 
He touched the tender stops of various quills. 
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay : 
And now the sun had stretched out all the hills. 

And now was dropt into the western bay : 
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue ; 
To-morrow, to fresh woods and pastures new." 

Yet, regarding it, the delightful Charles 
Lamb writes : ^ — 

" I had thought of the Lycidas as of a 
full-grown beauty, — as springing with all 
its parts absolute, — till, in evil hour, I was 
shown the original copy of it, together 
with the other minor poems of its author, 
in the library of Trinity, kept like some- 
thing to be proud of. I wish they had 
thrown them in the Cam, or sent them, 
after the later cantos of Spenser, into the 
Irish Channel. How it staggered me to 
see the fine things in their ore! — inter- 
lined, corrected, as if their words were 
mortal, alterable, displaceable at pleasure ; 
as if they might have been otherwise, and 
just as good ; as if inspiration were made 
up of parts, and those fluctuating, succes- 

* " A Saturday's Dinner." 

and Pro- 

sivc, indifferent ! I will never go into the Of General 
workshop of any great artist again, nor Conduct 
desire a sight of his picture, till it is 
fairly ofF the easel; no, not if Raphael 
were to be alive again, and painting 
another Galatea." 

But the real truth of the case is that 
whatever " inspiration *' may be, and 
whether or not **made up of parts," it, 
or man's spirit and will in all works of 
art, has to deal with things so made up ; 
and not only so, but also as described by 
the other words here chosen : fluctuating^ 
successive^ and indifferent. You have to 
deal with the whole sum of things all 
at once ; the possible material crowds 
around the artist's will, shifting, chang- 
ing, presenting at all stages and in all 
details of a work of art, infinite and con- 
tinual choice. "Nothing," we are told, 
" is single," but all things have relations 
with each other. How much more, 
then, is it true that every bit of glass 
in a window is the centre of such rela- 
tions with its brother and sister pieces, 
and that nothing is final until* all is 
finished ? A work of art is like a battle ; 
conflict after conflict, manoeuvre after 
manoeuvre, combination after combina- 

s 273 

and Pro- 

Of General tion. The general does not pin himself 
Conduct down from the outset to one plan of 
tactics, but watches the field and moulds 
its issues to his will, according to the 
yielding or the resistance of the opposing 
forces, keeping all things solvent until 
the combinations of the strife have woven 
together into a soluble problem, upon 
which he can launch the final charge that 
shall bring him back with victory. 

So also is all art, and you must hold all 
things in suspense. Aye! the last touch 
more or less of light or shade or colour 
upon the smallest piece, keeping all open 
and solvent to the last, until the whole 
thing rushes together and fuses into a 
harmony. It is not to be done by "judg- 
ment and experience," for all things are 
new, and there are no two tasks the same; 
and it is impossible for you from the out- 
set to " know what you want," or to know 
it at any stage until you can say that the 
whole work is finished. 

" But if we work on these methods we 
shall only get such a small quantity of 
work done, and it will be so costly done 
on a system like that you speak of! 
Make my assistants masters, and so rivals! 
put a window in, and take it out again, 


forsooth ! " What remedy or answer for Of General 

this ? Conduct 

Well — setting: aside the question of the ^^^^^ 

. » . , ^ , cedure 

more or less genius — there are only two 
solutions that I can see : — an increase in 
industry or a possible decrease in profit, 
though much may be accomplished in 
mitigation of these hard conditions, if they 
prove too hard, by a good and economical 
system of work, and by time-saving appli- 
ances and methods. 

But, after all, you were not looking out 
for an easy task, were you, in this world 
of stress and strain to have the privi- 
leges of an artist's life without its 
penalties? Why, look you, you must 
remember that besides the business of 
** saving your soul," which you may share 
in common with every one else, you have 
the special privilege of enjoying for its own 
sake your personal work in the world. 

And you must expect to pay for that 
privilege at some corresponding personal 
cost ; all the more so in these days when 
your lot is so exceptional a fortune^ 
and when to enjoy daily work falls 
to so few. Nevertheless, when I say 
" enjoy " T do not mean that art is easy 
or pleasant in the way that ease is pleasant ; 


and Pro- 

OfGcfneral there is nothing harder; and the better 
Conduct the artist, probably the harder it is. But 
you enjoy it because of its privileges; 
because beauty is delightful ; because you 
know that good art does high and un- 
questioned service to man, and is even 
one of the ways for the advancing of the 
kingdom of God. 

That should be pleasure enough for 
any one, and compensation for any pains. 
You must learn the secret of human 
suffering — ^and you can only learn it by 
tasting it — ^because it is yours to point 
its meaning to others and to give the 
message of hope. 

In this spirit, then, and within these 
limitations, must you guide your own 
work and claim the co-operation of others, 
and arrange your relationships with them, 
and the limits of their assistance and your 
whole personal conduct and course of 
procedure : — 

To be yourself a master. 

To train others up to mastery. 

To keep your hand over the whole. 

To work in a spirit of sacrifice. 

These things once firmly established, 
questions of procedure become simple. 
But a few detached hints may be given. 


I shall string them together just as they 

An Economy of Time in the Studio. — Have 
a portion of your studio or work-room 
wall lined with thin boarding — " picture- 
backing " of ^ inch thick is enough, and 
this is to pin things on to. The cartoon 
is what you are busy upon, but you must 
^^ think in glass** all the time you are 
drawing it. Have therefore, pinned up^ 
a number of slips of paper — a foolscap 
half-sheet divided vertically into two long 
strips I find best. 

On these write down every direction 
to the cutter, or the painter, or the 
de^gner of minor ornament, the moment 
it comes into your mind^ as you work at 
the charcoal drawing. If you once let 
the moment pass you will never remember 
these things again, but you will have them 
constantly forced back upon your memory, 
by the mistranslations of your intention 
which will face you when you first see your 
work in the glass. This practice is a huge 
saving of time — and of disappointment. 
But you also want this convenient wall 
space for a dozen other needs ; for tracings 
and shiftings of parts, and all sorts of 
essays and suggestions for alteration. 


