A STAINED GLASS MASTERPIECE IN
VICTORIAN GLASGOW
STEPEHEN ADAM’S CELEBRATION OF INDUSTRIAL LABOR
Lionel Gossman
with Ian R. Mitchell and Iain B. Galbraith
1
A STAINED GLASS MASTERPIECE IN
VICTORIAN GLASGOW
STEPHEN ADAM’S CELEBRATION OF INDUSTRIAL LABOR
ďLJ
Lionel Gossman
with Ian R. Mitchell and Iain B. Galbraith
2
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prefatory Note and Acknowledgments (pp. 3-9)
Maryhill Burgh Halls Album (pp. 10-14)
Part I.
“Cinderella to her Sister Arts.” Reflections on the Standing of Stained
Glass as Art. (pp. 15-38)
Part II. Stephen Adam’s Work in Historical Context.
1. The Revival of Stained Glass in the Nineteenth Century. (pp. 39-58)
2. Charles Winston on Stained Glass. (pp. 59-68)
3. Stephen Adam on Stained Glass. (pp. 69-93)
Part III. The Maryhill Burgh Halls Panels
1. Stephen Adam: The Early Years and the Glasgow Studio. (pp. 94-117)
2. “A man perfects himself by working.” (pp.118-135)
3. An Original Style. Realism and Neo-Classicism in the Maryhill Panels.
(pp. 136-157)
Endnotes. (pp. 158-188)
Appendix I. “The Maryhill Panels: Stephen Adam’s Stained Glass
Workers” by Ian R. Mitchell. (pp. 189-204)
Appendix II. “’Always happy in his Designs’: the Legacy of Stephen
Adam” by Iain B. Galbraith. (pp. 205-220)
Appendix III. Chronology of Works in Stained Glass by
Stephen Adam. (pp. 221-236)
3
PREFATORY NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Burgh Halls of Maryhill – a district in the north-western section of
Glasgow1 -- are adorned by twenty stained glass panels of extraordinary power,
beauty, and originality. Created some time between 1877 and 1881 by the barely
thirty-year old Stephen Adam in collaboration with David Small, his partner in the
studio he opened in Glasgow in 1870, these panels are unique among stained glass
works of the time in that they depict the workers of the then independent burgh
not for the most part in the practice of traditional trades (baker, weaver, flesher,
cooper, hammerman, etc.) (see Pt. II, 2, Figs. 1-3), not clad in traditional, biblical or
classical costume -- as, for instance, in the contemporary windows of the Trades
Hall in Aberdeen, also by Stephen Adam -- but realistically, as workers dressed in
modern working clothes and engaged in the tasks required by the many small
modern workshops that had opened in Maryhill, even as vast industrial
complexes, such as the Tennant chemical works, employing over a thousand
workers in the 1840s, were set up in adjacent burghs on the north side of
Scotland’s then continuously expanding industrial metropolis. The style is also
simpler and starker than was common in stained glass art at the time, with
exceptionally strong leadlines, larger than usual glass pieces, and a similarly
4
unusual color palette highlighting the composition and producing an effect of both
sober, meticulous realism and neo-classical idealism. Salvaged and kept in storage
for many years as the Burgh Halls fell into disrepair following the drastic
twentieth-century decline of industry in Glasgow, and partly restored only recently
to their original site after the Halls’ rehabilitation as a community and conference
centre 2 (see Part III:3, fig. 7), the panels have lately attracted the attention and
admiration of a small number of scholars and writers -- notably Michael Donnelly,
Iain Galbraith, Ian Mitchell, and Gordon R. Urquhart. “The finest collection of
secular stained glass in Scotland” (Urquhart 3) rarely figures, however, even in
books and articles devoted to nineteenth-century stained glass.
I have written this essay with the aim of bringing Stephen Adam’s panels
to the attention of amateurs of the arts beyond Glasgow and Scotland and
especially in the United States, and thus lending what modest support I can to the
pioneering studies of Donnelly, Galbraith, Mitchell, and Urquhart. However, as
the history of stained glass and the main esthetic issues that arose concerning it in
Adam’s time are a relatively unstudied and unfamiliar topic among non-specialists
(including, until quite recently, the writer of these lines), I have devoted a
substantial part of my study to questions of context. Part I reflects my
puzzlement, on discovering Adam’s panels, at my own general ignorance of and
5
even indifference to the art of stained glass, despite a longstanding interest in
and enjoyment of other visual arts. Why is stained glass so little known and
poorly understood? In Part II I have attempted to acquaint the reader with the
conditions in which Adam’s work was produced: the revival of stained glass in the
nineteenth century and the lively debates, in which Adam himself participated,
about what authentic stained glass is, what it should and should not be. Part III is
devoted to the work of the Adam studio and to the panels themselves and their
unusual, perhaps even unique style. Three appendices fill out this section. The
first, by Ian R. Mitchell, a revised version of a section on the Maryhill panels in his
highly readable and richly informed 2013 book A Glasgow Mosaic: Cultural Icons
of the City (Edinburgh: Luath Press) describes and explains the real historical
background of the various activities reflected in the panels; the second, an article
by Iain B. Galbraith in the Journal of Stained Glass, vol. XXX (2006), provides a
brief but comprehensive overview, by a scholar of stained glass, of Adam’s career
and accomplishments in his chosen medium; and the third offers a provisional
chronology of Adam’s work in glass over the four decades of his productive life.
I have been helped and encouraged by many people as I explored Adam’s
work or sought to obtain images of it or information about it. The generosity and
6
responsiveness of almost everyone I contacted has been moving and inspiring. I
would like to express my gratitude, first and foremost, to Ian Mitchell and Iain
Galbraith, not only for permitting me to include sections from their own work on
Adam in the present volume but for their continued advice, and for acting as my
proxies in Glasgow, providing me with photographs, and looking into the
historical background of particular works. In particular, I could not have done
without Ian Mitchell’s constant encouragement and active intervention.
In addition, I am indebted to Tom Barclay of the Carnegie Public Library in
Ayr for photographs of the Adam window; to Gil Barlow for a photograph of one
of Frederick Preedy’s windows at Church Lench in Worcestershire; to the
energetic Scottish conservationist and gifted photographer Gordon Barr, for
sharing his remarkable photographs of Adam’s Clyde Navigation Trust building
(Clydeport) panels with me; to Mary Kay Bosshart for photographs of guild
windows at Chartres; to Dr. Phil Brown for a photograph of a modern window
marking the 750th anniversary of the Church of Our Lady and All Saints in
Chesterfield, Derbyshire; to Ray J. Brown in distant Australia for permission to
reproduce a photograph of one of many Munich windows installed in Australian
churches in the nineteenth century; to Kathleen Cohen of San Jose State
University in California for an image, from her vast collection, of a panel
7
representing workmen at Freiburg Cathedral; to the eminent scholar and
photographer of stained glass Painton Cowen for permission to reproduce part of
his photograph of a window by Charles Connick at the Cathedral of St. John the
Divine in New York; to Dr. Robin Darwall-Smith, F.S.A., F.R.Hist.S., archivist for
University College and Magdalen College in Oxford, who generously donated an
outstanding photograph of a Van Linge window at University College; to Sam Fogg
of the Sam Fogg gallery in London for permission to use two photographic
reproductions of 16th century roundels displayed on the gallery’s website; to John
Gorevan, an authority on Glasgow pubs, for taking pictures of Adam’s humorous
but hard to reach stained glass panels in the Imperial Bar on Howard Street; to
Rev. Roddy Hamilton, the minister of New Kilpatrick Church in Bearsden, for
checking on windows in his church for me; and to History Girls Scotland -- Karen
Mailley-Watt and Rachel Purse -- for a high resolution image of the fine window in
that church that Alf Webster designed in tribute to his teacher, employer, and
friend, as well as for other images of windows by Alf Webster; to David Lewis, for
images of the windows in the parish church at Alloway; to Andrew Macnair for
permission to use images from his father’s book on the stained glass windows of
Glasgow Cathedral; to Brian McCormick, Jim McCreery, and Andy Shearer of
Eastwood Photographic Society, who made their photographs of the windows in
8
Clark Memorial Church in Largs available to me, and to Dr. Nigel Lawrie, also of
Eastwood Photographic Society, who made me a CD with very high resolution
images of those windows ; to Ian Munro of St. Machar’s Cathedral in Aberdeen for
a photograph of Adam’s Clark Memorial window there; to Nondas Pitticas, the
community administrator at St. Luke’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral in Glasgow
(formerly Belhaven Church), who took photographs of the Adam windows in his
church specifically for my use; to David Robertson, a project director at Four Acres
Trust, an agency dedicated to restoring important Victorian buildings in Glasgow,
for providing me with a fine high-resolution photograph of Daniel Cottier’s
“Miriam” in the former Dowanhill Church; to Gilda Smith of Dalry, Ayrshire, for
photographs of the Munich windows in St. Margaret’s Church there; to Lindsay
Watkins of Helensburgh Heritage for identifying work by Adam at St. Michael’s
and All Angels Episcopal Church in Helensburgh and for much valuable help and
support; to Stephen Weir, the director of a contemporary stained glass studio in
Glasgow, for a photograph of and information concerning a window by Adam and
Alf Webster in St. Nicholas Church, Lanark; to Donald Whannell of the remarkable
Neilston Webcam Photo Gallery (neilstonphotogallery@drookitagain.co.uk) for a
9
photograph of the interior of the beautiful eighteenth-century St. Andrew’s
Church in Glasgow where Adam carried out one of his earliest commissions ; and
last, but by no means least, to Gordon R. Urquhart not only for his prompt and
helpful responses to my requests for information, but for invaluable, unsolicited
contributions and several high resolution images.
Christine Grady of Maryhill Burgh Halls Trust and Winnie Tyrell, the Photo
Library Co-ordinator for Glasgow Life/Glasgow Museums, did everything they
could to facilitate reproduction of photographs of the Adam panels themselves in
the present volume, while Marie-Luise Stumpff, Senior Conservator at the Burrell
Collection of the Glasgow Museums, who worked on the restoration of the Adam
panels, communicated essential technical information about them. To all those
wonderfully kind-hearted and generous contributors to this work, I wish to
express my heartfelt thanks.
10
ALBUMALBUM
OF PANELS OF
BY STEPHEN
ADAM
MARYHILL BURGH
HALLS
PANELS
BYIN STEPHEN
ADAM
In
MARYHILL BURGH HALLS
Chemical workers
11
iron moulders
glassblower
boat builder
papermaker
12
joiners
hydrostatic dye-press worker
gas worker
linen bleachers
13
calico printers
blacksmiths
sawyer
railwaymen
14
engineer
soldiers
zincspelter
teacher
15
PART I
“CINDERELLA TO HER SISTER ARTS.” REFLECTIONS ON THE
STANDING OF STAINED GLASS AS ART
Glass has [. . .] long been the Cinderella of
her sister arts, wearing their cast–off
clothes, instead of her own fairy
wardrobe, and walking in a lower place,
instead of hand in hand with them, as in
the old times.
-- Fras. W. Oliphant, A Plea for Painted
Glass (Oxford: Henry Parker, 1855), p. 25.
16
Though it is still being produced in many studios and workshops in Britain,
France, Germany, and the United States, continues to be installed in churches,
synagogues, inns, restaurants, and some private homes, 4 and attracts amateurs as
a craft hobby, stained glass is not a widely appreciated or well understood
medium today. Among the throngs of visitors to our public art museums, a fair
number are likely to have a general knowledge of painting since the Renaissance
and to have developed particular and informed tastes. Some may have heard of
and even seen the stained glass works designed by celebrated modern painters
such as Chagall, Matisse, Braque, Léger, Jacques Villon, John Piper, and the writer
and painter Jean Cocteau, (Figs. 1, 2) or the decorative formal designs of famous
turn-of-the-century architects such as Charles Rennie Mackintosh and Frank Lloyd
Wright. (Fig. 3) But though there is probably a general awareness of the stained
glass in the churches and great cathedrals of the Middle Ages, only a small
number of museumgoers, primarily students of the Middle Ages or serious
travellers in Europe, will have a clear or informed knowledge of these. Above all,
very few can be counted on to know the names of the numerous artists engaged
in the production of stained glass since the revival of the medium in the
17
nineteenth century or indeed to have much familiarity with their creations. Even
the name of Tiffany probably evokes images of lamps and vases rather than of his
grander and more ambitious windows. “Windows were the main emphasis of
Louis Comfort Tiffany’s work,” one reads on the cover of Alastair Duncan’s
beautiful Tiffany Windows (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1980). “Yet today
Tiffany windows have never been seen by the public, and until now no book on
the subject has ever been published.”
Public ignorance in the matter of stained glass is especially striking in an
age of ever expanding numbers of museum visitors and lively public interest in
the arts, but it is not new. At the end of the nineteenth century, the heyday of
stained glass’s revival as an artistic medium after its relative decline in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and the highpoint of its great popularity as
a decorative feature not only in public places but in bars and private homes,
Henry Holiday, one of the revived medium’s most talented practitioners, already
noted that while “a large number of persons in every civilized community
frequent picture galleries, and most of these claim to understand something
about the art of painting, [. . .] as regards stained glass, very few [. . .] know even
18
what they like.” “The case is further complicated,” Holiday added, “by the
prevailing vague impression that stained glass should be rather mediaeval. How
mediaeval it should be, or why it should be mediaeval at all [. . .] is not clear, but
that it should be mediaeval in some undefined way is a popular belief. Little
wonder then that the amateur feels no firm ground under his feet when
approaching the subject of stained glass.” 5 In a chapter entitled “The Craft
Nobody Knows” of his 1937 book Adventures in Light and Color: An Introduction
to the Stained Glass Craft the well-regarded twentieth-century American stained
glass artist-craftsman, Charles Connick, recounts an imaginary conversation with a
fellow-traveler in a train:
“Evidently you are a lecturer!”
“Not a professional, but I do lecture occasionally.”
“What’s your subject?”
“Stained glass.”
“Gosh-a-mighty, what a fine subject! Nobody knows anything about it,
nobody can check you up on it!” 6
Not much, it would seem, has changed since Holiday and Connick wrote in
1896 and 1937 respectively. In describing himself proudly as a “Master-Craftsman
19
Connick clearly did not intend in any way to diminish the standing of the “craft” he
practiced. But when a modern twenty-first century scholar asks “Is stained glass a
branch of the fine arts -- or is it a craft?” the question reflects continued
uncertainty in the general public about what stained glass is and how it is to be
thought of. 7 In addition, despite its presence in many nineteenth-, twentieth-, and
twenty-first-century domestic and secular buildings, 8 despite its having engaged
some of the most eminent modern painters, stained glass is still widely associated
with the Middle Ages and, in our own day, with churches. “Some people love the
way coloured glass images animate an interior. But modernists hate it,” Sally Rush,
an expert on stained glass at Glasgow University, has observed. “Others associate
it with a rather vulgar period of design, and there’s a common myth that all
stained glass looks churchy and casts a dim, religious light.” 9 Churches and, more
recently, synagogues have in fact been the most consistent patrons of stained
glass workshops.
Factors related to the conditions in which stained glass is produced and
employed have doubtless contributed to the still uncertain standing of the
medium. Even in the early years of its nineteenth-century revival, there was
20
reluctance to acknowledge it as an artistic rather than a “merely” artisanal
practice. Charles Winston, a successful English barrister who devoted himself to
the study of stained glass and became a generally recognized authority on it on
the strength of his pathbreaking Inquiry into the difference of style observable in
ancient glass paintings, especially in England, with hints on glass painting, by an
amateur (1847), and of important later experiments in the chemical analysis of
medieval colored glass that enabled him to rediscover the processes of its
manufacture, deplored “a very unfounded prejudice in the minds of some
persons against the claims of glass painting to be considered one of the fine arts,
because some of its processes are necessarily conducted by artisans, as burning
the glass, leading it together, and setting it up in its place, &c.” In contrast,
Winston objected, “the sculptor is not thought less worthy of the title of artist,
because he employs a number of assistant workmen to hew the marble roughly
into shape, to prepare it for his own chisel, and to erect the statue when
finished.” 10 But Winston readily conceded that in his own time there are many
“purely mechanical persons who paint glass pictures at so much the square foot.”
Good stained glass, however, “requires far greater knowledge than is possessed
21
by a mere draughtsman. [. . .] If therefore we are anxious to cultivate glass
painting as an art, we must encourage artists to practise it, by ceasing to
countenance those mere artisans who at present make it their trade, and confine
it to the lowest depths of degradation.”11
In Henry Holiday’s words, easel painting is generally viewed as “art proper”
while stained glass is “technical art.” 12 Ideally, to be sure, the artist-designer –
when there is one, rather than simply a group of artisans imitating the styles of
the past -- works closely with the craftsmen who cut and shape the glass pieces,
lead them, and compose them to his design. Christopher Whall, another
prominent and gifted late nineteenth-century stained glass artist, close to William
Morris’s Arts and Crafts movement and thus hostile to the division of labor
required by modern industrial production, insisted that designers should have
direct, hands-on knowledge and experience of the handiwork involved and that,
correspondingly, craftsmen should have experience in design, even if the specific
talent of one lies in design and of the other in the actual cutting and leading. This
was indeed Morris’s own view. 13 In point of fact, however, in the early decades of
the Gothic Revival, until the influence of the Arts and Crafts movement began to
22
be felt and -- in the words of a scholar of our own time -- “a new generation of
artist glass painters learnt their trade not as apprentices but as students at art
school where design and technical execution were taught as being fundamentally
inseparable,” 14 the two activities of design and handiwork were frequently quite
distinct, with the designer having little to do with the material translation of his
cartoon into glass. 15 Especially at a time when artist-designers, such as BurneJones, were still unfamiliar with the processes of cutting, staining, painting, and
assembling the pieces of colored glass used in composing a window or panel, the
input of the workshop’s craftsmen was often a determining influence on the
finished product. In the early years of the William Morris studio, one scholar has
observed, “a great deal of the translation of the cartoons into glass was left to the
craftsmen of the studio.”16 Discussing the glass produced by John Hardman & Co.,
a firm that began to make stained glass at the urging of Augustus Pugin, the
pioneer Gothic Revivalist of the first half of the nineteenth century, another
scholar writes that
Hardman’s operation was an awkward affair chiefly because it took
place in different locations. Pugin was in charge of drawing the
23
cartoons, and this operation was based at his home, the Grange in
Ramsgate. The finished cartoons were then sent by post to Hardman,
who oversaw the production of the windows in Birmingham. The
windows were then installed by either Hardman’s journeyman or local
glaziers. Pugin and his two pupils, his son Edward and his son-in-law
John Hardman Powell, manned the cartoon room. Pugin initially drew
the delicate sections, the face painting and figure groups, while the
pupils did more repetitive work. To complicate matters, Pugin used
Francis Oliphant (who had quitted his position as chief designer for
Wailes in 1845 [i.e. William Wailes, whose studio dominated the
stained glass market in the 1840s and 1850s – L.G.]) on a freelance basis
to assist with designs. Oliphant 17 worked mainly from his base in
London and would send his cartoons to Pugin for approval, at which
point they were quite frequently altered. [. . .] So in the late 1840s,
when commissions were starting to flood in, a cartoon might be drawn
in London, altered in Ramsgate, and then sent to Birmingham for
production. Pugin [. . .] himself wrote in a letter of circa 1849: “Our
great disadvantage is never seeing the work in progress. I make the
cartoons & that is all, but I am sure that the old men watched
everything & I predict that we shall never produce anything very good
till the furnaces are within a few yards of the easel.” 18
24
Moreover, a reputable stained glass workshop might -- and usually did -employ a number of designers, so that, even when the name of the workshop is
inscribed on a stained glass panel or can be documented, it is often difficult to
attribute the original design to any clearly identifiable individual. 19 The neglect,
loss, or destruction of the records of many workshops, due to company closures,
bombing raids during WWII, or simply the lack of importance attached to stained
glass as an artistic medium as distinct from painting and sculpture, has made
attribution even more difficult. In our current culture of extreme individualism
and belief in the artist as “loner, [. . .], genius, and ‘maestro’” -- in the words of a
contemporary British stained glass artist -- such uncertainty as to the particular
authorship of a work can be a significant handicap. 20
Above all, painters made their mark as individuals thanks to the
autonomization of painting, its emancipation from architecture and wall-painting
or fresco, especially in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. For the artist in
stained glass, in contrast, the work of architecture remained (and still remains)
the Gesamtkunstwerk -- as Sir Nicholas Pevsner, the eminent historian of
architecture, put it in a striking critique of modern easel painting since the
25
“bourgeois” art of seventeenth-century Holland and of the entire salon tradition –
in which the stained-glass artist’s own work has its place, to which it contributes,
and of which it is an inseparable part. 21 Pevsner, it is worth noting, was echoing a
view held not only by many of Stephen Adam’s mid- to late nineteenth-century
contemporaries, such as the Glasgow architect James Salmon (1805-1888), who
insisted in the mid-1850s that the selection of new stained glass windows for
Glasgow Cathedral was “entirely an architectural question,” 22 or various
champions of mural painting in France and the United States, 23 but by Gropius,
the founder of the modern Bauhaus school and the hero of Pevsner’s Pioneers of
the Modern Movement: from William Morris to Walter Gropius. To Gropius “the
complete building is the final aim of the visual arts,” the “noblest function” of
which “was once the decoration of buildings.” He himself aspired to “conceive
and create the new building of the future, which will embrace architecture and
sculpture and painting in one unity and which will rise one day towards heaven
from the hands of a million workers like the crystal symbol of a new faith.” 24 The
revolutionary Russian poet Maiakovsky also rejected an art that finds its ideal
home in a museum, “a mausoleum of art where dead works are worshipped,” and
26
called instead for “a living factory of the human spirit -- in streets, in tramways, in
factories, workshops and workers’ homes.” 25
Unlike easel painting, which became and remains – along, to a lesser extent,
with sculpture -- the dominant mode of art in modern times, despite the rise of
conceptual art and other forms designed to self-destruct, stained glass was only
exceptionally, as in the popular panels or roundels created as gifts for special
occasions in the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, especially in Switzerland,
Germany, and the Netherlands, a stand-alone art. “Stained glass was never made
for exhibition or sale,” the Scottish designer Francis Oliphant noted in his A Plea
for Painted Glass of 1855; “it must have a purpose to fulfil, and a place provided
for it.” 26 And unlike painting and sculpture it is infrequently bought and sold or
put up for sale at the great auction houses and, with some notable exceptions, is
for good reason not usually well represented in our public museums. When it
does come up for sale, it is almost always after the collapse or demolition of the
building of which it was part. 27 As the eminent modern American artist in stained
glass, Robert Sowers (1923-1990), wrote in 1981, “The best stained glass, whether
ancient or modern, enters into an indissoluble relationship with its architectural
27
setting, in which each vitally qualifies the form, luminous effect, and overall
expressive import of the other.” For this reason, that is, because of “its refusal of
autonomy,”
the art of stained glass is bound to frustrate the aesthetic expectations
of the viewer whose primary orientation is to the pictorial tradition of
European painting from c.1400 until our own time. Which is to say, the
aesthetic experience of most viewers. [. . .] Until the recent wave of
anti-museum activities the art world had become so highly museumand gallery-oriented that it could scarcely credit as art anything that
was not readily and regularly exhibited within its own special milieu. [. .
.] In almost every respect stained glass is an outsider, a mode of
expression that is all but exhibition- and event-proof. For stained glass
windows are usually commissioned directly from the artist; normally
bought and sold just one time, they also entail the commitment of a
particular space to a particular work for an indefinitely long time. 28
An inevitable consequence of the dependency of stained glass on architecture has
been that the medium has languished in those periods when architects did not
favor it and preferred plain glass.
28
As noted, the mode of production of much stained glass was yet another
obstacle to its being considered as art. The rapid population increase associated
with the Industrial Revolution in England and Scotland led to the building of many
more churches, construction of which was facilitated, in accordance with the
Church Building Act of 1818, by government funding (£1 million in 1818 – the
equivalent of about £65 million or $101 million in 2015). 29 In the context of the
Gothic Revival, most of the new churches were built in Gothic style and this
created a tremendous demand for Gothic-style stained glass windows. Windows
were also required to replace those destroyed or damaged during the
Reformation. Large workshops, employing up to a hundred and more workers,
were set up to turn out such “medieval”- looking windows in quantity, and
designs were copied and repeated in order to satisfy the many commissions from
within Britain, as well as from abroad. 30 In the words of Francis Oliphant, a
“revived taste” for stained glass “brought an increased demand, and from a trade
it became a matter of enterprise; and many embarked on it, whose previous
pursuits were very uncongenial, and whose undertaking was commercial rather
than artistic; and so a market was established for the article, and a price current
29
quoted, like any other merchandise.” A modern scholar writes of “the massproduction methods of Gothic Revival glass” and “the factory-like processes of so
many Victorian studios.”31 Stained glass was exported in large quantities from
Britain to the United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. In his 1877 essay
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, Stephen Adam himself,
writing from the perspective of a new generation of artist-technicians trained in
art schools rather than only as apprentices in a workshop, complained that “the
country is overrun with ‘stock saints and evangelists’ of all sizes, at per foot
prices, say a trifle extra if Peter has two keys; [. . .] Medieval glass, forsooth! This
is no art. What can future historians term it? Let it be nameless.” 32
Still, Adam himself, like nearly all stained glass artists, including those who
took their art seriously and disdained the mere copying of old medieval designs,
relied on commissions to keep his workshop going, and the work that resulted
inevitably reflected the interests and desires of the individual or institution that
commissioned it. As most stained glass commissions were from church
committees and from individuals donating windows to a church in memory of a
relative or friend, 33 his work, like that of other stained glass artists of his
30
generation, is overwhelmingly focused on religious figures and Biblical scenes and
does not fundamentally depart from the representational conventions of the
better ecclesiastical stained glass of his time. “How important a role was played
by the client’s own ideas, in suggesting possible subjects and arrangements, in
criticizing sketch-designs and proposing changes,” A. Charles Sewter observes in
his comprehensive study of the William Morris studio, “remains largely a matter
of conjecture. [. . .] It is likely that important decisions were reached in personal
discussion when the client called at the firm’s premises, or a representative of the
firm visited the building where the window was to be erected. [. . .] Always, of
course, the client had the last word, and this fact alone is sufficient explanation of
many inequalities of merit in both design and iconography.” 34
A related constraint on the appeal of stained glass to art lovers in the
twentieth and twenty-first centuries may well be the narrative or symbolic
thematics, most often Biblical or heraldic, of much of it, especially in the
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries -- an inevitable consequence of the fact
that, in spite of the growing popularity of decorative glass in domestic contexts,
churches continued to be the principal source of commissions. As modern “high”
31
art -- the efforts of Pugin and the German Nazarene painters notwithstanding -has become ever more secular and, despite some notable exceptions, has moved
decisively away from any representational function, viewers have become
unaccustomed to the representation of religious figures and narratives in modern
art.35
At the same time, the non-figurative, decorative element of most
nineteenth-century stained glass windows may well strike the modern viewer as
imitative of medieval designs rather than, as in the case, for example, of the
stained glass designs of Charles Rennie Mackintosh and Frank Lloyd Wright at the
end of the century, anticipations of modern abstraction. (See Fig. 3) The
decorative function of stained glass is in any case inescapable, not only in obvious
cases like art nouveau domestic designs, but even when it represents episodes
from the Bible and the Lives of the Saints, since -- as noted – it is an inseparable
part of the architectural structure that it adorns, be it church, synagogue, theatre,
bar, or home. In the eyes of Charles Winston, the already mentioned champion of
the revived medium in the middle decades of the nineteenth century, this did not
preclude its being art of the highest order: “Glass paintings are, to a certain
extent, a species of architectural decoration; but not more so than fresco
32
paintings, yet the greatest authorities have not considered a display of high art in
a fresco incompatible with its decorative character.”36 In modern times, however,
as the general expectation has come to be that art should be absolutely
autonomous, like the modern artist himself, decorative work that lacks this
autonomy (as distinct from the pure arrangements of color and line admired by
Kandinsky) tends to be dismissed as “merely” decorative. 37
Finally, it is possible that an essential feature of stained glass has
contributed to its comparatively poor popular appreciation as an artistic medium.
Whereas the material supporting the artist’s design or vision in painting and
drawing (canvas, board, paper) usually plays at best a relatively minor role in the
finished work of art and, until fairly recently at least, has not normally itself been
an essential element of the viewer’s attention, the glass itself, together with the
changing natural light that shines through it and illuminates it, is a determining -and also constraining -- element in any stained glass window or panel. More
precisely, it is a determining element in “authentic” stained glass, as that was
defined by those nineteenth-century writers on the topic who, as we shall see
later, distinguished “authentic” stained glass from works featuring pictures
33
painted in enamel on the surface of large colorless glass panes, that is to say,
works in which the glass, performing the same function as canvas or board, is no
more than the material on which the artist projects a pictorial image. 38 In this
respect “authentic” stained glass bears some resemblance to sculpture, woodcarving, and architecture, inasmuch as in those arts the material with which the
artist’s design or vision is fashioned is likewise an essential part of the work itself.
There is simply no getting around the material the artist works with. Whatever
the style or the particular vision to be communicated, the material is always
powerfully present, defining and limiting at the same time. 39 True stained glass, it
would seem -- i.e. glass which is colored through and through in the process of
fabrication, rather than glass on which color is only painted -- does not lend itself
to perspectival representation. On the contrary, even when it purports to
represent depth, as in some of Tiffany’s windows, for instance, the viewer is
always conscious of the flat pieces composing it -- and that flatness, both in the
design and in the color, may well be in fact one of the strengths of stained glass as
an art and could, one would have thought, have appealed to those familiar with modern
art, characterised as the latter is by a similar flatness and absence of illusionism.
Even when it purports to represent real scenes, stained glass cannot be illusionistic, as
34
painting can be. It has to be a stylized art, an art of signs and symbols. This was a
central theme of Francis Oliphant’s A Plea for Painted Glass, published in 1855:
The power of glass [. . .] to convey colour is quite unique; no kind
of painting can at all come up to it. [. . .] But we must not shrink from
the restrictions while we dwell upon the advantages of our art. We
cannot have the infinite gradations of our great oil colourists; we
cannot round one colour imperceptibly into another. [. . .] We cannot
have our colours otherwise than distinct and individual, for we paint
not upon an unfeatured canvass, but upon the light itself; and all those
brilliant qualities, so difficult of attainment in other departments of art,
are here latent in the material, and ready to wake at the slightest touch
of the magician who spreads our canvass for us, the great worldilluminator, the sun. [. . .]
This art will never surprise you by the lifelike appearance of its
figures; all illusion is out of its sphere; there is no blood coursing under
those uniformly tinted cheeks, or mantling in the lip -- nor are its
personages arrayed in silk or serge, or domiciled in houses either of
wood or stone; nor is aught, aught but what it is, and that is, glass. But
there is a strange harmony between the limits of glass painting and its
requirements, its powers. [. . .]
Its sphere is not so much to give an actual representation, as a
beautiful and complete suggestion. Its pictures are not intended to
35
delude us with an appearance of reality, but to flash upon us bright and
palpable visions of the floating pictures in our own mind.[. . .] We do
not recognise in the groups and figures of painted glass, portraits or
subject-pictures, but a series of beautiful hints and suggestions, [. . .] a
sweet embodiment of our own conceptions, and incitement to our own
thoughts. 40
Yet another effect of the material composing stained glass works is
produced by changes in the light shining through them and rendering them
visible. As a result these works do not have the stability usually expected of works
of art. As Charles Connick observed, “at best you can get only a hint of two or
three moods of [a] window in two days spent before it, if one were sunny and one
cloudy. You might get its infinite variety and its persistent message through the
months from August to December.” In contrast, “the popular notion of stained
glass has made a static thing of it,” one reason for this being “that windows have
been confused with pictures and pictures are static.” Moreover, “the resemblance
has been strengthened by illustrations of windows .[. . .] Only one illustrator,
Viollet-le-Duc, has suggested that pictures, at best, can show only one fleeting
36
aspect of a window. Even color photographs, like some of those reproduced
herewith, are inadequate for that reason.” 41
One may speculate at length on the reasons for the poor public recognition
of works of art in stained glass. The fact itself seems unfortunately beyond
dispute. In the largely Victorian and Edwardian city where Stephen Adam had his
studio much fine nineteenth-century stained glass was lost as buildings, including
many by notable Victorian architects, were wantonly demolished in the haste to
rebuild and renew that marked the 1960s and 1970s. Thus when Park Parish
Church in Glasgow’s elegant West End was demolished in 1968, no attempt was
made to save the William Morris glass in the building. As late as 1997, when J.J.
Stevenson’s Townhead Parish Church of 1865-66 was demolished, all the
decorative work by the eminent Victorian stained glass artist and decorator
Daniel Cottier was demolished along with it. 42 The dismantling in 2008 of the
grand stained glass window by Robert Sowers which had been a prominent
feature of the American Airlines Terminal at John F. Kennedy Airport for almost
half a century did provoke some protest, but went ahead all the same. Even
scholars writing of architecture sometimes pay scant attention to the stained
37
glass in the buildings they are writing about. Despite close collaboration of the
great Glasgow architect Alexander (“Greek”) Thomson with his highly regarded
contemporary Daniel Cottier, there is no mention of that collaboration and no
illustration of the work produced by Cottier for some of Thomson’s most
celebrated buildings in two outstanding, richly illustrated recent books on the
architect. 43
Fig. 1. Chagall, Cathédrale Saint Étienne, Metz, France
Fig. 2. Léger, Central University of Venezuela, Caracas
Fig. 3. Frank Lloyd Wright,
window of house in Buffalo, N.Y.
Princeton University Art Museum
39
PART II
Stephen Adam’s Work in Historical Context
40
1. THE REVIVAL OF STAINED GLASS IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
The originality of Stephen Adam’s panels at Maryhill Burgh Halls can best be
appreciated against the backdrop of the practice of stained glass in his own time
and in the decades before him. As is well known, a number of technical
innovations added to the range of stained glass creation even in the medieval
period, such as the introduction of silver (yellow) stain in the fourteenth century - which, penetrating the glass itself in the firing process rather than being simply
applied to the surface, expanded the range of colors available to the artist and
also made it possible to have two colors on the same piece of glass 44 -- and of the
technique of stippling, which allowed for shading while retaining a degree of
transparency. Nevertheless, the essential elements remained the “pot metal”
colored glass itself (i.e. glass colored during the production process by the
addition of various metal oxides to the clay melting pot – iron oxide for red,
copper oxide for green or yellow, cobalt or aluminum oxide for blue, magnesium
for purple) and the black leading that holds the pieces of glass together and, in
the best cases, imparts formal strength to the total composition.
41
With the rise of modern oil painting in the Renaissance, however, and the
possibilities opened up by the availability of colored enamel paints in the
sixteenth century, combined with a shortage of the old colored glass as a result of
political disturbances in the seventeenth century, the traditions of glass painting
were undermined. What had been distinctive about it – the carefully produced,
richly colored, yet always transparent glass itself and the shaping lines of the
leading – was gradually abandoned as stained glass artists sought to emulate
painters and to produce effects similar to those of painting by applying new kinds
of enamel paint to the surface of the glass, and thus rendering it increasingly
opaque. “Towards the end of the fifteenth century,” one scholar writes, “the
influence of Burgundian and Flemish artists, as well as new Italian Renaissance
styles, began to be felt. The most important features were the use of receding
perspective techniques, particularly with landscapes, and a painterly approach to
subject scenes which treated windows as a single canvas, rather than as separate
lights. Expressive, portrait-like images also appeared.” 45 (Figs. 1, 2) By the second
half of the sixteenth century stained glass aspired more and more to achieve the
pictorial effects of painting. A striking example of this new style is to be found in
42
the windows designed by the Flemish artist Abraham van Linge for various Oxford
colleges (Balliol, Christ Church, Lincoln, University, Wadham) in the 1630s. (Figs 2,
3) By the eighteenth century, stained glass windows had come to resemble oil
paintings on glass. Some, such as the East window of St. Alkmund’s in Shrewsbury
(Fig. 4), painted by Francis Eginton in 1795 after an Assumption of the Virgin by
Guido Reni, or a painted glass window by William Collins (Fig. 5), derived from a
tapestry cartoon by Raphaelof St. Paul Preaching at Athens, were indeed copied
from the work of celebrated artists of the Renaissance and Baroque. Others were
painted after designs by living artists. Thus a window made by Joshua Price in
1712-16 for Balstrode Park, a country estate in Berkshire, is said to be based on a
work by Sebastiano Ricci (1659-1734). 46 (Fig. 6) The best known of such windows
are now doubtless those at New College, Oxford, which Thomas Jervais painted
on glass in 1783 after oil cartoons by Sir Joshua Reynolds. (Fig .7) The Reynolds
windows might have had to share their celebrity with the great East and Quire
Aisle windows installed in the Royal Chapel at Windsor in 1779-1801 to designs by
Benjamin West, had these not been removed in the mid-19th century in response
to a major change in taste. As Eleanor Cracknell, an archivist at the Windsor Royal
43
Chapel wrote recently, West’s “new East Window represented the latest fashion
for vast picture windows, with large panels of glass being painted as if a canvas.
This technique enabled the designers to create images which had expression and
filled the whole space, without being broken up by lead supports.” 47 The early
decades of the nineteenth century saw little change: “There is, if possible, even
less sense of the quality of the glass itself in a window such as Joseph Backler’s
Ascension of 1821 in St. Thomas’s Church, Dudley,” it has been observed, “than in
Francis Egerton’s Faith of 1795, after Guido Reni, in St. Alkmund’s, Shrewsbury.
Though skilfully and not insensitively painted, Backler’s work is simply a coloured
painting in enamel colours, mostly on clear glass panes of regular rectangular
shape.” 48
With the vastly increased importance of pictorialism, two of the most
essential features of the medium, the translucency of its brilliantly colored glass
and the shaping role of the leadlines, were drastically diminished. Light no longer
penetrated through the enamel-painted and shaded parts of the window. 49 By the
1840’s, a reaction set in and as the Gothic Revival moved into high gear, Eleanor
Cracknell continues, “the fashion for painted glass was dying out, tastes were
44
changing and what had been all the rage was now considered vulgar and out of
keeping with the medieval surroundings.” Thus, “the first of West’s aisle windows
at Windsor was removed in 1847, to make way for a new window by Thomas
Willement, and the East Window was replaced in 1862 as part of the Dean and
Canons’ memorial to Prince Albert.” 50
Responding to the change in taste, a stained glass workshop, founded in
the early years of the nineteenth century at Munich, under the patronage of
Ludwig I of Bavaria, achieved enormous popular and commercial success with a
style that combined the painting on glass of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries with the use of traditional elements. “Munich windows,” according to
one definition, “were made of traditional hand-blown antique glass” but “typically
eschew the flatness and emphatic leading of medieval windows in favor of an
idealized naturalism and spatial realism.” 51 Stained glass from the Königliche
Glasmalerei-Anstalt and its successor workshops is to be found in many parts of
the world, including the United States and then far-off Australia. (Figs. 8, 9) At the
Great Exhibition in London in 1851, and again at the 1862 exhibition, the
“Munich” style, as it came to be known and as it was practiced almost
45
everywhere on the Continent, dominated the stained glass section, and the
exhibits in this style were seen by many as superior to those of the English stained
glass workshops, public criticism of the style by the English Gothic Revivalists
notwithstanding.
Prominent among those impressed by the Munich windows was the already
mentioned authority on stained glass, Charles Winston. “Any candid observer,”
Winston declared in a paper read in January 1856 at the Architectural Exhibition,
“must have perceived that, in the exhibition in Hyde-park, the English glass
painters were beaten hollow by foreigners, in every respect, whether in those
works whose only merit consisted in their conformity with mediaeval drawing, or
in those of higher pretentions. [. . .] I question if more than two could be named
which, in point of art, would bear a comparison with the modern windows at
Munich or Cologne.” Later in the same year Winston wrote Charles Heath Wilson,
the Director of the Government School of Design in Glasgow from 1848 until
1863, that “the West window at Norwich [1853, by John Hedgeland, 1825-98] is [.
. .] the only English window, in point of art, which will bear comparison with the
Munich windows.”52 (Fig.10) That window, not surprisingly, is strikingly close in
46
style and execution to the work of the Munich glass makers. Munich windows
were indeed being installed all over Britain -- in Oxford and Cambridge colleges,
Gloucester Cathedral, Parliament Hall in Edinburgh, even St. Paul’s Cathedral in
London, as well as in the churches of small towns and villages, such as Irvine (St.
Andrew’s Parish Church) and Dalry (St. Margaret’s Parish Church) in South-West
Scotland. (Fig. 11) Moreover, most English workshops were so focused on the
demands of the market, the German scholar Elgin Vaassen has noted, that even
those that usually turned out copies of early medieval windows “were quite
prepared to provide a fully pictorial window if the occasion (or the client)
demanded.” 53
One of the triumphant successes of the Kgl. Glasmalerei-Anstalt was its
winning the commission, in 1857, to create an entire set of stained glass windows
for Glasgow’s thirteenth-century Cathedral, a few paid for by the British
government, most by local subscribers. The Subscribers Committee’s award of the
commission to the Bavarians, which had been strongly endorsed by Winston,
provoked a lively and sometimes angry debate between supporters and
opponents of the decision. While some of the opposition was certainly motivated
47
by frustration at the loss of such an important assignment to a foreign workshop,
opposition to the Bavarians was also inspired by genuine disapproval of their
methods and style. 54
The champions of the Gothic Revival, whose aim was to return to the pure
practice of the medieval stained glass craftsmen, rejected the Munich style as a
matter of principle. In this they were followed in large measure, albeit far less
dogmatically, by the innovating Pre-Raphaelites and, a few years later, by the
adherents of William Morris’s Arts and Crafts movement. Their common position
was expressed by Ruskin in an appendix to vol. II of The Stones of Venice (18511853):
In the case of windows, the points which we have to insist upon are, the
transparency of the glass and its susceptibility of the most brilliant
colours; and therefore the attempt to turn painted windows into pretty
pictures is one of the most gross and ridiculous barbarisms of this preeminently barbarous century. It originated, I suppose, with the
Germans [. . .]; but it appears of late to have considerable chance of
establishing itself in England: and it is a two-edged error, striking in two
directions; first at the healthy appreciation of painting, and then at the
healthy appreciation of glass. [. . .] This modern barbarism destroys the
48
true appreciation of the qualities of glass. It denies, and endeavors as
far as possible to conceal, the transparency, which is not only its great
virtue in a merely utilitarian point of view, but its great spiritual
character; the character by which in church architecture it becomes [. .
