Stained Glass Tours in France

In Short

This book serves as a dedicated companion for the sightseer who wants to find, understand, and appreciate the stained glass of France. Moving chronologically from the thirteenth century through the Renaissance, it provides detailed observations on specific windows, cathedral architecture, and the evolution of glass-painting techniques. By stripping away overly technical jargon and focusing on the experience of discovery, it transforms a collection of vacation notes into an accessible, authoritative handbook. It remains a classic of its kind because it treats these windows not as museum artifacts, but as living experiences of light and color.

The Story

The narrative begins with a modest premise: a traveler’s desire to answer the simple question of where to find good stained glass in France. The author, a lawyer taking a holiday, positions himself as an enthusiast rather than a scholar, inviting the reader to join him on a series of purposeful pilgrimages. The story unfolds as a grand tour of the French countryside, moving from the early, dark, and intense mosaic glass of the thirteenth century toward the lighter, more pictorial, and sophisticated Renaissance windows of the sixteenth century.

The arc of the book is defined by the technical maturation of the glass artist. The author guides us through the early centuries, where the challenge was to create deep, evocative light using small, pot-metal glass pieces. We visit cities like Bourges, Chartres, and Poitiers, learning to appreciate the “minster gloom” that gives these churches their spiritual gravity. As we move into the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the story shifts to the struggle for more illumination. The author explores how architects and glaziers experimented with grisaille—the soft, greyish, monochromatic glass—and canopy-style figures to admit more light without sacrificing the richness of color.

The final act of the tour focuses on the Renaissance. Here, the scale of the windows expands, and the glass begins to function more like a painting, with complex perspective, detailed architectural backgrounds, and more humanistic depictions of donors and saints. The author takes us to places like Troyes, Rouen, and the smaller churches around Paris, where names like Pinaigrier and Cousin appear as masters of the craft. Throughout this journey, the author is honest about his disappointments—modern restorations that fall flat, or buildings where the original integrity has been compromised by clumsy additions. The story concludes not with a final destination, but with a comprehensive system of itineraries and indices, providing the reader with the practical tools to replicate these journeys. It is a narrative of growth, both for the traveler who learns to “see” the glass, and for the artist who spent centuries mastering the tension between the lead line and the image.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins with an introduction that strips away the mystery of glass-making, defining the basic techniques of the thirteenth century for the layperson. It sets a tone of direct, unpretentious inquiry, establishing that this is a guide for the amateur who values beauty over pedantry.

The thirteenth century is treated as a pilgrimage to the "Holy of Holies" at Chartres and the hill towns of Poitiers. The author argues that this era represents the height of pure color, where the mosaic method created a dark, rich atmosphere that no later century could truly replicate.

The fourteenth and fifteenth centuries track the transition toward lighter interiors and the rise of the canopy window. The author details the architectural shifts, such as the emergence of nave chapels and the use of grisaille to balance illumination and decoration, often highlighting the clever compromises artists made to satisfy tradition and light.

The sixteenth century marks the arrival of the Renaissance, where the windows become narrative paintings. The author examines the work of master artists in Paris and Troyes, analyzing how they used perspective and enamel to push the limits of glass, while warning against the distractions of overly realistic detail.

The closing of the tour provides concrete itineraries that allow the reader to organize their own trips by region and era. The text ends by empowering the reader to be their own critic, using comparisons between old and restored glass to refine their judgment.

The People

The central characters of this book are the nameless, ancient artists—the glaziers of Champagne, the masters of the Renaissance, and the anonymous artisans of the thirteenth century. Their primary desire is to solve the perennial architectural problem: how to allow light into a sacred space while maintaining the emotional power of color. They are constantly thwarted by the limitations of their materials, the demands of patrons who insist on being featured in the windows, and the ever-shifting aesthetic standards of their eras.

The author, Charles Hitchcock Sherrill, acts as the guide and intermediary. He is a man of precise tastes and firm opinions, often poking fun at his own "remorseless" wife, who serves as his editor and critic. He brings in figures like Jacques Coeur, the merchant prince whose patronage funded exquisite windows, and the donor families of the sixteenth century, whose vanity often led to the inclusion of rows of kneeling children in the glass. By the end of the book, these historical figures have become more than names; they are participants in a centuries-long conversation about beauty. The reader, too, becomes a character, evolving from a curious novice into a refined observer capable of spotting the difference between a medieval masterpiece and an 1816 restoration.

In Its Own Voice

“Nowhere can there be found such a contrast between the exterior and interior of a cathedral.”

This observation captures the author’s reverence for the dramatic experience of stepping into the "minster gloom" of Chartres.

“The walls seem literally to be constructed of glass, so slender are the stone uprights between the windows, and so wholly is this little church uplifted and upheld by the innumerable flying buttresses.”

This description of the church of St. Urbain in Troyes highlights the author’s appreciation for the structural audacity of Gothic architecture.

What It's Really About

At its heart, the book is an inquiry into the nature of aesthetic progression and the tension between art and utility. The author explores the question of whether "progress" in art—such as the increased technical ability to portray perspective or realistic anatomy—necessarily results in a more beautiful object. He argues that the evolution of glass is not a linear climb toward perfection, but a series of choices between light, color, and storytelling. He is deeply concerned with the preservation of memory and the "precious possession" of a mental gallery. Ultimately, the book is a meditation on the value of the "glance," arguing that we often overlook the most profound beauty because we lack the vocabulary or the patience to truly look at the windows above our heads.

Why Read It Today

Today’s reader will find in this book a rare kind of companionship. It is written with a warmth and directness that is largely absent from modern, sterile guidebooks. If you are the type of traveler who finds deep satisfaction in the slow, meticulous observation of a single detail, you will love the way the author slows down time, forcing you to look at the "tessellated pavement" beneath a saint’s feet or the "buttons holding down upholstery" in a Cherub’s cloud.

The book is not without its challenges. The author writes from a distinct period—the early twentieth century—and his attitudes toward history and religion are those of his time. He can be dismissive of "ugly" churches or restoration efforts that he deems inferior, and his focus is strictly on the French tradition, often ignoring other European schools. The length of the itineraries and the focus on specific, sometimes obscure, French towns require a level of commitment that assumes the reader has the time to linger. However, if you are looking to cultivate a deeper eye for architecture and color, this book remains a masterclass in how to look at the world. It stays with you because it teaches you that beauty is not just a passive experience, but an active, intellectual, and physical pursuit that rewards the patient traveler.