Of General 

and Pro- 

Of General 
and Pro- 

That we should work always. — I hope it 
is not necessary to urge the importance of 
work. It is not of much use to work 
only when we feel inclined; many people 
very seldom do feel naturally inclined. 
Perhaps there are few things so sweet as 
the triumph of working through disinclina- 
tion till it is leavened through with the 
will and becomes enjoyment by becoming 
conquest. To work through the dead 
three o'clock period on a July afternoon 
with an ache in the small of one's back 
and one's limbs all a-jerk with nervous- 
ness, drooping eyelids, and a general in- 
clination to scream. At such a time, I 
fear, one sometimes falls back on rather 
low and sordid motives to act as a spur to 
the lethargic will. I think of the short- 
ness of the time, the greatness of the task, 
but also of all those hosts of others who, 
if I lag, must pass me in the race. Not 
of actual rivals — or good nature and sense 
of comradeship would always break the 
vision — but of possible and unknown ones 
whom it is my habit to club all together 
and typify under the^ style and title of 
" that fellow Jones." And at such a time 
it is my habit to say or think, " Aha ! I 
bet Jones is on his back under a plane 


tree!" — or thoughts to that effect — and 
grasp the charcoal firmer. 

It is habits and dodges and ways of 
thinking such as these that will gradually 
cultivate in you the ability to " stand and 
deliver," as they say in the decorative arts. 
For, speaking now to the amateur (if any 
such, picture-painter or student, are hesi- 
tating on the brink of an art new to them), 
you must know that these arts are not 
like picture-painting, where you can choose 
your own times and seasons : they are al- 
ways done to definite order and expected 
in a definite time ; and that brings me to 
speak of the very important subject of 
" Clients." 

Of Clients and Patrons. — It must, of 
course, be left to each one to establish 
his own relations with those who ask 
work of him; but a few hints may be 

You will get many requests that will 
seem to you unreasonable and impossible 
of carrying out — some no doubt will really 
be so; but at least consider them. Re- 
member what we said a little way back — 
not to be set on your own allegory, but to 
accept your subject from outside and add 
your poetic thought to it. And also what 


Of General 
and Pro- 

Of General in another place we said about keeping all 
Conduct « solvent " — so do with actual suggestion of 

"^j " subject and with the wishes of your client : 
treat the whole thing as "raw material," 
and all surrounding questions as factors in 
one general problem. Here also Ruskin 
has a pregnant word of advice — as indeed 
where has he not? — "A great painter's 
business is to do what the public ask of 
him, in the way that shall be helpful and 
instructive to them/' ^ You cannot always 
do what people ask, but you can do it more 
often than a headstrong man would at first 

I was once doing a series of small square 
panels, set at intervals in the height of some 
large, tall windows, and containing Scrip- 
ture subjects, the intermediate spaces being 
filled with "grisaille" work. The subjects, 
of course, had to be approximately on one 
scale, and several of them became very 
tough problems on account of this re- 
striction. However, all managed to slip 
through somehow till we came to "Jacob's 
Ladder," and there I stood firm, or perhaps 
I ought rather to say stuck fast, " How is 
it possible," I said to my client, " that you 
can have a picture of the *JFair in one 

^ " Aratra Pentelici," p. 253. 

panel with Eve's figure taking up almost Of General 

the whole height of it, and have a similar Conduct 

panel with * Angels Ascendi ng and Descend- ^^^^'' 

ing' up and down a ladder ? There are only 

two ways of doing it — to put the ladder far 

off in a landscape, which would reduce it 

to insignificance, and besides be unsuitable 

in glass ; or to make the angels the size of 

dolls. Don't you see that it's impossible ? " 

No, he didn t see that it was impossible. 

What he wanted was " Jacob's Ladder " ; 

the possibility or otherwise was nothing to 

him. He said (what you'll often hear said, 

reader, if you do stained-glass), " I don't, 

of course, know anything about art, and I 

can't say how this could be done ; that is 

the artist's province." 

It was in my younger days, and I'm 
afraid I must have replied to the effect 
that it was not a question of art but of 
common reason, and that the artist's pro- 
vince did not extend to making bricks 
without straw or making two and two 
into five ; and the work fell through. But 
had I the same thing to deal with now 
I should waste no words on it, but run 
the "ladder" right up out of the panel 
into the grisaille above; an opportunity 
for one of^ those delightful naive exceptions 


and Pro- 

Of General of which old art is so full — like, for in- 
stance, the west door of St. Maclou at 
Rouen, where the crowd of falling angels 
burst out of the tympanum, bang through 
the lintel, defying architecture as they 
defied the first great Architect, and con- 
tinue their fall amongst the columns below. 
"Angels Descending," by-the-bye, with a 
vengeance ! And if the b»d ones, why not 
the good ? I might just as well have done 
it, and probably it would have been the 
very thing out of the whole commission 
which would have prevented the series 
from being the tame things that such 
sometimes are. Anyway, remember this — 
for I have invariably found it true — that 
the chief difficulty of a work of art is always 
its chief opportunity. A thing can be looked 
at in a thousand and one ways, and some- 
thing dauntingly impossible will often be 
the very thing that will shake your jog- 
trot cart out of its rut, make you whip up 
your horses, and get you right home. 


Observe this — that all thfese wishes of 
the client should be most strictly ascer- 
tained beforehand; all possibility of mid- 
way criticism and alteration prevented. 
Thresh the thing well out in the pre- 


liminary stages and start clear; as long 
as it is raw material, all in solution, all 
hanging in the balance — -you can do any- 
thing. It is like ^^clay in the hands of 
the potter," and you can make the vessel 
as you please: "Out of the same lump 
making one vessel to honour and another 
to dishonour." But when the work is 
half-doncy when colour is calling out to 
colour, and shape to shape, and thought 
to thought, throughout the length and 
breadth of the work ; when the ideas and 
the clothing of them are all fusing to- 
gether into one harmony ; when, in short, 
the thing is becoming that indestructible, 
unalterable unity which we call a Work 
of Art : — then, indeed, to be required to 
change or to reconsider is a real agony 
of impossibility ; tearing the glowing web 
of thought, and form, and fancy into a 
a destruction never to be reconstructed, 
and which no piecing or patching will 

There are many minor points, but 
they are really so entirely matters of 
experience, that it hardly seems worth 
while to dwell upon them. Start with 
recognising the fact that you must try 
to add business habits and sensible and 


Of General 
and Pro- 

Of General economical ways to your genius as an 

Conduct artist; in shqrt, another whole side to 

oedore' ^^^^ character; and keep that ever in 

view, and the details will fall into their 


Have Everything in Order. — ^Every letter 
relating to a current job should be findable 
at a moment's notice in an ofEce ^^ letter 
basket/' rather wider than a sheet of fools- 
cap paper, and with sides high enough to 
allow of the papers standing upright in 
unfolded sheets, each group of them be- 
hind a card taller than the tallest kind of 
ordinary document, and bearing along the 
top edge in large red letters — Roman 
capitals for choice — the name of the work : 
and it need hardly be said that these 
should be arranged in alphabetical order. 
For minor matters too small for such 
classification it is well to have, in the front 
place in the basket, cards dividing the 
alphabet itself into about four parts, so 
that unarranged small matters can be still 
kept roughly alphabetical. When the 
work is done, transfer all documents to 
separate labelled portfolios — a folded sheet 
or the thickest brown paper, such as they 
put under carpets, is very good — and store 
them away for reference. Larger port- 


folios for all templates^ tracings, or archi- 
tects' details or drawings relating to the 
work. If you have not a good system 
with regard to the ordering of these 
things, believe me the mere administration 
of a very moderate amount of work will 
take you all your day. 
So also with measurement. 