.] typical of the entrances of the Holy Spirit into the heart of man; [. . .]
and therefore in endeavoring to turn the window into a picture, we at
once lose the sanctity and power of the noble material, and employ it
to an end which is utterly impossible it should ever worthily attain. The
true perfection of a painted window is to be serene, intense, brilliant,
like flaming jewellery; full of easily legible and quaint subjects, and
exquisitely subtle, yet simple, in its harmonies. In a word, this
perfection has been consummated in the designs, never to be
surpassed, if ever again to be approached by human art, of the French
windows of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. 55
Ruskin’s judgment, which was also that expressed in the clearest possible
terms around the same time by the great French architectural scholar and
restorer of medieval buildings, Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, 56 was confirmed as late as
the first decade of the twentieth century by Lewis F. Day, the Vice-President of
the Society of Arts and the author of many books on design and ornament.
49
It is usual to confound ‘stained’ with ‘painted’ glass. Literally speaking,
these are two quite distinct things. Stained glass is glass which is
coloured, as the phrase goes ‘in the pot.’ [. . .] In painted glass, on the
other hand, the colour is not in the glass but upon it, more or less
firmly attached to the glass by the action of the fire. [. . .] Strictly
speaking, then, stained and painted glass are the very opposite one to
the other. But in practice the two processes of glazing and painting
were not long kept apart. The very earliest glass was no doubt pure
mosaic. It was only in our own day that the achievement (scientific
rather than artistic) of a painted window of any size, independent of
glazier’s work, was possible. Painting was at first subsidiary to glazier’s
work; after that for a time, glazier and painter worked hand in hand
upon equal terms; eventually the painter took precedence and the
glazier became ever more and more subservient to him. But from the
twelfth to the seventeenth century, there is little of what we call,
rather loosely, sometimes ‘stained’ and sometimes ‘painted’ glass, in
which there is not both staining and painting; that is to say, stained
glass is used and there is painting upon it. The difference is that in the
earlier work the painting is only used to help out the stained glass and
in the later the stained glass is introduced to help the painting. 57
50
The bottom line is that “the finest work in glass which aims at the pictorial
and depends upon painting ends always in being either thin or opaque in effect. [.
. .] Pictures being what they are, what they were already by the end of the
sixteenth century, pictorial treatment does not make for good stained glass.” 58
Ruskin and Day expressed the point of view – and, following the example
set by Thomas Willement in the 1840s (fig. 12), the practice -- adopted by most
British stained-glass workshops, whether they simply churned out more or less
decent copies of medieval windows or were run by craftsmen/artists. Thus in his
Treatise of Painted Glass of 1845 James Ballantine of Edinburgh, Stephen Adam’s
first teacher and employer, had already expressed concern that “in Bavaria,
where the art of painting on glass has been practised recently, the glass artists,
although skilful in their manipulation, have lost sight of the leading principles of
their art.” The essential requirements of true stained glass art, in Ballantine’s
view, are, first, the use of pot metal colored glass, for “the brilliant colour and
mosaic character are lost in the same ratio as shading is attempted” and, in
addition, “fluxed colours do not penetrate the glass, but are merely vitrified on its
surface and are therefore neither transparent nor enduring”; and, second, the use
51
of leadlines “to convey a distinct idea of form.” “Shew your artistic skill,” he urged
the glass-maker, “in making the leaden lines, as far as possible, appear your
outline.”59 These recommendations of Ballantine were endorsed and, on the
whole, followed by the most serious nineteenth-century English stained glass
artists – by Pugin’s protégés, John Hardman and the latter’s nephew John
Hardman Powell (the husband of Pugin’s daughter), by the pre-Raphaelites
Rossetti, Burne-Jones, and Morris, and by the latter's followers in the Arts and
Crafts Movement (figs. 13 - 16), as well as by the best known Scottish stained-glass
artists – Daniel Cottier, Stephen Adam himself, and their immediate successors Alf
Webster, Oscar Paterson, and David Gauld. (Figs. 17-20)
Adam’s position with respect to the esthetics of stained glass was more
nuanced, however, than that of the most dogmatic Gothic Revivalists or than his
occasionally harsh criticisms of the painterly style in general and of the Munich
windows in particular would suggest. It turns out, in fact, to be not significantly
different from that presented by Charles Winston in his groundbreaking Inquiry,
which appeared just a few years before Ruskin’s Stones of Venice. Though
Winston brought his considerable influence to bear on Charles Heath Wilson,
52
who, as head of both the Glasgow School of Design and the Committee of
Subscribers, led the negotiations with the Bavarians on the new stained glass
windows for Glasgow Cathedral, his own judgment of Munich glass was by no
means uncritical. While pointing to what he considered its deficiencies, however,
and urging Wilson to pressure the Bavarians into abandoning some of their
practices in their work for Glasgow, Winston also freely acknowledged the artistry
of the work of the Munich school and took care to draw a line between his own
views and those of diehard Gothic Revivalists. As Adam appears to have been a
close reader of Winston, it will be useful to offer a summary account of Winston’s
position before taking up Adam’s own essays on stained glass of three decades
later.
Fig. 1, upper left. Dirck Crabeth. The Last
Supper [detail]. Gouda, St. Janskerk, 1557.
Fig. 2, upper right. Abraham van Linge. Jonah
and the Whale. University College Chapel,
Oxford.
Fig. 3, lower left. Abrahan van Linge. East
window of chapel, Lincoln College, Oxford.
Fig. 4, upper left. Francis Eginton,
“Hope.” St Alkmund's, Shrewsbury.
1795.
Fig. 5, lower left. William Collins, "St. Paul
preaching at Athens." Enamel paint on
glass after Raphael tapestry cartoon.
1816.
Fig. 6, upper right. Joshua Price,
"Conversion of St Paul" (said to be after
Sebastiano Ricci). 1719. Now at St.
Andrew's by the Wardrobe, London.
Fig. 7, upper center. Thomas Jervais, “The Virtues” (after oil cartoon by Sir Joshua
Reynolds). West Window, New College, Oxford.
Fig. 8, lower left. Maximilian Ainmuller, “Moses returning from Sinai with the Law.”
Peterhouse, Cambridge.
Fig. 9, lower right. Franz Xavier Zettler, St. Stephen's Catholic Cathedral, Brisbane,
Queensland. 1879
Fig. 10, upper left. John Hedgeland, West Window, Norwich Cathedral. 1854.
Fig. 11, upper right. Baird Window, St. Margaret’s, Dalry, Ayrshire.
Fig. 12, lower left. Thomas Willement, East Window, St. Peter and St. Paul Parish Church,
Belton. 1847.
Fig. 13, lower right. Dante Gabriel Rossetti, “Sir Tristram and la Belle Ysoude.” 1862.
Fig. 14, upper left. William Morris, “Queen Guenevere
and Isoude aux Blanches Mains.” 1862.
Fig. 15, upper right. Edward Burne-Jones, “The
Temptation of Adam,” Jesus College,
Cambridge. 1873-1876.
Fig. 16, lower left. Caroline Townshend and G.B. Shaw,
Fabian Window, London School of
Economics, 1910.
Fig. 17, lower right. Daniel Cottier, “Miriam.”
Dowanhill Church, Glasgow. 1865-66.
Fig. 18, upper left. Alf Webster, “The First Fruits.” In
Memory of Stepen Adam. Bearsden, New
Kilpatrick Parish Church. 1911 or 1915.
Fig. 19, upper right. Oscar Paterson, “The Quaint
Village.” Doorway at 28 Bute Gardens,
Hillhead, Glasgow. c1890.
Fig. 20, lower right. David Gauld, “Music.” 1891.
59
2. CHARLES WINSTON ON STAINED GLASS
Winston opens his Inquiry by distinguishing among “three distinct systems
of glass-painting, which for convenience sake may be termed the Mosaic method;
the Enamel method; and the Mosaic Enamel method,” the first of these being
essentially windows made of pieces of colored “pot metal” glass, held together by
leadlines, with at most some silver -- i.e. yellow -- staining and application of
brown enamel (fig.1); the second being clear glass to which enamel paint of many
colors has been applied (fig. 2); and the last, as the name implies, a combination
of the first and the second (fig. 3). Of the three, Winston asserts, the Mosaic
system, which “as now practised may [. . .] be considered a revival of the system
which prevailed throughout the Middle Ages and until the middle of the sixteenth
century,” is “admirably adapted to the nature of the material.” It is “unsuited for
mere picturesque effect” and has “the flat and hard, though brilliant character of
an ancient oil painting.” In contrast, the glass painters of the sixteenth century,
excited by the “extraordinary efforts then achieved in oil painting, by which the
hard and dry illumination of the Middle Ages was transformed into a beautiful
60
picture, glowing with the varied tints of nature, and expressing to the eye, by a
nice gradation of colouring, the relative position of near and distant objects [. . .]
strove to render their own art more completely an imitation of nature and to
produce in a transparent material the atmospheric and picturesque effects so
successfully exhibited by the reflective surfaces of oil and fresco paintings.” Their
efforts were facilitated by the “discovery of the various enamel colours about the
middle of the sixteenth century,” which led rapidly to their “extensive
employment.” By the eighteenth century these had “entirely superseded the use
of coloured glasses in large works.” This development, however, was “not without
its disadvantages. The paintings lost in transparency what they gained in variety
of tint; and in proportion as their picturesque qualities were increased by the
substitution of enamel colouring for coloured glass, their depth of colour sensibly
diminished.” 60
The essential rule is that, while the modern artist in stained glass should
not consider medieval practice the ne plus ultra of his art but rather “should
endeavour to develop its resources to the fullest extent, he ought not to seek
excellencies which are incompatible with its inherent properties. [. . .] The artist
61
who undertakes to practise glass painting should bear in mind that he is dealing
with a material essentially different from any with which he has hitherto been
familiar, and his first object should be to obtain a thorough knowledge of the
peculiarities and of the extent of the available means of his art.” Glass, in sum, is
not canvas or wood. “The chief excellence of a glass painting is its translucency. A
glass painting by possessing the power of transmitting light [. . .] is able to display
effects of light and colour with a brilliancy and vividness quite unapproachable by
any other means.” 61 But one important consequence of this same “diaphanous
quality” is a “limited scale of colour and of transparent shadow [. . .] of which its
inherent flatness is a necessary result.”
Another characteristic of stained glass is the indispensable part played in it
by its mechanical construction – i.e. “lead-work and saddle-bars,” which it is
impossible to conceal on account of their opacity. The specific features of glass
painting thus “render it unfit for the representation of certain subjects. Such as
essentially demand a picturesque treatment are better suited to an oil or water
colour painting than to a glass painting,” inasmuch as the latter is “incapable of
those nice gradations of colour and of light and shade, which are indispensable
62
for close imitations of nature and for producing the full effect of atmosphere and
distance.” The subjects “best suited to glass paintings,” Winston proposes, “are
ornamental patterns, and a variety of other designs capable of being properly
represented in a simple, hard, and somewhat flat manner; by broad masses of
stiff colouring, hard outlines, and vivid contrasts of light and shade.” 62
Nonetheless, Winston emphasizes that he is “by no means” of “the opinion
that a glass painting is to be estimated merely in proportion to its sparkling
brilliancy and the beauty of its colours, without regard to its pictorial qualities.” If
that were the case, “pattern glass paintings would always be preferred to picture
glass paintings.” He would claim only that “the best picture glass painting is that
which most fully combines the qualities of a good picture, with a display of the
diaphanous property of glass.” 63
In the end, of the three “systems of glass painting” that Winston identifies
at the beginning of his work, the modern artist is advised to adopt the Mosaic
system “because under this system the most brilliant effects of light and colour
can be produced. [. . .] Whether it is white or coloured, [the glass] is equally
transparent; but this is not the case in general with the glass either of an Enamel
63
or a Mosaic Enamel glass painting. In these paintings such portions of the picture
as are coloured either wholly or in part with enamels, are not so transparent as
the white parts.” As for the more limited scale of colour available in the Mosaic
system, that is “more than counterbalanced by its superiority over the Enamel in
strength of colour, and over the Mosaic Enamel, as well as the Enamel, in point of
brilliancy.”64 As, in addition, the leadlines play a constructive and formative role in
the Mosaic system, whereas they are confusing and distracting in the other two
systems, Winston feels he is “justified in concluding that the Mosaic system of
glass painting is, on the whole, the best system to be adopted.” 65
The two systems involving enamel paint come in, in fact, for quite severe
criticism, even though Winston distinguishes between good and bad practitioners
of them. Thus the custom of “heightening the deeper shadows with broad, smear,
unstippled patches, or dabs of Enamel brown [. . .] in the Dutch glass paintings of
the latter half of the sixteenth century and the works of the Van Linge school,
coupled with the absence of clear lights, [. . .] transformed glass paintings from
translucent pictures, to objects scarcely exceeding in actual transparency, fresco,
or oil paintings.” 66 In general, the works of the Van Linge school are “over-
64
painted,” “dull,” and “heavy.”67 As for the nineteenth-century Bavarians, who
“have adopted the Mosaic Enamel system,” “their practice is to spread a very
heavy coat of white enamel all over the back of the glass,” “with the object
probably of reducing the brilliancy of the manufactured coloured glass to a level
with the dullness of the glass coloured with enamel colours.” “The work in
consequence assumes a dull, heavy, and substantial appearance, quite opposed
to the translucent and unsubstantial character of a true glass painting.” Indeed,
“some of the smaller works of the Munich school rather resemble in their opacity
and high finish paintings on porcelain than glass paintings.”68
Nonetheless, as noted earlier, Winston insists that mere imitation of the
work of medieval stained glass artists will not in itself produce good work and
warns against “the error of regarding a conformity with style, not as an accessory
to the glass painting, but as constituting the sole end and essential object of the
work.” It is to be deplored that at the present time “a copy, or mere compilation,
scarcely rising in merit above a copy, of some ancient glass [. . .] is so often
preferred to a design, which attempts, however artistically, to carry out an
ancient style in spirit, rather than in conventionality only” 69 and that “the great
65
majority of the English glass paintings of the revived Mosaic style are either direct
copies of an original work or mere compilations in which each individual part is
taken from some ancient example.” 70 Claiming that the art of glass painting had
not yet “attained that perfection of which it is susceptible” when its decline set in
as a result of “the peculiar circumstances of the sixteenth century,” Winston
announces that he does not accept “the generally received opinions of the age”—
i.e. that it is essential to return to medieval practice. Instead, he advocates, “as
the surest means of effecting the true advancement of the art, the total
relinquishment of all copies or imitations of ancient glass whatsoever, whether
perfect or imperfect in themselves; and the substitution of a new and original
style of glass painting, founded on the most perfect practice of the Mosaic system
and sufficiently comprehensive to include within itself designs of the most varied
character, some for instance bearing a resemblance to Early English glass
paintings, some to Decorated glass paintings, and so forth, without however
ceasing to belong to the nineteenth century or degenerating into imitations.” In
short, the goal must be “unfettering the artist from the trammels of
conventionality, and leaving him free to pursue such a course as a deep and
66
philosophical consideration of the whole subject would lead him to embrace.” 71
Dogmatic adherence to convention of any kind is rejected. “The most rigid
adherence to antiquarianism cannot compensate for a want of art.” “I say, by all
means throw antiquarianism overboard, if it and art are not capable of a union
under existing circumstances.”72
Winston’s insistence that modern stained glass should be modern and
that it should reflect modern artistic sensibilities and movements led him to
moderate and refine his criticism of the Bavarians:
In Germany, instead of the revival of the Mosaic system, we see the
adoption of the Mosaic Enamel, purified of such of its defects as are not
absolutely inherent; and instead of mere imitations of ancient
authorities, the bold and undisguised development of a new and
original style, apparently having for its object an union of the severe
and excellent drawing of the early Florentine oil-paintings, with the
arrangement of the glass-painting of the former half, and the colouring of
those of the second half, of the sixteenth century. There is thus no
danger of confounding the productions of the Munich school with those
of the Middle Ages. 73
So, while he is convinced that “the adoption in Germany of the Mosaic
system [instead of the Mosaic Enamel system] would be attended with beneficial
67
results,” he is “compelled to admit that the artistical character of the Munich
glass-paintings in general, renders that school at the present moment on the
whole superior to all those which have arisen since the beginning of the
seventeenth century.” 74 Ultimately, better “art without transparency” than
“transparency without art.” 75
Fig. I, upper left. “St John the
Evangelist hands the Palm to the
Jew.” St Peter Mancroft,
Norwich, now in Burrell
Collection, Glasgow. 15th C
Fig. 2, upper right. Francis Eginton,
"Conversion of St. Paul," East Window,
St. Paul, Birmingham.
Fig. 3, lower left. Everhard Rensig
and/or Gerhard Remisch, “Esau gives
up his Birthright; Jacob and Esau with
the Mess of Pottage.” 1521.
69
3. STEPHEN ADAM ON STAINED GLASS
Stephen Adam’s own thoughts about stained glass, as expressed in various
writings – a 35-page booklet entitled Stained Glass: Its History and Modern
Development (1877), an article in The British Architect (vol. 39, 1893), a pamphlet
on Truth in Decorative Art (1896; second edition, 1904), and a substantial
contribution to George Eyre-Todd’s The Book of Glasgow Cathedral (1898) –
appear to have been much influenced by Winston, though he must also have
been well acquainted with fellow-Scot Francis Oliphant’s A Plea for Painted
Glass. 76 Adam’s Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, published by
James MacLehose, the Glasgow University publisher, when the author was not
quite 30 years old, opens on the very same tripartite division (“Mosaic,”
“Enamel,” and “Mosaic Enamel”) that Winston had proposed three decades
earlier and, proceeding along the same general lines in an account of the
historical development of the medium, offers judgments virtually identical to
those of Winston. Thus the “Early English style” demonstrates the fundamental
principles of stained glass as a medium: “Every line would seem to show [. . .] that
70
the master glazier knew he was drawing for an opening in stone for admission of
enriched light, arranging his pictures to accord with architectural divisions of such
opening. [. . .] Figure and canopy windows of this style [. . .] are characterized by a
certain rude simplicity. The canopies, minus the false perspective of later times,
are correct as a canopy can be, under which a richly coloured figure is seen, not
drawn to strict anatomical rules, but more satisfactory in position than some
over-draped modern ones that are.” 77 Nevertheless, like Winston, Adam warns
against slavish modern imitation of thirteenth-century work. As present-day
artists, he writes, “we have all facilities in the way of material (thanks to recent
efforts [a reference to the newly revived technique of “antique” glassmaking, to
the development of which Winston had contributed substantially]) and what
more do we want but the honest desire to do original work? That hankering after
the past, in practice, and repeating of dead patterns, retards art, advancing
backward with back to the light.” 78
With the “Decorated style,” from the end of the thirteenth to the end of
the fourteenth century, the introduction of yellow stain was a “useful” novelty
that makes it “now possible to show two colours on one piece of glass.”
71
Therewith, however, “the thin edge of the wedge is in. [Italics in text] Work
rapidly becomes less mosaic in treatment, many of the pot metal colours [are]
now left out. Larger pieces of glass [are] used, with more detail on each piece. [. .
.] The perfect flatness, so evident in [the] early English period is gone and [the]
way is being paved for [the] succeeding perpendicular style.” 79 While “delicate
foliage and diaper work give much pleasure” and “shields and other heraldic
ornaments show good colour, [. . .] in figures lines are thinner; faces and naked
parts are white with hair stained yellow.” Worse still, “forced and ridiculous
attitudes [are] the rule.” In addition, colors have become “thinner and colder.” 80
Like Winston, Adam draws a mixed picture of the historical development pointing
to significant and portentous losses, but also recognizing some gains.
Developed further, the changes that came with the “Decorated style” lead
to “a style in which, as far as glass is concerned,” Adam declares, “I see little to
admire, viz. the perpendicular.” With the introduction of the “stipple shade” 81
glass painters are now inspired “to emulate the shaded beauties of the mural
pictures now seen in interior decorations.” In general, stained glass loses sight of
its essential characteristics and begins to emulate the altogether different
72
medium of painting on canvas, wood or walls. “In [the] form of architectural
constructions, perspective is imitated,” while stippling makes it possible to
“transcribe those delicate folds in drapery, -- those softened horizon effects,
correct enough on canvas or wall, where blending is possible, but incongruous on
glass where the black decided metal outline is indispensable to the existence of
the whole composition.” Inevitably, glass makers “now dispense with lead outline
to a great extent.” Moreover, new coloring techniques, the possibility of applying
color to the surface of the glass instead of its being derived from the glass itself,
result in the “scattering” of lead lines -- another change noted and deplored by
Winston -- inasmuch as these cease to structure the composition, becoming
instead “conspicuous by their irregularity, [. . .] undesirable necessities.”(Fig.1)
Glass painters have “now no thought but to fill in their window openings with
pictures, which, to be perfect, must closely resemble the altar canvases.” 82
Still, again like Winston, Adam in no way endorses rigid adherence to the
early practices of stained glass. He admires the fine drawing that often
accompanies work in the new styles. “Before passing from this period in which I
see so little to admire,” he draws attention to “the clever paintings in brown and
73
yellow executed on a single pane of glass, where the pictorial fancies are not
marred by lead work.” (He probably had in mind here the small, easily
transportable roundels created in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries by Swiss,
German, and Netherlandish, as well as some French and English artists, and often
used as gifts.) (Figs. 2, 3) In these “the pencilling is exquisite, and much is learned
by a close examination.” In fact, he concedes, if he sees so little to admire in this
period, this could well be from “having seen so little.” And he defers to Winston
who claims to have seen fine work in this style in Munich -- “and few men have
seen more” than Winston. 83
Though the next style identified by Adam moves stained glass even further
in the direction of painting and hence ever further from its original and defining
character, as both he and Winston understood it, Adam again follows Winston in
acknowledging the artistry of some of its practitioners. The Cinque Cento style
“may be termed the very perfection of picture-painted glass,” he writes, “a style
in which most wonderful and magnificent effects are attained, in which the
figures in [the] later part of it are full of dash and vigour.” The stained glass artists
of this period, Adam asserts -- characteristically expressing both approval and
74
disapproval -- are resolutely modern. “No troubling now about the past, and its
struggles to keep windows like windows. No more half-hearted Gothic imitations.
No. The Cinque Cento artist says: We have mastered the material. With it, or
rather on it, by expert painting we can imitate anything. [. . .] And this would
seem true. Your eye wanders from the frescoes and cartoons of great masters to
the windows, where much of the same magnificence is observed, illustrating the
influence which one branch of art exerts over another.” 84 The technical skill of
these sixteenth-century glass painters was formidable:
We find every expedient made use of for attaining of effect [. . .] -double staining, working both sides of glass, even cutting out holes in it,
rubies and blues etched, most profuse enrichments on head-dresses,
armour &c.; [in] the ornamental portions the same liveliness and
variety[.] Roman-like embellishments, foliage in scrolls, vases, festoons,
tassels, ribbons, birds, beasts, and fish, all are employed by these
versatile artists, and so well applied, as a rule, that many will, and do
exclaim, like a French writer, that this is, indeed, the golden age of glass
painting. It is further remarked by an eminent authority [. . .] that,
though it did not then attain perfection, [stained glass] reached a
degree of excellence which has not only never been equalled but also
affords satisfactory grounds for the belief that if glass-painting cannot
75
boast of possessing examples as full of artistic merits as the works of
the great masters, this deficiency is attributable not to any inherent
incapacity in this species of painting for a display of high art, but simply
to the want of skill in those who have hitherto practised it. 85
Surprisingly, one might think, in view of the criticism he was to express of
the decision to award the commission for the Glasgow Cathedral windows to the
Munich Glasmalerei-Anstalt, Adam goes on to express a high opinion of the work
of the Munich artists. He does so, however, only to then compare their work
somewhat unfavorably with that of their predecessors in vivid representation, the
glassmakers of the Cinque Cento, for whom, still following in the footsteps of
Winston, he again expresses seemingly unbounded admiration.
I am inclined [. . .] to think that the manipulative qualities of some of
our Munich and Milan windows bring them up to a standard, as far as
skilful painting goes, which should exempt them from the censure
implied by the view that if stained glass never achieved the artistic
heights of the great masters of Renaissance painting, that must be
attributed to the shortcomings of its practitioners.
If most wonderful handling, and texture, and blending of delicate
tints are the principal qualifications of a good church window, Bettina’s
76
work [i.e. Pompeo Bertini’s work!] in our own crypt must be perfection,
but, in contradistinction to this modern, carefully hatched, and stippled
perfection, we find in [the] Cinque Cento period broad, swift, artistic
touch, firm line, and other pictorial qualities, which, though carrying out
the work on picture principles, do it in a way which even the most
straitlaced medievalist must admire. Who could look at some of those,
say the Brussels windows for example, and not feel impressed. [. . .]
Each inspection reveals new beauties. Those vast masses of rich umber
(though it is brown enamel), [. . .] those glorious swags of fruit in clear
golden yellow and intense orange, now crossing a deep shadow, now
swung across a grey blue sky, those quaint and expressive subordinate
conceits in ornamental details, wrought over panes in square forms
generally, over which [. . .] your eye wanders from the stern furrowed
face of some saint or warrior [. . .] to the sweet joyous countenance of
[a] winged cherub with parted lips [. . .]. All these are found in their
highest development in this period. Here, too, are exhibited the
devotional feeling which actuated the inner life of their contemporaries
as displayed in the kneeling figure of [a] medieval lady, costumed as
becomes her station, to the richly attired churchman with crozier and
stole “lifting his holy hands” in the act of benediction.
77
“Yes,” Adam concludes, “this is indeed the golden age of glass painting.” 86 (Figs. 4,
5)
Typically, however (of both Winston and Adam), this acknowledgment is
immediately followed by an important rider, printed in italics: “mark the word” -the word that is to be marked being “painting.” For it needs to be observed, Adam
warns, “before leaving this style, that the best work was produced invariably in
[the] first half of [the] sixteenth century.[. . .] In [the] later half much change is
shown in general treatment, by the gradual introduction and use of enamel
colours, which, by the simplicity of their application, render easy the only aim the
glass painter had – the close imitation of oil painting. The result of this fatal
facility [italics in text] is, that the work loses much of its former brilliancy. The
shadows no longer show transparency; from their being less flat and stippled,
they look mere dabs of colour [ . . .]. An accumulation of these faults go to form
the style which we term the Intermediate [. . .], embracing all glass from the close
of Cinque Cento until [the] Gothic revival of forty or fifty years ago.” The work in
this style “varies much in merit, and illustrates many schools of painting, and
consequently is not a uniform style.” It is, however, “an inferior style.” To it can
78
be attributed “the gradual deterioration, and, later on, the almost total extinction
of the art.”
Winston is now quoted directly: “Glass painting at this time did not decline
for want of encouragement, as the causes of its decay were in full operation at
the period of its greatest prosperity, but from a confounding of its principles with
those of other systems of painting.” Adam subscribes wholly to this view. It is
customary, he writes, to attribute the decline of the art of stained glass to “the
Reformation and consequent troubles.” But “I think differently. These events may
have discouraged its practice, but we may distinguish the germs of its decadence
in the false art – false in principle, false and inconsistent in execution” of the
immediately preceding period. 87
Nonetheless, even at this point Adam keeps a fairly open mind. “The
brothers Van Linge,” (Abraham [fl. 1624-41] and Bernard [1598-1644]), we are
told, “distinguished themselves by their judicious combinations of enamel colours
which to this day exist in Oxford and other places. (See Pt. I, 1, figs. 2, 3) Much
really beautiful work is also shown in those quaint panes of Swiss glass of the
time. Some in South Kensington [the present Victoria and Albert Museum] will
79
repay close inspection.” Later still, “Antwerp Cathedral has some windows
showing powerful figure drawing.” (Fig. 6) Still, even the best drawing cannot
compensate for “the effeminate niceties of enamel work [. . .] We may imagine
what the drawings [of Sir Joshua Reynolds for the window at New College,Oxford]
must have been, but we know what the glass is like.” 88 (See Pt. I, 1, fig. 7)
Stained glass, in sum, it should never be forgotten, has its own principles,
characteristics, and beauty, and they are not those of painting. On the other
hand, the advocates of a narrowly defined Gothic Revival continue to find no
favor with Adam: “The Gothic architect, the Gothic glass-stainer, and many other
Goths [. . .] awaken to the beauties of early days. For the Gothic church” –
whether old or newly built in the Gothic style – “they want medieval windows and
figures.” These, however, are only too “easily got” for “many glass-stainers about
know the ‘requisite little’ to produce them, and they bring forth with little travail,
but evidently very much.” The design is totally derivative and follows models that
reflect a still primitive stage in the development of European art: “Observe those
twisted necks; painfully pathetic faces; the dainty curly hair, each hair alike; those
angular limbs, [the] more grotesque [. . .], the better for [the] purpose. And those
80
deformities are manufactured and catalogued principally in London; and the
country is overrun with ‘stock saints and evangelists’ of all sizes at per foot
prices.[. . .] True, they revive transparency and discard enamel,” but “with it, all
originality.” Following Winston, Adam demands not more or less successful copies
of old glass, but a modern stained glass art, an art for his own time, constrained
only by respect for and observance of the basic principles of stained glass as a
medium: “Medieval glass in many ways faithfully chronicled the past; this modern
imitation [. . .] is degrading, a positive contradiction all through, and chronicles
nothing but its own deformity.” 89
Despite the “endeavours of some faithful artists [. . .] to establish a
nineteenth century British school,” it is, in fact, the absence of art and the lack of
imagination characteristic of most “Gothic Revival” British stained glass that have
brought about the “Nemesis, now appearing in the form of continental glass.” For
it is not surprising that clients who, whether or not they have an understanding of
what “glass-drawing should be,” at least know what “drawing could be, [. . .]
would turn away from this revived British glass and its repulsive qualities and
accept the more captivating German productions.” In these, whatever their
81
defects, clients can at least find “composition not wanting in devout feeling and
well-drawn expressive features and drapery.” Winston is again quoted directly:
“As has been well said, they prefer art without transparency to transparency
without art.”90
Adam recognizes that he might seem to be contradicting himself in holding
that twelfth and thirteenth century glass contains “the very germ of what is
correct” in stained glass, while at the same time endorsing the view that “a style
quite opposite” – i.e. that of the Cinque Cento –“is the golden age of glass
painting.” In fact, however, he explains, he is advocating that one “cherish and
cultivate the purity and principle of the first” and, at the same time, “endeavour,
by accepting our modern increased scale of colour, to emulate or increase its
many beauties. [. . .] In short, with [the] form and sweet simplicity of one, [. . .]
unite the colour harmonies of [the] other.” The union or reconciliation of the two
would constitute the “‘ne plus ultra’ for the modern development of stained
glass.” The lesson for the stained glass artist is clear: “In domestic work, let our
first aim be to show symmetry in lead lines, allowing plant forms to be
subordinate to the geometrical arrangements, not constructing them.” As for
82
figure drawings, the stained glass designer should seek inspiration in the work of
modern artists. “The works of Burne Jones, Leighton, Poynter, Holman Hunt,
Stacey Marks, Albert Moore, in different styles show drawing suitable for
treatment in glass.” 91 (Figs. 7, 8; see also Pt. III, 2, fig. 17) For ecclesiastical glass,
“draw as well and expressively as ability will permit” and “let recognized artists
only of established ability be employed on the figure cartoons.” Indeed, “if money
considerations will not admit of their employment, figures [. . .] should be left
out.” Adam goes on to indicate what he means by “good drawing.” “When I say
good drawing, I do not mean elaborate renderings of folds in drapery. No. A
certain external form and balancing of parts, as evinced in classic frescoes,
Flaxman’s cartoons, and some bas-reliefs by other artists [. . .] better define my
ideas and suggest our limits.” 92 (Fig. 9) In a lecture delivered in Glasgow in 1895,
Adam cited as influences on his own work “Rossetti, Burne-Jones, William Morris
and Puvis de Chavannes” 93 –artists in whom, as in Flaxman’s neo-classical style,
the linear element and the “external form and balancing of parts” are extremely
strong, while figures are arranged on the surface plane with little depth.
Above all, Adam reiterates his consistent position concerning the
fundamental and essential feature of stained glass:
83
Let us remember that we never can by painful mechanical processes
increase those jewelly translucent qualities inherent in good glass. In it
we have countless beauties which the painter on canvas has not.
Through such virtues then let the light be transmitted to us, not
reflected from false painted surfaces. Keep it clearly before us that
manipulation is not necessarily art; that higher standards of art are
attained, if based on the simple rules the material renders possible.
[. . .]
We have spoken of the prevalence of German glass amongst us, and
frankly admit that German art was not resorted to until we had put
ourselves out of court by varied and ever increasing monstrosities. And
we are confident that if we return to the old ways and produce really
artistic work, there is sufficient patriotism among British connoisseurs
to banish forever the foreign productions. 94
Adam proposes draconian measures to ensure that high standards will
prevail. “Were it possible, we believe it would be beneficial [italics in text] to
establish an artistic tribunal for the purpose of trying all work professing to be
high art, and arm it with plenary power to accomplish the demolition of the many
outrages on taste now extant. Such a tribunal,” he adds, acknowledging the
essential place of stained glass within an architectural whole “would necessarily
include many architects among its members, for, perhaps, with them more than
84
any other body lies the power to foster art in this particular branch.” 95
Better, no doubt, “art without transparency” than “transparency without
art.” But the goal of the authentic stained glass artist who truly understands the
conditions and possibilities of the medium he is working in must be to create glass
that is both transparent and artistic -- neither a mere copy, no matter how
faithfully executed by antiquarian standards, nor a painting on glass, no matter
how imaginatively designed and expertly executed.
Adam stuck to the position laid out in his first published work throughout
his career, repeating it in both his article on the history of stained glass in The
British Architect for December 29, 1893 and again in his essay on “The Stained
Glass Windows” in The Book of Glasgow Cathedral: A History and Description of
1898. The tripartite division of stained glass styles taken over from Winston is
repeated in both texts, as is the rejection of dogmatic Gothic Revivalism.
However, the critique of Munich glass and of the extensive use of enamel paint
has intensified. Thus the British Architect article closes on the “consolation” to
be derived, “not from sordid narrow motives, but for Art’s sake alone,” from
“the melancholy fact that the enamel painted surfaces of those German windows
is [sic] rapidly giving way (notably in Glasgow Cathedral).” Adam goes further still.
85
“Dare we contemplate, even hope, that the day is not remote when public taste,
instigated by our Art guilds, will demand the removal of ‘all that is left of them,’
and give the 19th century draughtsman and native art-trained craftsman a chance
of re-lighting the grand interior of St. Mungo’s by refilling the windows with
‘Grisaille’ glass ere the close of the Victorian era and the 19th century.” 96 After all,
the function of a window is to admit light; and the enamel on the Munich
windows was keeping light out, besides already showing signs of fading.
Still, to his credit, Adam does not completely abandon the measured and
nuanced views expressed in his earlier work. His judgment of enamel work in
stained glass remains negative: even though “the colours after painting are
submitted to heat in the kiln and fused on the glass [. . .] they remain merely on
the surface and in course of time are liable to scale off and disappear.” Above all,
“from the artistic point of view, the enamel process has this objection – the
windows are painted as if the light were to fall on them instead of through them”
and “for this reason, they must be held to depart from the true canons of the art.”
Thus “by the latter end of the sixteenth century, stained windows were merely
imitations of altar or wall pictures -- ‘painted window blinds,’ and untruthful
art.” 97 Some of the Flemish and Dutch painted glass is admittedly “very exquisite
86
in detail,” but “it remains liable to all the drawbacks mentioned.”
On its side, the Gothic Revival fares no better in 1898 than it did in 1877:
“The modern Gothic church wanted Gothic windows, and the stained glass shown
at the first International Exhibition illustrates how the demand was met by the
British manufacturer. Distorted saints, catalogued at prices per foot, became
common; Acts of Mercy, Prodigal Sons, and Good Samaritans were cheap. But in
no sense could they be called good art.” 98
Given this situation, “it may be said that [Mr. Heath Wilson and the
Committee of Subscribers for the windows of Glasgow Cathedral] were forced to
go abroad for the work” and “had been forced to prefer ‘art without transparency
to transparency without art.’ They, however, did what lay within their power, by
the selection of artists of eminence and repute.”99 Adam mentions in particular
the Nazarene artist Heinrich von Hess and Hess’s students, Moritz von Schwind
(the close friend of Franz Schubert) and Johann von Schraudolph. There is praise
of their work as artists (Figs. 10-12) and at the same time criticism of it as applied
to glass. 100 Their windows in the nave, we are told (over thirty at the time, all
removed between the 1930s and the 1960s), “strike the eye with the strength and
glow of intense colour,” albeit the “primary reds, blues, yellows, and greens” in
their “struggle for mastery” create an impression of “discord” rather than
87
harmony. Similarly the viewer can only admire the “beautifully drawn features –
heads of men, firm and strong; of women sweet and natural,” and the “effective
figure groups, as in the great west window by von Schwind.” Again, however,
Adam notes that these are “marred by the repeated carpet-like patterns in vivid
colours which surround them.” The north transept window by von Hess, singled
out for “some splendidly drawn figures,” would be “a noble production, but for
the chronic over-colouring.” Similarly, in other windows that “arrest the
attention” of the viewer, “note must be made of the enamelled flash work, the
painted beards of men, the over-manipulated folds of draperies and other
infringements of the true rules of glass-staining art.” Admirable as they may be, in
short, the designs are unsuited to the medium of stained glass. “The figures are
vigorous and bold conceptions, perfect in academic drawing,” but “too literal, too
material, and quite devoid of spiritual or ecclesiastical feeling” -- in other words,
too painterly, too focused on representing what the physical eye sees and
insufficiently attentive to the essential meaning that the design ought to evoke
and communicate. The accessory angels are “excessively buxom and healthy,”
Adam adds humorously. “All their strength of wing, would be required to sustain
them in their hovering attitudes.” 101 (Figs. 13-15)
For the windows by Pompeo Bertini of Milan, who worked in a similar
88
mode to the Bavarians 102-- two in the Cathedral crypt (“Christ and the
Syrophoenician Woman” and “Christ and the Woman of Samaria”) and three in
Bishop Lauder’s Chapter House crypt (“John the Baptist,” “Luke the Evangelist”
and “Our Blessed Saviour”) -- Adam does not conceal his admiration: “As
examples of enamel work they rival in perfection of detail, and truthful rendering
of faces and draperies, the finest miniature paintings. The silky sheen of the
drapery, and life-like expression of features, can only have been got by honest
and loving labour, and by repeated firing and fusing of colours in the kiln.” (Fig.
16) To this, Adam concedes, is due “their present satisfactory condition,”
whereas, in contrast, “the German windows [. . .] are rapidly fading.” 103
Nevertheless, “despite the beauty of the Milan windows, and the excellence of a
few others, the very presence of deeply coloured windows in the lower church is,
from every point of view, a serious mistake.” The “beauties of carved stone” in it
“were certainly meant to be seen by the light of day.” For that reason, Adam
speculates, “the original windows were no doubt leaded work in silvery white
or‘grisaille’ painted glass.” No windows could be more inappropriate in a crypt
than the virtually opaque windows produced by the use of enamel paint on white
glass. 104
89
All this was by no means to say that the English windows in the crypt were
good. With one exception (“Mary, the Sister of Lazarus” by Clayton & Bell), “the
London windows,” we are told, do nothing to “uphold the reputation of English
glass.” In general, “had the condition of decorative art work in Britain been in the
year 1854 [the time of the commissioning of the windows] what it is in 1898, our
noble cathedral would have been beautified more in the spirit and intention of
the devout and earnest souls who reared it.” 105 Adam thus aligned himself
aesthetically with English contemporaries, such as Edward Burne-Jones, William
Morris, Henry Holiday, and Christopher Whall, and with other Scottish stained
glass artists, such as Daniel Cottier, his former employer and teacher, James and
William Guthrie, Hugh McCulloch, a graduate of Cottier’s studio like himself, as
well as with upcoming younger men, such as Oscar Paterson, George Walton, and
his own assistants David Gauld and Alf Webster, who went on to establish
reputations of their own. He had a vision of stained glass as a medium defined by
particular properties -- but released from what he considered an inhibiting
association with the work of the Middle Ages and committed instead to modern
design and modern forms of expression.
In conclusion, it deserves to be noted that recent work by scholars of
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stained glass has challenged the extreme and unequivocally negative judgments
of the Munich windows of Glasgow Cathedral that were expressed at the time of
their installation and in the years following and has in some measure vindicated
the more guarded and nuanced stance taken by Winston and Adam. 106
Fig. 1, upper left. “Samson and the Lion.” Germany. 16th C.
Fig. 2, upper right. Roundel. “St Nicholas as Baker.” Netherlands. 16th C.