Of General 
and Pro- 


In one of TurgeniefPs novels a Russian 
country proverb is quoted — "Measure 
thrice, cut once." It is a golden rule, 
and should be inscribed in the heart of 
every worker, and I will add one that 
springs out of it — " Never trust a measure- 
ment unless it has been made by yourself, 
or for yourself — to your order." 

The measurements on architects' de- 
signs, or even working drawings, can 
never be trusted for the dimensions of 
the built work. Even the builders' tem- 
plates, by which the work was built, can- 
not be, for the masons knock these quite 
enough out, in actual building, to make 
your work done by these guides a misfit. 
Have your own measurements taken again. 
Above all, beware of trusting to the sup- 
posed verticals or horizontals m built work, 


Of General especially in tracery. A thing may be theo 
Conduct retically and intentionally at a certain 

*ccdurc" *"8^^> ^^^ actually at quite a difFerent 
one. If level is important, take it your- 
self with spirit-level and plumb-line. 

With regard to accuracy of work in the 
shop^ where it depends on yourself and the 
system you observe, I cannot do better than 
write out for you here the written notice by 
which the matter is regulated in my own 
practice with regard to cartoons. 

^^ Rules to he Observed in Setting out Forms 

for Cartoons. 

" In every case of setting out any form, 
or batch of forms, for new windows the 
truth of the first long line ruled must be 
tested by stretching a thread. 

If the lath is proved to be out, it must 
at once be sent to a joiner to be accurately 
* shot,' and the accuracy of both its edges 
must then be tested with a thread. 

The first right angle made (for the 
corner of the form) must also be tested 
by raising a perpendicular, with a radius 
of the compasses not less than 6 inches 
and with a needle-pointed pencil, and by 
the subjoined formula and no other. 

From a given point in a given straight 


Of General 
and Pro- 

Fig. 71. 


Of General line to raise a perpendicular. Let A B be 

Conduct the given straight line (this must be the 

*ced ^^ /(!?«^ side of the form, and the point B 

must be one corner of the base-line) : it is 

required to raise from the point B a line 

perpendicular to the line A B. 

( 1 ) Prolong the line A B at least 6 
inches beyond B (if there is not room 
on the paper, it must be pinned on to 
a smooth board, and a piece of paper 
pinned on, so as to meet the edge of it, 
and continue it to the required distance). 

(2) With the centre B (the compass 
leg being in all cases placed with absolute 
accuracy, using a lens if necessary to place 
it) describe the circle C D E. 

(3) With the centres C and E, and with 
a radius of not less than 9 inches, describe 
arcs intersecting at F and G. 

(4) Join F G. 

Then, if the work has been correctly 
done, the line F G will pass through the 
point B, and be perpendicular to the line 
A B. If it does not do so, the work is 
incorrect, and must be repeated. 

When the base and the springing-line 
are drawn on the form, the form must be 
accurately measured from the bottom up- 
wards, and every foot marked on both sides. 


Such markings to be in fine pencil-line, 
and to be drawn from the sides of the 
form to the extreme margin of the paper, 
and you are not to trust your eye by laying 
the lath flat down and ticking oflF opposite 
the inch-marks, but you are to stand the 
lath on its edge, so that the inch-marks 
actually meet the paper, and then tick 
opposite to them. 

Also if there are any bars in the 
window to be observed, the places of 
these must be marked, and it must be 
made quite clear whether the mark is the 
middlp of the bar or its edge; and all 
this marking must be done lightly, but 
very carefully, with a needle - pointed 

In every case where the forms are set 
out from templates, the accuracy of the 
templates must be verified, and in the 
event of the base not being at right 
angles with the side, a true horizontal 
must be made from the corner which is 
higher than the other (the one therefore 
which has the obtuse angle) and marked 
within the untrue line; and all measure- 
ments, whether of feet, bars, or squaring- 
out lines, or levels for canopies, bases, or 
any other divisions of the light, must be 

T 289 

Of General 
and Pro- 

Of General made upwards from this true level 

Conduct LINE." 

and Pro- 
cedure These rules, I suppose, have saved me 
on an average an hour a day since they 
were drawn up; and, mark you, an 
hour of waste and an hour of worry a 
day — which is as good as saving a day's 
work at the least. 

An artist must dream ; you will not 
charge me with undervaluing that; but 
a decorator must also wake, and have 
his wits about him ! Start, therefore, in 
all the outward ordering of your carew 
with the three plain rules: — 

( 1 ) To have everything orderly ; 

(2) To have everything accurate; 

(3 ) To bring everything and every ques- 
tion to a point, at the time^ and clinch it. 



A String Is there anything more to say ? 

of Beads A whole world-full, of course; for 

every single thing is a part of all things. 

But I have said most of my say^ and 

I could now wish that you were here 

290 • 

that you might ask me aught else you A String 
want. of ^«^a^* 

A few threads remain that might be 
gathered up — parting words, hints that 
cannot be classified. I must string them 
together like a row of beads; big and 
little mixed ; we will try to get the big ones 
more or less in the middle if we can. 

Grow everything from seed. 

All seeds that are living (and therefore 
worth growing) have the power in them 
to grow. 

But so many people miss the fact that, 
on the other hand, nothing else wilj grow ; 
and that it is useless in art to transplant 
full-grown trees. 

This is the key to great and little 
miseries, great and little mistakes. 

Were you sorry to be on the lowest 
step of the ladder ? Be glad ; for all 
your hopes of climbing are in that. 

And this applies in all things, from 
conditions of success and methods of 
" getting work " up to the highest ques- 
tions of art and the " steps to Parnassus," 
by which are reached the very loftiest of 

I must not linger over the former 
of these two things or do more than 


A String sum it up in the advice, to take any- 
of Beads thing you can get, and to be glad, not 
sorry, if it is small and comes to you 
but slowly. Simple things, and little 
things, and many things, are more needed 
in the arts toKlay than complex things 
and great and isolated achievements. If 
you have nothing to do for others, do 
some little thing for yourself: it is a 
seed, presently it will send out a shoot 
of your first "commission," and that 
will probably lead to two others, or to 
a larger one ; but pray to be led by 
small steps ; and make sure of firm 
footing as you go, for there is such a 
thing as trying to take a leap on the 
ladder, and leaping off it. 

So much for the seed of success. 
The seed of craftsmanship I have tried 
to describe in this book. 

The seed of ornament and design, it 
is impossible to treat of here ; it would 
require as large a book as this to itself: 
but I will hazard the devotion of a page 
each to the A and the B of my own 
A B C of the subject as I try to teach it 
to my pupils, and put them before you 
without comment, hoping they may be of 
some slight use. (See figs. 72 and 73.) 

But though I said that nothing will A String 
grow but seed, it does not, of course, of Beads 
Follow that every seed will grow, or, if 
it does, that you yourself will reap the 
exact harvest you expect, or even recog- 
nise it in its fruitage as the growth of 
what you have sown. Expect to give 
much for little, to lose sight of the 
bread cast on the waters, not even sure 
that you will know it again even if you 
find it after many days. You never 
know, and therefore do not count your 
scalps too carefully or try to number your 
Israel and Judah. Neither, on the other 
hand, allow your seed to be forced by the 
hothouse of advertising or business push- 
ing, or anything which will distract or 
distort that quiet gaze upon the work 
by which you love it for its own sake, 
and judge it on its merits ; all such side- 
lights are misleading, since you do not 
know whether it is intended that this or 
that shall prosper or both be alike good. 

How many a man one sees, earnest 
and sincere at starting, led aside off the 
track by the false lights of publicity and 
a first success. Art is peace. Do things 
because you love them. If purple is 
your favourite colour, put purple in your 


A String 
of Beads 

Design conasb oP artttngemcrit Igfc m 
pi«.c£isc MTWigcmcnt scperote:^, (jnd on its 
^ simplest terms. "Sate Ihe 6implest pos^ 

.J_ =qF=: TTVj}^ all omtLtncnt 5pHr)Q* 

^1 ftcm Ihis, tuihout, Por a. core 

'^idet^Ie X Hrne crongim its 

ch&rdcter. or mekir^ ajiy addiHons x of a 

dlflfefcnt Shzrdder k> it. If xxxr etre nck-^u 

t\en to <i> this cDhrf resource h2\^ ciDc? 

cue mzy change its diredion . Prooeed Ihen 

10 30^. dhsetving a few \Aeiy simple rules 

\x(B 1. Do file XAXjvh in single "sWches 

<5L — . 2.& fo each arm of Ihe cross in 

J "^s) hxm. A toep a record of each la 

(?/ $lep; IhaJ is, as soon 65 yov^ 

h^ve gc* aiw definite deVdcpemert from 

your originM. form, put lh^l: doojn an-^sb 

paper am leave it . drawlngf it cMer do^n 

am developinq from Jhe second dra^in5 

^ss(0 ^^ fourth rule is fl^ most im* 

nr >L portart of all: 4*. Keep 'on Ife^-«b 

' qx** as much as possibte.^^ late 

a -nuniUer of single steps from Ihe 

pomt you have wrivcd at, tk* a^ rwmber 

of consexuAtiv^ ^steps leading farther from): 

c ,® d. ^ It. For*^e5caxnpte:'->w* 

"b* here is d< smde-ss 
step from "aJ, you doA 
one Ihinq. Idor^dt-^ 
ooant i/Du togpondev^ 
^,^,^ '^fc'png from it UvaTbl 
n ^ asc;9«ce:ur\tiL you rove 
ly/ gone OacK lo Ag/aTaiw. 
made all the mtmraialeh/ possitAe steps k> 
be tohen ftxDm it. one of tjjK. is shai)n.^'f: 


Fig. ja. 


Seed of design as dppUed Id Craft u 
Material, Su ppose j/ou ha^ Ihree sim* 

^•i— --^Tf==i4^ ^F^ openlnqs. (ftg/a:) 

I I |~ *~^ p^05S^ge uuindouxs, use 
I v^l ij I uJiU suppose, edchjsjfr 
ii"'v T CJith ^ central lx)riz* 

lortbal Irar: ajnd suppose you have d.-« 
number of pieces or qlASS to use up al» 
f'eaycj^ cut io one gi&qz, and Ihat 5ixof 

□ these fill a ujindduJ, aa\ y^u get aivi 
fiUle Vdwety by ^rrangemenl: on the>t 
FoUojoi-nq tennS' L^iNzattfiq "bdh upper 
Nid loufer ranges alike 
iTUlouJiry 30ui«eEio >\alMe Ihem ,Meirhca.t 

5. not waiStinq any glass. 
!•. Hot halv^ing more ifen tjoo in each light 
^ ^ *C ^.. RnuD is this. Fig.b!-x> 

you despise Af>« so 


alisurdb/ simple? 

^- ff\mf^^ ornament injc 

itf>g^/V/^ dasa exhaust ' all the possiCie* 
vartetie^rUiere dte at least nir«. j^ Do 
them. Shatis ail 



.i. f imi. * 




Fig. 73. 



A String 
of Beads 

A String window ; if green, green ; if yellow, 
of Beads yellow. Flowers and leaves and buds 
because you love them. Glass because 
you love it. It is not that you are to 
despise either fame or wealth. Honestly 
acquired both are good. But you must 
bear in mind that the pursuit of these 
separately by any other means than per- 
fecting your work is a thing requiring 
great outlay of Time, and you cannot 
afford to withdraw any time from your 
work in order to acquire them. 

In these days and in our huge cities 
there are so many avenues open to cele- 
brity, through Society, the Press, Exhibi- 
tion, and so forth, that a man once led 
to spend time on them is in danger of 
finfling half his working life run away 
with by them before he is aware, while 
even if they are successful the success won 
by them is a poor thing compared to that 
whith might have Jbeen earned by the 
• work which was sacrificed for them. It 

becomes almost a profession in itself to 
keep oneself notorious. 

o spend large slices out of one's time 

le mere putting forward of pne's work, 

showing it apart from doing it, necessaiiy sts 

this sometimes is, is a thing to be done 


in th( 

grudgingly ; still more so should one A String 
grudge to be called from one's work of Beads 
here, there, and everywhere by the social 
claims which crowd round the position 
of a public man. 