Fig. 3, lower right. Dirck Vellert, Roundel. “Le Jugement de Cambyse.” Netherlands.
1541.
Fig. 4, center foot. Pompeo Bertini. Milan, Cathedral. Absidial windows.
Fig. 5, upper left. Sainte-Gudule Cathedral,
Brussels. Alleged profanation of
the host by Brussels Jews. 16th C.
Fig. 6, lower left. Dirck Vellert, "Martyrdom
of the Seven Maccabees and their
mother." Antwerp, 1530-35.
Fig. 7, top right. Albert Moore, “A
Musician.” Oil on canvas.
Fig. 8, second from top, right. Edward
Poynter, “Orpheus and Eurydice.”
1862. Oil on canvas.
Fig. 9, third from top, right. John Flaxman,
illustration for Pope’s Translation of
the Iliad, engraved 1795.
Fig. 10, fourth from top, right. Heinrich
Maria von Hess, “Faith, Hope, Charity.”
1819. Oil on panel.
Fig. 11, upper left. Moritz von Schwind, “Sabina von Steinbach an der Figur der
Synagoge für das Straßburger Münster arbeitend.” Oil on canvas. 1844.
Fig. 12, upper center. Johann Schraudolph, “Anbetung der Könige.” Speyer
Cathedral. Fresco. 1852.
Fig. 13, upper right. Moritz von Schwind, “The Risen Christ.” From South
transept window, Glasgow Cathedral. 1863. (Now removed)
Fig. 14, lower left. E. Siebertz, “The Dream and the Promise.” From North
transept window, Glasgow Cathedral. 1860. (Now removed)
Fig. 15, lower center. Franz Friez, “Angel.” From “Gideon and Ruth” window,
South transept, Glasgow Cathedral. 1863. (Now removed)
Fig. 16, lower right. Pompeo Bertini, “John the Baptist,” Lauder’s Crypt, Glasgow
Cathedral. 1867.
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PART III
Adam’s Maryhill Burgh Halls Panels
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1. STEPHEN ADAM: THE EARLY YEARS AND THE GLASGOW STUDIO
Born near Edinburgh in 1848, and educated at the city’s Canonmills School
(where Robert Louis Stevenson was one of his contemporaries), Stephen Adam
showed talent in drawing and painting from an early age. 107 This led to his being
apprenticed in 1861 to the prominent Edinburgh firm of decorators and stained
glass makers, Ballantine & Son. He thus received his earliest training in stained
glass from one of the most respected practitioners of the medium in Scotland,
James Ballantine (1807-1877). As already noted, Ballantine was critical both of the
methods of the Munich glass makers and of the current English practice of
imitating medieval glass window designs.
In 1864, the young Adam moved with his family to Glasgow, Scotland’s
rapidly expanding city of opportunity, where he became a student at the Glasgow
School of Art and Haldane Academy. 108 Here, in the following year, he was
awarded a silver medal for his work in stained glass. This brought him to the
attention of Scotland’s leading stained glass artist of the time, Daniel Cottier, who
had also worked for Ballantine in Edinburgh before setting up on his own in the
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Scottish capital and then moving his firm to Glasgow where, as it was one of the
fastest growing and wealthiest cities in Europe, there was no shortage of orders
for stained glass -- “Second City of Empire and First City of Glass,” as Michael
Donnelly described it in the title of Chapter 2 of his Scotland’s Stained Glass:
Making the Colours Sing (Edinburgh: The Stationary Office, 1997). Cottier, who
was already beginning to win international recognition (at the 1867 Paris
Exhibition, an armorial window by him was to earn high praise for its “superb
harmony of colours,” be judged “the finest ornamental window in the Exhibition,”
and win a prize 109), took Adam into his workshop toward the end of 1865 and by
the following year the 18-year-old had probably completed his apprenticeship. As
a qualified journeyman, he may thus have had a hand in the execution of some of
Cottier’s important commissions in those years, notably for the windows in
architect William Leiper’s Dowanhill Church in the West End of Glasgow (built in
1865-66, now restored as “Cottier’s Theatre,” a restaurant, bar, and cultural
venue) and for at least two of Alexander (“Greek”) Thomson’s buildings -- the
handsome villa known as Holmwood House in Cathcart, a district in Glasgow’s
South Side (built in 1859), and the magnificent Queen’s Park United Presbyterian
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Church in the Queen’s Park district, also in Glasgow’s South Side (1869, destroyed
by an incendiary bomb during World War II). 110 Adam acknowledged his
indebtedness, particularly in the matter of color to his former employer and
master. 111 Cottier may well also have influenced Adam in the matter of design.
While in London Cottier had enrolled in F.D. Maurice’s Working Men’s College
where he was in contact with Rossetti, Ford Madox Brown, the young Edward
Burne-Jones and other members of the Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood. The clear,
flowing lines of many of his designs demonstrate an affinity with the work of his
contemporaries in the Pre-Raphaelite and Aesthetic movements, which he passed
on to Adam. (Fig. 1) This Pre-Raphaelite influence on Adam is easily discerned by
comparing the Maryhill panels, despite the difference in subject matter, with
Rossetti’s “Sir Tristram and la Belle Ysoude,” made for Harden Grange in Yorkshire
in 1862. (Part II, 1, fig. 13)
After Cottier left Glasgow for London in 1869 and went on to set up studios
and art dealerships in New York and Sydney, Australia, the by then 22-year-old
Adam, in partnership with David Small, another native of Edinburgh and former
fellow-apprentice at the Ballantine studio, opened a stained-glass workshop of his
own at 121 Bath Street in the fast developing western part of Glasgow’s city
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center. 112 Though Small appears to have “remained quietly in the background,” 113
and the partnership was dissolved in 1885, one of the panels in Maryhill Burgh
Halls, “The Boatbuilder,” does bear the company name “Adam & Small,” (see fig.
in Album preceding Part I) as do several church windows. Adam did collaborate
informally but quite regularly with another of Cottier’s assistants, the gifted
Andrew Wells who, however, left for Australia in 1886, where he joined the firm
Cottier had set up in Sydney, returning to Glasgow in the following decade as a
partner in the firm of J. & W. Guthrie and Andrew Wells. 114 Over the years, as his
workshop received more and more commissions, Adam also employed several
younger men who went on to win recognition as stained glass artists in their own
right, notably his own son and, for a time, partner, Thomas Annan Jr. (who,
however, in an unexplained dispute with his father left the firm in 1904, opened a
studio of his own in Glasgow, and then, in 1916, emigrated with his family to
America), David Gauld, WilliamTait Meikle, and Alf Webster. (Figs. 2-5) By the
time of Adam’s death in 1910, Webster had virtually taken over the studio.
Most of the firm’s commissions, as Ian Mitchell has pointed out (see
Appendix I), were inevitably for churches. The fashion for memorial windows,
which set in around mid-century, gave no sign of slowing down and constituted
an extremely important source of income for every stained glass workshop. 115
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Adam himself, in an appendix to the second edition (1904) of his pamphlet Truth
in Decorative Art (1896), lists, as “a few” that “may be mentioned,” just under 100
“among the most important church memorial windows designed and executed in
recent years by Stephen Adam.”
Nevertheless, the firm’s business ranged widely and many windows were
designed for public buildings, such as the town halls of Annan and Inverness, the
Sick Children’s Hospital in Glasgow, the Carnegie Library in Ayr (opened in August
1893 in the presence of the benefactor, Andrew Carnegie, himself), as well as for
the villas and terrace houses of prosperous Glasgow merchants in the city’s West
End and South Side (figs. 6, 7, 8), the castles and mansions of the well-to-do in
Scotland and Ireland, commercial premises, such as Pettigrew and Stephens
department store on Sauchiehall Street in Glasgow, and – in Adam’s own
description -- “High Class Restaurants,” such as “Spiers & Pond’s, Blackfriars,
London” and “the Grosvenor, Gordon Street” in Glasgow, and “leading steamships
and yachts.” Bars and public houses, such as the Imperial Bar, still doing business
in Howard Street in central Glasgow, also figured among the firm’s clients.(Figs. 913) By the beginning of the twentieth century the Adam studio was one of the
100
leading stained glass studios in Scotland with, in addition, a considerable overseas
clientele. 116 The massive reference work entitled Glasgow and its Environs: A
Literary, Commercial, and Social Review, Past and Present; with a Description of
its Leading Mercantile Houses and Commercial Enterprises, published by Stratten
& Stratten in London in 1891, devoted a long entry to “Stephen Adam & Co. Glass
Stainers and Decorators, 231 St. Vincent Street, Glasgow,” asserting that
under Mr. Adam's management the house has become one of the most
noted concerns in Scotland in its line, and has maintained a splendid
reputation in every branch of decoration by means of stained glass. [. .
.] The house has carried out many notable contracts both in connection
with ecclesiastical window work, public institutions, hotels, restaurants,
banks, etc., etc. [. . .] The trade of the house extends over the whole of
the United Kingdom and the Colonies. The business is constantly
experiencing extension in scope and, through Mr. Adam’s influence,
becomes more widely known every day. As an evidence of the high
popularity attained by the house, we may mention that within the past
ten years, Mr. Adam has completed for patrons no fewer than two
hundred and twenty stained glass memorial windows in various parts of
the world.
101
The company’s premises, as described by the author of the entry, were extensive,
comprising
six spacious flats, admirably equipped in all parts, and devoted to (1)
Workshops for lead working; (2) The drawing and designing of cartoons
and painting of patterns for approval, before proceeding to the final
operations; (3) Glass painting and staining workshops; (4) The kilns for
firing the glass after the process of staining; (5) For stock of material;
and (6) Packing department.
The operations associated with each of these departments, the reader is
informed, “afford employment to executants of the highest skill and talent.”
The entry closes on a brief biographical sketch of Stephen Adam himself,
“a gentleman of exceptional culture and erudition” and a leading citizen of his
adopted city, being “a prominent member of the Philosophical Society and of the
Society of Literature and Arts,” and well known and admired for his lectures and
writings on the decorative arts. “In every sphere in which this gentleman
exercises his influence,” we are informed, “he is a decided acquisition, and his
counsels are received with the most marked respect and attention.”
That was in 1891, but in 1877 when he was commissioned to produce the
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panels for the Maryhill Burgh Halls, Adam was not yet 30 years old and had been
in business for only a few years. Moreover, except for some very general stylistic
features nothing in his previous practice appears to anticipate the Maryhill panels
-- and, strikingly, very little in his subsequent practice recalls them.
One of his earliest works, produced in 1874 when he was just 26 years
old, was a beautiful three-light memorial window designed for the handsomely
refurbished eighteenth-century St. Andrew’s Church in Glasgow’s St. Andrew’s
Square – one of the finest church buildings of its time in Scotland. (Figs. 14-16)
Three years later, around the same time that he began working on designs for the
Maryhill Burgh Halls panels, he created the stained glass windows for Glasgow
architect James Sellars’ Belhaven United Presbyterian Church in the city’s
prosperous West End. (Figs. 17, 18) In Iain Galbraith’s words, a special feature of
these windows was the “use of fruit and foliage motifs. These are beautifully
drawn and show the influence of Japanese art, delicate and incisive in muted
shades of blue, silver, green and gold, and of William Morris in the willowpatterned background. These decorative panels function as foils for the subtly-
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coloured figure panels, based upon illustrations from the parables and which
constitute independent colour studies on their own.” 117 In 1877 Adam also
produced the elaborate three-light Baird memorial window in the parish church
of the village of Alloway in Ayrshire, the birthplace of Scotland’s national poet,
Robert Burns. (Figs. 19-22)
The clean, modern design of these early works, the effective use of the
leadlines to enhance and highlight the composition, and the rich colors of the
glass itself, along with moderate use of paint to give expressiveness to the faces
and avoidance of the traditional canopies above the figures, show the influence of
Cottier, William Morris, and Burne-Jones, and, in general, demonstrate the
strength and clarity that were to be hallmarks of Adam’s designs throughout his
career. The “mosaic” effect of the relatively small glass pieces making up the
overall design -- which becomes even more pronounced later, as in the windows
for the Clark Memorial Church in Largs of 1892 (figs. 23-26), and contrasts
markedly in both conception and impact on the viewer with the Maryhill panels -confirms visually Adam’s commitment in his writings to the “Mosaic” rather than
the “Enamel” or “Mosaic-Enamel” method. Except for the traditional subject
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matter, however, there is nothing antiquarian about Adam’s lively and expressive
style.
As already noted, he himself declared that he had been “greatly influenced
by Rossetti, Burne-Jones, William Morris and Puvis de Chavannes” and that “as a
colourist, I found my master in the late Daniel Cottier.” 118 On several occasions he
also referred admiringly to the clean lines of the late eighteenth- and early
nineteenth-century neo-classical artist John Flaxman and, as we have seen, he
appreciated the drawing skills of the Bavarians, most of whom belonged to or
were influenced by the school of so-called “Nazarene” artists of the early decades
of the nineteenth century -- a group that, in revolt against the alleged decadence
of art in the age of the baroque and the rococo, advocated avoidance of excessive
chiaroscuro and “bold brushstrokes” and a return to the practice of fresco and to
the clearer, simpler lines of the early Renaissance. Though now neglected, except
in their native Germany, the Nazarenes exercised enormous influence in Britain as
well as Germany and France in the early to middle decades of the nineteenth
century, notably on the widely respected Scottish painter William Dyce (18061864), who had frequented the Nazarene artist Friedrich Overbeck’s studio in
105
Rome and with whose work both as a painter and an occasional stained-glass
designer Adam had to be familiar, and on many Pre-Raphaelite painters or
painters closely associated with the Pre-Raphaelites. (Figs. 27-32) In one case,
documented by William Vaughan in his German Romanticism and English Art, a
painting by Overbeck representing the death of Joseph was directly copied by an
English stained glass artist for the little church at Church Lench in
Worcestershire. 119 (Figs. 32, 33) Leading members of the Pre-Raphaelite
Brotherhood, such as Burne-Jones and Rossetti, both of whom Adam cites as
significant influences on him, had met with Overbeck in Rome and responded
positively to the attempts of the founder of the Brotherhood of St. Luke
(Lukasbund), as the original group of rebellious young students at the Vienna
Academy had styled themselves, to reform the principles and practice of art. 120
Adam’s criticisms of the strongly Nazarene-influenced Munich school, as
noted earlier, were nuanced. Even while rejecting the objectives of High
Renaissance and post-Renaissance painters for his own medium of stained glass,
as the Nazarenes had already done for painting, he sought, like the Munich
school, to design figures in a more “natural” modern style, rather than according
106
to the conventions of medieval stained glass, and he aimed to give his figures the
grace and expressiveness expected by viewers familiar with the paintings of
Burne-Jones, Rossetti or Millais. 121 These features continued to characterize his
work throughout his career.
Nevertheless, the style and indeed the whole conception of the Maryhill
panels seem quite distinctive in Adam’s work as a whole. The colors are unlike the
more vivid and varied colors which he used in most of his work and for which, like
his “master” Cottier, he was much admired. The disposition of the figures is
spatially balanced and while their activity is vividly conveyed, there is no striving
for dramatic, let alone theatrical effect. The overall design is exceptionally clear,
spare, and simple and there is a total absence of the decorative motifs (leaves,
flowers, etc.) and “diapering” that accompanied most of the ecclesiastical stained
glass windows at the time, including Adam’s, and that were an essential element
also of much decorative domestic stained glass. As noted, the Maryhill panels are
distinctive even in relation to Adam’s designs for the Aberdeen Trades Hall, which
are far more conventional. Strikingly, many of the panels representing industry
and commerce that the Adam studio executed years later for the boardroom of
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the new Clyde Navigation Trust building by the noted Glasgow architect J.J. Burnet
(1883-86, extended 1906-08), while in some respects more realistic, more
dramatic, and less idealized than the Maryhill panels -- in the shipbuilding
“Riveters” panel, for instance, as Ian Mitchell pointed out to the present writer,
the actual movements of the workers had clearly been studied with care -- are
also more conventional in design and color, as well as in the costumes and
disposition of the figures. (Figs. 34-37) A large window overlooking the Oyster Bar
of Edinburgh’s Café Royal for which the Ballantine company designed several
impressive figures of modern sportsmen in the 1890s and which shows the
influence of the burgeoning Aesthetic movement also remains closer to current
stained glass practices than Adam’s Maryhill panels of the late 1870s. (Fig. 38)
Since the distinctiveness and originality of the Maryhill panels are best
appreciated against the background of Adam’s work over the course of his career,
as “the true successor of Daniel Cottier and Scotland’s foremost artist in stained
glass,”122 it is desirable that the reader be apprised of the general outlines and
characteristics of that work. Fortunately, it has been the object of careful analysis
by three scholars, Michael Donnelly, Gordon Urquhart, and Iain Galbraith, and Dr.
108
Galbraith has generously agreed to contribute his insights to the present volume.
(See Appendix II)
In addition, a chronological list of Adam’s work has been compiled
(Appendix III), in order to convey some sense of its range and character.
Unfortunately, the list remains provisional and incomplete. Adam’s work for
private homes, businesses, and secular institutions proved difficult to trace and
date; and due to the loss of documentation, some attributions of ecclesiastical
windows to the Stephen Adam studio remain speculative and uncertain.
Moreover, a studio attribution in itself, as pointed out in Part I, does not identify
which member of the studio was primarily responsible for the design. In the years
of his studio’s greatest activity and success, Adam employed a number of gifted
assistants, as we saw, any of whom might have had a hand in or even primary
responsibility for a work bearing the studio’s name. 123 On his side, Adam
occasionally undertook commissions on behalf of other glass artists, so that work
usually attributed, for instance, to William Meikle & Son, could well have been
carried out by Adam. 124
109
In an appendix to a 1904 reprint of his pamphlet of 1896 on “Truth in
Decorative Art,” Adam provided a select list -- largely no doubt as a form of
advertisement -- of “the most important Church Memorial Windows designed and
executed in recent years by Stephen Adam,” followed by a list of “Mansions and
Public Buildings” for which he made decorative windows. As none of the 130
windows listed is dated and as it is difficult to determine exact dates for many of
them or even their current condition, only a few have been included in our
chronological list. Adam’s own two lists have therefore been reproduced in
Appendix III as published by him.
that got him interned in
Fig. 1, upper left. Daniel Cottier, “Spring.”
1873-75.
Fig. 2, upper center. Stephen Adam Jr.,
“Suffer the Little Children.” St. James the
Less Episcopal Church, Bishopbriggs,
Glasgow.
Fig. 3, lower left. Stephen Adam Jr., doorway
at 8 Belhaven Terrace, West End, Glasgow.
Fig. 4, upper right. Stephen Adam and Alf
Webster, "Ecce Ancilla Domini." St. Nicholas
Church, Lanark.
Fig. 5, upper left. Alf Webster,
“Miracle of the Loaves and
Fishes.” Templeton Memorial
Window, centre light, lower
panel. Lansdowne Church,
Glasgow. 1911.
Fig. 6, upper right. Stephen
Adam, “Cleopatra” at villa, “The
Knowe.” Pollokshields, Glasgow.
1890.
Fig. 7. Stephen Adam, window
at 2 Devonshire Gardens.
Fig. 8. Stephen Adam, window
at 2 Devonshire Gardens.
Fig. 9, left. Stephen Adam, window at Carnegie
Library, Ayr.
Fig. 10, above. Andrew Carnegie and Mrs. Carnegie
at opening ceremony.
Fig. 14, above. St. Andrew's in the
Square, Glasgow. General view
looking toward the Stephen Adam
window.
Figs. 11, 12, 13 above. Stephen Adam, stained
glass panels above the bar at Imperial Bar,
Howard Street, Glasgow.
Fig. 15, upper left. Stephen Adam, window, St Andrew's in the Square, Glasgow.
Fig. 16, upper right. Stephen Adam, window, St Andrew's in the Square, right light.
Fig. 17, lower left. Stephen Adam, window, former Belhaven United Presbyterian Church (now
Greek Orthodox Cathedral), Glasgow. 1877.
Fig. 18, lower right. Detail of Stephen Adam window at former Belhaven U.P. Church. 1877.
Fig. 19, upper left. Stephen Adam, Baird South Window, Alloway Parish Church.
Fig. 20, upper right. Stephen Adam, Baird South Window, detail of left light, “Mary, Joseph, and
Jesus.”
Fig. 21, lower left. Baird South Window, detail of right light, “Adoration of the Magi.”
Fig. 22, lower right. Baird South Window. Detail of upper part of right light. Angel.
Fig. 23, right. Stephen Adam, West or
Preachers Window. Clark Memorial Church,
Largs, Ayrshire. 1892.
Fig. 24, below, left. Stephen Adam, “David
Playing before Saul.” Clark Memorial Church,
Largs. 1892.
Fig. 25, below, center. Stephen Adam,“Ruth
and Boaz.”Clark Memorial Church, Largs. 1892.
Fig. 26, below, right. Stephen Adam, “Jesus
Visits Martha and Mary.” Clark Memorial
Church, Largs. 1892.
G-Fig. 27. Friedrich Overbeck. Der Osterm orgen. c 1819. Museum KunstpalastFig. 27, upper left. Friedrich Overbeck, “Der
Ostermorgen.”
c. 1819.
Duesseldorf-Wikimedia
Fig. 28, top right. Franz Pforr, “Sulamith
und Maria.” 1810-1811.
Fig. 29, lower left. Julius Schnorr von
Carolsfeld, “Saint Roch giving alms.” 1817.
Fig. 30, center right. Joseph von Führich, “Jacob
Encountering Rachel.” 1836.
Fig. 31, bottom right.William Dyce, “Jacob and
Rachel.” 1850.
Fig. 32, top left. Overbeck, “Death of Joseph.” 1857.
Fig. 33, top center. Frederick Preedy, “Death of Joseph.” All Saints Church, Lench. 1858.
Figs. 34-35, upper right and center left. Stephen Adam. “Commerce.” Clydeport. 1908.
Figs. 36-37, center right and bottom left. Stephen Adam, “Engineering.” Clydeport. 1908.
Fig. 38, bottom right. James Ballantine company, windows in bar, Café Royal, Edinburgh.
118
2. “A MAN PERFECTS HIMSELF BY WORKING”
Unusual as they must assuredly appear to most viewers accustomed to
nineteenth- or early twentieth-century ecclesiastical or even domestic stained
glass, the Maryhill panels continue thematically in some measure, if not at all
stylistically, an old medieval tradition. Stained glass portrayals of men at work,
representing the labors of the craft guilds that donated windows are commonly
found in medieval Cathedrals and Churches -- bakers, carpenters, clothmakers,
fishermen, furriers, masons and stone-cutters, metal workers, miners, money
changers, tanners, wheelwrights. Likewise the so-called “labors of the month”
(sometimes representing women as well as men) -- sowing, reaping, treading the
grapes -- are a common theme of medieval stained glass. (Figs. 1-4) In addition,
scenes of men at work continued to be the subject of prints in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, albeit no longer commissioned by the workers
themselves. (Figs. 5, 6) By the 40s, 50s, and 60s of the nineteenth century,
modern work, including industrial work, had become a theme of several painters:
probably the best known now are “Work” (1852-63) by Ford Madox Brown (with
119
whom Adam’s teacher and employer Daniel Cottier had studied in London), and
“Iron and Coal” (1860-61), by Edinburgh-born William Bell Scott, representing a
still more contemporary scene of industrial labor 125, and based on the artist’s own
familiarity with the huge Robert Stephenson locomotive works in Newcastle-onTyne (Robert Stephenson was the son of the great railway engineer George
Stephenson), where in 1844 Scott had been appointed head of the Government
School of Design. (Figs. 7, 8)
But there were many others. In the 1780s, for instance, the Scottish painter
David Allen had created a series of images of work in the lead-mining Lanarkshire
village of Leadhills; in the 1850s the Sheffield artist Godfrey Sykes produced
paintings of foundries and rolling mills and sculptures of laboring men; similar
workplaces were the subject of frequent illustrations in the London Illustrated
News (Figs. 9, 10); and in 1900, Adam could still have seen the huge mural of
shipbuilding on the Clyde created by John Lavery for the Banqueting Hall of
Glasgow’s grand City Chambers. (Fig. 11) In France, the prints “explicated” in M.
Boucard’s Notions industrielles (Paris and Algiers: Hachette, 1848) offered
illustrations of modern industrial labor (forges, paper works, soap works, glass
120
works, spinning mills); in Germany, Adolf Menzel’s magnificent “The Iron Rolling
Mill” (1872-1875), originally made for the banker Adolph von Liebermann (now in
the Nationalgalerie in Berlin), and Paul Meyerheim’s painting of a locomotive
factory offer vivid and powerful images of labor in rapidly industrializing
Germany; and in the United States, Thomas Anschutz depicted steel workers on a
break from a mill with belching chimney stacks. 126 (Figs. 12-14)
It is not surprising that being based in Glasgow, then one of the most
dynamic centers of the new industrial world, Adam was commissioned more than
once to take the modern worker as his principal subject matter. In addition to the
Maryhill Burgh Hall panels of the late 1870s, he himself tells of having created
“large decorative mosaic glass panels over the main entrance to the Glasgow
International Exhibition of 1901, representing Saint Mungo, the city’s patron
saint, blessing the Arts and the Industries of the Clyde District” with “life-size
figures of craftsmen and artisans at work.” (See Appendix III) A few years later, in
1905-1908, as the impressive Clyde Navigation Trust Building on the Broomielaw
in the center of the city was being extended, he created and installed in the
121
boardroom a series of panels representing workers in shipbuilding, engineering,
and overseas trade and commerce.
In their various ways -- whether representing conditions in which the
individual is overwhelmed by industry, or like Adam’s Burgh Hall panels,
representing the individual worker in control of the new forms of labor -- these
drawings, paintings, and glass panels reflect a historical situation in which, with
the vast expansion of industry in nineteenth-century Britain and Europe and a
rising population of factory workers, work, and no longer only traditional kinds of
work, had become a topic much reflected on and discussed by leading writers and
thinkers. A substitute and a solace in many cases for loss of religious faith among
the educated, according to one historian, work “became an end in itself, a virtue
in its own right. [. . .] The glorification of work as a supreme virtue was the
commonest theme of the prophets of earnestness” -- among them Edward BurneJones and William Morris, together with Thomas Arnold, Charles Kingsley and
John Ruskin. 127 Hence perhaps the taste for representations of the Holy Family as
a working family. (Figs. 15) One of the watchwords of Morris’s Arts and Crafts
movement, as has been pointed out, was “the meaningfully hyphenated and
122
equated ‘art-work,’” and Morris liked not to differentiate between the artist and
the craftsman. 128
The key preacher of the gospel of the dignity of labor (in contrast to the
base idleness of the rich and titled) was the Calvinist-raised Scot, Thomas Carlyle,
with whose immensely popular and influential writings Adam, as a fellowcountryman, can hardly not have been acquainted. “The latest Gospel in this
world,” Carlyle had announced in Past and Present (1843), “is, Know thy work and
do it. [. . .] A man perfects himself by working. [. . .] Blessed is he who has found
his work,” for “all true work is sacred.” 129 The arms of Govan, the great
shipbuilding center in Glasgow’s southwest and an independent Burgh from 1864
until 1912, give graphic expression to the nineteenth-century gospel of work,
representing as they do the two figures of an industrious middle-class
entrepreneur (or perhaps, as Ian Mitchell suggested, a worker who had moved up
the ladder to a more highly paid job) and a sturdy working man on either side of
the burgh motto, Nihil sine Labore. A somewhat similar theme, albeit bosses and
workers seem in a less collaborative and more confrontational relationship, is
123
represented in Henry Stacy Marks’ painting “Capital and Labour” of 1874. (Figs.
16, 17)
To be sure, Morris, the self-proclaimed Socialist, vehemently condemned
what labor had become in “the darkest period in the history of labour in England”
and deplored the reduction of the worker to the condition of being “only part of a
machine, with little more than his weariness at the end of his day’s work to show
him that he had worked at all in the day.” “The workmen,” Morris held, “should
own those things that is [sic] the means of labour collectively, and should regulate
labour in their own interests.” 130 Carlyle had already been critical of the
“Mammonism” of modern industrial work. Only when freed from its “bondage to
Mammon,” he had proclaimed in Past and Present, would the “rational soul” of
work be awakened. 131 The early anarchist Mikhail Bakunin considered work “the
foundation of human dignity and morality. For it was only by free and intelligent
labor that man, overcoming his bestiality, attained his humanity and sense of
justice, changed his environment, and created the civilized world.” Unfortunately,
“the economic and social division of labor has disastrous consequences for
members of the privileged classes, the masses of the people, and for the
124
prosperity, as well as the moral and intellectual development, of society as a
whole,” but the prevailing division of labor, like Carlyle’s Mammonism, was said
to be a correctable accessory, and did not affect the essential value of work. 132
Even on the extreme left, Marx and Engels (who wrote a very favorable review of
Carlyle’s Past and Present) 133 saw in work “the prime basic condition for all
human existence, and this to such an extent that, in a sense, we have to say that
labour created man himself,” enabling him to distinguish himself from the
animals, in the words of Engels in his unfinished The Part played by Labour in the
Transition from Ape to Man (written in 1876). 134 No less than for Carlyle, work
was thus, in the view of Bakunin, Marx and Engels, essential to our humanity: the
aim of socialism was by no means to demean it or do away with it but to have
those who perform it also regulate it.
Adam’s portrayals of working men -- and women -- in the Maryhill panels
communicate vividly the prevailing view of work as essentially human and
uplifting while conveying virtually nothing of the critical strain in the writings of
Morris or Engels or even Carlyle. On the contrary, the panels ignore the uglier,
“Mammonist” aspect of modern industrial work. As one scholar has put it,
125
whatever the critical angle in the arguments of Morris and his associates or,
earlier still, in Carlyle, “the Puritan doctrine of work would never have been
stressed so much,” did it not “also serve the cause of social order and lessen the
threat of revolution.” 135 At the same time, it is appropriate to note that, in the
view of some writers, the cult of work was in fact shared by the workers
themselves. Carried over from pre-industrial times, according to the author of a
2009 book on Glasgow, “traditional pride in their work […] is a consistent thread
running through industrial workers’ oral memories and autobiographies, as is the
stress men placed upon themselves ‘never being idle.’ [. . .] Work was something
more than a job.” The same author goes on to recall that “in his memoirs
Glasgow-born M.P. David Kirkwood, who rose from apprentice engineer to
Independent Labour Party leader and Labour M.P., noted of Clyde shipbuilding
workers: ‘These men – the finest, the most expert craftsmen in the world – had
lived their lives in their work. Their joy as well as their livelihood lay in converting
the vast masses of Nature’s gifts into works of art, accurate to a two-thousandth
part of an inch.’” 136 By representing the modern industrial worker realistically, but
with the dignity of the traditional craftsman, Adam’s panels may thus well have
126
reflected not only a desire on the part of the commercial and industrial
entrepreneurs most likely to have been behind their commissioning to present
their businesses in a positive light but the workers’ own view of themselves and
their labor. Certainly, the portrayal of industrial labor in stained glass, a medium
generally associated with churches and religion, even at a time of its growing
popularity as a decorative art in secular contexts, cannot but have underlined the
“sacredness” of labor and moderated or eliminated any association of it with the
“Mammonist” exploitation deplored by Carlyle and Morris, with social injustice
and unrest, or with workers’ movements and strikes. Employers and employees
alike may well have responded favorably to the respectful portrayal of the
workers in all the Maryhill panels as dignified, seriously engaged in their work,
and concentrating all their attention on it, to the point that in several panels their
backs are turned to the viewer while they focus on “doing their work.”
As has been pointed out by the few scholars who have concerned
themselves with Adam’s panels at Maryhill Burgh Halls, notably by Ian Mitchell, the
industrial equipment represented in them had clearly been carefully studied
by Adam and is rendered with meticulous accuracy. Likewise the workers
127
themselves are presented in their modern working clothes, without the
embellishment of quasi-medieval or Biblical costume -- as in Adam’s own
windows for the Trades Hall in Aberdeen or in some of the fine, but more
conventional stained glass representations of “Commerce” executed by the Adam
Studio for the Clyde Navigation Trust Building two decades later. (See Part II, 1,
Fig. 34 and http://www.seventradesofaberdeen.co.uk/stained-glass-windows/)
As already suggested, however, the representation of working people and
machinery in the panels, while conveying an impression of sober realism and
accuracy, offers an idealized picture of modern industrial labor. Thanks to the
clean, classical lines of the machinery with which the workers share the stage, the
viewer never has the impression of the worker as dominated by an overpowering,
inhuman, mechanical force, even when he is seen from behind and the machinery
comes close to displacing him as the hero of the scene. On the contrary, the
impression created by Adam’s panels, for all their realism, is one of harmony and
order. For that reason, the images representing modern industrial processes do
not clash with those that continue to evoke traditional crafts -- “Blacksmiths,”
“The Bricklayer,” or “Wheelwrights.” Most significantly perhaps, the factory floor
128
as such, with its armies of workers overwhelmed by machinery is strikingly absent
from Adam’s panels. While this may well reflect the prevalence in Maryhill of
smaller workshops, as distinct from the large factories established in the
neighboring district of Springburn, the viewer cannot but be struck by the
complete absence of the dirt and grime that undoubtedly accompanied many of
the forms of labor represented and that, in contrast, are clearly visible in Godfrey
Sykes’ images of rolling mills and iron foundries of the 1850s or an Illustrated
London News illustration of a Sheffield workshop in the mid-60s (Figs. 10, 11) or
the print of a forge in the French Notices industrielles of 1848. As William H.
Sewell Jr. noted of the last of these, “the space is filled with a jumble of workmen,
machines, tools, steam, and bits of debris.” 137
Instead, the fine, balanced, uncluttered, classical composition of each
panel, the simple color patterns, and the carefully arranged poses of the
individual workers, which seem almost fixed and eternal even when the men (and
women) are visibly engaged in strenuous and effectively rendered physical
activity, ensure that the figures in Adam’s panels appear to the viewer as noble,
classical, and iconic – modest heroes of the modern industrial and industrious
129
age, as Carlyle or William Morris would have liked them to be. Even their working
clothes, albeit occasionally patched, are impeccably clean. The contrast is striking
with the bent-over or beer-quaffing navvies in Ford Madox Brown’s “Work” or the
crowd of hammer-wielding workmen in William Bell Scott’s “Iron and Coal” or the
frantically active workers in Menzel’s iron-rolling mill and in the already
mentioned print of a forge from the French Notices industrielles. Ian Mitchell’s
suggestion (see Appendix I) that the panels may have been conceived as a kind of
self-promoting advertisement by local factory owners is by no means
inconsistent with such an idealized portrayal of the workers and the work in
which they are engaged. We shall return to this feature of the panels.
Most of the records concerning the commissioning of the Maryhill panels
have unfortunately been lost or destroyed. (Sadly, as noted in Part I, a sign of the
relatively low general ranking of stained glass among works of art.) It is
reasonable to speculate, however, that the Provost and Baillies of the then
independent burgh of Maryhill, who no doubt commissioned the panels, were
either themselves the owners of local factories or workshops or were acting on
behalf of the latter in arranging for an impressive portrayal of their burgh and its
130
multiple activities. The building itself, after all, is said to have been originally
conceived in 1870 as “a meeting place to enable tradesmen and merchants to
come together.” 138 As Ian Mitchell has demonstrated, 139 the panels represent the
principal forms of labor in the quite diversified economy of the district: calicodying, saw-milling, paper manufacture, iron-founding, railways and engineering,
boatbuilding and canal work. (The opening of the Forth and Clyde Canal and of
the Glasgow, Dumbarton and Helensburgh Railway had ensured a key role for
Maryhill in the development of industry and transportation in Central Scotland).
Even education -- an essential feature, especially in Scotland, of the preparation
of the young for a life of work and piety -- was represented, as was the military,
which in another way guaranteed the peace and order of a working community.
(Maryhill Barracks, opened in 1872 and enlarged in 1876 -- allegedly in response
to Glasgow Corporation’s repeated petitioning “for more military protection”
from the danger of “‘riot and tumult” in the growing industrial city -- was
designed to accommodate an infantry regiment, a squadron of cavalry and a
battery of field artillery.) The teacher and the soldier thus took their place in the
celebration of the burgh’s workers that the Maryhill baillies commissioned from
131
Adam for their new Burgh Halls. 140 Whatever the baillies’ intentions in
commissioning the panels, the work produced by Stephen Adam presents a
dignified and optimistic view of a modern mid-Victorian working-class
community.
Fig. 1, upper left. Gold Miners. Freiburg
Cathedral, 1330.
Fig. 2, upper right. Bakers' window. Chartres
Cathedral.
Fig. 3, center left. Labors of the Months
(July). Haymaking. 1450-1475.
Fig. 4, bottom left. Labors of the Months. c.1480.
Fig. 5, lower right. Jan van der Straet. Sugar
Refinery. 16th Century.
Fig. 6, top left. Abraham Bosse. Printer's
Shop. 17th Century.
Fig. 7, center left. Ford Madox Brown,
“Work.” 1865.
Fig. 8, top right. William Bell Scott, “Iron
and Coal.” 1861.
Fig. 9, center right. Godfrey Sykes, “Interior
of an Iron Works.” 1850.
Fig. 10, bottom left. “Sheffield Steel
Manufactures. Hall of the Fork
Grinders.” Illustrated London News,
March 10, 1886.
Fig. 11, top left. Sir John Lavery,
“Shipbuilding on the
Clyde.” 1900.
Fig. 12, center left. Adolf
Menzel, “The Iron Rolling
Mill.” 1872-75.
Fig. 13, top right. Paul Meyerheim.
“Lebensgeschichte einer
Lokomotive.” 1874.
Fig. 14, bottom left. Thomas
Anschutz, “The Iron
Workers’ Noontime.” 1880.
Fig. 15, above. Sir John Everett
Millais, “Christ in the house of
his parents. The Carpenter’s
Shop.” 1849-50.
Fig. 16, left. Govan Burgh Arms.
Fig. 17, below. Henry Stacy
Marks, “Capital and labour.”
1874
136
3. AN ORIGINAL STYLE: REALISM AND NEO-CLASSICISM IN THE MARYHILL
PANELS.
One clue to the unusual neoclassical (rather than neo-Gothic) style of
Adam’s stained glass panels for Maryhill Burgh Halls might be found in the artist’s
own references to neoclassical design and specifically to the work of John
Flaxman. We have already noted one such reference in Stained Glass: Its History
and Modern Development. In the author’s own words, “a certain external form
and balancing of parts, as evinced in classic frescoes, Flaxman’s cartoons, and
some bas-reliefs by other artists, [. . .] better define my ideas and suggest our
limits.” 141 Another clue might be the reference, in the lecture on “Truth in the
Decorative Arts” of two decades later, to Puvis de Chavannes, the nineteenth
century French painter and muralist, cited by Adam as one of four artists who had
influenced his own work.
In his path-breaking doctoral dissertation of over half a century ago, the
late Robert Rosenblum wrote of Flaxman’s drawing that it
137
completely eschews the intricate formal vocabulary evolved by
previous generations in their attempt to render the subtleties of
optical experience. Favoring an art of radically reduced means, it
seems to reject consciously that rich variety of spatial, luminary, and
atmospheric values which post-medieval painting had achieved. [. . .]
At all costs, the illusion of three-dimensionality is minimized. Even
the pedestals on which . . . statues rest are drawn as rectangles, not
cubes, so that no suggestion of depths may intrude. [. . .] Preceded
by a period which had reached a maximum of facility in the recording
of the most transient and subtle images of the optically perceived
world, Flaxman’s drawing would seem to substitute a conceptual,
linear art, founded upon basic symbols of reality, rather than upon
illusions of it, an art whose severity of means and expression
suggests a pure and early phase of image-making. 142
It is easy to understand that Adam felt drawn to an artist whose principles and
practice were so close to his own.
While Flaxman was a major influence on the neo-classical school of artists
of the late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-centuries -- Ingres in France, Carstens
and Runge in Germany -- his clear, elegantly simple outline drawings of figures
138
and scenes from the Iliad, the Odyssey, and Dante’s Divine Comedy also found
favor among a group of deeply Christian artists from the German-speaking lands.
Though their focus was on religious painting and their models were Giovanni
Bellini, Pietro Perugino, and the early Raphael, along with Dürer, Hans Baldung
and the German artists of the fifteenth century, the so-called “Nazarene” artists
shared the neo-classicists’ negative judgment of the complex, restless, sensuous
and illusionistic art of the baroque and the rococo and subscribed in practice to
Johann Winckelmann’s neo-classic ideal of “noble simplicity and quiet grandeur”
(“edle Einfalt und stille Grösse”). Franz Pforr, a founding member, along with his
close friend Friedrich Overbeck, of the Lukasbund or brotherhood of St. Luke -the original group of students who rejected the modern academic training they
were receiving at the Vienna Academy and in 1810 settled in Rome, the “eternal
city” -- described the reactions of the young rebels on a visit to the reopened
Imperial art collection in the Belvedere Palace on the outskirts of Vienna:
We were stunned. Everything now seemed different. We hurried past a
large number of paintings that we had previously admired with a
feeling of dissatisfaction; other works, in contrast, which had formerly
left us cold, now drew us irresistibly. [. . .] Canvasses by Tintoretto,
139
Veronese, Maratti, even many by the Carracci, Correggio, Guido, and
Titian that had once filled us with admiration now made a feeble
impression on us.
The future Nazarenes were no longer impressed by the “bold brushstrokes
and striking colour effects” of these artists, which they now saw as intended “to
excite a voluptuous sensibility.” In contrast, they were enchanted by “some works
by Michelangelo and Perugino and a painting from the school of Raphael.” As for
the German painters of the fifteenth century, “with what purity and charm” they
spoke to the young visitors.