• ••••• 

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 

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 
^nd does not pretend to forestall it, the 


A String time when some fresh idea in imagination, 
of Beads 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 ma- 
ture 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 A String 
acutest form, not from the posed, pro- ofBeadi 
fessional 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 wrest- 
ling 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 

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 beauti- 
ful 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 


A String occur because you have left some factor 
of Beads ^f ^hc problem out of count, and tWs 
should never be. Your business is to 
take all into account and to sacrifice 
everything, however fascinating and tempt- 
ing it may be in itself, if it does not fit 
in as part of an harmonious whole. Re- 
member 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 : per- 
haps 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 A String 
line of your composition is thus hacked of Bcadt 
ofF by no fault of yours, by some mis- 
measurement 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 

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 


A String you let it all get cold because it is toward 
of Beads 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 sugges- 
tions 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, A String 

low down behind the boughs, where the of Bcadt 

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 ac- 
quired power, and leading to some pur- 
posed end that will be peace. 

• ••••• 

Stained - glass, stained - glass, stained- 
glass! At night in the lofty church 


A String windows the bits glow and gloom and 
of Beads talk to one another in their places ; and 
the pictured angels and saints look down, 
peopling the empty aisles and companion- 
ing 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 A String 
liked best. And for months one would of Bcadt 
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 

u 305 

A String wonderful big key, which his hands were 
of Beads 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 A String 
himself in his distances and the stars in of Beads 
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. 





Some Sug- EvERY One who wants to study glass 

gcstionsas should go to York Minster. Go to 

to the ^Yit extreme west end, the first two 

otudy of . , /• 1 • 

Old Glass Windows are of plain quames 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 — / do ! Why ?— well, because 
it happens to be by good luck just righf^ 
and it is a very good lesson of the degree 

in which beauty in glass depends on Some Sug- 
juxtaposition. I had thought of it as gestionsas 
a particularly beautiful bit of glass in g^^^ ^^^ 
quality and colour — but not at all ! it is old Glass 
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 mix- 
ture 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, 

I do not know any place where 
you can get more study of certain pro- 
perties of glass than in the city of York. 
The cathedral alone is a mine of wealth. 


Some Sug- The nave windows are near enough to see 
gcitions as all necessary detail. There is something 
StV f ^^ every period. And with regard to the 
Old Glass ^^^^ ^^^ clerestory windows, they have been 
so mauled and repleaded 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 cen- 
tury 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 

Old Glast 

below ! or the whok of the left-hand Some Sug- 
light; well, or the middle light, or the gwtionsas 
right-hand light? If that's not colour stud^of 
1 don't know what is. I doubt if it niH aia«i 
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 disagree- 
able 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 tran- 
sept is the celebrated " Five Sisters," the 
most beautiful bit of thirteenth-century 
" grisaille " perhaps in existence. That is 
where we get our patterns for " kamp- 
tulicon " 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- 


SomeSttg- century" work — ^and show it you in a 
gettiooi as curious and instructive transition stage — 
Stud? of po^^ioJ^s of the two right-hand windows 
Old dlasB 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 op- 
posite, 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 re-leading ; 
but when the choir is ^singing and you 

can pick out every separate note of the Some Sug- 
harmony as it comes down to you from g^^iotu as 
each curve of the fretted roof, if you o!^^ r 
don't think this window goes with it and old Glaw 
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 

If you want an instance of what I said 
(p. 212) as to "added notes turning dis- 
cord 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 lark- 
spur 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^ 


Some Sug- old or neWj without looking in. You cannot 
gettions as tell what you may find. 
c!^j r And a second hint. Do not make 

Study of ... J- 1 

Old Glass written pencil notes regarding colour^ 
either from glass or nature, for you'll 
never trouble to puzzle them out after- 
wards. 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 any- 
thing 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, 


Oxford. Much glass in the city, old 
and new. Fairford. 

Cambridge. Much glass in the city, 
old and new. 


Chartres. (If there is still any left 



unrcstorcd.) St. Pierre in the same 


Troves. Auxcrrc. 

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. 

Some Sug- 
gestions as 

to the 

Study of 

Old Glass 



Let us realise what is done. 

And let us consider what oughf to be done. 

A window of ancient glass needs re- 
leading. 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 oS a rotten canvas and re-lined. 
If you examine a piece of old glass whose 
lead has had time to decay, you will find 


On the 


of Ancient 


On the 
of Ancient 

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 gener- 
ally 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 
scaflFold 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 to- 
gether, 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 pack- 
ing, and also extra care will be taken in 

Arrived at the shop, the window should 


On the 
of Ancient 

On the 


of Ancient 


be laid out carefully on the bench and 
each bit re-leaded into its place, the very 
fragile pieces between two bits of thin 

Unless this last practice is adopted 
throughout^ the ordinary process of cement- 
ing must be omitted and careful puttying 
substituted for it. While if it is adopted 
the whole must be puttied before cement- 
ing, 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 prac- 
tice anything technically of stained-glass, 
hand the job over to some one represent- 
ing a stamed-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 skt^ch-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 df 
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 no- 
thing 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 


On the 
of Ancient 

On the 
of Ancient 

into fresh leads, and then they solder 
up the joints. And, by way of a trium- 
phant 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 difilicult 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 ? 



Hints for the Curriculum of a Technical School for 
Stained-Glass — Examples for Painting — Ex- 
amples of Drapery — Drawing from Nature — 
Ornamental Design. 

Examples for Painting. — I have already 
recommended for outline work the splen- 
did 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 photc^raphs were from the best 
ancient glass — even supposing one could 

?[et them — they would be unsatisfactory 
or 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 im- 
mature in drawing. It is not wise to 
reproduce those errors. The things them- 

X 321 

Hints for 
the Curri- 
culum of a 
School for 


Hints for 
the Curri- 
culum of a 
School for 

selves 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 flat- 
ness and firmness of treatment in all these 
which is eminently suited to stained-glass 
work. Hands also may be studied n*om 
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 modem, as that of Bume- 


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 DOrer 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 orna- 
ment 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 


Hints for 
the Cam- 
culum of a 
School for 

Hints for 
the Curri- 
cttlum of a 
School for 

put together in its setting ; and if crafts- 
manship were everything, much might be 
said for these methods. There is in- 
deed plenty of stained -glass of the kind 
more beautiful as craftsmanship than any- 
thing 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, 
liiese things will serve ; but if they rail 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 ne- 
glected 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,^ "that all 
great sculptors, and most of the great 
painters of Florence, began by being gold- 
smiths. Why do you think the gold- 
smith's apprenticeship is so fruitful ? Pri- 
marily, 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 

* "Ariadne Florcntina," p. 108. 

Hmu for 
the Curri- 
culum of a 
School for 

Hints for 
the Curri* 
culum of ft 
School for 



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 collo- 
types 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 
tc^ether, and keep them going together 
step by step, side by side, through the 
course, one evening for each, or some like 

Technical Work. — Cutting, glazing, &c. 

PaintingfVork. — By graduated examples, 
from simple outline up to a head of Botti- 

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 modem. 




Notes on It is obvious that stained-glass cannot be 
CoUotypct 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, there- 
fore, 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 laiger books on the subject exist, 
where at least the scale is not so ill-treated. 


But, besides, if one once began illus- Notes on 
trating old glass, one would immediately Collotypes 
seem to be setting standards for present- 
day guidance, and this could only be done 
{if done) with many annotations and excep- 
tions 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 prac- 
tice 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 L — Part of East Window^ St, 
AnseMs^ Woodridings^ F inner ^ 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 
Churchy Clapham Road — " Blessed are 


Notes on they that Mourn^^ by Reginald Hallward. 
Collotypes 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 Churchy 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 
GlasSy by Miss M. J. Newill. From the 

Plate VII. — "TA? Dream of St. 
Kenelm^^ by H. A. Payne. The author 


had the pleasure of watching this work Notes on 
daily while in progress. It was done Collotypes 
entirely by the artist's own hand, by way 
of a specimen " masterpiece" of craftsman- 
ship, and the aim was to use to the full 
extent every resource of the material. 

Plate VIIL— *y/x " 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^ Birming- 
ham School of Art. These lose very much 
by reduction, and should be seen with a 
lens magnifying 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 in- 
tended for interior work on a screen, 
to be seen close at hand with borrowed 

Plate IX. — Micro - photographs, i. 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^ diameters. The white 
horizontal line is the cutting edge. 

2' A larger Diamond that has been " re^ 


Notes on j^/." That is to say, re-ground: the 

Collotypes 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 lo^ diameters. 

4. No. 2 seen from the side. Magnified 
10^ 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^ 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^ 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 Notes on 

split downward into the glass is deeper Collotypes 

and sharper than in the violent cut to 

the left, as is also the case with the 

two other moderately good cuts to the 


D, E — Wheel-^uts. 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 
dowriy what then becomes the top edge of 
section C shows a wheel-cut seen side- 


Notes on ways along the section of the glass which 
Collotypes {^ 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-^uty also from left to right, and 
multiplied 1 5% 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 under- 
stood 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 Notes on 
selected. CoUotypct 

Plate XL — From Gloucester Cathedral — 
" St. Boniface^^ by the author and his pupils. 

Plate XII. — iPtom the same — " The 
Stork of lona " and " The Infant Church;' 
by the same. Canopies from Oak and Ivy. 

Plate XIIL — Portion of a Window in 
progress {destined for Ashbourne Church\ by 
the author. This has been specially photo- 
graphed 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. — Fart 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 


Notci on and R. J. Stubington. In Plate XIV. A. 

CoUotypcs E. Child, K. Parsons, and J. H. Stanley ; 
and in the Plates XL 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. 


-Part of wnndow. St. Anselm's, WoodridlDEi, Pinner. 

—Part of Window. St. AnieLm's, Woodildliigs, IHnner. 

t. Peter** Chnreb, Clapham. 

IV,-P»rt of Wind 

v.— Put of Wnndoir. Ardrahwi, Galwar. 

—Prom Cut(K>ni Tor DamMtlc Glui. 

"Tbe Dream of St Kcnelm. 

VIII.-Qmu-riei. (Size of orisSnils, 44 by 4 

IZ.— Ulcro-pbotosniplu frcra daUils cdnnsctad with Glui WoA. 

D L ■ \*Jf''^ i ^\ < (^ >l ii,^ il>f < 

Z.— mero-photograplu. DUmond *nd Wlwel Ci 
In SaetiaD and PUa. 

XI.— Pkrt eT Window. Gloacetter CMhedimL 

ZII.— Put at Window. GlDQcaiter Othedrkl. 


XIV.— Dravlni:i tnm Nitora, la Prapar&tioa for Oeiign. 

XV.— Put of WiodDw. TonbridBi School Chap«l, pbotocnphed 
from tba Caitooo. 


XVt,— Put at Window. Gbmcutsr CathedraL 


Antiques^ coloured glasses made in imitation of the Glossary 
qualities of ancient glass. 

BanSngy puttipg on the copper " ties " by which the 
glazed light is attached to the supporting bars. 

Bascy (i) the light- tinted glass, white, greenish or 
yellow, on which the thin film of ruby or blue 
is imposed in *' flashed" glasses; (2) the sup- 
port of the niche on which the figure stands in 
" canopy work." 

Borrowed lights a light not coming direct from day- 
light^ 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 back- 
ground of trees or buildings. ) 

Caim (of lead^, the strip of lead, 3 to 4 feet long, as 
used for leading up the glass. 

Canopy or "tabernacle work," the architectural fram- 
ing 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 J the design of the window, full size, on paper. 

Chasubky the outermost sacrificial vestment of a bishop 
or priest. 

2 A 369 

Glossary Cope^ the outermost ceremonial and processional vest- 
ment of a bishop or priest. 

Core (of lead), the cross-bar of the " H " section as 
shown in fig. 34. 

Crockettingf the ornamenting of any architectural member 
at intervals with sculptured bosses or crockets. 

Cuilety the waste cuttings of glass. Generally used 
over again in greater or less quantity as an ingre- 
dient in the making of new glass. 

Cut'Une, the tracing (containing the lead-lines only) 
by which the work is cut and glazed. 

Fiuxy 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 tempt- 
ing but very dangerous and unstable ingredient. 
(See p. 112). 

Forniy the sheet of <' continuous cartridge '' or cartoon 
paper on which the dimensions, &c., are marked 
out for drawing the cartoon. 

GaugCf ( I ) 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 supermiposed on a background of whitish, 
grey, or greenish glass diapered with painted 
work in outline or slight shading. 

Graieingf 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, Glossary 

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. 

Latb^ the ruler, 3 to 8 feet long, and marked with 
inches, &c., used in setting out the ^< forms." ^ 

Lathyktriy doubtless old English *<a little lath," de- 
scribed p. 137. 

Lasting^nailsf described p. I4I. 

Leaf (of lead), the two uprights of the <^ H " section 

(fig- 34)- 
Muiiety 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 {^aurifrtgiay from Lat. aurum^ gold), the 
bands of ornament on ecclesiastical vestments. 

Pattnay the film produced on various substances by 
chemical action (oxidation, sulphurisation, &c.), 
either artificially, as in bronze sculpture, or by 
age, as in glass. 

Platingy the doubling of one glass with another in the 
same lead. 

Quarriesy the diamond, square, or other shaped panes 
used in plain-glazing. 

i^^^iiifjr, wavy or streaky glass. (Seep. 179.) 