Much here had once struck us as stiff and forced, but now we had to
recognize that our judgment had been distorted by familiarity with
paintings in which every artistic technique, however common, had been
exaggerated to the point of ridiculous affectation, and that as a result
we had taken gestures, which were drawn from nature as she truly is,
to be stiff and lacking in appropriate movement. Their noble simplicity
spoke directly to our hearts. 143
Committed to the representation in their art work of what they understood
to be essential reality rather than pleasing representations of optically perceived,
140
transient, empirical reality, avoiding illusionist effects, concentrating on clarity of
outline and composition, and seeking harmony, rather than seductiveness, of
color, the Nazarenes aimed at the same time to restore the public function of art,
its role in communicating meaning and representing the highest values of a
community with the “noble simplicity and quiet grandeur” advocated by
Winckelmann. “Truth” (“Wahrheit”) in art had been the motto inscribed on the
stamp devised by Overbeck for the founding Lukasbund in 1809. Not surprisingly,
the Nazarenes promoted a return to fresco and some of their best and most
characteristic work took the form of wall decoration using fresco techniques.
(Figs. 1, 2) Given that neo-classical and Nazarene artists shared in unexpectedly
large measure a common understanding of the aims and methods of pictorial
representation (the sculptors Canova and Bertel Thorvaldsen and the German
neo-classical painter Gottlieb Schick were among the supporters of the young
Nazarenes in Rome, while the Austrian neo-classical artist Joseph Anton Koch
joined them in decorating the Casino Massimo in Rome), it is in no way surprising
that the earliest artistic efforts of one of the best and most successful of the
141
Nazarene painters, Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld, should have been copies of
drawings by Flaxman. 144
Did Stephen Adam have direct knowledge of the work of the original
Nazarene painters, such as Overbeck, Pforr, and Schnorr von Carolsfeld? Did he
know of the Nazarenes’ watchword of “Wahrheit” when he himself demanded
“truth in the decorative arts”? Though there is no clear evidence that he did, it is
not unlikely, since the art of the Nazarenes was well known in Britain at the time,
and as we have seen, Adam never failed to acknowledge his respect for the
drawing skills of the Nazarene-influenced painters who made cartoons for the
Königliche Glasmalerei-Anstalt in Munich, even though these later painters had
moved further in the direction of the style of the High Renaissance than the
original Nazarene artists would probably have approved. As Puvis de Chavannes
had been in his turn influenced by the principles and practices of the Nazarenes
and their French disciples of the École de Lyon (Hippolyte Flandrin, Louis Janmot,
Victor Orsel), it is possible that a discernible line may lead from Flaxman to Puvis
and on to the Adam of the Maryhill Burgh Hall panels.
142
Now a rather neglected and unappreciated painter, despite being
extensively studied and written about by art historians, who see him as a
founding figure of modern art, 145 Puvis enjoyed considerable celebrity in the years
of Adam’s activity as a stained glass artist and it is not unlikely that Adam had
occasion to view his work on a visit to France. However, Puvis was not well known
in Britain (except, significantly, to Burne-Jones)146 and this makes Adam’s
reference to him as an influence all the more significant. Much of Puvis’ best
known work, it is true, was produced some years after the Maryhill panels:
“Christian Inspiration” and “Antique Vision” in 1886, or the great mural “The
Sacred Grove” commissioned in 1880 for the Musée des Beaux-Arts of his native
Lyon. Nevertheless, his embrace of mural painting and the clear, flat, simplified
style he developed for it, drawing on both neo-classical and Nazarene models,
were already visible in his “Work” of 1863 -- so strikingly different in its idealizing
classicism from the realism of Ford Madox Brown or William Bell Scott – and, if he
had an opportunity to view it, could hardly have failed to strike a chord in the
imagination of the budding stained glass designer from Glasgow. (Figs. 3-5)
143
This style has been well characterized by Aimée Brown Price who curated a
major Puvis exhibition at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam in 1994. Her
remarks are sufficiently relevant to Adam’s style in the Maryhill panels to warrant
quotation at some length.
The style that Puvis developed for his wall paintings can only be
understood in the context of what in the mid-nineteenth century was
advocated as a proper mural aesthetic. By the middle of the nineteenth
century, a fundamental distinction was made between mural and easel
painting based on what was perceived as their different purposes.
Murals to decorate a wall owed their allegiance to it and were to
subordinate themselves to their architectural surrounds, not detracting
(or distracting) from them or from the planarity of the walls
themselves. Paintings, however, were to imitate nature. The “tableau”
and the “decoration” were to have differing rules, conventions and
appearance. [. . .] Prosper Mérimée (of Carmen fame), Inspecteur
général des monuments historiques, advised suppressing perspective
and other illusionistic effects and evening the intensity of mural
surfaces so no single tone would dominate. [. . .] The prolific critic
Théophile Gautier, who prided himself on being the first to discover
Puvis [. . .] declared the sober tones of building walls would teach
painters tranquillity of color. [. . .] “A balanced composition, rhythmic
144
poses, a sequence of symmetries [. . .] must be sought before all else. [.
. .] Clear, matte areas defined by a nicely fixed contour, modeled with
moderate relief [. . .] are eminently suitable. Farewell, chiaroscuro,
brush play, impasto, lapidary tones [. . .], all those artifices of the
palette to which amateurs are so drawn. The wall rejects these niceties:
it wants purity of design, grandeur of style and sober harmony of
color.” To maintain the two-dimensionality demanded by wall painting,
Puvis nearly eliminated chiaroscuro and produced figurations in which
flat shapes and colors are salient. 147
Though stained glass, which transmits light, is in that respect fundamentally
different from fresco or wall painting, the kind of art work required of Puvis, the
mural painter-- simplification, purity of design, clearly drawn contours, severely
limited relief, balanced composition, respect for the architectural context -- thus
bore many resemblances mutatis mutandis to what, in Stephen Adam’s opinion,
as communicated in his writing on the subject, was required of the stained glass
artist.
It is indeed highly likely that Adam took the architecture for which his
windows were commissioned into account when drawing up his designs. Built to
145
the plans of the local Glasgow architect Duncan McNaughtan and ceremoniously
opened in 1878, the Maryhill Burgh Halls, are not in neo-Gothic, but in French
Renaissance style (fig. 6), and Adam could well have read in fellow-Scot Francis
Oliphant’s Plea for Stained Glass that such buildings -- Palladian, Neo-classical or
one of the “more mixed styles of modern work” -- require a different design of
glass than anything to be found in Gothic churches. “I am distinctly of the
opinion,” Oliphant had written, “that the demands of the spaces afforded by the
windows of such buildings will never be adequately met, nor their advantages for
painted glass sufficiently brought out, by the introduction either of the
Romanesque Norman or Byzantine modes of treatment, nor by the gaudy glories
of the Cinque Cento. The former are too powerful in colour, too much diversified
and broken in their parts, to harmonize with the extent of smooth and pannelled
surfaces offered in these buildings; and the latter is no true style at all.” 148
If we now turn to the panels Adam created for Maryhill Burgh Halls, I
believe it will be possible to discern how close in fact they are in conception and
style, despite the different medium, to the work of neo-classical artists, such as
Flaxman (to say nothing of Flaxman’s contemporaries, the German neo-classical
146
sculptors Gottfried Schadow and Daniel Rauch, of whose creations Adam is
unlikely to have had knowledge), to that of the early Nazarene painters, such as
Overbeck, Pforr or Schnorr von Carolsfeld, and to that of the mid- to late
nineteenth-century muralist Puvis de Chavannes. First, clarity and firmness of line
is a salient feature of every one of the panels, as it is of the work of all the abovementioned artists. The leadlines in the Maryhill panels outline and define the
elements of the scene represented even more strongly and simply than
in Adam’s ecclesiastical designs, the individual glass segments being unusually
large and few in relation to the total design. Second, the carefully balanced, spare
composition may well have been conceived by Adam with the shape and location
of the panels in the French Renaissance style building in mind (namely, that they
had to fit into plain rectangular spaces above a series of tall windows) and this too
may well have led him to follow neo-classical models and to adopt a frieze-like
design. (Fig. 7) Third, the restricted representation of depth -- required, according
to both Winston and Adam himself, by stained glass as a medium -- is a dominant
feature of the work of Flaxman, the Nazarenes, and Puvis. And finally, as in the
work of the Nazarenes and Puvis, the spectrum of colors, each filling a relatively
147
large area of the panel, is limited and quite muted – browns, golds, yellows, greys,
dull greens, whites, an occasional red or blue -- compared to the more complex
and brilliant color arrangement of most stained glass windows, including those
designed and built by Adam himself, both before and after the Burgh Halls panels.
No less significant is the impression of stability and fixity that the viewer
receives from all the panels, including those (“The Gas Worker,” “The Chemical
Worker,” “The Glass Blower,” “The Zinc Spelter,” “The Iron Moulders,” “The Dye
Press Worker”) in which strenuous activity is represented. (See figs. in Album
preceding Part I) The figures are clearly engaged in action and at the same time
frozen in action. Despite their seeming realism -- the meticulously accurate
representation of machinery and the contemporary mid-nineteenth century
working clothes in which the figures of the workers are clad (strikingly unusual, as
already noted, in stained glass at the time) -- the images have an iconic, timeless
quality reminiscent of the classical Greek frieze, with the contemporary working
man (and woman) as modern hero in place of the warriors, gods, and goddesses
of antiquity. 149 It is as though the images are intended to represent the essential
condition underlying fleeting visual impressions of an empirically real one --
148
whence the extremely simplified, uncluttered backgrounds, the prominence and
clear, classical lines of the industrial machinery, and the absence of the dirt and
disorder inevitably accompanying in “real” life most of the activities represented.
The workers are portrayed alone or in carefully defined and symmetrically
arranged groups of two or three at most. Communication among them, when
more than one is represented, is indicated by minimal positioning of head or
body. It is never dramatic, it is never a singular gesture represented as happening
now; it is always the essential nature of a working relationship that is portrayed,
rather than an immediate empirical reality.
Correspondingly, there is nothing seductive about the scenes represented.
The figures do not engage with or appeal to the viewer; on the contrary, in
several cases, even when only one figure is represented on the panel, the figure’s
back is turned to the viewer, so that the viewer’s attention is focused, like the
figure’s, on the task at hand. The viewer identifies with the railwayman or the
dye-press worker. 150 Adam’s panels, in short, realistic as they may in some
respects appear, present with “noble simplicity and calm grandeur” an ideal,
iconic vision of modern work and of the modern industrial worker as the “hero of
149
our time.” This manner of representation conforms perfectly with the artist’s own
frequently expressed ideas of representation on stained glass, as opposed to
painting on canvas. It is also in line with the principles and practice of those artists
whose work he himself acknowledged as having helped him to form his own style.
The originality – indeed, the uniqueness -- of Adam’s panels emerges
clearly from a comparison of his representations of modern workers with other
stained glass representations of modern life both in his own time and later,
whether in the medieval-style portrayal by Pugin’s collaborator John Hardman, in
one of the windows he made for St.Chad’s Roman Catholic Cathedral in
Birmingham, of workers in his own Birmingham workshop (fig.8), or in bars, pubs,
and WWI and WWII war memorials. Though some of the latter show signs of the
simplified design characteristic of the Burgh Hall panels, mostly they remain
faithful to the colors and patterns of traditional stained glass. (Figs. 9-11) This is in
large measure true not only, as suggested earlier, of Adam’s own later panels for
the Clyde Navigation Trust Building (1908), but of somewhat similar windows
depicting Cornish miners executed around the same time (1907) for Truro
Cathedral by the long and well established London firm of Clayton & Bell, and of
150
later stained glass representations of modern figures by exceptionally gifted
artists such as the modernist Dutch painter Jan-Thorn Prikker and the American
Charles Connick (figs. 12, 13, 14), not to mention Herbert Hendrie’s 1930s
windows depicting workers for Glasgow Cathedral. (Fig. 15)
If, as I am not the first to suggest, the Maryhill panels are exceptional,
even probably unique among works in the medium of stained glass in their time –
or since -- how should this unusual situation be accounted for? Why did other
stained glass artists not come up with a similar style and composition, or take up
the methods and designs developed by Adam for the panels? Why did Adam
himself – or the responsible assistant in his studio – adopt a more familiar style
for the later panels representing riveters, dock workers, and engineers that were
commissioned for the board room of the Clyde Navigation Trust building? While
any answers to those questions must obviously be speculative, one could consider
that, for one thing, conditions and opportunities similar to those offered by the
Burgh Halls may well have been rare. The demand for stained glass continued to
come primarily from churches or for the purpose of providing attractive
decoration for domestic or commercial properties. Clients may well have found
151
the style of the Maryhill panels too austere for their tastes and purposes. In
addition, while Adam continued to subscribe to the basic principle of the
“Mosaic” method in the Maryhill panels, 151 he did not exploit it there as most
stained glass artists, including himself, often did, using many small fragments of
variously colored “pot” glass to create a work in which, even when the pieces are
used to constitute whole figures or a setting, a recognizably “mosaic” effect
remains essential.152 (Figs. 16, 17) In contrast to most stained glass windows, the
leaded glass pieces constituting the Maryhill panels tend to be large, unbroken,
and of uniform color. In this respect they also contrast strikingly with the panels
representing modern workers that the gifted Dutch artist W.A. Van de Walle
created for the Factory Workers Union and the workers’ insurance company De
Centrale in the 1930s. 153(Fig.18)
Fortunately, the artistry and originality of the panels have been
recognized by the local authorities. With the absorption of Maryhill into the city
of Glasgow in 1891 and then the drastic decline of industry in Glasgow in the
post-WWII years -- in the Maryhill-Springburn area no less than in the old
shipbuilding districts north and south of the Clyde -- the Maryhill Burgh Halls fell
152
into disrepair. In the 1960s, however, the panels were removed and stored for
safekeeping in the city’s Museums and Art Galleries; thanks to Michael Donnelly,
some were displayed in one of those Galleries, the remarkable People’s Palace. As
the Burgh Halls were refurbished in the last decade and transformed into a local
community and convention centre, the decision was made to return a selection of
Adam’s panels to their original site. First, however, some restoration work had to
be done. Adam, it turned out, had been one of many stained glass producers who
adopted the use of borax as a means of speeding up the firing process, and this
had led – ironically enough in view of his criticism of the Munich windows in
Glasgow Cathedral -- to considerable fading. With expert help, the work of
restoration was completed in reasonable time and a number of the panels can
now be seen in their original architectural setting. The Maryhill Burgh Halls Trust
has put out a beautifully illustrated booklet describing the panels that can be
accessed online anywhere in the world without charge.
(http://static1.squarespace.com/static/4ff41e65e4b03ec22b1153c6/t/52398a63e
4b045468c5f7619/1379502691246/panels_orig_booklet_a.pdf )
153
Most of the illustrations of the panels reproduced in this essay were taken from
this booklet with the approval of the Trust and the permission of Glasgow
Museums, the copyright holder.
*** *** ***
As must be clear from the numerous references in the endnotes to the
rich literature on stained glass and from the many individuals acknowledged in
the Foreword, this short study of a little known but highly original work of art
could not have been undertaken without the help of established scholars in the
field and the encouragement, co-operation, and practical input of countless wellwishers in Glasgow and the towns and villages in Scotland where most of Stephen
Adam’s work is located – conservationists, local historians, church and other
building administrators, photography enthusiasts. The input of some individuals,
notably Ian R. Mitchell, has been so immeasurable that it is difficult to conceive of
the study otherwise than as the product of a community rather than an individual
However the reflections and speculations in the text may be judged, the
endeavor will have been worthwhile if it succeeds in getting out the word
about an unusual and underappreciated masterpiece.
Fig. 1, top left. Peter von Cornelius,
“Joseph recognized by his brothers.”
Casa Bartholdy, Rome. 1816-17.
Fig. 2, center left. Schnorr von
Carolsfeld. Ariosto Room, Casino
Massimo, Rome. 1827.
Fig. 3, top right. Pierre Puvis de
Chavannes, “Le Travail.” 1863.
Fig. 4, bottom left. Pierre Puvis de
Chavannes, “Le Bois sacré.” Lyon, 1884.
Fig. 5, top of page.
Puvis de Chavannes.
“Christian Inspiration.”
1887.
Fig. 6, center left.
Maryhill Burgh Halls.
Fig. 7, center right.
Stephen Adam panels
re-installed in Maryhill
Burgh Halls.
Fig. 8, foot of page.
Augustus Pugin and
John Hardman,
Hardman’s stained
glass workshop. 1850.
Fig. 9, top left. Clayton & Bell,
“Cornish Miners.”Truro Cathedral.
1907.
Fig. 10, second from top, left.
Chesterfield Parish Church. 1984.
Fig. 11, top right. John Radecki,
Memorial Window, Sydney, N.S.W.
Museum of Freemasonry. 1951.
Fig. 12, third from top, left. Napier
Waller, East Window, Australian
war memorial Hall of Memory.
1950.
Fig. 13, bottom left. Jan-Thorn
Prikker, "Der Künstler als Lehrer
für Handel und Gewerbe." HagenBahnhof. 1911.
Fig. 14, upper left. Charles Connick,
“Broadcasting” (detail). St. John the Divine, New
th
York. Early 20 century.
Fig. 15, upper right. Herbert Hendrie, window
replacing one of the Munich windows and
representing workers. Glasgow Cathedral. 1939.
Fig. 16, lower left. Stephen Adam, “Sacrifice of Isaac,” Clark
Memorial Church, Largs. 1893.
Fig. 17, lower center. Edward Burne-Jones, “St. Cecilia.” 1897.
Fig. 18, lower right. W.A. Van de Walle, “Miner.” 1936.
158
ENDNOTES
Many of the following endnotes are unusually long. As in my recent study of Thomas Annan, the
nineteenth-century Glasgow photographer, it has been my aim to keep the main text as uncluttered as possible
while providing additional relevant information and quotations in the notes, along with abundant bibliographical
indications to assist readers who might wish to pursue themes touched on in the text.
1
Maryhill started out as a small village at the time of the construction of the Forth and Clyde Canal in the
th
late 18 century, developed rapidly in the wake of the commercial and industrial activities attracted by the canal,
and achieved burgh status in 1856, before being absorbed into the city of Glasgow in 1891.
2
See http://www.craftscotland.org/craft-news/news-article.html?historic-stained-glass-returns-tomaryhill-burgh-halls&document_id=973
3
Gordon R. Urquhart, A Notable Ornament: Lansdowne Church: An Icon of Victorian Glasgow (Glasgow:
Glasgow City Heritage Trust, 2011), p. 145.
4
For a list of past and present glass artists in Scotland alone, see
http://www.scotlandsglass.co.uk/cms/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=58&Itemid=28
5
Henry Holiday, Stained Glass as an Art (London:Macmillan, 1896), pp .1-3.
6
Charles Connick , Adventures in Light and Color: An Introduction to the Stained Glass Craft (New York:
Random House, 1937), p 128. Cf. a recently expressed complaint that even “scholars have continued to overlook
the material, symbolic, cultural experience and impact of stained glass in the nineteenth century,” despite the fact
that, “during that period, the medium experienced an unprecedented revival, not only in ecclesiastical interiors
but also in civic, collegiate, and domestic settings.” (Jasmine Allen, “Stained Glass and the Culture of the Spectacle,
1780-1862,” Visual Culture in Britain [2012], 13:1-23 [http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14714787.2012.641778])
7
th
Virginia Chieffo Raguin, Reflections on Glass: 20 Century Stained Glass in American Art and Architecture
(New York: Gallery at the American Bible Society, 2002), p. 15.
8
E.g. the celebrated series of sportsmen figures by Tom Wilson in the Oyster Bar of Edinburgh’s Café Royal;
see Painton Cowen, A Guide to Stained Glass in Britain (London: Michael Joseph, 1985), p. 233. On the immense
popularity of stained glass decoration in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century U.S. private homes, see Alice
Cooney Frelinghuysen, “A New Renaissance: Stained Glass in the Aesthetic Period,” in In Pursuit of
Beauty: Americans and the Aesthetic Movement, ed. Doreen Bolger Burke et al. (New York: The Metropolitan
Museum of Art/Rizzoli. 1986), pp. 177-97, esp. 184-85, and Charles Connick’s account of a style of which he himself
heartily disapproved, in his Adventures in Light and Color, chapters V and VI, pp. 120-128. Glasgow was no laggard in
this development; see Lesley Gillilan, “Property: Top of the Glass Period. Features, 1: Stained Glass,” in the London
newspaper The Independent (Sunday, 10 March 1996): “Glasgow has some of the finest domestic stained glass in
Europe. [. . .] If you walk the Victorian streets of the city’s West End, you can still see the leaded outlines of flowers,
birds, rustic scenes, seascapes, heraldic crests and a polychrome of abstract and figurative designs, including preRaphaelite nymphs and more mythological maids.” (Figs. I:1, 19; II:1, 3, 7, 8) Likewise Iain Galbraith,
159
“Always happy in his designs: the legacy of Stephen Adam,” The Journal of Stained Glass (2006) 30:101-17: “From
around 1870, accompanying the rise of the wealthy middle classes was a boom in suburban expansion around the
great manufacturing cities. The inclusion of stained glass decoration was almost de rigueur within the new villas,
terraces and mansions forming these affluent suburbs.” (p. 109)
9
Cited by Lesley Gillilan, “Property: Top of the Glass Period. Features, 1: Stained Glass,” The Independent
(London), Sunday, 10 March 1996.
10
Inquiry into the Difference of Style observable in Ancient Glass Paintings, especially in England, with
Hints on Glass Painting, by an Amateur, 2 vols. (Oxford: John Henry Parker, 1847), vol. I, p. 281, footnote. Vol. I of
Winston’s Inquiry consists of text, vol. II of illustrations. All subsequent references to the Inquiry in the endnotes
are to vol. I.
11
Winston, Inquiry, pp. 282-83 and footnote. In the same vein, Fras. [Francis] W. Oliphant in his A Plea
for Painted Glass, being an Inquiry into its Nature, Character, and Objects and its Claims as an Art (Oxford: John
Henry Parker, 1855). It still often happens that the artist responsible for a stained glass window remains
anonymous. For instance, in a recent publication featuring illustrations of handsome stained glass works
intended to celebrate or memorialize the men of the R.A.F. during the Second World War (David Beatty, Light
Perpetual [Shrewsbury: Airlife, 1995]) , no artists’ names are given.
12
Holiday, op.cit., p. 12.
13
C.W. Whall, Stained Glass Work: A Textbook for Students and Workers in Glass (New York: D. Appleton,
1914 [1 ed. 1905]), pp. 4-5, 67, 71, 112-13, et passim. On Morris’s view, see A. Charles Sewter, The Stained Glass
of William Morris and his Circle (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974), pp. 22-23.
st
14
Sally Rush, “Ungrateful Posterity? The Removal of the ‘Munich’ Windows from Glasgow Cathedral,” in
Glasgow’s Great Glass Experiment: The Munich Glass of Glasgow Cathedral, ed. Richard Fawcett (Edinburgh:
Historic Scotland, 2003), pp. 47-65, on pp. 57-58.
15
This situation has changed recently in some prominent cases. “”The painter who has to do the
thinking out and creating ‘at one go’ may himself be the subsequent craftsman-maker, or the maker may be an
inspired craftsman-interpreter who sees the point and interprets the ‘one-go’ idea as a creative translator,” the
painter John Piper wrote in 1979. “Patrick Reyntiens and I have worked together on windows since 1950. He is
himself a painter, and I have been specially lucky in this association because of his sensitive and inventive
craftsmanship and his total understanding of the painterly approach. […] The list of artist-interpreter, doubleharness, designer-makers of the last twenty years is a long one. It includes Matisse/Paul Bony, Léger/Jean
Barillet, Braque/Bony, and Chagall/Charles Marq.“ (John Piper, “Art or Anti-Art,” in Brian Clarke, ed.,
Architectural Stained Glass [London: John Murray, 1979], pp. 60, 63)
16
A. Charles Sewter, The Stained Glass of William Morris and his Circle, p. 18. See also p. 14 on the free
interpretation of the artist’s cartoons by the workshop of N.W. Lavers and F.P. Barraud. Burne-Jones’
contemporary, the American stained glass artist John Lafarge (1835-1910), claimed to have noticed “of the English
160
artists in stained glass that [their work] had ceased improving, and [… ] that the cause of this was mainly” that “the
designer had become separated from the men who make the actual windows.” (H. Barbara Weinberg, “The Early
Stained Glass Work of John Lafarge,” Stained Glass [Summer, 1972], 67:5, cited in Frelinghuysen, “A New
Renaissance” [see note 8 above], p. 188) In Lafarge’s view, “When [Burne-Jones] sent in his elaborated and final
pretty drawing to the glass makers . . . their part began, and they gradually stamped their commercial British mark
on his final work.” (Cit. Frelinghuysen, ibid.) Lafarge, we are told, “avoided this pitfall by personally taking his
designs to the stained-glass studio and watching over every detail until they were finished to his satisfaction.” (ibid.)
17
[Present author’s note]. Francis Oliphant (1818-1859), who had studied at the Edinburgh Academy of
Art, was himself the author of A Plea for Painted Glass, being an Inquiry into its Nature, Character, and Objects and
its Claims as an Art (Oxford: John Henry Parker, 1855); see above, endnote 11 and below, endnote 31. In this wellargued tract of 72 pages Oliphant deplores the low esteem in which stained glass is held. This, he claims, has given
any one, skilled and artistically gifted or not, license to turn a hand to it. The result is much mediocre work which
thus confirms the low value placed on the medium.
18
Jim Cheshire, Stained Glass and the Victorian Gothic Revival (Manchester: Manchester University Press,
2004), pp. 43-44. The passage from Pugin is cited in Stanley Shepherd’s University of Birmingham Ph.D, thesis of
1997, published as The Stained Glass of A.W.N. Pugin (Reading: Spire Books, 2009), p. 39.
19
In a “Postscript” to Iain Galbraith’s article “Always happy in his designs: the legacy of Stephen Adam” in
The Journal of Stained Glass (2006), 30:101-116, Martin Harrison notes that Adam’s employment of freelancers
“who supplied cartoons to Adam in the 1890s,” as reported by Galbraith (e.g. Robert Burns, David Gauld and Alex
Walker) “raises certain questions: had Adam become overloaded with commissions by this time? Or did he operate
as the studio head, perhaps as a kind of ‘artistic director’? and might he, therefore, have engaged ‘outside’
designers earlier than this? The ramifications of the devolved design systems operating in 19th-century glasspainting workshops are, at present, incompletely understood. The evidence emerging, however, points to a highly
complex situation, one which renders the attribution of figure designs, in particular, extremely problematical.” (p.
114) See also endnote 20 below.
20
The phrase quoted is from Brian Clarke, “Toward a new Constructivism,” in B. Clarke, ed., Architectural
Stained Glass (London: John Murray, 1979), p. 13. Likewise, according to the stained glass artist Patrick Reyntiens
(“Good Behavior and Bad Taste,” ibid., p. 43), identifying the designer or craftsman responsible for a window is
usually difficult or impossible. Though a few names of medieval craftsmen are known, “windows, even by fairly
well-known artists, are scarcely ever labelled, some are signed with a cipher, few are mentioned in the church
guidebook.” (Lawrence Lee, The Appreciation of Stained Glass [London: Oxford University Press, 1977], pp. 31-32)
Some windows, especially modern nineteenth- and twentieth-century windows do carry a name or an emblem of
their maker. The French stained glass maker Eugène Oudinot, for instance, inscribed the name of their designer on
the windows he produced for one neo-Gothic church: “E. VIOLLET-LE-DUC DIREXIT ANNO 1866.” (Laurence de
Finance, “Viollet-le-Duc et l’atelier Gérente,” in Laurence de Finance and Jean-Michel Leniaud, Viollet-le-Duc: Les
Visions d’un architecte [Paris: Éditions Norma, 2014], p. 126) But the reference is often, at best, to a studio or
rd
workshop rather than an individual. (John Herries, Discovering Stained Glass, 3 ed., revised by Carola Hicks
st
[Princes Risborough: Shire Publications, 1996; 1 ed. 1968], p. 88) Even in the late nineteenth century, there was
often no indication of the artist or designer. In the meticulously documented volumes of the “Buildings of
161
Scotland” series (published by Penguin until the year 2000, after that by Yale University Press), the attribution of
many windows to Adam is described as possible or likely or is accompanied by a question mark in parentheses.
When a window does bear a signature, it is often “Studio of Stephen Adam, Glasgow” or “Adam & Small,” so that
the individual responsible for the design remains anonymous. On the other hand, some windows described as
having been made after Stephen Adam’s death are attributed in the “Buildings of Scotland” series simply to
“Stephen Adam” rather than to the Adam studio. Similarly, on the government-supported Historic Scotland
website, a window dated 1920 in Sherwood Greenlaw Church, Paisley is attributed to Stephen Adam, though
Adam died on August 23, 1910. (http://portal.historic-Scotland.gov.uk/designation/LB38999) A window depicting
“The Good Shepherd” in New Kilpatrick Church in the Glasgow suburb of Bearsden offers an example of the
complexity of attribution. The window was described in an earlier version of the Church’s excellent web-page
(http://www.nkchurch.org.uk/#!windows/zoom/h8k53/dataItem-ighaknb61) as having been “executed and
adapted by Stephen Adam and Alf Webster”; the “artist,” however is named as “W.H. Margetson” and his work is
said to have been “copied from an English cathedral window.”
21
Information derived from the typescript (p. 4) of an unpublished paper entitled “Kunst der Gegenwart,
Kunst der Zukunft” (circa 1934) communicated to me in 1999, with the permission of Dieter Pevsner, by Susie
Harries, the author of the 2011 biography of the noted art historian. Pevsner never abandoned the core views
expressed in this paper. A decade later, in the Introduction to An Outline of European Architecture
(Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1943; 2nd revised ed., 1951), he wrote: “An age without painting is conceivable,
though no believer in the life-enhancing function of art would want it. An age without easel-painting can be
conceived without any difficulty, and, thinking of the predominance of easel-pictures in the 19th century, might be
regarded as a consummation devoutly to be wished” (p. 20); and in the Introduction to the 5th edition (1957):
“The very fact that in the 19th century easel-painting flourished at the expense of wall-painting and ultimately of
architecture, proves into what a diseased state the arts (and Western civilization) had fallen. The very fact that the
Fine Arts today seem to be recovering their architectural character makes one look into the future with some
hope.” (p. 24)
22
Salmon cited by Elgin Vaassen, Die kgl. Glasmalereianstalt in München 1827-1874 (Munich and Berlin:
Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2013), p. 273; see also on Salmon’s position, George Rawson, “The Cathedral Glazing
Campaign 1855-1864,” in Richard Fawcett, ed., Glasgow’s Great Glass Experiment: The Munich Glass of Glasgow
Cathedral (Edinburgh: Historic Scotland 2003), pp. 21-33, on pp. 25-26. In similar vein, F.G. Stephens in an article
on “Mr. E. Burne-Jones, R.S.A. as a Decorative Artist,” The Portfolio (1889), 20:214-19: “The functions of art in
glass-staining are: - (1) to subserve architecture of which it is an essential member; (2) to combine in expression
and dignity with the walls and mouldings, which are, to some extent, its framework.” (p. 217)
23
In France, Théophile Gautier was a strong advocate of mural painting. In the United States, a virtually
exact contemporary of Adam, the philosopher and expert on Oriental art Ernest Fenolossa (1853-1908), best
known now for his influence on Ezra Pound, declared that mural painting was “a civic art -- not hidden away in the
cabinets of the rich, but where all may see it and participate in the pride of ownership,” while the painter and
stained glass designer Will Hicok Low (1853-1933) denounced “the unrelated easel picture destined to private
possession, an apandage [sic] of the rich” (cited in Bailey van Hook, The Virgin and the Dynamo: Public Murals in
American Architecture 1893-1917 [Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Press, 2003], p. 100).
162
24
Gropius, “Proclamation from the Weimar Bauhaus 1919,” in Bauhaus 1919-28 (New York, Museum of
st
Modern Art, 1938 [1 ed. 1928]), p. 18. The stained-glass artist, it is worth noting, seems not always to have
appreciated his subservience to the architect or to have accepted the architect’s judgment as superior to his own;
see Connick, Adventures in Light and Color, pp. 191-92.
25
26
This situation has changed recently in some prominent cases. See note 15 above.
Oliphant, A Plea for Painted Glass, pp. 65-66. In his Inquiry (1847), Winston warned that “painted glass
loses so much of its interest and value in every respect, when torn from its original position, that this measure
should never be resorted to unless for the purpose of better preservation.” (p. 304) This does not mean, however,
that the original architectural wholes do in fact usually remain intact. On the contrary, it has been pointed out that
for various reasons (wars, decay, changes of taste, renovation and reconstruction) few churches retain their original
stained glass windows. Most have a variety of windows in different styles and from different periods. (See
Lawrence Lee, The Appreciation of Stained Glass, pp. 17-18) One well-known example of displacement is that of
Joshua Price’s “The Supper at Emmaus” (1719-1721), based on an Italian design by Sebastiano Ricci and originally
commissioned by Lord Chandos for the chapel of his estate, Cannons, in Middlesex, but later, on the break-up of
the estate, installed by Price’s son, along with a magnificent Italian baroque ceiling, in Saint Michael and All Angels
Church in Great Witley, Worcestershire. (Sarah Brown, Stained Glass: An Illustrated History [London: Studio
Editions, 1992], p. 121). See likewise, Virginia Chieffo Raguin, Stained Glass: Radiant Art (Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty
Museum, 2013), p. 87: “Elements of architectural decoration, such as stained glass windows, become objects in
museums or private collections after they have lost their original context—for example, with the destruction of a
building—or after having been deliberately removed from an extant site. Over the centuries, and long before they
became museum pieces or collector’s items on the art market, these works were sometimes removed from their
original locations and placed in new ones. This re-placing happened in churches, for example, where windows
were repositioned due to successive renovations.” On panels created in 15th-century Switzerland to serve as gifts
on special occasions, see George Seddon, “The History of Stained Glass,” in Lawrence Lee, George Seddon, Francis
Stephens, Stained Glass (London: Michael Beazley, 1976), pp. 64-175, on p. 124): “Protestant objections to
religious imagery in stained glass and the development of the enamelling technique combined to make popular a
new genre of glass-painting: small panels for secular use. A craze for giving such panels as gifts began in
Switzerland late in the fifteenth century. The occasions that were used for giving a panel were many – from a
great civic occasion to a family wedding. [. . .] Panel painting spread from Switzerland to southern Germany” and
the Netherlands. The subject matter, heraldic at first (the arms of the donor, for instance, or of a guild), later
included the figures of the donors themselves, then of their wives and children. According to Raguin, Stained Glass:
Radiant Art, “Roundels, pieces of uncolored glass, painted in a manner similar to prints and drawings, became
popular in the Renaissance. This form of stained glass was developed to serve a new wealthy mercantile class and
its scale suited the small windows in the urban townhouses they decorated.” (p. 59) See also Timothy B. Husband
and Ilja M. Veldman, The Luminous Image: Painted Glass Roundels in the Lowlands 1480-1560 (New
York:Metropolitcan Museum, 1993) and, for many fine illustrations of these small, free-standing panels, Ewald
Jeuter and Birgit Cleef-Roth, Licht und Farbe: Eine Glasgemälde-Sammlung des 15. bis 19. Jahrhunderts aus dem
Besitz der Herzöge von Sachsen-Coburg und Gotha, exh. cat. (Schloss Callenberg bei Coburg, 2003). According to
Robert Sowers, “the intimate and portable heraldic panel, which became fashionable to hang in domestic windows
particularly in Switzerland, the Low Countires, and Germany” were “the most interesting development in the late
th
th
16 and early 17 centuries. [. . .] Seldom more than two feet high [. . .] they complete the divorce between
stained glass and architecture.” (http://www.britannica.com/art/stained-glass)
163
27
The British Journal of Stained Glass, which appears annually, does offer a small illustrated section in
each issue entitled “Highlights from the auction rooms.” On the market for stained glass and on collectors, see
Raguin, Stained Glass: Radiant Art, pp. 92-94, where William Randolph Hearst and, to a lesser extent, Henry Ford
are cited as serious collectors of stained glass. On the difficult conditions for the display of stained glass in a
museum, see http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/journals/conservation-journal/issue-56/displaying-stained-glass-ina-museum/
28
Robert Sowers, The Language of Stained Glass (Forest Grove, OR: Timber Press, 1981[?]), p. 193. See, in
the same vein, Sowers, “Autonomy as a Spurious Absolute,” in Clarke, Architectural Stained Glass: “Because [the
stained glass artist’s] work is normally commissioned, must relate to a given space, and may even be called upon
to evoke, however implicitly, some particular range of human experience -- because it is an ‘applied’ art -- it is
declared to be hopelessly compromised from the outset. In effect, the autonomy of art, its utter freedom from any
possible link with any place, thing, or function outside itself is raised to the level of a quasi-moral absolute.“
(Clarke, p. 55) And so it comes about that, even though “museums, after all, are run by curators, who, on the
evidence of the past, have not only refused the donation of masterpieces but spent inordinate sums of money on
pure junk,” the artist must “reluctantly” accept that museums are “the least sullied refuge for art in a grossly
imperfect world. [. . . ] All real art then belongs, somewhat grudgingly, in this least tarnished place and nowhere
else. What kind of world does this injunction bring to mind, this world in which the one place for art as art [. . .] is
the museum of fine art?” (p. 57)
29
The significance of the figure can be appreciated in light of the cost (£6,000) of building a new St.
Margaret’s Church in Dalry in 1871-73 to replace an earlier building that had had to be demolished. (Rona Moody,
"A Short History of St Margaret's Church Dalry")
30
Martin Harrison, Victorian Stained Glass (London: Barrie and Jenkins, 1980), pp. 71-72; Roger Rosewell,
Stained Glass (Botley, Oxon.: Shire Publications, 2012), pp. 65 ff.; Jim Cheshire, Stained Glass and the Victorian
Gothic Revival, passim. Efforts to streamline production may not have been an altogether new development.
According to the modern stained glass artist Robert Sowers in his article on “Stained Glass” in the Encyclopaedia
th
Britannica, “There is ample evidence to show that by the 14 century it was the practice of glaziers to have a stock
of finished cartoons, executed on parchment or paper, which could be adapted for different glazing schemes.”
(http://www.britannica.com/art/stained-glass)
31
Fras. W. Oliphant, A Plea for Painted Glass, pp. 54-55; John Herries, Discovering Stained Glass, p. 81. Cf.
the chapter title “Restoration and Mass-Production” in George Seddon, “The History of Stained Glass,” in Lawrence
Lee, George Seddon, Francis Stephens,eds., Stained Glass (London: Michael Beazley, 1976), pp. 64-175, on p. 148.
Around the same time as Oliphant, the great French restorer of Gothic architecture referred to stained glass
production as “that art or, if you will, that industry.” (Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture
e
e
française du XI au XVI siècle, article “Vitrail” [Paris: Morel, 1875; first ed. 1854-1868], p. 453)
32
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development (Glasgow: James Maclehose, 1877), p. 25. See also
Adam’s article “Some Notes on the History of Stained Glass,” The British Architect (29 December, 1893), 481-83:
“We will now touch on, as gently as feeling will allow, the quondam ‘Gothic Revival’ of 40 or 50 years ago. Gothic
architects, Gothic glass stainers [. . .] all at once awakened to the beauties of early work. Gothic churches wanted
164
medieval windows and figures, and many glass stainers, knowing the ‘requisite little’ to produce them brought
forth in large quantities grotesque twisted saints, with wry faces, at per foot prices, issued catalogues and flooded
the country with stock ‘Acts of Mercy,’ ‘Evangelists and Miracles.’” (p. 482) Here, as in other places, Adam was
repeating the views expressed decades earlier by Charles Winston in his Inquiry of 1847.
33
On the “great tide of memorial glass,” that set in around the time of the publication of an address to
the Oxford Architectural Society by J. H. Markland in 1842, see A. Charles Sewter, The Stained Glass of William
Morris and his Circle, p. 10. In an appendix to the second edition (1904) of his pamphlet Truth in Decorative Art
(1896) Adam himself lists as “a few” that “may be mentioned” just under 100 “among the most important church
memorial windows designed and executed in recent years by Stephen Adam.”
34
A. Charles Sewter, The Stained Glass of William Morris and his Circle, pp. 20-21. Though today’s
workshops may be smaller than those of Adam’s time and may claim to have artistic aspirations, their directors are
still -- as practitioners of the “decorative arts” have always been, no matter how academically trained and highminded -- unavoidably more directly influenced by commercial considerations and the preferences of their clients
than modern painters. E.g. the following offer: “We can model your leaded stained glass to match the current
decor in your home, or design you an original pattern from scratch. We work closely with each of our clients,
through
each
step
in
the
custom-creation
of
their
own
special
masterpiece.”
(http://www.stainedglasswindows.com/)
35
See, however, articles on “The Return of the Religious in Contemporary Art” (Huffington Post,
th
1/6/2011) and “The 20 Century’s Varied Influence on Religious Art” (Washington Post, 2/17/2007). See also
http://db-artmag.com/en/76/feature/question-of-faith-is-there-a-return-of-the-religious-in-contempo/
36
Winston, Inquiry, p. 282. Winston goes on to remind his readers “that a display of high art depends not
on the nature of the materials employed, but on the mode of employing them.”