Glottary Scratcb^ardj a wire brush to remove tarniih from lead 

before soldering (p. 144). 
Settings fixing a charcoal or chalk drawing on the 

paper by means of a spray of fixative. 
Sbaftmg, see <« Canopy." 
Shooimg (in carpentry), the planing down of an edge 

to get it truly straight. 
Squarmg'ouii enlarging (or reducing) any design by 

drawing from point to point across proportional 

Staling f described p. 100. 
Stofping^hufcf the knife by which the glass and lead 

are manipulated in leading-up. 
Tabernacle wori^ 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 AodOENTAL qualities in glass, 

value of, X 14 
Accuracy in setting out 

forms, 286 
Accuracy of measurement, 

IIS, 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, sacred- 

ness of, 245 
Ancient glass, 171, 314, 321, 

'* Antique *' elasses, 31 

Architectural fitness, 234 

Architecture, harmony with, 

Architecture, stained - glass 

accessory to, z68 

Architecture, subservient to. 

Armour, by use of aciding 
in flashed blue glass, 



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 

Backino, 126 

Badger, 72, 74 

Badeer, how to dry, 193 

Bandine, 151 

Barff's formula for pigment, 

Bars, 151, 159, 167 
Bars and lead-lines, 166, 

« Beads," a string of, 290 
Beethoven, colour, 224, 271 
Bicycle, use o( 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 


Botticelli, 64, 7S, 250, 297, 

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," 

Byzantine revival, 241 

«Calm" of lead, 137 (and 

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, 

Cellini, 228 

Cement and cementing, 147 

Centres for study of glass, 

314, 3»5 
Chartres, centre for study of 

glass, 230, 3x4 
Chartres, for blue and red, 

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 woric, 67 

Commission, one's first, 292 

Conditions, importance of 
ascertaining at commence- 
ment, 283 

Conduct, general, 264 

Constantine and Byzantium, 

Co-operation, 163, 265, 268, 

Corn-colour, 217-218 

Countercharging, 94 

Covering up the pigment, 

Craft, complete teaching of, 

I74» 197 . , 
Craftsman, right claims to 

the title, 269 

Craftsmanship, revival of, 
243 ; Middle Ages, 252 

CuUet, value of, 159 

Curriculum, 32i-r326 

Cut-in glass, 49 

Cut-line, 85, 89 

Cutter and cartoonist, 44 

Cutting, 37, 42, 47, 87, 162 

Cutting, advanced, 83 

Cutting-icnife, 138 

Cutting-wheel {see Wheel- 

Dahlia, colour of, 218 
Dante or Blake, perhaps 

needed to-day, 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 



Index Difficulty, the chief oppor- 
tunity in a work of art, 2S2 
Directing assistants, clear- 
ness in, promptness in, %^^ 
Discords harmonised by 

added notes, 212 
Distance, effect of, 102, 192 
Division of labour, 170, 269 
Dociceting of papers, system 

of, 284 
Dodges, a few little, 182 
Doubling glass, 132 
Drapery, 230, 322 
Drawing from Nature, 324 
Drawing, Rus]cin*s advice 

on fineness in work, 325 
Du Maurier, 207 
Diirer, i^vision of his work, 

Dutch artist's portrait of 
actress, 220 

« Early English " glass, 31, 

Easels, 186, 191 
Eccentricity to be avoided, 

Economy, 156, 158 
Egyptians, 182 
English wastefulness, 156 
Etching (ste Adding) 
Examples for painting, 321 
Examples for stained-glass 

work, Holbein, 322 
Expression, influence of 

distance on, 102 

PACETiNOof stones and glass, 

Fairford, green in Eve 

window, 211, 230 
Fairford, old glass in, 314 
False lead-lines, 166 
Fame and wealth good, but 
not atexpenseof work, 296 


Fancy, safe guide in, 259 
Film, 94, 10 1 
Fine work in art, 298-303 
Finish in work, precision 

and cleanliness, 67 
Firing, 1 05-1 19 
First duty of an artist, 248 
Five Sisters window, 178, 


Fixine, i3S» «S» 

« Flashed "glass, 33 

Flatness, desirable, obtained 
by leading, 176 

Flowers, 2x7 

Flux, 370 

Forms, accuracy of, 286- 

Fresh methods and ideas 
come accidentally, 298 

Freshness of work, advant- 
age of, 116 

FriM work, how to remove, 

Frying, 104 

Garish colour, 202 

Garter plates, 61, 62, 70, 71 

Gas-kiln, 108-xo 

Gauge for cutting, how to 
make, 88 

General conduct, 164 

Giotto, 252 

Giorgione, 203 

Glass, ancient, 328 

Glass, how made, 32 

Glass, how to wax up on 
plate, 95 

Glass in relation to stone- 
work, Z34 

Glass, Munich, 84, 176 

Glass, Norman, 227 

Glass, old, 308, 315 

Glass, painted, 84 

Glass-painter's methods de- 
scribed, 205 

Glass - painting compared 

with mezzotint, 8i 
Glass - painting compared 

with oil-painting, loo 
Glass, Prior's, 31 
Glass, Talue of accidental 

qualities in, 114 
Glasses, << antique,'' 31 
Glazing, 151, 180 
Glossary, 369 
Gloucester for blue and red, 

Gloucester, centre for study 

of glass, 314 
** God's house," 235 
Gold pink, value of, 160 
Good Shepherd, 172 
Gothic reyiyal, the, 239 
Groseing, 43 (and Glossary) 
Groseing tool, substitute 

for, 55 
" Grozeing" (see Groseing) 
Gum-arabic, 58 
Gum, quality and quantity 

of, 77 

Handkl, 223 

Handling leaded lights, 146 

Hand- rest, 61 

Harmony in colour, the 

great rule of, 2iz 
Harmony, universal, 234 
Harmony with architecture, 

Heaton's kiln-feeder, 184 

Hertfordshire, ride through, 

Holbein, 64, 78, 316, 322 
Hollander, thrift of, 157 
Hurry to be avoided, 165 
Hyacinths and leaves, 

colour of, 221 

Imaoi, Selwyn, 83 
Imagination, 248, 259 

Industry, 65, 278 
Ih siiu, to try work, 175 
Inspiration, nature of, dis- 
cussed, 273 
Italian, thrift of, 157 