37
The criticism by Quatremère de Quincy and others of the policy of removing works of art from their
original locations -- in lands conquered by Napoleon’s armies or, in the case of the Elgin marbles, from the
Parthenon in Athens -- failed to arrest the development of the Museum as repository of works of art from all parts
of the world. It should be noted, however, that to Quatremère the collection or museum in itself was not the
problem. On the contrary, established collections and museums were among the “original locations” that should
be respected, inasmuch as the works in them “once assembled, illuminate and explain one another.” (Letters to
Miranda and Canova on the Abduction of Antiquities from Rome and Athens, transl. Chris Miller and David Gilks
[Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2012], p. 100). The Lettres sur le projet d’enlever les monumens d’Italie
appeared in 1796, the Lettres écrites de Londres à Rome, et adressées à M. Canova, sur les marbres d’Elgin in 1818.
38
Thus Winston: “The ancient tints have in many cases been reproduced, but not the textures of the more
ancient material. Consequently there is a difference of effect between the modern and the ancient glass. The
former is more homogeneous, and therefore clearer, and more perfectly transparent than the latter, especially than
that belonging to the twelfth and the two following centuries: and I feel persuaded that it is to this circumstance
that we must refer the poor and thin appearance, which almost every modern glass painting [. . .] presents in
comparion with an original specimen.” (Inquiry, p. 270) For helpful accounts of the technical aspects of
165
stained glass production, how they evolved in the nineteenth century after the revival of “antique” glass, and how
that revival affected the esthetics of stained glass, see Elgin Vaassen, “Stained Glass Windows for the United
Kingdom by the Königliche Glasmalereianstalt in Munich, and their painting technique,” in Glasgow’s Great Glass
Experiment: The Munich Glass of Glasgow Cathedral, pp. 35-45, on pp. 41-42, and especially Sally Rush,
“Ungrateful Posterity? The Removal of the ‘Munich’ Windows from Glasgow Cathedral,” ibid., pp. 47-65, on pp. 5759.
39
See Charles Connick’s account of the indignant response of a wood-carver when he was asked by a
church committee to reproduce the face of a Raphael Madonna on a reredos statue: “I am a wood carver! What
have I to do with those soft, sensuous Eyetalian girls?" His visitors, Connick continues, “were shocked by such
heresy. They thought Raphael’s pictures should be the ideal of everyone interested in Christian art. But the sheer
force of their craftman’s character held them while he told of the virtues and potentialities of wood. He struggled to
say that wood is important in a field of design where realism does not belong at all. His feelings for surface and
texture impressed the committee. Almost everyone caught his delight in the peculiar genius of wood.” (Adventures
in Light and Color, pp 104-105)
40
Fras. W. Oliphant, A Plea for Painted Glass, pp. 24, 41, 32.
41
Connick, Adventures in Light and Color, p. 150. Viollet-le-Duc also discusses the effect of proximity or
distance on the view the spectator has of a stained glass panel. He illustrates his point by showing how, at a
distance of 20 metres, a head “d’une exécution si brutale prend un tout autre caractère. Ce sont les traits d’un
jeune home à la barbe naissante.” (Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XI au XVI siècle, article
“Vitrail,” pp. 421-22)
42
On widespread post-WWII demolition of British churches resulting in the loss of fine stained glass
windows, see Sewter, The Stained Glass of William Morris and his Circle, pp. 83-84. On the destruction of
Townhead Parish Church, see Juliet Kinchin, Hilary Macartney, David Robertson, Cottier’s in Context: Daniel Cottier,
William Leiper and Dowanhill Church, Glasgow, 3 (Case Study), (Edinburgh: Historic Scotland, 2011), p. 13. An email to the author from Professor Ray McKenzie, recently retired from the faculty of the Glasgow School of Art,
suggests that some individuals did try, unsuccessfully, to prevent the destruction. McKenzie recalled a
conversation he had had “many, many years ago,” when he himself was still an undergraduate, with the Scottish
film director Murray Grigor in the company of the Glasgow University Art History professor McLaren Young. Grigor
told “about an encounter he had with a demolition squad knocking down a church in Glasgow with some Morris &
Co. glass in the windows. When he asked the foreman if he would accept a bung (£50 if I remember rightly) to let
them remove the glass before the wrecking balls got to work, he (the foreman) picked up a half brick and with a
sneer threw it through the window. 'That's what you get for fifty quid' was his enlightened comment.” (E-mail of
27 September 2015) Charles Sewter points to other instances of casual disregard for stained glass windows, such
as extracting figures from their backgrounds and surrounds of patterned work and resetting them in plain glass.
(The Stained Glass of William Morris and his Circle, p. 85) It is hard to imagine a sculpture or painting being
subjected to such cavalier treatment.
43
On the fate of Sowers’ window, see, for instance, http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/travel/flights/200802-20-jfk-stained-glass-wall_n.htm and http://www.antiquetrader.com/columns/broken_glass. On the “perfect
collaboration” of Cottier and Thomson, see Michael Donnelly, Glasgow Stained Glass: A Preliminary Study
166
(Glasgow: Glasgow Museums and Art Galleries, 1981), p. 9 and Sally Joyce Rush, “Alexandeer Thomson, Daniel
Cottier and the Interior of Queen’s Park Church” in Gavin Stamp and Sam McKinstry, eds., “Greek” Thomson
(Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1994), pp.77-85. In contrast, there is no discussion of stained glass
decoration in Ronald McFadzean’s groundbreaking and thoroughly documented The Life and Work of Alexander
Thomson (London: Routledge, 1979), or in Gavin Stamp’s beautifully illustrated Alexander “Greek” Thomson
(London: Lawrence King Publishing in association with Glasgow 1999 Festival Company Ltd., 1999).
44
On silver stain, see https://boppardconservationproject.wordpress.com/2013/07/28/facts-about-glasssilver-stain/
45
Rosewell, Stained Glass, p. 40.
46
Now in the church of St. Andrew by the Wardrobe in London
47
Eleanor Cracknell at http://www.stgeorges-windsor.org/archives/archive-features/image-of-themonth/title1/Benjamin-West.html
48
A. Charles Sewter, The Stained Glass of William Morris and his Circle, p. 5.
49
On techniques of stained glass production, see Winston, Inquiry, pp. 4-6; and the excellent exposition in
rd
st
John Harries, Discovering Stained Glass, 3 ed. (Princes Risborough: Shire Publications, 2006 [1 . ed. 1996]), pp.
18-31.
50
Eleanor Cracknell (as in note 47 above): “Henry Poole & Sons of Westminster were employed to remove
the eighteenth century glass in August 1862 [. . .] and to pack it into four cases. A.Y. Nutt, Chapter Surveyor,
remarked in 1878 that no satisfactory reply had been obtained as to where the window went or what became of the
cases [. . .]. The other two Aisle windows were replaced around 1869 as part of the new scheme by Clayton and Bell.
Carefully numbered squared designs were created suggesting they were also packed away for storage.” It is
unfortunately characterstic of the fate of stained glass in general that “the whereabouts of these four windows
is now unknown.”
51
Pittsburgh History and Landmarks Foundation, 2007 (http://www.phlf.org/2008/03/21/leo-thomas1876-1950-for-george-boos-1859-1937-munich-germany/). That judgment needs to be somewhat modified. It is
assuredly not an accident that many of the designers of Munich glass were artists associated with the so-called
Nazarene painters of the early nineteenth century. Looking back from baroque and rococo styles of painting to the
art of the early Renaissance, these painters favored clear and simple lines and flat colors. Their artistic style was
thus more readily adaptable to the medium of stained glass than that of much contemporary art.
52
Paper “On the Application of Painted Glass in Architecture,” printed in The Builder, Feb. 9, 1856, pp.7172; letter from Winston to C.H. Wilson, Director of the Glasgow School of Art, 20 April 1856, in Memoirs Illustrative
of the Art of Glass Painting by the late Charles Winston, ed. Philip H. Delamotte (London: John Murray, 1865), p.
22,. Italics in text. Wilson was completely convinced by Winston. In 1868 he responded in the strongest terms to a
critic of the Munich windows he had had installed in Glasgow Cathedral in the 1850s and 60s: “Before we
commenced our undertaking, we visited many of the noble cathedrals, beautiful parish churches, and college
167
chapels of England. We wished to ascertain what Englishmen had done for the appropriate decoration of these
noble heritages, [. . .] that we might profit from their example. We found nowhere a vestige of forethought, of
reasonable plan, of attention to the unity of thought observable in the architecture, hardly any even to its style,
and we saw acres of modern painted glass, which, with a few rare examples here and there, is the veriest rubbish
considered as art which is to be found anywhere [. . .] The figure portions, especially, of the great mass of these
windows are utterly beneath criticism. We naturally turned away from all imitation of such works, from all trust in
such artists. If you prefer them in England, that is your affair.” But “we will not acknowledge your authority or
accept your guidance with these results of your taste, skill and judgment before us, and we may be pardoned for
thinking that a little modesty in the expression of criticism befits those who have filled their superb cathedrals with
such examples of the worst art that the world ever saw.” (Letter to the editor, The Building News and Engineering
Journal (8 February 1868), 13: 91. According to Martin Harrison, “In 1851 originality was not a priority for most
firms, and they were intent on showing that they had sufficient antiquarian expertise to be able to offer windows
which would suit any building style.” (Victorian Stained Glass [as in endnote 30 above], pp. 24, 35)
53
Elgin Vaassen, Bilder auf Glas. Glasgemälde zwischen 1780 und 1870 (Munich and Berlin: Deutscher
Kunstverlag, 1997), pp. 94-95; on the popularity of Munich Glass in Great Britain, see id. , “Stained Glass Windows
for the United Kingdom by the Königliche Glasmalereianstalt in Munich, and their painting technique,” in
Glasgow’s Great Glass Experiment: The Munich Glass of Glasgow Cathedral, pp. 35-45.
54
On the award of this commission, the negotiations leading up to it and the works produced to execute it,
see Elgin Vaassen, Die kgl. Glasmalereianstalt in München 1827-1874 (Munich and Berlin: Deutscher Kunstverlag,
2013), pp. 269-318. See also the detailed accounts by George Rawson, “The Cathedral Glazing Campaign 18551864” and Sally Rush, “Ungrateful Posterity? The Removal of the ‘Munich’ Windows from Glasgow Cathedral,” in
Glasgow’s Great Glass Experiment: The Munich Glass of Glasgow Cathedral, pp.21-33, 47-65. That objections to the
Munich style were not simply chauvinistic is indicated by the vehement criticism provoked in
Germany by the installing of Munich windows in Cologne Cathedral; see Elgin Vaassen, “Stained Glass Windows for
the United Kingdom by the Königliche Glasmalereianstalt in Munich, and their painting technique,” ibid., pp. 35-45
on p. 36.
55
John Ruskin, The Stones of Venice (New York and Chicago: National Library Association, n.d.), vol II, pp.
396-97. A more extreme view, expressed by the Gothic Revival architect George Edmund Street in a paper on Glass
Painting that appeared in 1852 in The Ecclesiologist, the organ of the Cambridge Camden Society, was summarised
as follows in Mathé Shepheard’s City of Birmingham University M. Phil. thesis of 2007 on the John Hardman
Stained Glass Company of Birmingham: “’The windows were to be merely light giving’ and ‘the object of a window
being to let light in, glass is the worst that artificially shuts out light. It must therefore if good, be very transparent.’
The pastoral role was reserved for the walls which were to offer a portrayal of the liturgical message in colourful
frescoes: ‘It is absolutely necessary that the design of the glass should never interfere with or oppose the design of
the stonework.’ The glass should in all cases be treated as subordinate to it.” (http://www.powyslannion.net/Shepheard/VolI.pdf)
56
Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XI au XVI siècle, vol. 9, article
“Vitrail,” pp. 384-85. As this interesting text is not readily accessible, I cite it at length: “Ce qui a été oublié pendant
plusieurs siècles, ce sont les seuls et vrais moyens qui conviennent à la peinture sur verre, moyens indiqués par
l’observation des effets de la lumière et de l’optique; moyens parfaitement connus et appliqués par les verriers
168
e e
e
et X siècles, négligés à dater du XV siècle, et dédaignés depuis, en dépit, comme nous l’avons dit, de ces
des XII III
lois immuables imposées par la lumière et l’optique. Vouloir reproduire ce qu’on appelle un tableau, c’est-à-dire
une peinture dans laquelle on cherche à rendre les effets de la perspective linéaire et de la perspective aérienne, de
la lumière et des ombres avec toutes leurs transitions, sur un panneau de couleurs translucides, est une entreprise
aussi téméraire que de prétendre rendre les effets des voix humaines avec des instruments à cordes. Autre
procédé, autres conditions, autre branche de l’art. Il y a presque autant de distance entre la peinture dite de
tableaux, la peinture opaque, cherchant à produire l’illusion, et la peinture sur verre, qu’il y en a entre cette même
peinture opaque et un bas-relief.[. . .] Dans une peinture opaque, dans un tableau, le rayonnement des couleurs
est absolument soumis au peintre qui, par les demi-teintes, les ombres diverses d’intensité et de valeur suivant les
plans, peut le diminuer ou l’augmenter à sa volonté. Le rayonnement des couleurs translucides dans les vitraux ne
peut être modifié par l’artiste ; tout son talent consiste à en profiter suivant une donnée harmonique sur un seul
plan, comme un tapis.[. . .] Quoi qu’on fasse, une verrière ne représente jamais et ne peut représenter qu’une
surface plane, elle n’a même ses qualités réelles qu’à cette condition; toute tentative faite pour présenter à l’œil
plusieurs plans détruit l’harmonie colorante, sans faire illusion au spectateur. [. . .] La peinture translucide ne peut
se proposer pour but que le dessin appuyant aussi énergiquement que possible une harmonie de couleurs, et le
résultat est satisfaisant comme cela. Vouloir introduire les qualités propres à la peinture opaque dans la peinture
translucide, c’est perdre les qualités précieuses de la peinture translucide sans compensation possible. Ce n’est
point ici une question de routine ou d’affection aveugle pour un art que l’on voudrait maintenir dans son
archaïsme, ainsi qu’on le prétend parfois; c’est une de ces questions absolues, parce que (nous ne saurions trop le
répéter) elles sont résolues par des lois physiques auxquelles nous ne pouvons rien changer.”
57
rd
Lewis F. Day, Windows: A Book about Stained and Painted Glass, 3 ed. (London: B.T. Batsford; New
York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1909), pp. 5-6. In the same vein, only a few years before Adam opened his workshop
in Glasgow, the brilliant Glasgow-born designer Christopher Dresser declared in a chapter on Stained Glass in his
Principles of Decorative Design that “a window should never appear as a picture with parts treated in light and
shade. The foreshortening of the parts, and all perspective treatments,” Dresser continued, “are best avoided, as
far as possible. I do not say that the human figure, the lower animals, and plants must not be delineated upon
window glass, for, on the contrary, they may be so treated as not only to be beautiful, but also to be a consistent
decoration of glass; but this I do say, that many stained windows are utterly spoiled through the window being
treated as a picture, and not as a protection from the weather and as a source of light. If pictorially treated
subjects are employed upon window glass, they should be treated very simply, and drawn in bold outline without
shading and the parts should be separated from each other by varying their colours.” (Christopher Dresser,
Principles of Decorative Design [London/Paris/New York: Cassell, Petter & Galpin, 1873], p. 153)
58
Day, Windows, p. 232. Still later, in 1918, William Willett, who had been commissioned to provide the
windows of Procter Hall in Princeton University’s neo-Gothic Graduate College, noted that while he recognized the
great American maker of stained glass windows, John La Farge (for whom he himself had formerly worked), as a
“true artist,” he was “fundamentally opposed to the use of opalescent glass as well as to La Farge’s pictorial
approach to window design.” According to Willett, “legitimate stained glass should be nothing more or less than a
flat, formalistic, transparent section of the wall which supports it; unobtrusive and forming an integral part of the
architectural whole.” (Cit. in Johanna G. Seasonwein, Princeton and the Gothic Revival 1870-1930, exhib. cat.
[Princeton: Princeton University Art Museum, 2012], pp. 86-87) Later still, Herbert Read, after referring to Ruskin,
outlined the contrasting features of the earlier stained glass, represented by a medallion from Canterbury
Cathedral, and the later pictorial work, represented by a window at King’s College Chapel, Cambridge. Features of
169
the former are “two-dimensionality”; “stylization” rather than realism (elongation of the figures, exaggerated
rhythm of folds and fluttering garments), resulting in great esthetic effect and expressiveness; “symbolism” (“no
attempt to represent the scene in its completeness; a tree is sufficient to indicate the open country, or one house a
town”); “arbitrary use of colour” (“not with imitative aims, [. . .] composed, rather than copied”). Features of the
later, pictorial glass are “three-dimensionality”; “naturalism” of figures and of setting; “a natural use of colour” in
which “grass is green, the sky blue, and everything very much as we see it in nature.” (Herbert Read, English
Stained Glass [London and New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1926], pp. 10-11)
59
James Ballantine, Treatise on Painted Glass (London: Chapman and Hall; Edinburgh: John Menzies,
1845), pp. 21-23. It is worth noting that these comments ante-date by a decade Ballantine’s competition with the
Munich Königliche Glasmalerei=Anstalt for the Glasgow Cathedral windows commission.
60
Winston, Inquiry, pp. 4-8 (Italics in text). For an excellent, somewhat differently focused summary of
Winston’s ideas and influence, see A. Charles Sewter, The Stained Glass of William Morris and his Circle, pp. 5-9.
61
Winston, Inquiry, pp. 238-39.
62
Winston, Inquiry, pp. 240-41.
63
Winston, Inquiry, p. 242.
64
Winston, Inquiry, p. 243.
65
Winston, Inquiry, p. 245. As A. Charles Sewter put it, referring to Jervais’ window in New College,
Oxford, on which Joshua Reynold’s “Virtues” are represented without the interruption of regular bar-lines and with
a minimum of lead-lines, “the idea seems to have been widely held that both bar-lines and lead-lines were
annoying interruptions of the painted representation, and if they could be eliminated entirely, so much the
better.” (The Stained Glass of William Morris and his Circle, p. 5)
66
Winston, Inquiry, p. 257.
67
Winston, Inquiry, pp. 266, 267.
68
Winston, Inquiry, pp.256, and 256, note. (The order of the passages cited has been slightly altered.)
69
Winston, Inquiry, p. 283.
70
Winston, Inquiry, p. 213.
71
Winston, Inquiry, p. 284.
72
Winston, Memoirs (as in note 52 above), p. 28. Letters to C.H. Wilson, 12 and 16 March 1857. The
context was the negotiations with Munich over the windows that had been commissioned for Glasgow Cathedral:
170
it was desirable that these should take account of the architectural context of the thirteenth century building,
Winston held, but not at the cost of art. In the end, art trumps all other considerations.
73
Winston, Inquiry¸ pp. 213-14.
74
Winston, Inquiry, ibid. Winston seems to have been well aware of the influence on the Munich school
glass designers (Hess, Schraudolf, Schwind) of the Nazarene artists (Overbeck, Führich, Schnorr von Carolsfeld),
who at the time had won for Germany a reputation as “la patrie de l’art régénéré, la seconde Italie de l’Europe
moderne.” (Chares-René Forbes. Comte de Montalembert, “Du Vandalisme en France: lettre à M. Victor Hugo,”
nd
Revue des Deux-Mondes, 2 series, [1833], 1:421-68, on p. 425) He did not consider the Munich designers mere
copiers of an earlier style in painting and therefore subject to the same criticism as that directed at the English
stained glass makers.
75
Winston, Memoirs, p. 36, letter from Winston to C.A. Wilson, 15 August 1857. Winston’s moderate
position compared to that of dogmatic Gothic revivalists can be gauged by comparing the views expressed both in
his Inquiry and in his Memoirs with the far more conservative position adopted by Viollet-le-Duc: “Nous avons
e
e
entendu maintes fois répéter: ‘Que si les vitraux des X II et XIII siècles sont beaux, ce n’est pas une raison pour
reproduire éternellement les meilleurs types qu’ils nous ont laissés; qu’il faut tenir compte des progrès faits dans le
domaine des arts ; que ces figures archaïques ne sont plus dans nos goûts, etc.’ Certes, il n’est point nécessaire de
calquer éternellement ces types des beaux temps de la peinture sur verre, de faire des pastiches en un mot ; mais
ce qu’il ne faut point perdre de vue, ce sont les procédés d’art si habilement appliqués alors à cette peinture; ce
qu’il faut éviter (parce que cela n’est pas un progrès, mais bien une décadence), c’est cette transposition d’une
forme de l’art dans une autre qui lui est opposée. Avec plus de persistance que de bonne foi, on affecte souvent de
nous ranger parmi les fanatiques du passé, parce que nous disons : ‘Profitez de ce qui s’est fait; faites mieux si vous
pouvez, mais n’ignorez pas les chemins déjà parcourus, les résultats déjà obtenus dans le domaine des arts.’”
(Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française, art. “Vitrail,” vol. 9, pp. 385-86)
76
See Fras. W. Oliphant, A Plea for Painted Glass, being An Inquiry into its Nature, Character, and Objects,
and its Claims as an Art (Oxford: John Henry Parker, 1855). Adam could not have been unaware of the Descriptive
Catalogue of the Painted Glass Windows in Glasgow Cathedral (Glasgow, Francis Orr & Sons, n.d. [c. 1856]) by
Charles Heath Wilson, head of the newly established (1849) Government School of Design in Glasgow -- the future
Glasgow School of Art -- and chair of the Committee of Subscribers which had been empowered to commission
th
stained glass windows for the whole of Glasgow’s 13 Century Cathedral and which notoriously awarded the
commission to the Munich Königliche Glasmalerei=Anstalt rather than to any of the Scottish or even English
stained glass workshops active at the time. Though Wilson uses somewhat different terminology, he clearly adopts
Winston’s tripartite categorization: “The most ancient and best system of glass painting has been called the mosaic
enamel. According to this process, the painted window is composed of a mosaic of white and coloured glass,
united with ribands of lead, which generally wind round the outlines of the figures and ornaments, the shading and
details of form being produced by means of a brown enamel skilfully painted on the glass -- hence the expression
‘glass painting’ -- and subsequently burned in and so fixed.” Yellow stain was added in the fourteenth century and
the technique of abrasion in the fifteenth. Later still, however, “the art of painting in enamels was carried so far
that windows were produced entirely composed of coloured enamels applied to white glass; this art is still
practised with extraordinary skill at Munich, at Milan, and until lately at Sèvres, and is very beautiful but quite
unsuitable for church windows. [. . .] An intermediate style, between the mosaic enamel and the enamel, is a
171
combination of both, the effect being produced by means of pot metal, coated glass, and both brown and covered
[coloured] enamels. A certain sparing use of coloured enamels may be permitted,” Wilson concluded, “but a free
use of this system is to be deprecated.” Acknowledging that there are “several specimens of this mixed method in
the Crypt,” he judged their “effect oppressive,” since “the proper translucency of the glass is impaired.” (pp. 4-5)
The argument, in short, is close to that of Winston, but Winston’s formulation is more categorical and Adam
follows Winston in this regard.
77
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development (Glasgow: James MacLehose, 1877), pp. 18-19.
Adam’s writing in this short work is sometimes strange. Whether because of poor copy-editing or a deliberate
decision to publish his unedited notes, articles are often missing and sentences abbreviated, at times almost to the
point of unintelligibility. I have made sllight corrections to the text where it might otherwise have been hard to
follow. These are indicated by square brackets.
78
Stephen Adam, Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, p. 11. The same tripartite
distinction, taken over from Winston, is again evoked on pp. 397-98 of the chapter on “The Stained Glass
Windows” that Adam contributed to The Book of Glasgow Cathedral. A History and Description, ed. George EyreTodd (Glasgow: Morison Brothers, 1898), pp. 395-407. Adam specifies here that “though costly,” only the mosaic
style “is durable, and experience has shown it to be the only style to which the term genuine stained glass can be
truthfully applied.” (p. 398)
79
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, pp. 14-15. The same expression – “the thin edge of
the wedge is in” -- is used in Adam’s article “Some Notes on the History of Stained Glass” in The British Architect (29
December 1893) 39:481-91, on pp. 481-82. Cf. Robert Sowers in his article on “Stained Glass” in the Encyclopaedia
Britannica: “With the progress of glass technology in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, [. . .] the glass became less
visually interesting as an aesthetic element in its own right.” (http://www.britannica.com/art/stained-glass)
80
“The white glass has become colder and thinner in tone,” the blue is also “thinner and colder,” though
admittedly “the yellow has improved, being of a greenish brown hue, and when used with the stained yellow [. . .]
rich effects result.” (Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, p. 15)
81
The “stipple shade” is explained in Adam’s article in “Some Notes on the History of Stained Glass,” The
British Architect, vol. 39, p. 482. “The introduction at this time of the ‘stipple’ treatment, fires the glass-painter to
emulate the shaded effects of mural paintings now common as interior decorations – the ‘stipple’ shade [created
by fine hatching of brown paint with a pen or small brush –L.G.] being semi- transparent, enables them to imitate
delicate folds of drapery,and softened horizon effects in skies correct enough on canvas or wall, but incongruous
on glass where the black decided metal outline is indispensable to the existence of the whole composition.”
82
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, p. 17. Cf. in the second half of the twentieth
rd
st
century the following passage in John Harries, Discovering Stained Glass, 3 ed. (Princes Risborough, 1996 [1 ed.
1968]): “By the end of the fifteenth century simplicity, strength, and brilliance were gradually being lost from
stained glass; during the sixteenth century they disappeared. This was largely due to the influence of the art of the
Renaissance, which was man-oriented, not god-oriented. [. . .] Renaissance artists were interested in the material
world: anatomy was studied and perspective mastered. These preoccupations affected stained glass design: the
172
types of window stayed the same, but the treatment was very different. Figures were more realistic and were set in
solid-looking landscapes, complete with buildings, skies, and trees; or else they were surrounded by interiors filled
with their belongings and furniture. A clutter of objects seems to press in on the figures: there is pride in their
possession and virtuosity in their presentation. The result is a materialistic quality that is quite in contrast to that
of medieval glass. Shading is produced by heavy stippling – a cruder and more mechanical effect that that
produced by line drawing. Stained glass begins to imitate contemporary painting.” (p. 67) Also, in similar vein,
Robert Sowers in his Encyclopaedia Britannica article, cited above: “From this point on the relation between
stained glass and architecture begins to decline. The aims, techniques, and achievements of the stained-glass artist
begin to resemble those of the fresco and easel painters, and it is by the standards applicable to the latter that the
th
th
th
stained glass of the 14 , 15 , and 16 centuries must be judged.” “The period 1430-1550 saw [. . .] the beginning
of the transformation of the art of glass painting from a significant means of artistic expression into a hybrid art
th
form: the translucent emulation of fresco and easel painting.” “Painting glass with vitraeous enamels in the 17
th
and 18 centuries led to the final decline of the art of stained glass.”
83
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, p. 17.
84
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, p. 18. Repeated virtually word for word sixteen
years later in the article “Some Notes on the History of Stained Glass,” The British Architect (1893), 39: 482.
85
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, pp. 18-19.
86
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, pp. 19-21.
87
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, pp. 21-22.
88
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, pp. 22, 24.
89
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, p.25. Sixteen years later, Adam held to this
judgment, repeating it almost word for word in a passage (already partly quoted in note 33) in “Some Notes on the
History of Stained Glass,” published in The British Architect (December 29, 1893), 39: 481-491: “Gothic churches
wanted mediaeval windows and figures, and many glass stainers about, knowing the ‘requisite little’ to produce
them, brought forth in large quantities grotesque twisted saints, with wry faces, at per foot prices: issued catalogues
and flooded the country with stock ‘Acts of Mercy,’ ‘Evangelists and Miracles,’ by dirtying the surface of the poor
thin glass then made. Those Revivalists attempted to give age, and by painful labour imitated the texture of
Mediaeval glass. For examples, see Illustrated Catalogues of first International Exhibition, and even the last one, and
in many so-called established firms in London those deformities are still being manufactured, and imitated by
provincial glass stainers, who, despite the ‘Renaissance’ in all appertaining to decorative art going on around us, do
willfully shut their eyes so long as Art-ignorant clients will employ them. It is to be deplored that the earnest
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endeavour of some faithful artists to establish a 19 Century British School were not strong enough to resist the
Nemesis appearing in the form of Continental glass, which, with shame let it be said, now fills the windows and
destroys the interiors of more than one venerable cathedral in our country.” (p. 482)
90
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, pp. 25-26.
173
91
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, p. 27.
92
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, p. 28
93
Stephen Adam, Truth in Decorative Art (Glasgow: Carter & Pratt, 1896), p. 33, cit. by Michael Donnelly,
Scotland’s Stained Glass: Making the Colours Sing (Edinburgh: The Stationary Office, 1997), p. 32 and by Iain B.
Galbraith, “Always happy in his designs: the legacy of Stephen Adam,” The Journal of Stained Glass, 30 (2006): 12135, on p. 121. In the same pamphlet, based on his lecture, Adam praised the glass made by Morris & Co. and
“designed partly by Dante Rossetti, Burne Jones and William Morris” for the then West Parish Church in nearby
Greenock: “Finer examples of modern work there is not in the United Kingdom and a journey to Greenock will well
repay the student and lover of good church glass.” (Cit. in Gordon R. Urquhart, A Notable Ornament: Lansdowne
Church: An Icon of Victorian Glasgow [Glasgow: Glasgow City Heritage Trust, 2011], p. 141) The judgment of Adam
by the prominent stained glass scholar Martin Harrison, is well grounded: “Between 1870 and 1885 the firm of
Adam & Small made the finest stained glass of that period in Scotland, dominated always by Adam’s figure drawing,
which owed a little to the Pre-Raphaelites but much more to the neo-classicists.” (Victorian Stained Glass [see
endnote 30 above], p. 56)
94
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, pp. 28, 29.
95
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, pp. 29-30.
96
“Some Notes on the History of Stained Glass,” The British Architect (December 29, 1893) , 39:481-491.
97
“The Stained Glass Windows,” The Book of Glasgow Cathedral. A History and Description, ed. George
Eyre-Todd (Glasgow: Morison Brothers, 1898), p. 399.
98
“The Stained Glass Windows,” The Book of Glasgow Cathedral, p. 400.
99
“The Stained Glass Windows,” The Book of Glasgow Cathedral, pp. 400-401.
100
Adam’s ambivalent attitude to Munich glass was shared by his eminent compatriot, the artist William
Dyce, who was close to the Nazarene artists in Rome, especially Overbeck and Schnorr von Carolsfeld, but a severe
critic of the glass created in Munich, in particular to a design of his own for the church in Alnwick,
Northumberland, which the Duke of Northumberland, against Dyce’s wishes, insisted on having made in Munich.
(See Marcia Pointon, William Dyce 1806-1864 [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979], pp. 14, 34-35, 139; William
Vaughan, German Romanticisim and English Art [New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1979], p. 243 et
passim.) Even the architect George Edmund Street, a leading Gothic Revival architect and active member of the
Ecclesiological Society, the influential association of convinced “Gothicists” that had succeeded the earlier
Cambridge Camden Society, could express his rejection of Munich stained glass in terms that acknowledged the
skill of the artists while maintaining that it was unsuitable for the medium: “In the Munich glass at Cologne, or in
the church of S. Maria Hilf at Munich, I think everyone’s feeling must be -- much as he may admire the
magnificence of the offering or the boldness of the attempts -- that it would have been much more delightful to
see such subjects represented on the walls than essayed in windows.” (Quoted by Vaughan, op.cit., p. 244)
174
101
“The Stained Glass Windows,” The Book of Glasgow Cathedral, pp. 402-403. Adam might have
responded more favorably to designs by the earliest Nazarene painters, such as Overbeck, Pforr, and Schnorr von
Carolsfeld, whose work, often in fresco form, is characterised by an emphasis on clear outlines and a preference
for flat colors.
102
Bertini opened his glass workshop on his return to Milan after studying with Alexandre Brogniart at the
Sèvres porcelain factory in Paris in the early 1800s. On his glass painting technique, see Nancy Thompson, “The
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State of Stained Glass in 19 Century Italy: Ulisse de Matteis and the vitrail archéologique,“ Journal of Glass
Studies, 52 (2010): 217-231: “Instead of joining pieces of glass of various colors together with lead cames to create
an image, Bertini painted with many colors of enamel pigments on large pieces of colorless glass. Bertini's work
was highly regarded in Milan, and in 1826, the Imperial Regio Istituto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti recognized Bertini,
Brenta, and Company for the development of an oven that fixed enameled pigments to glass. An excellent example
of Bertini's technique is his window of the Assumption, made for Milan Cathedral about 1833-1837 and based on a
drawing by Luigi Sabatelli (1772-1850). To create the window, Bertini divided [. . .] Sabatelli's composition into
rectangular panes and painted each piece of colorless glass with colored enamels. Because Bertini used mainly
rectangular pieces of glass, the overall effect of the lead lines is that of a random web that lies on top of a painting.
[. . .] On the whole, the window's composition and the classical modeling of the figures maintain Sabatelli's
painting style and ally the Assumption window with academic or Renaissance painting, rather than with medieval
traditions of stained glass. Bertini, therefore, used his technical knowledge of enamel painting to transform
Sabatelli's drawing into a luminous painting.” (pp. 218-20)
103
“The Stained Glass Windows,” The Book of Glasgow Cathedral, p. 405.
104
Ibid., pp. 406-407.
105
Ibid., p. 407.
106
For a stimulating, richly-informed re-examination of the whole issue of the Munich windows, see
especially Sally Rush, “Ungrateful Posterity? The Removal of the Munich Windows from Glasgow Cathedral,” in
Richard Fawcett, ed. Glasgow’s Great Glass Experiment: The Munich Glass of Glasgow Cathedral (Edinburgh:
Historic Scotland, 2003), pp. 47-65. Christopher Hall’s judgment of 1905, typical of its time, is cited on p. 58: “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 powder and painted
on to white sheets of glass: a poor, miserable substitute for the glorious colour of the deep amethyst and rubycoloured glasses which it pretends to ape.”
107
For the brief account of Adam’s early life and career given here. I am indebted to Iain Galbraith,
“Always happy in his designs: the legacy of Stephen Adam,” The Journal of Stained Glass (2006), 30:101-15, to
Michael Donnelly, Glasgow Stained Glass: A Preliminary Study (Glasgow: Glasgow Museums and Art Galleries,
1981), on p. 13, and to Donnelly’s later work, Scotland’s Stained Glass. Making the Colours Sing (Edinburgh: The
Stationary Office, 1997), p. 32.
108
The Glasgow Government School of Design, founded in 1845, changed its name in 1853 to the
Glasgow School of Art. On receipt of funding from the Haldane Academy Trust, set up in 1833 by a local engraver,
175
it was required to rename itself the Glasgow School of Art and Haldane Academy. The “Haldane Academy” part of
the title was dropped in 1892.
109
On Cottier’s exhibit at the 1867 Paris International Exhibition, see Barbara Millar, “Andra! Slabber oan
some broon there, just beside the wibble-wabble,” Scottish Review, no. 391 (19 April 2011),
http://www.scottishreview.net/BackPage109.shtml According to the writer of the report on stained glass in
Reports of Artisans Selected by a Committee Appointed by the Council of the Royal Society of Arts to Visit the Paris
Universal Exhibition 1867 (London: Bell and Daldy, 1867), pp. 81-82, “Cottier (Glasgow) has a magnificent
ornamental window, in the renaissance style: in the centre, arms on a fanciful shield; splendid design; ornament
free and graceful; well proportioned columns, with a richly decorated pediment at the top, surrounded with
cupids; superb harmony of colours. This window, in my estimation, is the finest ornamental window in the
Exhibition. I heard its merit was recognized by the jury.”
110
Fifteen years after Thomson’s death in 1875 Adam created a decorative panel – “Cleopatra” -- for The
Knowe – another South Side villa designed by the architect, whose distinctive style was almost as “Egyptian” as it
was ”Greek.” (Fig. II:1, 6)
111
“‘If I may speak confidently of my work as a colourist, I found my master in the late Daniel Cottier, the
eminent glass painter.” (From Truth in Decorative Art [Glasgow: Carter & Pratt, 1895], p. 33, cit. in Iain B. Galbraith,
“Always happy in his designs: the legacy of Stephen Adam,” p. 101)
112
There is some uncertainty as to the identity of Small. One view is that Adam’s partner was David Small
(1846-1927), a painter and water-color artist whose scenes of Scotland -- in particular, of Old Glasgow and, later, of
Dundee -- continue to figure in the catalogues of modern auction houses. In another view, Adam’s partner was a
glass-stainer by the name of David Small, who seemingly had a studio in Edinburgh and was reported in The British
Architect (January 15, 1874, p. 47) to have proposed a new method of painting on plate glass. This would seem to be
more likely in light of a reference to him in a posting about Stephen Adam on a Glasgow University website
(http://www.mackintosh-architecture.gla.ac.uk/catalogue/name/?nid=AdamSt&xml=peo#AdamSt.6-back):
“Former house-painter Small (1831–1886) retained his own Edinburgh glass 'embossers and fancy decorators',
which he ran on his own from 1877. (Edinburgh Gazette, 22 September 1868, p. 1175; 22 October 1878, p. 807.)” It
has also been suggested, however, on the basis of a Dundee newspaper obituary of the water-color artist David
Small, that Adam’s partner was in fact Small’s brother William and that the latter may have been in charge of the
financial side of the Adam studio and for that reason “remained quietly in the background.” (E-mail from William
Black of 11 December 2015) The Adam company premises moved several times within the heart of the new center
of Glasgow (259 West George Street, 231 St. Vincent Street, 199 and 168 Bath Street).
113
Michael Donnelly, Glasgow Stained Glass: A Preliminary Study (Glasgow: Glasgow Museums and Art
Galleries, 1981), p. 13.
114
Morag Cross, “Andrew Wells, Stained Glass artist,” Magazine of The Architectural Heritage Society of
Scotland, Spring 2014, pp. 24-25.
115
See note 34 above.
176
116
In Sydney, Australia, for instance, where there are Adam windows from 1907 in the Royal Prince Alfred
Hospital; see RPA Heritage News, vol. II, no. 4 (January, 2012). For a list of windows and panels “completed in recent
years” and installed in “Mansions and Public Buildings,” see the appendix to the second edition of Truth in
Decorative Art (Glasgow: printed by Carter and Pratt, 1904), reproduced here in the online only Appendix III.
Among the mansions: Blyth Hall, Newport, Dundee [1877, extended 1890]; Drumalis Castle and Cairn Castle, near
Larne, County Antrim, Ireland; Dundas Castle, South Queensferry, near Edinburgh; Gallowhill House, Paisley [built
by the architect James Salmon in 1869]; Ralston House, Gartmore House, Kilnside House, and Ferguslie House all
also in Paisley; Moreland House, Skelmorlie, Ayrshire [1862, extended by John Honeyman 1874 and by Honeyman
and Keppie, 1893-94]; The Cliff in nearby Wemyss Bay, Renfrewshire; Cornhill Mansion, Biggar, Lanarkshire;
Mauldslie Castle, Carluke, Lanarkshire [an Adam building with extensions in 1860 and 1891]; Auchendrane House
near Ayr and Beleisle House near Prestwick, Ayrshire, and various mansions in Perthshire belonging to the Pullar
family of the celebrated dyeworks (“Dyers to the Queen” in 1852) and then of the nationally known dry cleaners,
Pullars of Perth. In addition to the Pullars, the Coats and Clark families of the flourishing, internationally active
Paisley thread industry were frequent clients of Adam, whence the large number of commissions for houses in
Paisley and for Dundas Castle, purchased by one of the Clarks in 1899. Many of the houses in Adam’s list are now
upmarket hotels. (My thanks to Gordon R. Urquhart for bringing this list to my attention and providing me with a
photocopy of it.)
117
Iain B. Galbraith, “Always happy in his designs: the legacy of Stephen Adam,” The Journal of Stained
Glass (2006), 30: 101-15, on p. 104.
118
Stephen Adam, Truth in Decorative Art, cited in Iain B.Galbraith, “Always happy in his designs: the
legacy of Stephen Adam,” p. 101.
119
On the Nazarenes in England, see William Vaughan, German Romanticism and English Art (New Haven
and London: Yale University Press/The Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 1979), passim; also my articles
"Unwilling Moderns: the Nazarene painters of the nineteenth century," www.19thc-artworldwide.org, Fall issue,
2003, 72 pp., and “Beyond Modern: The Art of the Nazarenes,” Common Knowledge, 14 (2008): 45-104. The direct
inspiration of Overbeck’s painting for a memorial window at Church Lench by James Preedy and and the incorporation
of designs by Overbeck into murals by the Gothic Revival architect Georg Edmund Street in the chancel of the
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restored 13 century Church of St. Peter and St. Paul at Sheviock in Cornwall are documented in Vaughan, op. cit.,
pp. 228, 244-45.
120
See Holman-Hunt’s personal testimony in his Pre-Raphaelitism and the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood
(New York: E.P. Dutton, 1914), 2 vols., 1: 74 and 85.
121
Referring to unpublished Occasional Papers by Sally Rush, now in the Art Hhistory department of
Glasgow University, and Linda Cannon, a fellow graduate of the Glasgow School of Art, Iain B. Galbraith writes of
the Glasgow School, for which Cottier and Adam prepared the way, that it was resolutely modern in its focus on
art. It “rejected the revivalist approach which was controlled by religion and architecture and was basically artistic
in its approach, not dictated to by religion and interested in glass per se.” (“Stained Glass in Scotland: A
Perspective,” The Church Service Society Record, Vol. 47 [2012], pp. 14-24, on p. 20)
177
122
Michael Donnelly, Scotland’s Stained Glass. Making the Colours Sing (Edinburgh: The Stationary Office,
1997), pp. 36-37.
.
123
See endnote 20 above. There can be uncertainty about who was responsible even in the case of the
Maryhill panels, which were produced at a fairly early point in the Adam studio’s history. Thus in the panel
depicting the Railway Porter, on a parcel with the label “Newcastle-Maryhill,” Michael Donnelly points to the
signature, etched with a diamond, of Joseph Miller, a skilled glass-painter and cartoonist, who was born in
Newcastle-on-Tyne into a family of glassmakers and who was thus about the same age as Adam himself when he
joined the latter’s studio. (Scotland’s Stained Glass. Making the Colours Sing, pp. 35-36) Miller was probably active
in executing Adam’s design.
124
See Gordon R. Urquhart, A Notable Ornament: Lansdowne Church, p. 146.
125
One of eight paintings illustrative of the history of Northumberland (the first depicts the building of
Hadrian’s Wall) commissioned c. 1856 by Sir William and Lady Pauline Trevelyan for their handsome eighteenthcentury Palladian-style residence, Wallington Hall, now a property of the National Trust.
126
th
For a richly illustrated overview of artists’ illustrations of labor in the 19 century, see Klaus Türk,
Bilder der Arbeit: eine ikonografische Anthologie (Wiesbaden: Westdeutscher Verlag, 2000), chapters 10 and 11
(pp. 155-241) and the same author’s Mensch und Arbeit: 400 Jahre Geschichte der Arbeit in der bildenden Kunst
(Milwaukee: Minnesota School of Engineering Press, 2003).
127
Walter E. Houghton, The Victorian Frame of Mind 1830-1870 (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1957), pp. 242-43. In 1856, as members of a group calling themselves “The Brotherhood,” Morris and Burne-Jones
launched an Oxford and Cambridge Magazine in the pages of which an article entitled “The Work of Young Men”
presented the idea that “to do a certain work, each man was born. It is the noble duty of each man, each youth, to
learn his particular work.” (Cit. Mary Cowling, Victorian Figurative Painting [London: Andreas Papadakis, 2000], p.
173)
128
Timothy Hilton, The Pre-Raphaelites (London: Thames and Hudson, 1970), pp. 158-59.
129
Carlyle, Past and Present (London: Chapman and Hall, 1843), Book III, ch. XI (“Labour”), pp. 264, 271.
As it happens, Carlyle was one of the figures honored -- along with Buchanan, Knox, and Erasmus -- in two twolight memorial windows designed by the Adam studio for Claremont Street Trinity Congregational Church in
Glasgow in 1907.
130
Morris, Lecture on “Art and Labour,” 1886, in Eugene D. Lemire, The unpublished lectures of William
Morris (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1969), pp. 94-118, on pp. 112-13, 116.
131
“Industrial work, still under bondage to Mammon, the rational soul of it not yet awakened, is a tragic
spectacle. Men in the rapidest motion and self-motion; restless, with convulsive energy, as if driven by Galvanism,
as if possessed by a Devil; tearing aside mountains, -- to no purpose, for Mammonism is always Midas-eared! This
is sad, on the face of it. Yet courage: the beneficent Destinies, kind in their sternness, are apprising us that this
cannot continue. Labour is not a devil, even while encased in Mammonism; Labour is ever an imprisoned god,
178
writhing unconsciously or consciously to escape out of Mammonism!” (Thomas Carlyle, Past and Present, Book III,
ch. xii, ed. cit., p. 278)
132
M.
Bakunin,
The
Revolutionary
Catechism
(1866)
(https://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/bakunin/works/1866/catechism.htm)
133
In Deutsch-Französische Jahrbücher, 1844 (https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1844/dfjahrbucher/carlyle.htm).
134
“What do we find [. . .] as the characteristic difference between the troupe of monkeys and human
society? Labour.” See https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1876/part-played-labour/ and German
original: Anteil der Arbeit an der Menschwerdung des Affen (http://www.mlwerke.de/me/me20/me20_444.htm).
It deserves to be noted, however, that in 1880, from the point of view of a different Left, Paul Lafargue (Marx’s
son-in-law) was severely critical of the prevailing cult of work and its integration into the anti-capitalist ideology of
Marx and Engels: “A strange madness has taken possession of the working classes of those nations in which
Capitalistic Civilization dominates. This madness is the primary cause of the individual and collective sufferings
which have been for the past two centuries endured by sad humanity. This madness is the love of work, the furious
desire for labour, carried even to the extent of exhausting the vital forces of the individual and his offspring.
Instead of protesting against this aberration, priests, economists and moralists have doubly sanctified labour..[ . . .]
When, in civilized Europe, anyone wishes to find a trace of the primitive beauty of man, it is necessary to look
among those nations in which economic prejudices have not yet eradicated hatred of work. Spain, which to be
sure is now degenerating, is still able to boast of possessing fewer manufactories than we have prisons and
barracks. But the artist rejoices as he admires the hardy Andalusian, brown as the chestnut, upright and flexible as a
steel rod. [. . .[ For the Spaniard in whose country the primitive animal has not wasted into the capitalist, work is the
worst kind of slavery.[. . .] And yet the proletariat, the great class that includes all the producers of the civilized
world, the class that in emancipating itself will emancipate all humanity from servile work, and will convert the
human animal into a free being; the proletariat, false to its instincts,, unmindful of its historic mission, has allowed
itself to be corrupted by the dogma of work. Swift and terrible has been its punishment. All individual and social
misery is born of the passion for work.” (Paul Lafargue, The Right to Leisure [ sometimes translated as The Right to
be Lazy], trans. James Blackwell [Glasgow: Labour Literature Society, 1893], pp. 2, 4, 5; orig. French, Le Droit à la
paresse, 1880)
135
Houghton, The Victorian Frame of Mind 1830-1870, p. 246. Paul Laforgue (see note 134 above)
observed that the notion of work as a means of keeping the propertyless poor in their place and suppressing
revolutionary ideas and activities had already been presented explicitly in “un écrit anonyme intitulé: An Essay on
Trade and Commerce” (i.e. An Essay on Trade and Commerce…by the author of Considerations on Taxes, etc.
[London: S. Hooper, 1870], pp. 57-58).
136
Piers Dudgeon, Our Glasgow: Memories of Life in Disappearing Britain (London: Headline, 2009), pp.
13-14. It is only fair to point out that Dudgeon also vividly illustrates the often horrific and degrading conditions
which even the much admired shipyard workers had to endure.
179
137
William H. Sewell, Jr. “Visions of Labor: Illustrations of the Mechanical Arts before, in, and after
Diderot’s Encyclopédie,” in Steven Lawrence Kaplan and Cynthia J. Koepp, eds., Work in France: Representations,
Meaning, Organization, and Practice (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1986), pp. 258-86, on p. 280.
138
http://www.architectsjournal.co.uk/buildings/come-together/8650489.article
139
See Appendix 1 and the Maryhill Burgh Trust’s booklet, to which Mitchell contributed substantially:
http://static1.squarespace.com/static/4ff41e65e4b03ec22b1153c6/t/52398a63e4b045468c5f7619/137950269124
6/panels_orig_booklet_a.pdf
140
See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maryhill_Barracks;
www.eveningtimes.co.uk/lifestyle/13297735.Eye_Spy_Glasgow A_peek_into_Maryhill_s_proud_military_past/
141
Stained Glass: Its History and Modern Development, p. 28
142
Robert Rosenblum, International Style of 1800: a study in linear abstraction (New York: Garland, 1976),
pp. 1-3. (Based on the author’s Ph.D. dissertation of 1957)
143
Cit. Margaret Howitt, Friedrich Overbeck. Sein Leben und Schaffen. Nach seinen Briefen und anderen
Documenten des handschriftlichen Nachlasses geschildert, ed. Franz Binder (Bern: Herbert Lang, 1971 [orig. ed.
Freiburg i. B.: Herder, 1856]), 2 vols., 1:82-83.
144
See my article, “Beyond Modern: The Art of the Nazarenes,” Common Knowledge (Winter, 2008) 14:
45-104, on pp. 71-72.
145
See, in particular, Puvis de Chavannes, 1824-1898 [exhibition catalogue, Paris, Grand Palais, NovemberFebruary 1976--77and Ottawa, Galerie nationale du Canada, March-May 1977] (Paris: Éditions des Musées
Nationaux); George Lemoine, ed., Toward Modern Art. From Puvis de Chavannes to Matisse and Picasso (New
York: Rizzoli, 2002); Thomas Kerstin, Welt und Stimmung bei Puvis de Chavannes, Seurat und Gauguin (Berlin:
Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2010); Aimée Brown Price, Pierre Puvis de Chavannes (New Haven and London: Yale
University Press, 2010).
146
Robert Upstone, “Echoes in Albion’s Sacred Wood: Puvis and British Art,” in George Lemoine, ed.,
Toward Modern Art. From Puvis de Chavannes to Matisse and Picasso, pp. 277-89. Upstone points to the
admiration Burne-Jones and Puvis had for each other’s work.
147
Aimée Brown Price, “Pierre Puvis de Chavannes: The Development of a Pictorial Idiom” in her exhibition
catalogue, Pierre Puvis de Chavannes (Amsterdam: Van Gogh Museum and Zwolle: Waanders Uitgevers,
1994), pp. 11-27, on p. 15.
148
Fras. W. Oliphant, A Plea for Painted Glass (see note 11 above), p. 68. In similar vein an earlier
comment: “We have yet to find a suitable mode of treatment for the Classic and Palladian buildings that have risen
up among us.” (p. 18)
180
149
Two decades earlier, in 1854, the Sheffield-based sculptor and painter Godfrey Sykes (1824-1866) had
created a frieze representing modern laborers for the Sheffield Mechanics’ Institute. “Admire Godfrey Sykes’s
adaptation of the Parthenon frieze to a Sheffield context,” write the editors of the King’s College, London website
entitled Classics and Class, “substituting artisans, labourers, miners and steelworkers for Pheidias’ procession of
Athenian horsemen. Headed by Minerva/Athena and other gods, in Sykes’s vision the workers of Sheffield proudly
wield their tools and push their trucks around the whole thirteen painted panels, extending to 60 feet, of the frieze.
The background of the frieze is a bright (aqua marine) blue and the figures stand out in a deep gold.”
(http://www.classicsandclass.info/product/133/) There is no evidence that Adam was aware of Sykes’ work.
150
See Diane Radycki’s comment on Paula Modersohn-Becker’s “Reclining Mother and Child Nude” (1906;
Paula Modersohn Becker Museum, Bremen) which portrays the child, with its back to the viewer, snuggled up
against the woman’s large naked body: “A figure in the center foreground with its back to the viewer is a trope
whereby the viewer is inserted into the painting. Here the viewer – male or female [since the child’s sex is not
identifiable – L.G] -- is the child.” (Paula Modersohn Becker: The First modern Woman Artist [New Haven and
London: Yale University Press, 2013], p. 172)
151
Albeit with moderate use of paint. Adam’s technique in the Maryhill panels was described to me by
Marie-Luise Stumpff, Senior Conservator at the Burrell Collection of Glasgow Museums, who worked on the
restoration of the panels. With Ms Stumpff’s permission I reproduce part of her illuminating note:
“As to your technical questions:
The colour in the panels is mainly achieved through the use of “pot metal” glass, i.e. glass coloured with metal
oxides and blown into sheets from which the required pieces are then cut. The light that comes through the glass
is modulated by iron oxide paint: Trace lines (opaque) accentuate the detailed drawing and wash (translucent)
adds texture and depth to the design. The iron oxide paints used in Adam’s panels are unstable and there have
been significant losses of detail. This is a common problem with 19th C. glass and has been attributed to the added
borax in some of the paints used by stained glass makers, but it may also be as a result of under-firing the paint.
Many of the trace lines in Adam's panels were repainted with cold paint in the 1970’s. In a recent conservation
project for the Burgh Halls one of the panels - The Canal Boatman – was restored and conservators were able to
bring back some of the finer detail of the design.
In a few areas (for instance the sky in The Canal Boatman), large pieces of glass are stained yellow using silverstain
(oxides or nitrates of silver that literally stain the glass). There are a few areas where enamel has been used (blue
hat on the boatman) but this paint is not very stable and looks flat and dull compared to the other colours. We have
no reason to assume that the areas painted in enamel are not original.” (E-mail to author, dated 1 June 2015)
152
The work of Stephen Adam Jr., both figurative and decorative, does often show a preference for large
segments of glass and uncluttered design, as does at least one panel of four female figures, attributed to Stephen
Adam himself, at 22 Park Circus in Glasgow’s West End. (See www.Scran.ac.uk ID: 000-000-034-180-C )
153
My thanks to Janice Gossman, an art teacher at the Arthur L. Johnson High School in Clark, N.J., for
drawing my attention to the stained glass works of the Dutch artist Willem A. Van de Walle, many of which have
regrettably been destroyed. Fortunately, Van de Walle’s full-size cartoons have been preserved at the
International Institute of Social History in Amsterdam. See http://www.iisg.nl/collections/walle/index.phpo and
http://www.iisg.nl/collections/walle/background.php
181
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Album
All images are from the handbook published by the Maryhill Burgh Halls Trust and are reproduced here by kind
permission of Glasgow Museums/Glasgow Life.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part I. “Cinderella to her Sister Arts”
Fig. 1. Chagall. Window at Cathédrale Saint-Étienne, Metz, France. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 2. Fernand Léger. Window at University of Venezuela, Caracas, Venezuela. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 3. Frank Lloyd Wright. Stained glass window from Darwin D. Martin House, Buffalo, N.Y. (Princeton University
Art Museum)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Part II, 1. The Revival of Stained Glass in the Nineteenth Century
Fig. 1. Dirck Crabeth, “The Last Supper” (detail), 1557. St. Janskerke, Gouda,
Netherlands. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 2. Abraham van Linge. “Jonah and the Whale,”University College Chapel, Oxford. (Courtesy of the Master and
Fellows of University College, Oxford)
Fig. 3. Abraham van Linge. Six scenes from the life of Jesus; underneath them, six corresponding scenes from the
Old Testament. East Window, Lincoln College Chapel, Oxford. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 4. Francis Eginton. “Hope” (adapted from the “Assumption of the Virgin” by Guido Reni).1795. St. Alkmund’s,
Shrewsbury, Shropshire. (www.Geograph.org. © Gordon Griffiths and licensed for reuse under this Creative
Commons Licence)
Fig. 5. William Collins. “St. Paul preaching at Athens.” Enamel paint on glass after Raphael tapestry cartoon. 1816.
(© Victoria and Albert Museum, London)
Fig. 6. Joshua Price. “Conversion of St Paul” (said to be after Sebastiano Ricci). West Window, St. Andrew’s by the
Wardrobe, London E.C.4. 1712-1716. (www.Geograph.org. © John Salmon and licensed for reuse under
this Creative Commons Licence)
182
Fig. 7. Thomas Jervais. “The Virtues,” after oil cartoon by Sir Joshua Reynolds. 1785. New College Chapel, Oxford.
(www.Geograph.org.© David Purchase and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence)
Fig. 8. Franz Mayer & Co., Munich. Window in choir gallery of St. Mary and St. Catherine of Siena Parish Church,
Charlestown, MA. 1887-93. (Wikimedia)
[Fig. 8 alt. Max Ainmuller, Königliche Glasmalerei=Anstalt,Munich. Peterhouse College, Cambridge. “Moses
returning from Sinai with the tablets of the Law.” 1855. (www.Geograph.org. © Roger Kidd and licensed for reuse
under this Creative Commons Licence)]
Fig. 9. Franz Xavier Zettler (Munich). St. Stephen's Catholic Cathedral, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. 1879.
(Courtesy of Ray J. Brown [StainedGlassAustralia.wordpress.com])
Fig. 10. John Hedgeland. West Window, Norwich Cathedral. 1854. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 11. Munich window, St. Margaret’s Parish Church, Dalry, Ayrshire. Early 1870s (?) (Courtesy of Gilda T. Smith,
Dalry, Ayrshire)
Fig. 12. Thomas Willement. East Window, St. Peter and St. Paul Parish Church, Belton. 1847. (www.Geograph.org.
© Julian P Guffogg and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.)
Fig 13. Dante Gabriel Rossetti. “Sir Tristram and la belle Ysoude.”Commissioned from Morris, Marshal, Faulkner &
Co. by Walter Dunlop for Harden Grange near Bingley, Yorkshire. 1862. Now in Bradford Art Gallery. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 14. William Morris. “Queen Guenevere and Isoude. Les Blanches Mains.” Commissioned from Morris, Marshal,
Faulkner & Co. by Walter Dunlop for Harden Grange near Bingley, Yorkshire. 1862. Now in Bradford Art Gallery.
(Wikimedia)
Fig. 15. E. Burne-Jones. “Temptation of Adam.” Jesus Collge, Cambridge. Courtesy of Paul Dykes Photo, London.
(https://www.flickr.com/photos/paulodykes)
Fig. 16. Fabian stained glass window, London School of Economics. 1910. Created by Caroline Townshend
according to a design by George Bernard Shaw. (© LSE / Nigel Stead) (“The window was originally stolen from
Beatrice Webb House in 1978 but was recovered in 2005 by the Webb Memorial Trust and is on long term loan to
the LSE. The window depicts Shaw, Sidney Webb and ER Pease [secretary of the Fabian Society] helping to build
the new world. They are in Elizabethen dress which was to poke fun at Pease who loved everything medieval. The
people depicted at the bottom were leading members of the Society.” )
Fig. 17. Daniel Cottier. “Miriam.” Dowanhill Church, Hyndland Street, Glasgow. Now “Cottier’s,” a community
centre, theatre and restaurant. 1865-66. (Courtesy of David Robertson, Project Director, Four Acres Charitable
Church, Glasgow)
Fig. 18. Alf Webster. “First Fruits,” In Memory of Stephen Adam. New Kilpatrick Parish Church. 1911 (Courtesy
of Karen Mailley-Watt, History Girls Scotland)
Fig. 19. Oscar Paterson. “The Quaint Village.” Doorway at 28 Bute Gardens, Hillhead, Glasgow. c1890. (Property of
Glasgow University.) (Courtesy of Ian R. Mitchell)
Fig. 20. David Gauld. “Music.” 1891 (© Glasgow Life/Glasgow Museums)
183
Part II, 2. Charles Winston on stained glass.
th
Fig. 1. “ St John the Evangelist hands the Palm to the Jew.” St. Peter Mancroft Norwich. 15 Century. Now in
Burrell Collection, Glasgow. (© Glasgow Life/ Glasgow Museums)
Fig. 2. Francis Eginton. “The Conversion of St. Paul.” East Window, St. Paul’s Church, Birmingham. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 3. Everhard Rensig and/or Gerhard Remisch. “Esau gives up his Birthright; Jacob and Esau with the Mess of
Pottage.” Mariawald Abbey Cloister. 1521. Now in Victoria and Albert Museum, London. (© Victoria and Albert
Museum; given by Mr E. E. Cook; also Wikimedia)
_
Part II, 3. Stephen Adam on stained glass
Fig. 1. “Samson and the Lion.” (Maker unknown). Germany. 16th C. (© Victoria and Albert Museum - C.303-1928)
Fig. 2. Roundel. “St Nicholas as Baker.” Netherlands. 16thC. (Courtesy of Sam Fogg Ltd. 15D Clifford Street, London
W1S 4JZ)
Fig. 3. Roundel. Dirck Vellert. “Le Jugement de Cambyse.”1541. Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 4. Pompeo Bertini. Milan, Cathedral. Absidial windows illustrating scenes from the Old Testament.
(http:/www.wikiwand.com/it/Vetrate_del_duomo_di_Milano)
Fig. 5. Window representing alleged “Profanation of the Host by Brussels Jews.” Sainte-Gudule Cathedral, Brussels.
16th C. (Wikipedia)
Fig. 6. Dirck Vellert. “Martyrdom of the Seven Maccabee Brothers and their Mother.” Antwerp. 1530-35. Now at
Metropolitan Museum, New York. (©Metropolitan Museum; Mr. and Mrs. Isaac D. Fletcher Collection,
Bequest of Isaac D. Fletcher, 1917)
Fig. 7. Albert Moore. “A Musician.” Oil on canvas. 1867. Center for British Art, Yale. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 8. Edward Poynter. “Orpheus and Eurydice.” Oil on canvas. 1862. Private Collection. (liveinternet.ru)
[Fig. 8 alt. Edward Poynter. “Orpheus and Eurydice.” Oil on canvas. 1862. Private Collection. (wikigallery)
Fig. 9. John Flaxman. Engraving for Alexander Pope’s translation of the Iliad, 1795. (Wikimedia; Photo H.-P.Haack Antiquariat Dr. Haack Leipzig)
Fig.10. Heinrich Maria von Hess. “Faith-Hope-Charity.” Oil on panel. 1819. Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg.
(Wikimedia [The Yorck Project])
Fig. 11. Moritz von Schwind. “Sabina von Steinbach working on the figure of the Synagogue for Strassburg
Cathedral.” Oil on canvas. 1844. Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin. (Wikipedia)
Fig. 12. Johann Schraudolph. “Anbetung der Koenige.” Fresco. Speyer Cathedral. 1852. Now in the Kaisersaal of the
Cathedral. 1852. (Wikiwand)
184
Fig. 13. Heinrich Maria von Hess. “Isaiah.” Prophets Window (detail), formerly in North Transept, Glasgow
Cathedral. 1850s. (Iain Macnair, Glasgow Cathedral: The Stained Glass Windows [Glasgow: Johnsondesign, 2009],
courtesy of Andrew Macnair)
Fig. 14. E. Siebertz (Munich). “The Dream and the Promise.” 1850s. formerly in North Transept, Glasgow Cathedral.
(Iain Macnair, Glasgow Cathedral: The Stained Glass Windows [Glasgow: Johnsondesign, 2009], courtesy of
Andrew Macnair)
Fig. 15. Pompeo Bertini (Milan). “John the Baptist.” 1867. Lauder’s Crypt, Glasgow Cathedral (Iain Macnair,
Glasgow Cathedral: The Stained Glass Windows [Glasgow: Johnsondesign, 2009], courtesy of Andrew Macnair)
Part III, 1. Stephen Adam: The Early Years and the Glasgow Studio
Fig. 1. Daniel Cottier. “Spring.” 1873-75. (© Metropolitan Museum, New York; Gift of Estate of Virginia Guard
Brooks and the Guard family, 2007)
Fig. 2. Stephen Adam Jr. “Suffer the Little Children .” Formerly in Trinity Congregational Church,
Glasgow, now at St. James the Less Episcopal Church, Bishopbriggs, Glasgow. (Courtesy of Ian R. Mitchell
[or Gordon Urquhart?])
Fig. 3. Stephen Adam Jr. Window at 8 Belhaven Terrace, West End, Glasgow. (Courtesy of Gordon R. Urquhart, FSA
Scot)
Fig. 4. Stephen Adam and Alf Webster. St.Nicholas Church, Lanark. 1910. (Courtesy of Stephen Weir of
Stephen Weir Stained Glass, Glasgow. In Stephen Weir’s view, the style of this window would indicate
that it was designed by Adam himself.)
Fig. 5. Alf Webster. “Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes.” 1911. Lansdowne Church, Great Western Road, Glasgow
(now “Webster’s Theatre,” a community center). Templeton Memorial Window, centre light, lower panel. (Photo
by
Tom
Donald
via
Creative
Commons
license
from
https://www.flickr.com/photos/clearwood/3957054734/in/pool-lansdownepc/
or
https://www.flickr.com/photos/clearwood/3957054734/in/album-72157613314671741/)
Fig. 6. Stephen Adam. “Cleopatra.” In the villa known as “The Knowe” by architect “Greek” Thomson, Pollokshields,
Glasgow. 1890. (Courtesy of Gordon R. Urquhart, FSA Scot)
Fig. 7. Stephen Adam. Window at 2 Devonshire Gardens, West End, Glasgow (now Hotel du Vin). (Courtesy of Ian
R. Mitchell)
Fig. 8. Stephen Adam. Window at 2 Devonshire Gardens, West End, Glasgow (now Hotel du Vin). (Courtesy of Ian
R. Mitchell)
Fig. 9. Stephen Adam. Window at Carnegie Public Library, Ayr. 1894. (Courtesy of Tom Barclay, Reference & Local
History Librarian, South Ayrshire Council)
185
Fig. 10. Andrew Carnegie, with Mrs. Carnegie, at opening ceremony of the Public Library bearing his name in Ayr.
(Courtesy of Tom Barclay, Reference & Local History Librarian, South Ayrshire Council)
Fig. 11. Stephen Adam, panel 1 at Imperial Bar, Howard Street, Glasgow (© John Gorevan. Courtesy of John
Gorevan, www.oldglasgowpubs.co.uk)
Fig. 12. Stephen Adam, panel 2 at Imperial Bar, Howard Street, Glasgow ((© John Gorevan. Courtesy of John
Gorevan, www.oldglasgowpubs.co.uk)
Fig. 13. Stephen Adam, panel 3 at Imperial Bar, Howard Street, Glasgow ((© John Gorevan. Courtesy of John
Gorevan, www.oldglasgowpubs.co.uk)
Fig. 14. St. Andrew’s in the Square Parish Church, Glasgow. Interior, showing the Adam window. (Courtesy of
Donald Whannell, Neilstonphotogallery@drookitagain.co.uk)
Fig. 15. St Andrew's in the Square Parish Church, Glasgow. Stephen Adam window. 1874. (Courtesy of Ian R.
Mitchell)
Fig. 16. St Andrew's in the Square Parish Church, Glasgow. Stephen Adam window, detail of Crombie window.
(Courtesy of Ian R. Mitchell)
Fig. 17. Belhaven United Presbyterian Church, Glasgow, now St. Luke’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral. Stephen Adam
window. 1877. (Courtesy of Nondas Pitticas, community administrator, St. Luke’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral)
Fig. 18. Belhaven United Presbyterian Church, Glasgow. Stephen Adam window, detail of left light. 1877. (Courtesy
of Nondas Pitticas, community administrator, St. Luke’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral)
Fig. 19. Alloway Parish Church, Alloway, Ayrshire. Baird South Window by Stephen Adam. 1877. (Courtesy of David
Lewis, Alloway Parish Church of Scotland)
Fig. 20. Alloway Parish Chrch. Baird South Window. Detail of left light. “Mary, Joseph and Jesus.” (Courtesy of
David Lewis, Alloway)
Fig. 21. Alloway Parish Church. Baird South Window. Detail of right light. “Adoration of the Magi.” (Courtesy of
David Lewis, Alloway)
Fig. 22. Alloway Parish Church. Baird South Window. Detail. Angel in centre light. (Courtesy of David Lewis,
Alloway)
Fig. 23. Clark Memorial Church, Largs, Ayrshire. West or Preachers Window by Stephen Adam. 1892-93. (Courtesy
of Dr. Nigel Lawrie and Eastwood Photographic Society)
Fig. 24. Clark Memorial Church, Largs. Two-light window by Stephen Adam. “David Playing before Saul.” (Courtesy
of Dr. Nigel Lawrie and Eastwood Photographic Society,)
Fig. 25. Clark Memorial Church, Largs. Two-light window by Stephen Adam. “Ruth and Boaz.” (Courtesy of Dr. Nigel
Lawrie and Eastwood Photographic Society, Glasgow)
Fig. 26. Clark Memorial Church, Largs.Two-light window by Stephen Adam. “Jesus Visits Martha and Mary.”
(Courtesy of Dr. Nigel Lawrie and Eastwood Photographic Society, Glasgow)
186
Fig. 27. Friedrich Overbeck. “Easter Morning.” Oil on canvas. c 1818. Museum Kunstpalast-Düsseldorf. (Yorck
Project - Wikimedia)
Fig. 28. Franz Pforr. “Shulamit and Mary.” Oil on wood. 1810-11. Schweinfurt, Sammlung Georg Schäfer.
(Wikimedia)
Fig. 29. Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld. “St. Roch giving alms.” Oil on canvas. 1817. Museum der bildenden Künste,
Leipzig. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 30. Joseph von Fuehrich. “Jacob Encountering Rachel.” Oil on canvas. 1837. Österreichische Galerie Belvedere,
Vienna. (Wikimedia)
Fig.31. William Dyce. “Jacob and Rachel.” Oil on canvas. 1850. Leicester, New Walk Museum and Art Gallery.
(Wikigallery)
Fig. 32. Friedrich Overbeck. “Death of Joseph.” 1857. (From posterprint)
Fig. 33. All Saints Church, Church Lench, Worcestershire. Frederick Preedy. “Death of Joseph.” 1858. (Courtesy of
“TudorBarlow [Flickr]”)
Fig. 34. Board Room, Clydeport, Glasgow. Stephen Adam. Dockworkers panel illustrating “Commerce.” 1908.
(Courtesy of Gordon Barr)
Fig. 35. Board Room, Clydeport, Glasgow. Stephen Adam. Dockworkers panel illustrating “Commerce.” 1908.
(Courtesy of Donald Whannell, Neilstonphotogallery@drookitagain.co.uk)
Fig. 36. Board Room, Clydeport, Glasgow. 1908.Stephen Adam. Riveters panel illustrating “Engineering.” 1908
(Courtesy of Gordon Barr)
Fig. 37. Board Room, Clydeport, Glasgow. 1908. Stephen Adam. Riveters panel illustrating “Engineering.” 1908.
(Courtesy of Ian R. Mitchell)
Fig. 38. Oyster Bar, Café Royal, Edinburgh. Stained glass representing modern sportsmen, designed by Tom Wilson
and made by the Ballantine studio, Edinburgh. 1890s.
(http://www.scotlandsplaces.gov.uk/record/rcahms/52224/edinburgh-17-west-register-street-cafe-royal)
Part III, 2. “Blessed is he who has found his work.”
Fig. 1. Freiburg Cathedral, Germany. Window representing gold miners. 1330.
(Courtesy of Prof. Kathleen Cohen, San Jose State University, © Kathleen Cohen)
th
Fig. 2. Chartres Cathedral. Bakers' window. 13 Century. (Courtesy of Mary K. Bosshart [“Mary Kay Bosshart, Out
and About in Paris”])
Fig. 3. “Labours of the Months” (July). Haymaking. Stained glass panel. 1450-1475. (Wikimedia)
[:https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:BLW_Stained_Glass_Panel_-_Labours_of_the_Months_(July).jpg]
Fig. 4. “Labours of the Months” (October). c1480 (© Victoria and Albert Museum, London. C.134-1931)
187
Fig. 5. “Sugar Refinery.” Engraving by Jan Collaert after Jan Van der Straet (Stradanus), New Inventions of
Modern Times [Nova Reperta], plate 13. C. 1600 (© Metropolitan Museum of Art; Harris Brisbane Dick Fund,
1934)
Fig. 6. “A Printing Shop.” Etching by Abraham Bosse. 1642. (© Metropolitan Museum of Art; Purchase, Rogers
Fund, 1922)
Fig. 7. Ford Madox Brown, “Work.” Oil on canvas. 1865. Manchester Art Gallery. (Wikipedia)
Fig. 8. William Bell Scott. “Iron and Coal.” Oil on canvas. 1861. Wallington Hall Northumberland. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 9. Godfrey Sykes. “Interior of an Ironworks.” Oil on canvas. 1850. Yale Center for British Art. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 10. “Sheffield Steel Manufactures. Hall of the Fork Grinders.” Illustrated London News, March 10,1886, Vol.
XLVIII, p. 225.
Fig. 11. Sir John Lavery. “Shipbuilding on the Clyde” (Fairfield Shipyard, Govan). Preparatory painting for mural on
South side of Banqueting Hall, Glasgow City Chambers. 1900. Glasgow Museums Rescource Centre. (Courtesy of
Glasgow Life/GlasgowMuseums)
Fig. 12. Adolf Menzel. “The Iron Rolling Mill.” 1872-75. Nationalgalerie, Berlin. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 13. Paul Meyerheim. “Lebensgeschichte einer Lokomotive.” 1874. Märkisches Museum, Berlin. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 14. Thomas Anschutz. “The Ironworkers’ Noontime.” Oil on canvas. 1880. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco .
(Wikimedia)
Fig. 15. Sir John Everett Millais.”Christ in the house of his parents. The Carpenter’s Shop.” Oil on canvas. 1849-50.
Tate Gallery, London. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 16. Govan Burgh Arms. (http:/www.mygovan.com/html/govan.html)
Fig. 17. Henry Stacy Marks. “Capital and labour.” Oil on canvas. 1874. Auctioned at Sotheby’s, May, 2013
[http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2013/british-irish-art-l13132/lot.14.esthl.html] (Wikipedia)
Part III, 3. An Original Style: Realism and Neo-Classicism in the Maryhill Panels.
Fig. 1. Peter von Cornelius. “Joseph recognized by his brothers.” Fresco. 1816-1817. Casa Bartholdy, Rome. Now in
Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin. (Wikimedia) [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Peter_von_Cornelius__Joseph_gibt_sich_seinen_Br%C3%BCdern_zu_erkennen_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg]
Fig. 2. Schnorr von Carolsfeld. Ariosto room. Frescos. 1819-1822. Casino Massimo Lancellotti, Rome. (Courtesy of
Atlantedellarteitaliana.it; http://www.atlantedellarteitaliana.it/immagine/00012/7799OP1771AU12645.jpg
188
Fig. 3. Pierre Puvis de Chavannes. “Le Travail.” Oil on canvas. 1863. National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.,
Widener Collection. (© National Gallery of Art)
Fig. 4. Pierre Puvis de Chavannes. “Le Bois sacré.” Wall painting. 1884. Musée de Lyon. (Wikimedia)
Fig. 5. Pierre Puvis de Chavannes. “Inspiration Chrétienne.” Oil on paper, mounted on canvas. c1887-88.
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C. no. 1929.6.84 (© Smithsonian American Art Museum)
Fig. 6. Maryhill Burgh Halls. (http://www.maryhillburghhalls.org.uk/updates/)
Fig. 7. Adam Panels in situ in Mary Hill Burgh Halls. (Courtesy of the Maryhill Burgh Halls Trust)
Fig. 8. John Hardman Powell and Augustus Welby Pugin. “Hardman's workshop.” Stained glass window in St Chad's
Roman Catholic Cathedral, Birmingham. 1850. Photograph by Jacqueline Banerjee, Victorian Web
(http:/www.victorianweb.org/art/stainedglass/pugin/10.html). This image may be used without prior permission
for any scholarly or educational purpose.
Fig. 9. Clayton & Bell. “Cornish Miners working at Dolcoath.” Truro Cathedral, Cornwall (1907), N. nave aisle, W.
window. (Courtesy of The Chapter of Truro Cathedral)
th
Fig. 10. Chesterfield Parish Church of Our Lady and All Saints. Detail of window celebrating the 750 anniversary of
the church. 1984. (Image courtesy of Dr. Phil Brown www.docbrown.info/docspics)
Fig. 11. John Radecki. Window in memory of Rupert Cropley, Masonic School Assembly Hall, Sydney, N.S.W.,
Australia. 1951. (Courtesy of Museum of Freemasonry, Sydney; http://www.mof.org.au/articles/sydney-masoniccentre/56-stained-glass-school-window.html)
Fig. 12. Australian War Memorial Hall of Memory. South Window by Napier Waller. 1950. (Commissioned 1937)
(https://www.awm.gov.au/visit/hall-of-memory/windows/)
Fig. 13. Jan-Thorn Prikker. “Der Künstler als Lehrer für Handel und
Hauptbahnhof, Hagen, Germany. 1910. (Wikimedia)
Gewerbe.” Stained glass.
th
Fig. 14. Charles Connick, “Broadcasting.” St. John the Divine, New York. Nave, S. wall, 4 bay, foot of r. lancet.
Detail. Early 20thC. (Courtesy of Painton Cowen. ©Painton Cowen)
Fig. 15. Herbert Hendrie, window replacing one of the Munich windows and representing workers. Glasgow
Cathedral. 1939. (Courtesy of Ian Mitchell)
Fig. 16. Stephen Adam. Two-light stained glass window in Clark Memorial Church, Largs, Ayrshire. 1892. (Courtesy
of Dr. Nigel Lawrie and Eastwood Photographic Society, Glasgow)
Fig. 17. Sir Edward Burne-Jones, made by Morris & Co. Stained and painted glass window representing “Saint
Cecilia.” c.1900. Princeton University Art Museum; museum purchase, Surdna Fund.
Fig. 18. W.A. Van de Walle. “Miner.” Design for the workers' insurance company, De Centrale, The Hague. 1936.
(The windows themselves have been destroyed) (International Institute of Social History, The Netherlands:
http:/www.iisg.nl/collections/walle/centrale03.php)
189
APPENDIX I
THE MARYHILL PANELS:
STEPHEN ADAM’S STAINED GLASS WORKERS
by
Ian R. Mitchell
190
The stained glass revival in the Victorian period was to a great extent
religiously inspired and went alongside the religious revival then occurring,
as the Victorian bourgeoisie sought to re-Christianise what they saw as an
increasingly secular working class. And no other Victorian city embraced
stained glass as did Glasgow. Michael Donnelly points this out in his fine
work Scotland’s Stained Glass, (1997), where he describes Glasgow as the
"Second City of Empire and First City of Glass."
The demand for stained glass at that time was almost insatiable. Once
Presbyterian opposition to the art form was overcome, the church building
programmes of the Free Kirk and the Kirk of Scotland after the Disruption of
1843 created much custom. As time passed, Victorian public buildings, like
courts and town halls, were incomplete without stained glass, and
increasingly the rich owners of urban villas commissioned bespoke panels
as features for their dwellings.
It would be rather churlish to complain that stained glass artists ignored the
theme of industrial labour for that of religion, when church commissions
were after all their main bread and butter. And whilst the Victorian stained
glass artists’ religious work does on occasion show fishermen or other
workers, these are generally clothed in biblical styles. (Interestingly and by
contrast however, in the medieval period, stained glass artists were bolder,
often showing their workers in then-contemporary clothing, with thencontemporary machinery). However there is an exception to this rule. This
is Stephen Adam’s Stained Glass Workers, the twenty stained such panels
which this artist executed for Maryhill Burgh Halls in 1878. These panels
191
show the trades of Maryhill, then an independent burgh, now part of
Glasgow, and were based on intensive studies of working men and women
in their industrial situations, showing in great detail their machinery,
production techniques, tools and clothing-even down to a patch on one
knee of a workman’s pair of trousers. Executed with great sympathy as well
as accuracy, Stephen Adam’s Maryhill panels possibly stand as the largest
and most realistic collection of portraits of labour in public, and possibly
private, art in two centuries, anywhere. This, apart from their intrinsic
artistic merit, makes them of world-historic importance.
Interestingly, Stephen Adam was not a Glasgwegian, though he carried on
his business in the city. He was born near Edinburgh in 1847, and at
Canonmills School where he studied, RL Stevenson was a classmate. In 1862
Adam was apprenticed to James Ballantine of Edinburgh, at that time
Scotland’s leading firm working in stained glass, and the one heading the
revival in the craft after centuries of Presbyterian disapproval. Adam later
attended Glasgow School of Art (then called the Haldane Academy) in 1865
and was awarded a silver medal for the best stained glass panel that year.
In the later 1860s he was working with Alexander "Greek" Thomson on
stained glass for Holmwood House (now owned by the National Trust for
Scotland) and Queen’s Park Church, both in Glasgow. This connection
survived Thomson’s death and in 1890 Adam produced a Cleopatra door
panel for the Thomson-designed Pollokshields villa, The Knowe - reminding
us that Thomson was as much Egyptian as Greek.
192
In the last quarter of the nineteenth century Glasgow was the main centre
of stained glass production in Scotland, and possibly the leading one in the
entire UK. There were thirty separate stained glass workshops in the city
employing several hundred craftsmen as well as over 100 designers. Adam
set up his own stained glass firm in 1870, and after a couple of previous
partnerships ( one such partnership with the renowned painter of Glasgow
scenes, David Small was contemporaneous with the Burgh Hall commission,
and Small may well have had a role in the design and execution of the
Maryhill panels, one of which is inscribed Adam & Small) he was joined in
the firm by his son, and the company produced possibly the best stained
glass in Scotland for the next four decades, till Stephen Adam’s Sr.’s death
in 1910. The artist’s studio was originally in St Vincent Street, later moving
to Bath Street, and Adam himself lived at West George Street, at the heart
of the vibrant Glasgow artistic scene of those years, described in another
chapter of this work.
It must have been refreshing for Stephen Adam to work on this
commission, though sadly it has not been possible to locate the records of
his firm which might have left us his sketches and thoughts on the project.
There is a hint in a short work published by him in 1877, based on a public
lecture he gave, that he might have welcomed an alternative to religious
themes. Stained Glass its History and Development criticised the Gothic
Revival and its effect on stained glass, adding,
193
"And these deformities are manufactured and catalogued principally in
London; and the country is overrun with stock saints and evangelists of all
sizes, at per foot prices."
For much of the rest of his career his bread and butter was church
windows, with the obligatory "stock saints and evangelists." Pollokshields
Parish Church, Bearsden New Kilpatrick Church and many others saw his
talents displayed. In addition his firm placed work in mansions such as that
of the threadmaster Thomas Coats of Ferguslie, and of the ironmaster
Walter Macfarlan, at 22 Park Circus, and in the head offices of the Clyde
Navigation Trust ( now Clydeport) on the Broomielaw.
We cannot deal with these above-mentioned works here. Instead we will
look in detail at the panels produced for Maryhill. These works are
astounding, and would at first sight – despite sharing some of the PreRaphaeilite touches of the artistic period- fit more into the Socialist Realist
school than that of the Gothic Revival, are more like the Stakhanovites of
Soviet Russian art, than the stained glass saints beloved of Victorian
Scotland. Sympathetic portrayals of The Glassworker, The Boat Builder, The
Chemical Worker, The Sawmill Worker and many others graced the
windows of Maryhill Burgh Halls for almost a century from 1878. The Halls
were closed shortly after the centenary of the annexation of Maryhill by
Glasgow in 1891, but even before that the panels were considered to be in
danger, and had been removed in the 1960s, being held for safe keeping
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firstly in the People’s Palace and then in the basement of the Burrell
Collection.