« Jacob's ladder," difficulty, 

Joints, good and bad, 140 
Jugglery, craft, to be 

avoided, 174 


Kiln-feeder, a clumsy, 183 
Kilns, 105 

King, portrait of, 102 
Knives,cuttingand stopping, 

138, 142 
" Knocking up," 144 

Labour and material, cost of, 

Lamb, Charles, on Milton's 
Lycidaif 272 

Large work, difficulty of, 77 

Zt*Art NouveaUf 245 

Lasting nails, 141 

Lathykin, 137 (and Glos- 

Lea Valley, description of, 

Lead, 89 

Lead, <<calm" of, 137 (and 

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, artistfc use of, 




Index Leadworkers, w»ge of, 159 
Light, 227 (and Glossary) 
Lights, 72, 146, 151 
Limitations, 154, 170 
Linnell's colour, 202 
LycuUuf perfection of, 271 
Ljndhurst, windows at, 
237, 250 

Maclou, St., at Rouen, 282 
Man's woriL, nature of, 196 
Master, book no substitute 

for, 82 
Master, need of, 82, 195 
Material and labour, cost of, 

Matting, 72 
Matting-brush, 73, 75 
Matting over un fired out- 
line, 76 
<< Measure thrice, cut once," 

Measurement, accuracy of, 

115, 285 
Measurement, relation of 
glass to the stonework, 

Meistersingers, the, 223 

Mezzotint compared with 

glass-painting, 81 
Michael Angelo, 271 
Middle Ages, craftsmanship 

of, 252 
MiUais' picture of << Asleep," 

" Millinery and upholstery " 

in glass, to avoid, 324 
Morris, 203 
MuUer, 79 

Munich glass, 84, 176 
Music, illustration derived 

from, 223 

Nails, 141 
Nativity, star of, 229 


Nature, 213, 217, 302, 324, 


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 gUss, 171, 308, 314, 321 
Orange-tip butterfly, 214 
Order, ** Heaven's first law,*' 


Orderliness! 284 

Originality not to be striven 
after, 297 

Ornament, system of teach- 
ing, 3*5 

Outline, 59-82 

Overpainting, danger of, 

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 o^ ob- 
jected to by some, 227 

Painting, role regarding 
amount of, 129 

Pansy, colour of, 231 

Patrons, 264 

Parthenon frieze, repose of, 

Perfection, 163 

Perpendicular, rules for rais- 
ing a, 286 
Peterborough, Gothic tracery 

in Norman openings, 238 
Pictures, criticism on, 208 
Pigment, 1IS4, 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, 

Prior's glass, 31 
Publicity, danger of wasting 

time on pursuit of, 296 
Punchy 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 sub- 
ject, 177 

Rack for glass samples, 186 
Realism to be avoided, 173 
Recasting of composition, 

Removing the plain glazing, 

Repose in architectural art, 

Rest for hand, 61 

Restoration, 181, 245, 315 
Resurrection, sunrise in, 219 
Revivals, architectural, 239 
Rich and plain work, 177 
Rights angles, formula for, 

Roman decadence, 240 
Room, to make the most of, 

Rose-briar, colour of, in sun- 
set, 220 
Rossetti, 203 
Ruby glass, 33 
Ruby glass, value of, z6o 
"Rule of thumb," 113 
Rules for work, 264, 286 
Ruskin, 202, 255, 325 

Sacredniss of ancient build, 
ings, 245 

Schubert, 223 

<< Scratch-card,'' 144 

Scrubs, 8z 

Sea- weeds, 217 

Second painting, zz8, 126, 

Sections, how to join to- 
gether in fixing, 150 

Sections, large work made 
in, 150 

"Seed," everything grown 
from, 291 

Seed of ornament, 294 

Selvage edge, to tear oC, Z93 

Sens, centre for study of 

Setting mixture, 86 
Sharpening diamonds, 33 
Siennese painters, good work 

to copy in glass, 322 
Single fire, Z27 
Sketching in glass, 175 
Soldering^ 144 
Sparta, revival of simplicity 

in, 243 



Index Speciad glasies, 227 
Spotting, 163 
Spring morning, ride on a, 

a 14 
Squaring ontllnes, 286 
Stain, 129 
" Stain it 1 " 225 
Stain OTerfiring, result of, 

Stained-glass, accessory to 

architecture, 168 
Stained-glass, ancient, to be 

held sacred, 24J 
Stained-glass, definition and 

description of, 29 
Stained-glass, diapering, 

spotting, and streaicing, 

Stained-glass, joys of, 303 
Stained-elass, loving and 

careful treatment of, 177 
Stained-glass, new develop- 
ments of, 1 32 
Stained-glass, prices of 

material, 159 
Stained-glass, subservient to 

architecture, 155, 236 
Stained-glass venut painted 

glass, 84 
Staining, 225 
Stale colour, danger of, 

Stale work, disadvantage of, 

Standardising, 113 
Stencil brush, 121 
Stepping back to inspect 

work, 176 
Stevenson, R. L., 156 
Stick, 68 
Stipple, 99, loi 
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, 1 37 

Style, 237, 246 

Subject, right limits to im- 
portance of, 248 

Sufficient firine, test of, 117 

Suear or treacle as substitute 
n>r gum, 62 

Surgeon, precision of a, 67 

Symbolism, proportion in, 

Tabernacle {see Canopy) 

Tam worth, 237 

Tapping, 41 

Taste, some principles of^ 92 

Technical school, curricu- 
lum of, 321 

Templates to be Teri6ed, 

Tennyson, his constant re- 
vision, 271 

Texture of glass, use of, 126 

Theseus, 260 

Thought, imagination, alle- 
gory, 248 

Ties for banding, 151 

Thrift, 157 

Time saved by accuracy and 
method, 290 

Time-saving appliances, 277 

Tinning the soldering iron, 

Tints, method of choosing, 

Titian, 173, 203, 271, 316 

Tradition, 238, 242 

Troyes, centre for study of 
glass, 315 

Trying work in situ, 175 

Turgenieir, proverb on accu- 
racy, 285 

Turpentine (Venice), 129 
Tuscan painters, good work 
to copy in glass, 322 

<< Upholstirt and millinery " 
in glass, to avoid, 324 

Venus of Milo, 260 

Veronese, 203 

Village church, untouched, 

picture of, 305 
Violent action to be avoided, 


Wagk of leadworkers, 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, 1S8 
Wells, centre for study of 

ffUss, 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 interest- 
ing, 17* 
Work in the shop, rules for, 


YxLLow and red together, 

Yellow, certain tints hard 

to obtain, 217 
Yellow stain, 129 
York, centre for study of 

glass, 314 
York Minster, glass in, 230, 

308, 313 


Printed by Ballantynb, Hansom S* Co. 
Edinburgh A* London 

FA1 146.4.9 

wonts s 

3 2044 034 640 375 


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