Adam’s panels show working men and working women dressed in working
clothes, engaged in their daily occupations. Adam must have spent much
time in Maryhill’s factories, as his depiction of not only the clothing of the
workmen, but of their machinery and tools is immensely detailed and
accurate. Michael Donnelly in Scotland’s Stained Glass (1997), comments of
the set as a whole,
"The accuracy of the detail leaves little doubt that the preliminary sketches
for these panels were done in the field……Both the subject matter of the
scheme and its treatment are unique."
He adds that "the kind of industrial setting" of the panels was what most
artists of the time and later "avoided like the plague". Why the good
burghers of Maryhill chose Adam and his industrial themes with which to
decorate their Halls, we cannot be sure. The Burgh Council of the time was
composed of the fairly small scale capitalists of Maryhill and it is difficult to
see artistic motivation as having been their main concern. Whatever their
motivation it is interesting that Adam and Small were still chasing up the
council for payment of the balance of the account for the stained glass
panels in 1881!
Sadly, the Burgh Council records for the years 1875-1880, which might have
helped us, are missing from Glasgow’s Mitchell Library. But possibly the
motivation was the fact that, unlike other Glasgow industrial districts such
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as Govan (largely based on shipbuilding) and Springburn (overwhelmingly
dominated by locomotive production), Maryhill had a varied industrial
base, focussed on the Forth and Clyde canal. Its councillors might well wish
to have had this reflected, indeed to have recorded the processes that took
place in some of their very own workshops. The variety of Maryhill’s
industries provided a fortuitous variety of subject matter for these
proletarian panels, and indeed it is interesting to speculate that the local
employers might have basically seen these panels as a form of advertising
for their businesses, paid for out of the rates, and displayed in the most
important place in the burgh.
Provost Robertson opened the new Halls on 26 April 1878. A previous
occupant of the burghal office was Provost Swan in 1856, Maryhill’s first,
and he provides some evidence for the theory of the panels as, in part, a
form of advertising. He was from the family which owned the canal
boatyard at Kelvin Dock, depicted in one of the panels, The Boat Builder.
The worker shown is a ship’s carpenter with his plane and shaping adze.
Kelvin Dock, dating from the 1790s, was run as a boatyard by Swan & Co. in
the 1850s and lasted in production until the 1920s. The boatyard built
ironclad puffers, but the vessel shown is a wooden canal barge, with a swan
motif. Another industrial concern was the nearby factory producing zinc,
and this too was owned by Swan, and is represented in the panel, The
Spelter Workers. This was a highly polluting concern and could have been
one of the reasons why Swan moved from his mansion Colina, which lay
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near the Kelvin Dock, to suburban Maryhill Park. The brick wall of the
former spelter works is still partly visible beside the
Kelvin Dock.
It is possible to suggest other firm locations for many of the Adams’ stained
glass panels, by looking at the evidence provided by industrial archeology,
notably John R. Hume’s The Industrial Archeology of Glasgow (1973), which
is still extremely useful forty years after publication, and other sources such
as old O.S. and other maps. For example, The Gas Worker would
undoubtedly have worked in the Dawsholm Gasworks, opened in 1872 and
owned by Glasgow Corporation and actually just across the River Kelvin
from Maryhill and thus within Glasgow city boundaries. Glasgow’s provision
of services like these was used as an argument for the city’s annexation of
Maryhill in 1891. The panel not only shows the workman in his industrial
clothing but also the process of production from coke oven to gas retort to
storage tank, the latter detailed down to the iron rivets. The workman used
as a model for this panel quite possibly took part in the gas workers’ strikes
in the 1880s leading to the New Unionism amongst unskilled and semiskilled workers of that decade. The gas works was demolished in 1968.
Other panels can be similarly located. The Railwayworkers shows a station
in Maryhill, which however pre-1914 had two. Which one? As Maryhill
Central was not built till 1896, long after the panel was executed, this
example must show Maryhill Park Station, which was built in 1856 for the
Glasgow, Dumbarton and Helensburgh Railway. Closed in the 1960s, this
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station was reopened in the 1990s. It shows that the station was manned
by a railway porter, had a covered roof (both no more) and in addition was
a parcel station, with the platform littered with goods bound for various
locations.
The Iron Moulders can also be located fairly certainly to either the Maryhill
Iron Works near Stockingfield Junction, or to Shaw and MacInnes’
ironworks at Firhill Basin on the Forth and Clyde Canal, both operating in
1878 when Adam undertook his work (Shaw was also on the burgh council,
and this panle provides further evidence for what now would be called
“product placement”). Other ironworks came later- and went earlier, as
Shaw and MacInnes’ did not close until 2000, after over 130 years in
operation. The firm originally came from, and brought their workers from,
Falkirk –by barge along the canal in 1866. We see in the panel the
workmens’ corduroy trousers, and the almost ubiquitous braces work at
the time. We also see men pouring molten metal without any form of
protective clothing, giving us an insight into safety conditions, or rather the
lack of them, as that time.
Maryhill had two large scale glass works, both in Murano Street, which was
named after the Murano Glass works in Venice. The Glassworker is shown
with a wide variety of blown glass products. The Caledonia Glass Bottle
Works under its owners, Gibson & Scott had been operating since 1874,
and it seems likely that this is the location of the panel. The Glasgow Glass
Works was also established on the canal banks in 1874, but produced rolled
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plate glass and is therefore unlikely to be the location. Both these works
had closed by 1973. Interestingly this is one of the few (male) workers
shown without a beard and the reason would appear to be that he is a
mere boy. Child labour-especially in its part time work/part time schooling
form was still common in the 1870s.
Possibly the most interesting panels are those depicting women textile
workers, The Bleachers and The Calico Printers. Maryhill in the 1870s still
had a calico printworks, established back in the 1830s. Barr’s Kelvindale
Works had seen a violent strike in 1834 when the factory was employed by
the military and a striking workman George Millar was killed by a "nab"
(scab). Millar’s fellow workmen erected a memorial to him in Maryhill Old
Kirk graveyard. This industry was in decline when Adam did his panel, and
the factory closed soon afterwards. Thomson’s Memories of Maryhill,
dating from 1895, describes the works as having been demolished. The fact
that the bleachers are whitening the cloth in sunlight (after it would have
been soaked in urine) rather than using a chemical bleaching process
possibly indicates- as do some of the other panels- the technologically
backward nature of Maryhill’s industry at this time. On the other hand
some of the woman in The Calico Printers panel have (probably selfprovided) head gear, and (again probably self-provided) clogs to keep their
feet dry, though the employer has provided wooden (later so-called) duckboards to keep their feet out of the water. Though at some point
erroneously labelled The Calico Printers, the women are actually not
printing but possibly fulling (shrinking) or dyeing the cloth. Another panel,
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in poor condition, has been identified through a Victorian trade journal, as
a male worker using a calico press to print the cloth, and this was most
probably executed in the latter days of the Kelvindale works.
Possible further evidence of technological backwardness is given in The
Papermaker panel, where the machinery is clearly made out of wood,
which would have been cheaper than metal. Unlike other industries which
moved to the canal with steam power, the paper mills stayed on the River
Kelvin, because of their need for large amounts of water. The man here is
either working at the Dalsholm Paper Mills, founded by William MacArthur
in 1783 on Dalsholm Road near Dalsholm Bridge, or more likely at the
Kelvindale Mills further downriver at Kelvindale Road, established at about
the same time as a snuff mill and later converted to paper making. This
latter works’ lade and weir are still visible on the Kelvin. Dalsholm closed in
the 1970s, Kelvindale had shut down earlier.
For The Sawmill Worker, there are a trio of candidate locations.
MacFarlane’s Ruchill Sawmills in Shuna Street was operating in 1878. The
man show might be working at there, or at either the Firhill Sawmills or the
Western Sawmills both of which were located at Firhill Timber Basin, a
facility built with the canal but greatly extended from 1849. Ruchill Sawmills
became part of Bryant and May’s match factory c 1918, the Western
Sawmills had converted to a chemical works by 1896 and the Firhill
Sawmills were the last to go in 1968. More than any other panel this shows
the dangerous working conditions of the time, with the workman’s loose
clothing (and hair) being in danger of being drawn into unprotected parts of
200
the machinery like the overhead drivebelts, the sawing machinery, and of
course, the rotary saw blade itself. This panel illustrates many ways in
which that worker could die.
The Chemical Workers is another interesting panel. The workers appear to
be engaged in some kind of distillation process. Of the various chemically
related industries in Maryhill, several would have been operative when
Adam did this panel. But the most likely candidate is the Glasgow Lead and
Colour Works of Alexander Fergusson which dates from 1874 and was on
both sides of Ruchill Street, with a wharf to the canal. The point made
about safety-or lack of it- is again evident here, as the workers wear neither
hand nor, more vitally, eye protection.
Maryhill was not strong on engineering. The almost certain source of The
Engineers would have been the Maryhill Engine Works at Lochburn Road,
built in 1873 for Clarkson Brothers, later Clarkson & Becket. Possibly one of
the brothers, John or James, is explaining to the workman with the spanner
the requirements of the latest job. The works produced steam engines and
careful analysis of the drawing sheet indicated a small steam engine to be
built probably for a canal barge. The workman is again in corduroy breeksdenim dungarees were still a decade or two away- and like many others in
the panels wears not a bunnet or cloth cap, but a Tam o’ Shanter
headpiece. The building which housed this factory is still standing, to my
knowledge the only one so doing in the entire set of panels, and
201
remarkably it still houses a small engineering works. This works executed
the ironwork for the restoration of the railings of the former public toilet
just outside the Burgh Halls.
The historical information contained in these panels is both extensive and
in many cases unique. How many visual examples remain one wonders, of
how scaffolding was erected in the High Victorian period? The Bricklayers
panel shows us a couple of fellows on a scaffold. The wooden scaffolding is
show in detail, as are the wooden ladders, and most importantly, the rope
knots, minutely delineated, holding the whole construction together. Most
of Maryhill was built of stone - the tenements, the barracks, the churches
and the civic buildings. On the other hand many of the factories beside the
canal were brick built, and this is probably one of these being constructed.
One could analyse every panel, but time and chapters must have a stop.
The Soldiers reminds us that Maryhill was a military town. Just opened in
1876 when Adam did this panel, the Maryhill Barracks was used by various
regiments until eventually becoming associated with the Highland Light
Infantry or H.L.I. The building where the two sodjers are shown could well
be the still extant gatehouse, looking out onto the tenements on Maryhill
Road (interestingly, red pan-tiled rather than grey slated at that date), or
possibly inwards to the barracks themselves. Soldiers then, like policemen,
all wore moustaches. This military connection ended in the early 1960s
when the barracks were closed and the Wyndford housing estate built on
202
its grounds. The wall of the barracks still stands and carries a memorial to
its former history on the corner of Garrioch Road and Maryhill Road.
Representations of workers by Adam also exist in the Trinity Hall, Aberdeen
depicting "The Trades". However, these –stunning as they are- were
executed in a different style from the Maryhill panels, and one possibly
more acceptable to Victorian taste. The Trinity Hall Butcher for example is
dressed in Biblical garments, and The Weaver in medieval ones. What is
clear is that the Burgh Hall panels are unique and that they did not set a
precedent; in bourgeois High Victorian Art industrial production is virtually
invisible. Stratten’s Glasgow and its Environs (1891), a business guide to the
city, mentions much of Adams’ work in the entry on his firm, but
interestingly not the Maryhill commission, despite it being probably his
largest single work. It is interesting, however, that there is no evidence that
Adam was driven by socialist sympathies in his Maryhill work; the attempt
to wed the arts and crafts to socialist ideas had to wait until William Morris’
influence in the 1880s.
Adam appears to have been a clubbable man, giving slide lectures in the Art
Gallery to the Ecclesiological Society, and being a member of both the
Glasgow Philosophical Society and the Society of Literature and Arts. His
photograph in the 1896 short pamphlet Truth in Decorative Art, shows him
as a well dressed, if slightly bohemian, character. He would appear
however to have been a not unusual Victorian paterfamilias, in that in 1904
he fell out with his son Stephen, whom he disinherited. Stephen Jr. left the
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firm to set up his own studio. He in turn was an associate of Charles Rennie
Macintosh, and worked on various Glasgow tearooms including Pettigrew
and Stephens’ in Sauchiehall Street. He also did the stained glass windows
for the Imperial Bar in Howard Street which are still in situ. When his studio
was unsuccessful, Stephen Adam Jr. emigrated to the USA where he
worked on film sets in Hollywood, and he died there in 1960.
There have been various schemes envisaged for the regeneration of
Maryhill - and of the canal itself (which has been reopened to navigation
after being closed for 50 years) - which construction gave the burgh its
birth. New housing has been built along the canal banks where formerly
stood the workplaces Adam depicted and there are ideas about
transforming the wonderful Maryhill Locks and Kelvin Dock, with its
associated Kelvin Aqueduct (finished by Whitworth in 1790 and a scheduled
Ancient Monument) into a focal point for leisure industries on the canal.
Amongst these plans for regenerating Maryhill that for the Burgh Halls was
central. The building (with associated police and fire stations, and
swimming pool) had been left to decay after closure two decades ago. The
restoration of the former swimming pool to its original function has been
undertaken by the Glasgow City Council, and a Trust was established to
raise funds for the the restoration of the Burgh Halls themselves for use for
various forms of community and business purposes. After seven years of
work, planning and fundraising, the Burgh Halls were re-opened in April
2012. Ten of Stephen Adam’s stained glass panels are back in the halls on
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public display and the other ten will be rotated with them on a semipermament loan basis from the city council.
Fifty years ago, a local Maryhill working man and political activists moved
mountains to get the stained glass panels taken into the care of the
People’s Palace. He was told by all and sundry “No one is interested”, but
his persistence paid off. Too ill to attend the official re-opening of the Halls
in 2011, Stewart Watson was taken on a personal tour of the building just
weeks before his death, and was able to see the panels back in place after
50 years. A true Working Class Hero.
NOTE An excellent free 24 page pamphlet, lavishly illustrated has been
produced on the Historic Stained Glass Windows by Maryhill Burgh Halls
Trust, which has also produced a very fine 16 page, also free, Maryhill
Walking Trail brochure which gives various options of walks round the sites
of the former industries and other points of interest in Maryhill. Details
from www. maryhillburghhalls.org.uk
(This essay is a slightly amended version of Ian R Mitchell’s chapter The
Maryhill Panels: Stephen Adam’s Stained Glass Workers, from his book
A Glasgow Mosaic, Explorations around the City’s Urban Icons, (2013).
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APPENDIX II
ALWAS HAPPY IN HIS DESIGNS:
THE LEGACY OF STEPHEN ADAM
by
Iain B. Galbraith
206
T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
Iain B. Galbraith
Always happy in his designs: the legacy of
Stephen Adam
Stephen Adam was a major figure in the field of 19th-century Scottish stained glass. The
many windows from his studio in buildings throughout Scotland and beyond form part of
his lasting legacy in this art form. Adam made a profound impression upon younger
artists, some of whom received their training in his studio and, in Late Romantic fashion,
his work is a bridge spanning the closing decades of the nineteenth century and the
opening years of the twentieth century. Stephen Adam is a stained glass artist well worth
study beyond the scope of this profile.
Born in 1848 and a native of Edinburgh, Adam was educated there at the
Cannonmills school where the Scottish writer, Robert Louis Stevenson was his
contemporary.1 From an early age Adam showed evidence of great talent in drawing and
painting and thus came to the attention of Edinburgh’s leading stained glass artist, James
Ballantine, a noted talent spotter. Adam became an apprentice in Ballantine’s studio,
where his early training laid the basis of his future progress as a stained glass artist.2
When his apprenticeship was concluded in 1867 he moved with his parents to Glasgow
where he was a student of the Haldane Academy (later to become Glas gow School of Art).
His abilities in design won him a medal and an apprenticeship with the successful Scottish
stained glass artist Daniel Cottier, who would have a considerable
impact on Adam, helping him to form his
distinctive style, as he later acknowledged.
These were the powerful influences
working upon the young Adam: the
experienced Ballantine, a ‘Renaissance
man’ who once had been slab boy to the
great Scottish artist David Roberts; and
Daniel Cottier, design pioneer and
innovator, who introduced the Aesthetic
M ovement to America. Adam elucidated
further in his lecture ‘Truth in Decorative
Art: Ecclesiastical Glass Staining’,
delivered in Glas gow in 1895: ‘In design I
have been greatly influenced by the works
of Rossetti, Burne-Jones, William M orris
and Puvis de Chavannes; and if I may
speak confidently of my work as a
colourist, I found my master in the late
Daniel Cottier, the eminent glass painter’. 3
Stephen Adam established his own
studio at 121 Bath Street, Glas gow in
1870 and for the next four decades
produced a prolific series of windows,
fulfilling a full range of ecclesiastical,
civic and domestic commissions and
encompassing a wide variety of themes, as
his catalogue for 1902 illustrates. 4 He
employed a series of gifted freelance
FIG.1:
Railwaymen
P anel (1878),
for merly in
Maryhill
Burgh Hall
T H E L E G A CY O E ST E P H E N A D A M
207
artists.to.design.for.the.studio,.including.Robert.
Burns,.David.Gauld.and.Alex.Walker,.and.was.
later. joined. by. his. son,. Stephen. Adam. Junior,.
and.the.brilliant.young.artist,.Alfred.Webster,.an.
ill-fated.triangle.as.events.would.show..
Adam’s. own. style. became. more. personal.
and. distinctive,. moving. through. p rogressive,.
chronological. stages. to. reach. its. apogee. in. a.
series.of. great.windows.in.the.closing.years.of.
the.nineteenth.century.and.opening.years.of.the.
next..Truly.he.had.mastered.his.art..He.believed....
that.good.drawing.did.not.consist.of.‘elaborate.rendering.or.drapery,.but.rather.a.certain.
external.form.and.balancing.of.parts.as.evidenced.in.the.Flaxman. cartoons.and.in.the.
classic.frescoes’.5 .The.slavish.copying.of.early.works.he.denounced.as.anachronistic.and.
distasteful:.
For. the. Gothic. Church. the. modern. gothic. glass. stainer. wants. medieval.
windows.and.figures....observe.those.twisted.necks,.painfully.pathetic.faces,.
the.dainty.curl,.each.hair.alike,.those.angular.limbs......And.those.deformities .
are. manufactured. and. catalogued. principally. in. London,. and. the. country. is.
overrun.with.stock.saints.and.evangelists.of.all.sizes,.at.per.foot.prices,.say.a.
trifle. extra. if. Peter. has. two. keys;. Acts. of. M ercy. in. which. the. quality. is.
strained,.and.so.on..True,.they.revive.transparency.and.discard.enamel.--.and
with it all originality.6
This savage commentary makes clear that Adam heartily disliked this imitative style
with its stipple shading - shading which he found at odds with the medium - and he also
had an antipathy for hard or flashed blue which could not look successful placed beside
other colours. He was an advocate of the linear approach and as his style matured, so did
the spatial forms of his windows expand as a result of his increasingly confident
approach to more ambitious forms of iconography. In his final phase he entered into his
greatest creative period, employing a wide range of new glasses and a style that was
more economical (in terms of ornamentation), and also more dramatic in its colour
range, using a dark spectrum of blacks, greys, deep blues and dark browns to add depth
and dimension.7 During this period a Japanese sensibility is evident in his work,
although his figure drawing generally reflected a classical, and at times, late PreRaphaelite influence.
In his book Adventures in Light and Color8 the American glassman and critic
Charles Connick proclaimed Adam as the pioneer of modern stained glass in Scotland
and it is M artin Harrison in his book Victorian Stained Glass who sets this precisely in
context, showing the line of succession passing from Cottier to Adam, from master to
pupil, as it would later pass from Adam to Alfred Webster in 1910:
FIG. 2:
Fruits and foliage
panels from gallery
window (1877),
for mer Belhaven
Church, Glasgow.
102
Cottier had opened branches in New York and Sydney in 1873 and no
doubt Connick regarded Cottier as American rather than Scottish, but the
significant point here is that Adam became Cottier’s stylistic successor in
Scotland and was able to satisfy a demand which Cottier had helped to
create but whose absence made it difficult to fulfil. Between 1870-1885
the firm of Adam & Small made the finest stained glass of that period in
Scotland, dominated always by Adam’s figure drawing which owed a little
to the Pre-Raphaelites but more to the Neo- Classical. It is no surprise to
find Adam, in 1877, advocating as models Burne-Jones, Leighton, Poynter
and Albert M oore... who, in different styles show drawing suitable for
treatment in glass.9
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T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
It is now appropriate to consider some examples of the prolific output of Stephen
Adam’s studio, examining the windows within their architectural context, but not in
any chronological order.
3:
Smollett window
(1880), west nave,
Bonhill P arish
Church.
FIG.
Ecclesiastical work
In 1878 Adam embarked upon an important commission -- a defining one in the
evolution of stained glass in Scotland. For the new Burgh Hall in M aryhill built by
Glasgow architect Duncan M acNaughton in the French Renaissance style, Adam
designed a complete scheme of windows illustrating the wide range of industries present
in that northern area of Glasgow as a result of 19th-century industrial expansion. The
series of twenty panels (now removed from their original settings and currently in
storage)10 form an indigenous set whose subject matter marks a distinct departure from
cosmetic, sanitised and idealised Scottish scenery sketched and painted from a distance.
M ichael Donnelly has succinctly emphasised this critical departure:
In his outstanding series of panels Adam chose to depict the tradesmen
not artificially in their best as did so many contemporary photographs,
but at labour in their working clothes. The accuracy of detail leaves little
doubt that the preliminary sketches for these panels were done in the
field years before anyone had heard of the Glasgow Boys, and in the kind
of industrial settings that they avoided like the plague.11
In Scotland, the M aryhill windows thus illustrated the new relationship developing between industry and
art -- a world away from the pastoral, bucolic scenes with their fashionable classical overtones and
inscriptions like Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May favoured by wealthy patrons for their town houses and
country seats, which ignored completely the
dirt and grime of a great industrial city.
Adam’s M aryhill windows are also colour
studies, executed in a controlled light palette
of greens, browns, golds and greys with
flashes of deeper colour. This is clearly
illustrated in the Railwaymen panel (FIG . I),
where a porter converses with an engine driver
(an early illustration of the emergent railway
industry whose vast locomotive works were
situated in the adjacent St Rollox area), the
orange coloured steam floating above the
horizontal green bandings of the engine. Also
strikingly modern is the device Adam has used
-- by depicting the porter from behind we
identify with his stance and outlook, placing
ourselves in the midst of this scene of industry.
In the Boat Builder panel, the dark green jacket
and red stock of the builder contrasts
effectively with the various shades of wood,
some of it elaborately decorated, containing a
swan motif. The boat is perhaps a canal barge,
being built for trade on the neighbouring Forth
& Clyde canal.
Some twenty years later Adam executed
a similar series of panels, to adorn the upper
fenestration in the sumptuous Boardroom of
Glasgow’s Clydeport Authority in the heart of
the city.12 Shipbuilding and shipping were the
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T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
4:
Detail from The
Baptism of Christ
(1907), east
nave, Lecropt
Kirk,
Stirlingshire.
FIG.
104
209
themes for these nautical windows,
illustrating a series of working portraits
of carpenters, shipwrights, stevedores and
welders, all depicted realistically in their
various industrial contexts. Here Adam
employs a different, sharper palette and
there is realism in the heat and flame of
the welders’ panels, the crimson flames
contrasting with the grey and mauve of
the metal.
Within the lofty Normandy Gothic
of James Sellars’s Belhaven Church in
Glasgow’s prosperous west end (now St
Luke’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral),13
there is a series of windows by Adam of
1877, a special feature of which is his use
of fruit and foliage motifs. These are
beautifully drawn and show the influence
of Japanese art, delicate and incisive in
muted shades of blue, silver, green and
gold, and of William M orris in the
willow-patterned background ( FIG . 2).
These decorative panels function as foils
for the subtly-coloured figure panels,
based upon illustrations from the parables
and which constitute independent colour
studies on their own.
For John Baird’s large and austere
Perpendicular Gothic church at Bonhill, 14
Adam designed two large single-light
Heritors’ Windows, installed in 1880.
The Heritors in the Church of Scotland belonged to the landed classes whose
responsibility it was to build and maintain the kirks. Thus in the latter half of the
nineteenth century numerous Heritors’ Windows were installed. Primarily armigerous
windows with no direct religious meaning, their purpose was to exhibit and proclaim
status within a parish and community. Adam designed many such windows and his
Smollett window in Bonhill is a fine example of the genre. The Smolletts were an old
merchant family (from whom came the novelist Tobias Smollett), who had obtained
lands and armigerous rights in previous centuries. Their heraldic description reads:
Azure a bend or, between a lion rampant holding in his paw a silver banner, and a silver
bugle horn, and an Oak Tree Crest (M otto Viresco - I flourish).15 Adam translated this
graphically into the medium of stained glass making use of grisaille quarry
backgrounds with borders of strong Gothic Revival colours and a prominent central
dark blue shield containing the Smollett arms. Adam used high quality glass for this
window (FIG. 3), which in 1880 cost £103-10-6.16
Lecropt Kirk is a handsome essay in perpendicular Gothic Revival built in 1827 and
occupying an elevated position above the flat carse lands of Stirlingshire17 (BSMGP
members visited this church during their 2005 Edinburgh Conference). Lecropt’s
simple Gothic windows provide excellent settings for stained glass, but the earliest
example was installed by Stephen Adam in 1907, towards the close of his last and
greatest creative period. The window on the south wall of the chancel has two themes the Baptism of Christ and the Risen Christ - executed in the strong palette of varied
tones and colours of this late phase. Christ at his Baptism
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T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
is a pale, emphatically drawn figure in white clothing which is streaked with light green
and with veins of lemon and red. The upper lights are studies in crimson, blue and gold,
used for the tall angel figure and the cherubim, whose faces contain an enigmatic, even
slightly sinister quality, found elsewhere in Adam’s windows and difficult to interpret
(FIG. 4). The mysterious gestalt philosophy of art - the world of Wertheimer, Koffka and
Kohler - states that nothing can be added to a work of art, total and complete in itself,
where all is waiting to be discovered. A concept perhaps applicable to this strange factor
in Adam’s drawing? Above the north door of Lecropt Kirk is the Henderson M emorial
window, the result of a dark tragedy where all five children of the late 19th-century
minister of Lecropt died during their childhood. Deep rich colours are set against a dark
background, as five children cluster round their parents. Once again, that strange
enigmatic element found m Adam’s latter work is present - evident in the unsettling
cherubim and a little golden child with clasped hands at prayer enfolded in his father’s
arms, who gazes intently at those who view this window.
Kilmore Church at Dervaig on the Isle of M ull, is one of architect Peter M acGregor
Chalmers’s Celtic round tower churches - a powerful miniature composition high above
the estuary of the Bellart,18 with an arresting Arts & Crafts interior and complete scheme
of Stephen Adam windows, also from his final phase. That odd, elusive, sometimes
disturbing element is present here in the figures of a female saint with cross and bible,
richly attired but with a hostile countenance, and equally in an elongated, luminous Christ
with long, tapering fingers who appears out of the storm to his frightened disciples.
In another window ( FIG. 5) M ary M agdalene appears
to be pregnant and holds the hand of a sad Christ,
the downcast couple close in physical intimacy
(recalling whispers of an ancient heresy that the
bloodline of Christ may have continued through this
liaison). The bold choice of colour and sheer quality
of the glass used for her robes make an even
stronger impression framed in Adam’s unusually
simplified
and
modern
interpretation
of
architectural canopywork.
In another in the series, Christ the Good
Shepherd is a more traditional figure, set under vine
canopies, suggesting an awareness of the
Christopher Whall’s hallmark use of natural forms
for canopies.The windows were all installed within
a five- year span (1905-1910) as memorials to
landed gentry whose estates lay within this
extensive parish - M ornish, Torloisk,
Glengorm, Ardow - and the hand of Adam’s
brilliant assistant, Alfred Webster is evident in
some aspects of the iconography of this remote
island scheme.
In North Berwick Parish Church,
Adam provided striking illustrations for some of
the Works of M ercy ‘I was sick and ye visited
me -- naked and ye clothed me,’19 showing the
pallid invalid lying weakly upon her bed,
5:
Christ with Mary
Magdalene (1908),
west nave, Kilmore
Church, Isle of Mull.
FIG.
105
T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
FIG.6:
Charity (1898), east
nave, Craigrownie
Church, Argyll.
106
211
the vivid tones of the naked flesh contrasting with
areas of dark glass. And in Craigrownie Church
near Cove on Loch Long, there are two of Adam’s
loveliest windows - Charity and Music - clearly
demonstrating the late Pre-Raphaelite influence
sometimes present in his work, in the features and
form of the curving, flowing, red robed figure of
Charity (FIG. 6) and the colourful mosaic
background to M usic.
The apogee of Stephen Adam’s windows is found,
in part, within two great Gothic churches, both
built in 1892 at Largs on the Clyde Coast. In the
south transept gallery of St Columba Church,20 is a
splendid four-light Te Deum window whose theme
is that of both Heaven and Earth glorifying God.
The lower panels contain a very beautiful Nativity
and a workman praising God at the dawn of a new
day (FIG. 7). The Nativity is an unusual and
strangely wistful scene, neither shepherds nor
M agi are present. Instead, Adam proffers an
intimate tableau of six figures, the white infant
Christ and M ary the M other (in brown brocade, not
M adonna blue) emphasised by the chiaroscuro
background, the flashes of red, blue, gold, light
green separately placed within this scene. The
workman at the dawn of day has as its basis the
text ‘M an goeth forth to his work and to his labour
until evening’.21 The dawn is represented by long,
horizontal bars of varied vivid colours combining
with luxuriant blooms to create an oriental atmosphere, revealing again the
influence of Japonisme upon Adam’s work. The areas of dark glass used by him in
this late period are present in the outline of a tree. Dark glass is also used to
dramatic effect in the transept gallery window in the adjacent Clark M emorial
Church,22 where an angel with ruby wings appears to the centurion Cornelius.
In this same church the Great West window is perhaps the most extravagant
and overwhelming composition that Adam ever created -- a vast fantasia in glass
whose central theme is that of Christ the Teacher, surrounded by young children
and animals. Christ is placed in the centre of this huge five-light window, around
him a scattering of texts related to children and childhood scenes and a
kaleidoscope of colours forming a vast composite in which Alfred Webster’s
involvement is almost certain (as it also was in the St Columba Te Deum window,
this duly attested in the guide to this Church).
This eclectic selection of Adam’s ecclesiastical glass concludes with two of his
dramatic compositions. His Corona Vectrix window in Kilwinning Abbey Church
in North Ayrshire was installed in 1903 in memory of the Reverend William Lee
Ker. Paul is shown preaching in a stirring fashion, his words of advice to Timothy
appearing on a tablet behind him23 (engraved with the stylish lettering of the
period), and soldiers and citizens are grouped around him, the areas of dark glass
adding to the dramatic effect of this composition (FIG. 8). In Rowand Anderson’s
slender and elegant Gothic episcopal church in the county town of Dumbarton, 24 is
a Baptismal window installed beside the font at the entrance to the church, from
this same period, but very different in composition. This is a futuristic window
212
T H E L E G A CY O F
ahead of its time (like the Teacher’s Window in Largs Clark M emorial Church), in a
strong, bold palette of reds and golds. This window is a significant departure from earlier
19th-century figure drawing, foreshadowing the coming changes in stained glass in the
new century now dawning. A magnificently drawn and monumental angel fills the
opening, his beating wings forming the entire background ( F I G . 9), a late-Pre-Raphaelite
influence one again palpable. He holds in his arms a small infant: in complete trust, the
two figures are locked in each other’s gaze with a total absence of fear.
Secular work
The Stephen Adam studio was also responsible for the production of much secular glass.
From around 1870, accompanying the rise of the wealthy middle classes was a boom in
suburban expansion around the great manufacturing cities. The inclusion of stained glass
decoration was almost de rigueur within the new villas, terraces and mansions forming
these affluent suburbs. Often, demand was met with a range of panels ordered from the
illustrated catalogues of various stained glass studios and trade firms. Although massproduced, this glass was often of a high standard, patterns being stencilled to save time
with examples of animals and human figures carefully painted by hand into the centre of
the stencilled patterns. Heraldic and allegorical scenes were popular subjects making
their appearance particularly in the mansions of the aristocracy and landed classes. The
‘Four Seasons’ also made a frequent appearance. 25
Adam’s secular glass was thus widespread across Scotland. His Catalogue of
189526 illustrates examples in the Town Halls of Annan and Inverness, the Carnegie
Libraries in Ayr and Dumfries, Glas gow’s Sick Children’s Hospital and New M ental
Hospital, in the various mansions of industrialists and shipping magnates and in quality
restaurants and commercial premises.
This was an extensive and profitable branch of production. Some of the grand
houses in Glasgow’s west end Devonshire Gardens contain glass by Stephen Adam. Here
he maintains his Neoclassical style of figure drawing in a series of allegorical figures
representing the arts and sciences. Once again, backgrounds of dark glass are used to
great effect to highlight foreground figures. A striking example is his Allegory of Art
window, where a pensive, golden-haired child is set almost photographically against a
black background, itself contrasting with rich blue glass and red flowers ( F I G . 10).
Adam’s 1902 Catalogue notes the decorative scheme of glass executed for the
huge refurbished mansion of the shipping magnate Sir Charles Cayzer, at Gartmore in
Stirlingshire. The design of the elegant Art Nouveau panels above the principal entrance
of Gartmore House are intricate and involved, incorporating the baronet’s coat of arms
with its finely drawn three-masted galleon and the motto Caute Sed Impavide (Cautiously
but Fearlessly). Clear glass of high quality has been leaded together with light grey tints
and inset pebbles of blue glass to create a decorative art work, which a hundred years
later still has a fresh, contemporary appearance.
For Broughton House, once the Kircudbright home of Adam’s friend, the Scottish
artist E. A. Hornel, the studio contributed a cameo panel of the head of a Cavalier,
splendidly drawn with long chestnut curls and impressive moustaches complementing a
handsome face and alert eyes.
Context and legacy
Scottish painting was flourishing in the late 1890s. E. A. Hornel, with his Celtic
mysticism and Japonisme, was but one artist among a talented array working in various
genres at this time. William M cTaggart and his series of Emigrant Ship
213
T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
7: Detail of Te Deum window (1893), south transept gallery, St
Columba Parish Church, Largs.
F IG.
108
paintings -- a ghostly ship sailing away
from the western seaboard, spectral
figures of old folk abandoned on the
shore along with a keening collie dog -are his own emotionally charged youthful
memories of the Highland Clearances.
Charles Rennie M ackintosh’s iconic
Harvest Moon is a reminder that the
famous architect was also a very fine
painter. Images of unsentimental rural life
from W. Y. M acgegor, James Guthrie and
E. A. Walton show the departure of the
Glasgow Boys from the ‘Land of the
M ountain and Flood’ imagery of earlier
artists like Horatio M cCulloch and his
vast, pictorial Highland landscapes. The
Glasgow Boys had a wider vision as the
result of diverse studies in Glasgow,
London, Antwerp, the Hague and Paris.
The late-i9th-century Celtic Revival in
Scottish decorative arts and painting gave
birth to a series of unusual paintings by
John Duncan, such as Tristan and Isolde
and Angus Og, illustrating his belief that
there was once a unifying Celtic culture
to which all Scots were related.
New times, new themes, new styles,
new artists - all this was part of Stephen
Adam’s creative world - impacting in its
own way upon Scottish stained glass, as
the Edinburgh windows of John Duncan
clearly show. Adam would have been
well aware of these trends and influences
as he practised and refined his art form,
and some of them entered into his own
work in stained glass.
Stephen Adam’s legacy to Scottish
stained glass was a generous one in various
ways. Of course, his prodigious output - in
civic, domestic and ecclesiastical glass - is
an ample legacy in itself, as the windows
reviewed here may illustrate. However, his
is not solely a contribution of beauty and
decoration. There are deeper significances
which make Adam a pioneering figure in
his chosen field.
In his preliminary study of Glasgow
stained glass M ichael Donnelly unfolds the
three main periods of Adam’s work: the
early period about which little seems to be
known; the middle period of progression
and colour experimentation,
214
THE LEGACY OF STEPHEN ADAM
and the last and greatest period of his looser, freer style, incorporating elements of strangeness and
fantasy.27 Throughout this chronology there are distinct advances made by Adam which distinguish his
stained glass.
There is, for example, a distinct iconography that leads away from the earnest, stilted tableaux
of earlier windows, Adam interprets traditional themes in a more fluid and imaginative way- the richly
coloured, bending Magi at Alloway and Pollokshields Churches, the pallid death-like invalid in
Glasgow Royal Infirmary's ante-chapel, 2 the beautiful miniature Agnus Dei trefoil in Craigrownie Church,
the Angel and Infant in Dumbarton St Augustine's, his large triptych of Work, Zeal and Love at
Pollokshields Congregational Church - are all examples of this difference. And in Scotland, Adam's
iconographic schemes also entered new territory with their social and industrial themes. The Maryhill
and Clydeport Authority panels are excellent examples of the latter and his large scale windows in
Glasgow's Trinity Congregational Church (now the Henry Wood Hall) are examples of the former,
with their galaxies of [9th-century social reformers and liberal thinkers, a singularly straightforward
secular presentation compared to the usual standard pieties, and one that aroused criticism at that time. 29
We must also consider the different ranges of high quality, antique glass which Adam employed in
tandem with a stronger, more advanced palette which brought to his work a distinct painterly quality,
particularly when dark, almost black glass is used, to give dramatic effect. And in Adam's last phase, inset
miniature work in the form of small cameos makes an appearance, incorporating different scales within
a single window. The hand of Alfred Webster can be seen in this miniature work 30 and, after Adam's
death, would be developed more fully in his own studio windows to become an integral feature of
Webster's style.
Furthermore, it is the enigmatic element present in these later windows which sets them apart- that
disturbing and slightly sinister quality mentioned above. The appearance of the blind cherubim, the
watching child, the strange studies in physiognomy in various windows - all these aspects combine to
form a new and different element in the changing iconography of the late nineteenth century. This is
indeed the world of Late Romanticism- Walter Pater has described Romanticism as the addition of
strangeness to beauty.·" With the late windows of Stephen Adam, this mysterious fusion was achieved in
stained glass.
Nor is Adam's legacy confined to the windows he created and installed throughout Scotland:
through his encouragement and example he enabled and nurtured another generation of fine stained glass
artists in his studio, thus enriching Scottish stained glass well into the twentieth century. Two young
artists of this period stand out prominently because of the talents and gifts they possessed and what they
learned from Stephen Adam.
The first of these is the artist's own son, also Stephen Adam, who followed in his father's footsteps to
join his studio fresh from Glasgow School of Art. Tragically, a bitter quarrel would later drive them forever
apart and the son who had been made a partner in the business would emigrate to America, thus depriving
Scotland of a fine talent. There are not many extant examples of Stephen Adam's Junior's windows, but
what does survive shows him to be an artist of exceptional talent whose work contains some strong
influences from his father's studio, although in a different colour palette and sometimes with even stronger
dramatic emphasis. Donnelly describes Adam .Jr's colours as lighter and cooler;" but there is also a balanced
use of a darker spectrum showing Adam Sr's influence. This is evident in the windows executed for Trinity
Congregational Church in Glasgow in 1907 (now installed in St James the Less Episcopal Church in
Bishopbriggs) which includes a powerfully dramatic study of Christ in Gethsemane (FIG. 1 1 ). The
215
T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
FIG.9 :
Angel and Child,
Baptismal window
(1906), north nave, St
Augustine’ s Episcopal
Church, Dumbarton.
I10
horror on the face of Christ as he contemplates
his approaching tortures is graphically shown
in this nocturne. Also worth pointing out is the
use of bold horizontals in the background
which emphasise the drama.
The quarrel which drove apart Adam
and his son may have been caused by the
presence in the studio of the second young
artist of great promise, Alfred Webster, of
whom much more could be written than is
possible here. Webster already possessed the
attributes of a great stained glass artist when he
joined the studio in 1905, also fresh from his
studies at Glasgow School of Art. He learned
much from Adam Sr and soon a formidable
array of talents and skills developed, moving
quickly towards a full, mature style. In
particular from Adam he inherited a powerful
style of figure drawing which he then
developed in an individualistic and personal
way. Clarity of line is another hallmark of his
style. He was a skilled portrait painter, usually
drawn from life models, as his figures
demonstrate in their various contexts. His
palette moved away from the dominant colours
of Adam Sr to incorporate a different range
such as rich purple, leaf green, orange, light
russet, pale blue, turquoise and ruby. Webster
also learned and developed superb new techniques such as acid etching and abrading,
which enhanced and enriched the surface of the glass. He was among the first to use thick,
undulating white Norman slab glass, which provided the ideal basis for his powerful
windows. In addition, Webster possessed that gift so necessary, but often elusive to the
creative arts -- that of a highly fertile imagin ation -- which added sensitive and sometimes
unusual dimensions to his windows. Importantly, Webster effectively used allegory in his
windows (the great south transept window of Glasgow’s Lansdowne Church provides the
best example),33 and this was an innovative feature which Douglas Strachan would later
bring to full flowering in his own great series of windows in the Shrine in Edinburgh
Castle’s Scottish War M emorial designed by Robert Lorimer. 34
Webster owed much to Stephen Adam whose training he had received and
absorbed. This debt is movingly expressed in one of Webster’s finest windows - a hidden
miniature in a narrow corridor in New Kilpatrick Church in Bearsden. Titled The First
Fruits, the window is inscribed to the memory of a teacher and friend, Stephen Adam ( F IG .
1 2 ). The model for the boy angel was Alfred Webster’s young son, Gordon, who in due
course would inherit his father’s studio to become a leading Scottish stained glass artist in
his own day, Adam’s legacy passing in this way from one generation to the next. Alfred
Webster’s developing genius was abruptly cut short by the First World War when he was
fatally wounded at Le Touquet on the French battlefields on 24 August 1915, 35 whilst
serving as a combatant officer with the Gordon Highlanders.
Finally, Stephen Adam’s legacy was one of goodwill to colleagues and a firm belief
in indigenous talent. He held no circumscribed view of his own work and was generous in
his praise of other talented artists in his book Truth in Decorative Art:
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T H E L E G A CY O E ST E P H E N A D A M
‘The west gable of Paisley Abbey -- there you have
a window by the late Daniel Cottier, the pioneer of
a better condition of things in Scotland as regards
stained glass. Cottier’s glass has all the depth and
richness of colour so predominant in a feature of
the Cinque Cento glass in Saint Gudeles,
Brussels…36 The glass of William M orris and his
Pre-Raphaelite colleagues also inspired his warm
approval: ‘windows by M orris & Co, designed by
Burne-Jones, worthy of study... characteristic... is
the sweetly drawn and thoughtfully coloured
foliated details. The figures are inserted as in
medieval glass, as points or panellings of richer
colour and there is a composure and rest in those
placid, gentle figures... .’ And he describes glass by
Rossetti, Burne-Jones and William M orris in the
Old West Parish Church of Greenock as ‘gems in
stained glass... . Finer examples of modern work
there is not in the United Kingdom... .37
Adam also goes on to decry the ‘aggressive
M unich type window’,38 a reference relating to the
controversial scheme of windows installed by the
Koenigliche Glasmalereinstalt in Glasgow’s
Cathedral Church of St M ungo in the 1860s, the
echoes of which were still reverberating strongly
decades later.
Stephen Adam was hopeful for the future of
his art, speaking of a Renaissance springing up
‘like a healthy sea breeze, which will, if maintained
and encouraged, resuscitate in modern form the splendour and glory of the earlier work by
strenuously avoiding the causes of decay occurring in the 17th century .’39 In particular Adam
applied this Renaissance concept to Glasgow’s stained glass, soon to reach its zenith in the work
of a galaxy of highly gifted Scottish artists. Glasgow was the city of his home, his studio and the
centre of his life’s work and he viewed it as both a paradigm and opportunity for investment in
indigenous talent in stained glass:
Like religion, art has a noble mission, and let us hope a fruitful and bright future,
and evidence is not wanting that in our very midst there has sprung up an almost
phenomenal renaissance of the Arts & Crafts. There is already a renowned Glasgow
School of painting, and most decidedly there is a distinct Glasgow School of
decorative art rapidly forming that shall yet stand second to none; and a special
mission of this promising school will be to revive and produce Scottish and
distinctly National Art Work. Stop the flow going from us, reverse the stream by
showing our wealthy classes and connoisseurs, who now spend their money
elsewhere, that at their hand is every decorative requirement for embellishing their
homes and churches.40
This was not a narrow, aggressive form of nationalism, introverted and malevolent. On the
contrary, Adam was generous in his praise of English stained glass artists and their designs.
Instead it was a cry from the heart pleading for recognition of native talent -- and it has a
curiously contemporary sound. It reflects a sad Scottish syndrome, a belief that only beyond
FIG. 10:
Allegory of
Art (1877),
Devonshire
Gardens,
Glasgow.
217
T H E L E G A CY O E ST E P H E N A D A M
F IG 11 :
Stephen Adam Jr,
Christ in Gethsemane
( 1907), Sanctuary
window, St James
the Less,
B ishopbriggs.
The borders of Scotland are to
be found the pearls of great
price. This is not cultural xenophobia, but rather a melancholy
reality. Adam saw it clearly in
his own time, in the long
aftermath of the Munich
imbroglio.41
In this sense Stephen Adam
was indeed a truly Scottish artist.
Not because he adorned his
windows with national symbols,
or counted among his commissions prolific examples of the
Scottish historical genre, or
developed
what
could
be
perceived as a distinctive Scottish
style. These elements would be
apparent in the next 20th-century
generation of Scottish stained
glass artists: Douglas Strachan,
William Wilson, M ary Wood and
Sadie M cLellan to mention a few
major names (see articles elsewhere in this issue). Adam was
intrinsically Scottish in a different
sense - by birth, education,
training, home and place of work
- of which he was not ashamed.
Thus, the windows he produced
were deeply Scottish within this
broader context. He died in
August t9io and his obituary in
the Glasgow Herald expresses
clearly the qualities of his life and
work:
We regret to announce the
death last night of M r
Stephen Adam, at his residence, Bath Street, Glasgow. M r Adam, who was 62 years of age, had been in
failing health for some time. For many years he occupied a prominent position as
a decorator and an artist in stained glass.
He enjoyed a high reputation in his profession, Quickly gaining recognition, he
found many outlets for his talents. Examples of his work adorn many edifices,
not only in this country, but abroad. One of his most important commissions was
a series of windows for the Royal Prince Albert Hospital, New South Wales. His
local commissions are too numerous to detail, but mention may be made of the
remarkable windows he designed for Trinity Church in Glasgow. These mark an
entire departure from the conventional. They perpetuate the memories of such
humanitarians as Thomas Carlyle, F. D. M aurice, and George M acdonald. The
windows have attracted much attention and called forth some criticism, but there
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T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
is no question about the skill of their execution... . Personally
M r Adam was a most lovable man. He was courteous in bearing
and possessed a fine fund of humour. For James Ballantine, his
instructor he retained always a warm affection. M any celebrated
workers in stained glass were, in turn, trained by M r Adam.
One of the ablest of his pupils, Alfred Webster, for the past
seven years has collaborated in his work, and by him the
business will be carried on... .
Stephen Adam was steeped in the knowledge of the art of
stained glass. He based his work on the best masters and he
practised the art in its purest form. He had a fine colour sense,
and although he handled the same theme many times his
versatility was such that he imparted distinction to each work.
Stephen Adam was always happy in his designs. 42
A CKN OWLED GEMENTS
All photographs are by the author. Appreciation is expressed to the churches mentioned,
and to Glasgow M useums and the Art Galleries, for permission to reproduce these
images in this article.
POSTS CRIPT BY MA RTIN HAR RISON
Iain Galbraith’s most informative article succinctly describes Stephen Adam’s artistic
training in Edinburgh and Glas gow; we learn that Adam even received a medal in
recognition of his abilities. From this it would be reasonable to assume that Adam was a
capable artist, and that, given the (judiciously selected) quotations from the texts in his
catalogues of 1895 and 1902, he was responsible for designing his studio’s stained glass.
Yet M r Galbraith mentions three freelancers - Robert Burns, David Gauld and Alex
Walker - who supplied cartoons to Adam in the 1890s. Their employment raises certain
questions: had Adam become overloaded with commissions by this time? or did he
operate as the studio head perhaps as a kind of ‘artistic director’? and might he,
therefore, have engaged ‘outside’ designers earlier than this?
The ramifications of the devolved design systems operating in 19th-century glasspainting workshops are, at present, incompletely understood. The evidence emerging,
however, points to a highly complex situation, one which renders the attribution of
figures designs, in particular, extremely problematical. By a fortuitous coincidence,
Lindsay Watkins’s guide to the stained glass of St M ichael and All Angels, Helensburgh,
arrived in time to be reviewed in this issue (SEE p. 255). The East window of the church,
and the vesica above, were made by Adam & Small in 1881 (the main window is
signed). Yet based on the illustrations in M rs Watkins’s book, the figural scenes in
FIG. 12:
Gordon Webster,
The First Fruits
(1912), north nave
corridor. New
Kilpatrick P arish
Church, Bearsden.
113
219
T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
both windows can be confidently assigned, on grounds of style, to Harry John Burrow
(1846-1882). As a designer, Burrow is usually associated with James Powell & Sons,
but he was also a sought-after freelancer, for his hand is also identifiable in windows
made by Fouracre & Watson, of Plymouth and Daniel Bell, of London. Furthermore,
Burrow’s authorship of the Helensburgh Christ in Majesty lends support to my theory
that he occasionally supplied figure cartoons to Burlison & Grylls: the treatment of the
angels at Helensburgh invites comparison with several figures in the East window of St
James, Bushey, M iddlesex.
Insofar as we have a critical framework for Scottish stained glass, it has been
established mainly through the publications of M ichael Donnelly. Valuable as these are,
they tend to marginalise the English contribution to stained glass north of the border.
While this aspect of stained glass studies requires extensive research, it may be
conjectured that - as a matter of fact rather than nationalistic pride - the Glasgow
pioneers, Daniel Cottier and Stephen Adam, placed considerable reliance on English
figure draughtsmen, respectively Frederick Vincent Hart and Harry John Burrow.
____________________________
NOTES
1.
Obituary. The Herald (Glasgo w), 24 August 1910.
2. Ibid.
3 . Stephen Adam, Truth in Decorative Art (Glasgo w: Carter 6c Pratt, 1895), 33.
4. Stephen Adam, Catalogue 1902. Mitchell Library, Glasgow.
5. Stephen Adam, Stained Glass - its History and Modern Development (Glasgo w; Carter &
Pratt, 1877).
6. Ibid.
7. Michael Donnelly, Glasgow Stained Glass - A Preliminary Study (Glasgo w: Glasgo w M useums
and Art Gallery, 1981).
8. C. J. Connick, Adventures in Light and Color (New York: Random House, 1937).
9. Martin Harrison, Victorian Stained Glass (London: Barrie & Jenkins, 1980), 58, 59.
10. T hese panels were originally removed by Michael Donnelly to the People’s Palace Museum
on Glasgow Green.
11. Michael Donnelly, Scotland’s Stained Glass: Making the Colours Sing (Edinburgh; Stationery
Office, 1997), 34.
12. Elizabeth Williamson, Anne Rickes and Malcolm Higgs, The Buildings of Scotland: Glasgow
(London: Penguin, 1990)
13. Ibid.
14. John Gifford and Frank Arneil Walker, The Buildings of Scotland: Stirling and Central Scotland
(London: Penguin, 2002).
15. Joseph Irving, The Book of Dumbartonshire, Voi. 2: Parishes (Edinburgh; W. & A. K.
Johnstone, 1879), 175.
220
T H E L E G A CY O F ST E P H E N A D A M
16. Heritors Minute Book, 1880, Bonhill Old Parish Church.
17. Iain B. Galbraith, Lecropt Kirk and its W indows (Privately printed, 1998).
18. Hilary M. Peel, A History of Kilmore Church (Oban; Brown & Whittaker, 2004).
19. St Matthew 25. 36.
20. St Columba’s Parish Church, A Brief Guide for the Use of Visitors (Published by the Kirk Session, 1985)
21. Psalm 104, 23.
22. Clark Memorial Church, Guide to the Church, revised (Published by the Kirk Session 2001).
23. II T imothy i. 7.
24. Gifford and Walker, Stirling and Central Scotland, 397-398.
25. Stephen Adam, Decorative Glass (London; Academy Editions, 1980), 9-15.
26. Stained Glass Catalogue, Mitchell Library, 1895.
27. Donnelly, Glasgow Stained Glass, 13-15.
28. There is a similar cartoon in Pollokshields Parish Church, Glasgo w.
29. Obituary, Herald, 24 August 1910.
30. Miniatures and cameos were a marked feature of Alfred Webster’s iconography, these often contained allegorical
significance.
31. Donald J. Grout, The History of W estern Music (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, t962),
32. Donnelly, Scotland's Stained Glass, 38-41.
33. This is, in part, a Scottish parable, where Christ rides on a donkey, not into Jerusalem, but into Glasgo w, to be greeted
there by its citizens.
34. Ian Hay, There Name Liveth - The Book of the Scottish National War Memorial (London, Bodley Head, 1931, revised 1985), 99 -104.
35. Obituary, Herald.
36. Adam, Truth in Decorative Art, 12-14 Ibid.
37 . Ibid.
38. Ibid.
39 . Ibid.
40. Ibid.
41. See a full and detailed acco unt of the Munich controversy in the compendium, Glasgow’s Great Glass Experiment, ed. by
Richard Fawcett (Edinburgh: Historic Scotland, 2003).
42. Obituary, Herald.
221
APPENDIX III
A PROVISIONAL CHRONOLOGY OF WORK BY STEPHEN ADAM
222
Stained Glass Windows by Stephen Adam
A Provisional Chronology
1874
- Glasgow, St. Andrew’s Square.
St. Andrew’s Parish Church.
Three-light chancel window. --
- Paisley. Abbey. Two-light
memorial window, “Sin and
Redemption” (Date given by
Donnelly, Glasgow Stained
Glass. A.R. Howell, Paisley
Abbey: Its History, Architecture
and Art [Paisley: Alexander
Gardiner, 1929], p. 118, gives
the date of 1889; see below )
1877
- Alloway, Ayrshire. Parish
Church. Nave, S. wall. Three-light
“Nativity.” (Memorial to James
aird) -------------------------------
1877-78
- Glasgow-Maryhill. Burgh Halls
Panels.
1870s (?)
- Glasgow. 1-2 Devonshire Gdns.
Now Hotel du Vin. Decorative
windows.
223
- Glasgow- Dowanhill. Belhaven U.P. Church (Now St.
Luke’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral). ------------------
1878
- Glasgow-Pollokshields. Pollokshields Church of
Scotland (built 1878). W. Wall, “Woman tending an
Invalid” (also Glasgow Royal Infirmary Chapel), "Woman
Tending a Child,""Prisoner Receiving a Blessing,"
"The Good Samaritan,” “The Holy Family in the Stable,”
“Adoration of the Magi.”
V
1879
- Kettins, Perthshire. Parish Church. S. wall. Four
windows, “Hope and Faith,” “The Annunciation to the
shepherds,” “Baptism of the Lord,” “Resurrection and
Ascension” (“perhaps by Stephen Adam,” “improved
by him in 1908 ‘by putting in better glass and touching
up the figures and borders.’” (John Gifford, Buildings
of Scotland: Perth and Kinross, p. 447)
1879
- Glasgow. Royal Infirmary. Chapel.---------------->
224
- Port of Menteith, Stirlingshire. Parish Church. E. Window. Trefoil window
depicting Faith, Hope, and Charity.
1879-1880
- Tadcaster , Yorkshire. St. Mary’s,
Kirkgate. N. aisle. “The Three Ages of
Womanhood,” memorial window by
Adam & Small for Adelaide, wife of
Archibald Ramsden.-----------------
1880
- Bonhill, Dunbartonshire. Parish Church.
Smollett window in W. nave. (See
Appendix II for illustration)
- Perth. North Church, Mill St (formerly
North U.P. Church). Abstract patterned
stained glass by Adam & Small.
- Stirling. Church of the Holy Rude. S.
choir, E. bay, Scenes from The Life of
Christ
1881
- Dunlop, Ayrshire. Parish Church. S.
Wall window (?). “Abraham” and
“Moses.”
- Helensburgh, Dunbartonshire. St.
Michael and All Angels (Episcopalian).
On N. wall two lancet windows: “St.
Michael destroying the dragon” and
“St. John with book in hand."--------
E. window. Three-light, each
containing three roundels, except for
the centre light which has two
roundels and an eight-lobed
medallion in the middle. Left light
225
(top to bottom): “Abraham and the Three Angels,” “Jacob’s Dream,”
“Daniel in the Lions’ Den”; centre light (top to bottom): “Descent of the
Holy Spirit,” “Ascension,” “Resurrection”;
right light (top to bottom): “Annunciation to
Mary,” “Annunciation to the Shepherds,”
“Release of Peter from Prison”; vesica light
above: "Christ on a throne surrounded by nine
angels."------------------
- Kirkcaldy, Fife. St. Bryce Kirk. Rose window.
Bright ornamentation surrounding open
Bible.
1882
- Crieff, Perthshire. Parish Church.---
1886
- Dumbarton. Riverside Parish Church.
S. wall, “Blessed are they that mourn” by
Stephen Adam & Thomson (?)
1887
- Glasgow. City Chambers. “Wylie and
Lochhead were responsible for much
interior work, Stephen Adam for the
glass.” (http://portal.historicscotland.gov.uk/designation/LB32691)
1889
- Glasgow-Pollokshields. St. Ninian’s
Episcopal Church. S. chancel aisle.
“Baptism of Christ” and “The Good
Samaritan” (1890), said to be by Adam.
226
- Paisley. Abbey. “Sin and
Redemption” (See A.R.
Howell, Paisley Abbey: Its
History, Architecture and
Art [Paisley: Alexander
Gardiner, 1929], p. 118)
------------------------------------
1890
- Airth, Stirlingshire. Parish
Church.
5-light window. “Oh come let
us walk in the light of the
Lord.”
- Glasgow-Pollokshields. Villa
known as “The Knowe.”
“Cleopatra.” (See illustration
in main text).
- Kilwinning, Ayrshire. Abbey Parish Church. Circular E. window. “Suffer
the Little Children...”
1892
- Glasgow, St. Andrew’s Square. St. Andrew’s Parish Church. Memorial
window to Anderson family.
- Largs, Ayrshire. Clark Memorial Church, Bath St. Five-light W. window,
“Christ in Majesty”; transept gallery, “The Centurion” and “The Good and
Virtuous Woman.”
1893
- Ayr. Carnegie Public Library. Nine-panel staircase window; lower central
panel represents “Knowledge.” (See illustrations in main text)
- Inverness. Old High Church. E. window of S. wall. “Our Lord with the
Doctors in the Temple” and “St Paul on Mars Hill” (inscription reads
“Stephen Adam & Co.”).
227
- Largs, Ayrshire. Clark Memorial Church, Bath St. N. wall: “Jesus,” “Mary
and Martha,” "Ruth with Boaz,”
“David and Saul.” -------------------------------------
- Largs, Ayrshire. St. Columba’s Parish
Church, Gallowgate. S. gallery “Life of Christ.”
1894
- Glasgow-Pollokshields. 197 Nithsdale Rd.
Villa known as “Sandhurst” Stained glass
figure of “Ceres” and stair window depicting
an Elizabethan Hawking scene in center, with
heads of Shakespeare and Burns below.
Attributed to Adam.
1895
- Dalrymple, Ayrshire. Parish Church. Chancel.
“Abide with us.” In center panel, Christ, with a
single disciple in the outer lights.
- Glasgow-Partick. Partick Old Parish Church.
“Charity” window.
- Kilmun, Argyllshire. Parish Church (St. Munn).
By the font. Small children’s window. (Gift by
Adam)
- Longforgan, Perthshire. Parish Church. Nave, N. wall, E. window.
“Abraham and an Angel.” (See Michael Donnelly, Scotland’s Stained Glass,
pp. 38-39 on “The Good Samaritan” window in this church, made by Robert
Burns for Stephen Adam, according to Donnelly.)
1896
- Bearsden, Dunbartonshire. New Kilpatrick Parish Church. E. wall of nave.
3-light window. “The Risen Lord,” flanked by the “Virtuous Woman” in two
guises by Stephen Adam. (Other windows 1912 by Alf Webster and Stephen
Adam Studio. In short passage between the church and the tower’s porch,
single-light window. “The First Fruits” by Alf Webster -- a memorial to
Stephen Adam from his pupil, assistant, and friend.)
- Clydebank, Dunbartonshire. St Columba Episcopal Church (disused). S.
window. “Iona.”
228
- Kinclaven, Perthshire. Kinclaven Church. Central N. window. “Parable of
the Good Samaritan” by Stephen Adam & Co. (But see under Longforgan:
Donnelly, Scotland’s Stained Glass, pp. 38-39 on “The Good Samaritan”
made by Robert Burns for Stephen Adam)
1897
- Auchinleck, Ayrshire. Parish Church. 3-light window in chancel, destroyed
in fire in 1938.
- Dumbarton. St. Augustine (Episcopal). W. aisle at S. end, beside the font.
“Christ with children.”
- Glasgow-Cambuslang. Trinity Parish Church (now Nurture Education and
Multicultural Society) . W. gallery window.
1898
- Cove, Dunbartonshire. Craigrownie Parish Church. E. nave. “Te Deum.”
(See Appendix II for illustration)
- Dundee. Gate Church International (formerly St. Mark’s Church). Under
W. gallery. “David and Jonathan” (memorial to George Arvis Bell-Belmont
and his friend William Kidd) by Stephen Adam & Son.
- Stranraer, Wigtonshire. St. Andrew’s Parish Church. 3-light window, “The
Presentation of our Lord in the Temple.”
1899
- Kilmun, Argyllshire. Parish Church (St. Munn). Chancel. Three superiposed
vesicas of “The Magi,” “The Agony in Gesthemane,” and “Christ
enthroned.” From Wikipedia: “The church contains a number of stained
glass windows, many by Stephen Adam, including life of Christ scenes and a
portrait of George Miller of Invereck as St Matthew. Adam's successor,
Alfred Webster, designed several later windows, including a war memorial
window in the northern gable.”
See also under “1908”
- Lochaline, Argyllshire. N.W. window. “Abraham” by Stephen Adam & Son.
- Patna, Ayrshire. Waterside Parish Church. Framing the pulpit: “Jonathan
and David” (left), “Charity and Faith” (right) by Stephen Adam & Son.
229
1900
- Falkirk. Erskine Parish Church. Stained glass in
chancel.
- Glasgow-Pollokshields. Pollokshields Church of
Scotland. E. Wall. “Woman and Children.
‘Strength and Honour are her Clothing’,”------
“Mary with Infant Jesus.”
- Maybole, Ayrshire. Former Parish Church
(interior largely dismantled), S.E. window by
Stephen Adam & Son.
1901
- Kirkconnel, Dumfriesshire. Parish Church. Apse,
center light, “Crucifixion.” (“Risen Lord” and
“Nativity of Christ” by Alf Webster [1914] in
flanking lights.)
- Brechin Cathedral, Angus. Windows added at
time of repair and alteration by Glasgow
architects Honeyman and Keppie, with whom
Adam appears to have collaborated often.
1903
- Dundee. St. Mark’s Church (now Gate Church International. Four
windows.
- Kilwinning, Ayrshire. Abbey Parish Church. Circular Window. “St. Paul.” N.
gallery. “Corona Vectrix.”
1904
- Alyth, Perthshire. Parish Church. Gallery window of the N. limb. “Scenes
from the Life of Christ.”
- Dundee. Gate Church International (formerly St. Mark’s Church). Fourlight window (memorial to James Muirhead). “The Virtuous Woman.”
- Muirkirk, Ayrshire. Parish Church. 3-light window. The Good Shepherd,
flanked by St. John and St.Peter. Moved here from Kames Church, Muirkirk,
demolished in 1955. (John Gifford: “Looks like the work of Stephen Adam”
[Buildings of Scotland: Ayrshire and Arran, p. 548])
230
-Tullibody, Clackmannan. St. Serf’s Parish Church. “The church dates back
from 1904. The nave and side aisles are separated by five pillared arches,
apse and transepts and an open dressed-timber roof while the windows are
decorated with stained glass by Stephen Adam and Norman M McDougall.”
1905
- Alyth, Perth and Kinross. Parish Church, Kirk Brae. “Upstairs, in the North
Gallery, the window depicting the life of Christ
commemorates the Revd. Colin Symers (minister
1773-1817). Designed by Stephen Adam of
Glasgow, it was unveiled by the Countess of Airlie
in 1905.” (Official Church History, Wikipedia)
- Edinburgh. King’s Theatre, Leven Street. 2-leaf
mahogany doors in foyer with oval panels of
stained glass.
- Falkirk, Stirlingshire. Erskine Parish Church.
Chancel. “The Resurrection” and “The
Ascension.”
- Glasgow, Claremont Street. --------------------
Trinity Congregational Church (now Henry Wood
Hall). Windows representing Buchanan,
Knox, Erasmus, Zwingli, Melanchton, and other
Reformation heroes.
- Glasgow, Broomielaw. Clyde Navigation Trust
Building. “Commerce,” “Shipbulding,” etc.-----
- Ochiltree, Ayrshire. Parish Church. Flanking
pulpit. Two “Resurrection” scenes, brought from
Free Church (demolished) in 1947.
1906
- Alyth, Perthshire. Parish Church. W. window. A version of Holman Hunt’s
“The Light of the World.”
- Culross, Fife. Culross Abbey Church. N. transept window, “Presentation of
Christ in the Temple,” “The Agony in the Garden.”
231
- Dervaig, Isle of Mull, Argyllshire. Kilmore
Church. “A female saint”
(Elisabeth of Hungary) -----------------------
- Dumbarton. St. Augustine’s Episcopal
Church. Baptismal window, N. nave. “Angel
and child.”
- Innellan, Argyllshire. Matheson Church.
Chancel. “Christ at the door” -- based on
Holman Hunt painting (see above Alyth Parish
Church).
- Kilbirnie, Ayrshire. St. Columba. E. gable,
stepped three-light window. “Blessed are the
Pure in Heart.”
- Twynholm, Kirkudbrightshire. Parish Church.
S. wall, left window. “The Dawn of Heaven
Breaks,” signed by Stephen Adam (dated 1905
in http://www.britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/sc16986-twynholm-parish-church-church-ofscotland#.Vb5qtPlViko)
1907
- Bridge of Allan, Stirlingshire. Lecropt Kirk. S. end of E. wall. Two of four
two-light windows. “Christ’s baptism.” Over the door to the W. porch
(converted to a vestry). “Christ surrounded by children”
- Glasgow- Bishopbriggs. St. James the Lesser Episcopal Church. S.W. wall.
“Christ blessing the children,” “Sermon on the Mount,”“Calling of Peter and
Andrew.” Transferred from Claremont Street Trinity Congregational Church,
now Sir Henry Wood Hall. (Probably by Stephen Adam Jr.)
- Kilmarnock, Ayrshire. Henderson Parish Church. Chancel. Three lights by
Adam. (In nave, two windows [1914] by Alf Webster).
- Largs, Ayrshire. Clark Memorial Church, Bath St. Transept. “Saints Mary
and Elizabeth” by the Stephen Adam Studio
- Sydney, N.S.W, Australia. Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. Eight single-panel
heraldic windows with coats of arms of hospital directors.
1907-1908
- Carmyllie, Angus. Parish Church. Rose window over pulpit and, flanking
232
pulpit, “Ruth and Boaz” and “St. Paul
as Preacher and Teacher.” -------
- Carnoustie, Angus. Carnoustie
Panbride Church. E. transept.
One-light window. “Ruth and Boaz.”
1908
- Dervaig, Isle of Mull, Argyllshire.
Kilmore Church. “Christ and Mary
Magdalen.”----------------------------
- Gartmore, Stirlingshire. Parish
Church. “I am the way,” figure of
Christ, flanked by two mailed figures, l.
by Adam, r. by Alf Webster.
- Kilmun, Argyllshire. Parish Church
(St. Munn). S. wall, W. wing, “St.
Matthew,” pen and book in hand
(portrait of George Miller of Inveresk
House); E. wing, “St John.” W. wall,
“Dorcas, full of good works” holding
children to a dark blue cloak.
- Strone, Argyllshire. St. Columba’s
Church of Scotland. Lancet in chancel
arch depicting Christ bearing the cross.
1909
- Bearsden, Dunbartonshire. New
Kilpatrick Parish Church. Scenes from
the Life of Christ by Stephen Adam Jr.
- Kilmun, Argyllshire. Parish Church
(St. Munn). W. wall. “Dorcas, full of
good works.”
- Skelmorlie, Ayrshire. Skelmorlie and Wemyss Bay Parish Church. W. wall,
from S. to N. “Charity and Truth” by Stephen Adam & Son.
233
*** *** ***
APPENDIX TO 1904 REPRINT OF STEPHEN ADAM’S “TRUTH IN
DECORATIVE ART” (1896; generously communicated to the present
author by Gordon R. Urquhart). Information about the windows in
the second of the two lists has been added in parentheses and in
italics by the present author.
AM ON G T HE MOST IMPORT ANT
CHURCH· MEMORIAL WINDOWS
:
. DE SI GNE D AND EX ECUT ED IN RE CE NT YE ARS B Y
STEPHEN ADAM,
A FEW MAY BE MENTIONED.
G.W. Clark Memorial, Old Machar Cathedral, Aberdeen.------------------------------------------
Crieff- Parish Church ·Memorials.
Lord Lennox Memorial, Coupar Angus.
Baxter Family Memorial, St. Mary’s Parish Church, Dundee.
Galbraith and Ainslie Windows, Old Greyfriars’ Church, Stirling.
Campbell of Stacathro Memorial, Port of Menteith Parish Church.
Admiral Maitland Memorial, Portobello.
Douglas Memorials, St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Kelso.
Young of Kelly Memorial Window, Bathgate Parish Church.
McNab Memorial Window, Bathgate Parish Church.
Ten Memorial Windows in Pollokshields Parish Church.
G.W. Clark Memorial in Union Free Church.
Memorial Windows in Belhaven U. P. Church, for R. Gourlay, Esq.
Kidston Memorial, Cambuslang Parish Church.
Smollett Window, Bonhill Parish Church.
Dr. Grey Memorial, Parish Church, Dumbarton.
Memorial Windows, Abbey Church Paisley, for J. Brown, Esq.
Spiers Memorial, Abbey Church, Paisley.
James Baird Memorial, Alloway Kirk, Ayr.
M’Laren Memorial, West Church, Grangemouth.
Coltness Memorial Church, all the windows for James Houldsworth, Esq.
Colonel Hay Memorial and Window, for Colonel Buchanan , of Drumpellier,
St. John’s Church, Coatbridge.
Ramsden Memorial, Tadcaster Cathedral, Yorkshire.
Corry Memorial, Elmwood Church, Belfast.
Organ Window, St. Andrew’s Parish Church, Glasgow.
Colonel Warren Memorial, Inverness Town Hall, Inverness.
Seven Memorial Windows, designed by S.A. for St. David’s Ramshorn
Church, Glasgow.
T wo Memorial Windows for Wiston Parish Church, Biggar.
Dr. Park Memorial, Parish Church, Airth.
Livinsgstone Memorial Church, Blantyre.
John Clark Memorial ,Window in memory of his father, Thread Street
Church, Paisley.
Stewart Clark Memorial, Window in memory of his mother, Thread Street
Church, Paisley.
234
Boyd Family Memorial, Thread Street Church, Paisley.
Wotherspoon Family Memorial, Thread Street Church, Paisley.
Dr. Thomson Memorial, Thread Street Church, Paisley.
Window erected by John Polson, Esq., Paisley, in memory of his father, Thread Street Church.
M. Murchie Memorial, Thread Street Church.
Figure Window, erected in Coltness Parish Church in memory of the late Arthur Houldsworth.
Eight Figure Windows erected in Clark Memorial Church, Largs, by members of Clark Family.
Holms Kerr Memorial erected in Largs Parish Church.
Matthew Brown Memorial Windows in St. James' U.P. Church, Paisley. Mair Memorial in Maxwell Parish Church,
Glasgow.
Samuel Dow Memorial Window in Bellahouston Parish Church, Glasgow.
Figure Window in Inverness Parish Church in memory of late minister, Dr. M'Donald.
Figure Windows erected in St. Andrew’s Parish Church, Glasgow in memory of the late Robert Anderson, P rintcr, and late Dr.
F. Lockhart Robertson, minister of Parish.
Window erected in Avon Street U.P. Church, Hamilton, in memory of Rev .Mr. Wylie, killed in China.
Window erected in Bearsden Parish Church, in memory of late Mr. Young, Railway contractor.
Rattray Memorial Window in Claremont U.P. Church, Glasgow.
T wo Windows erected in Dalrymple Parish Church, Ayrshire, to order of W. J. Hammond, Esq., Ayr.
Window in memory of late Wm. Polson, erected in Thread Street Church, Paisley, by members of family. ·
Nativity Window erected in Baptist Chapel, Cambuslang.
Robert Simpson Memorial Window, erected in Congregational Church, Govan.
Mrs. Arthur Memorial.Window erected in Cove Parish Church, Argyllshire. Sim Memorial Window, St. Ninian’s Episcopal
Church and others.
T ullis Memorial Window, erected by family, in Greenhead Parish Church, Glasgow.
Figure Window erected in Longforgan Parish Church , near Dundee in memory of
late Dr. Ritchie, for fifty-seven years
minister of the parish.
Stewart Memorial, Kinclaven Parish Church, Perthshire. Memorial Window, Partick Parish Church. Glasgo w.
Windows for St. Columba’s Episcopal Church, Clydebank, etc.
Great Family Memorial and Kidd Memorial in St. Mary’s Parish Church, Dundee.
Memorial Window, Parish Church, Carnoustie.
Trinity Church, Glasgow, Fairlie Memorial.
Dr. Watt Memorial, Anderston Parish Church.
Four Memorial Windows in Deskford Parish Church, Banffshire.
Knot Presentation Window, T ullibody Parish Church.
Kames Church Memorial, Muirkirk, for Robert Angus, Esq. Ramshorn Church, Glasgow, Dickson Memorial
and five others. Dr. Sloan Memorial Dalry, Ayrshire.
·
Belmont Parish Church, Glasgow, Mrs. Marshall Memorial.
Urr Parish Church, Wigtonshire, Biggar Memorial. Dr. Lee Ker Memorial, Kilwinning Parish Church.
The late Sir John Watson of Garnock, t wo Memorials, Parish Church, Hamilton.
"Young" Memorial, Cambuslang U.F. Church.
Sunday School Children's Presentation Window, Tollcross U.F'. Church, Glasgow.
Arrochar Parish Church, Dewar Memorial Windows. Dobbie Memorial, Larbert Parish Church.
Bruce Memorial, Larbert Parish Church.
"Forrest" Memorial, Larbert Parish Church.
Memorial erected by Rev. Canon Jackson in St.James’ Episcopal Church, Leith. Memorial Window, Killin l'arish Church.
Brechin Cathedral when restored, two Memorial Windows.
Memorial Windows erected by Sir Charles Cayzer, Bart., M.P.in Parish Churches of Craigrownie and Cardonald.
Memorial Windows in Parish Church and U.F. Church, Bridge of Allan.
All the Memorial Windows in Maybole Parish Church, Ayrshire..
Hammond Memorial, Dalrymple Parish Church, Ayrshire.
Mrs. Younger Presentation Window, Kilmun Parish Church.
Memorial Window erected in Moniaive U.F. Church by Robert M’Kill, Esq.
Memorial Window, Steps Parish Church (see parts illustrated).
Harvey Memorial, Yoker Parish Church.
Lady Boswell Memorial in Auchenleck Parish Church (see illustration).
St. John’s Cathedral, Perth, Bower Memorial Windoq.
Bearsden Parish Church, Gray Memorial Window.
Ochiltree U.F. Church, two Memorials erected by George Lammie, Esq.
235
For Lord Sinclair, Windows in Old Chapel, Herdmanston, Haddington.
For Lady Strathearn, Ornamental Windows in Chapel, Perthshire.
Chancel Window, St. John’s Episcopal Church, Coatbridge, for Col. Buchanan, Drumpellier.
Further lists of Complet ed Works, Press Notices, and references to leading
Clergy, artists, academicians, and architects, forwarded if desired, by
Application at studios.
Memorial Window at Park Church, Glasgow. Donor, Frank W. Allan, Esq.
MANSIONS AND PUBLIC BU ILDING S
Ornamental Windows M unicipal Bu ildings, Glasgow.
Figure Gro up, E ntrance, Royal Infirmary, Glasgo w.
Figure Windo ws, Municipal Buildin gs, Coatbr idge. Figure W in do ws, M aryhill T o wn HalL
Windows in Annan Town HalL. [1878?]
All t he Win do ws, Inv ern ess T o wn Hall. [1 87 8 ?]
All the Windo ws, T rades' Win do ws, T rinity Hall, Aberdeen. [late 1870s?]
Mosaics in Blyth Hall, Newport, Dun dee.
Figure Win do w, Nurse s’ Hall, Sick Children’s Hospital, Glasgow
Cam e gie Lihrary, Dumfries, Figure Win do ws. [1904 ?]
Carne gie Library, Ayr. [1894]
Ne w M ental Ho spital, Glasgo w, Or namental Staircase W in do w.
All the stained glass in Moorp ark Man sion an d Place M an sion, Kilbirn ie, for R. W. Knot, E sq. an d James Knot,
Esq. [Jam es Knot was probably a wealthy sh ipping magna te from Newcastle-on- Tyne]
Dun das Castle, all the Stained Glass for Stewart Clark, E sq. [ P rop erty in So uth
Queen sferry,ju st outsid e E dinbu rgh ,pu rcha sed in 1 899 b y Cla rk,a memb er
of th e Pa isley fam ily tha t fou nded the exrao rd ina rily successfu l th read
manufactu ring compan y of J. & J. Cla rk, wh ich in 18 80 emp loyed 3,500
wo rkers]
Cairn Ca stle, Larn e, all the St ain ed Glass for St ewart Clark, E sq.
Dr umalis Castle, Co unty Antrim fo r Sir Hugh Sm iley, St ain ed Glass. [ The Smiley
Family, ha ving mo ved from Scotland to Co. Antrim in I reland in th e
1700s. had become quite wealthy b y th e 19 th Centu ry. Sir Hugh bough t th e
Drumalis site in 18 70 and completed th e buildin g of the h ou se in 1873, the
yea r he married a Scotswoman, Elizabeth Kerr, from anoth er majo r
Paisley cotton and sewing th rea d manufa ctu ring fam ily. She is said to ha ve
overseen th e deco ration of th e p roperty, wh ich h as five windo ws in th e
foyer with stain ed g lass u pper pan els three o f wh ich represen t Eng land,
Ireland, a nd Sco tla nd---------- ----------- ------------ ------------ ----------- -----
Kiln side Ho use, Paisley, all the St ain ed Glass f or Stewart Clark , E sq.
T he Cliff, Wemy ss Bay, all the St ain ed Glass fo r Stewart Clark , E sq. [ bu ilt 1888;
arch itect Joh n Honeyman]
Win do w in Fer guslie Man sio n for Sir T ho mas Glen Co ats [ a m ember of the oth er
grea t thread manu factu ring
compan y in Paisley, with a hug e mill at
Fe rgu slie bu ilt in 1 845, b y which time three- qua rters o f th e firm’ s p rodu ction wa s a lread y being expo rted to
Ame ric a].
Mo sa ic s a n d Stained Glass in Gallo whill Mansion, for Sir Hugh Sm iley an d Mr s. Kerr. [ P roperty bu ilt 1869;
arch itect Jam es Salmon]
For Sir Chas. Cayzer, Bart., M.P.. all the orn am ental Glass in Ralston an d Gartmore M an sion s. [ Ralston is in th e
neighb orh ood of Pa isley; Ga rtmo re, in Stirlingshire, was an 18 th cen tu ry hou se, pu rch ased b y Cayzer, a
ship ping magnate, from th e family of the writer Cun ningh ame Graham in 1900 and redesigned by David
Barclay, a student of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, who added the tower, altered the roof and redesigned the western
front, in 1901-1902. Adam’s glass probably dates from that time.]
Hunter Craig, Esq., M.P., Stained Glass in Residence, Skelmorlie.
Mrs. Lawrence Robertson, Moreland, Skelmorlie, all the Stained Glass. [House built 1862, extended by architect John Honeyman in
1874, with addition by Honeyman and Keppie 1893-94; Adam’s glass was probably installed at one or other of the two
later dates.
For James Young, Esq., Cornhill Mansion, Biggar, all the Stained Glass.
Mansions in Perthshire for Albert Pullar, Esq., Rufus Pullar, Esq. and Lawrence Pullar, Esq. [ Members of the family that founded
Pullars of Perth, a dying and then nation-wide dry-cleaning company]
236
Mosaics and Stained Glass for Walter Macfarlane, Esq., Park Circus. [22 Park Circus, an elegant house in Glasgow’s West End, was
the residence of Walter Macfarlane who set up the Saracen Foundry, the most important producer of ornamental
Ironwork in Scotland; subsequently the house became
the Casa d’Italia and then, until 2013, a Glasgow
Registry Office.The glass probably dates to
redecoration in 1897-1900]-------------------------------
Stained Glass in Mauldslie Castle, Lanarkshire. [An Adam
building, near Carluke, Lanarkshire, with additions in 1860 and
1891. The glass was probably installed in 1891]
Stained Glass in Auchendrane and Belleisle Mansions near Ayr.
[Beleisle, overlooking the Golf Course in Prestwick,
just north of Ayr, was acquired by the Coats family of
Paisley in 1866 and extended in 1895, when the glass
was probably installed]
All the Stained Glass Figure Groups in Warehouse of Messrs.
Pettigrew & Stephen’s, Glasgow. [Founded in 1888, the
Pettigrew and Stephens store was rebuilt 1901 in a
design by architects John Honeyman & John Keppie,
with a gilt dome designed by Charles Rennie
Mackintosh. One of Glasgow’s leading department
stores until it was demolished in the 1970s. The glass was probably installed at the time of the expansion and rebuilding in
1901. Adam seems to have often collaborated with Honeyman.]
Figure Groups in Music Saloons of Messrs. Muirhead & T urnbull, T . Ewing, etc. Also in High Class Restaurants, such as Spiers &
Pond’s, Blackfriars, London, The Grosvenor, Gordon Street, Ferguson & Forrester, Buchanan Street, Glasgow, and
others. All Special Mosaics and Stained Glass.
Stained Glass and Special Decorative Panels in Cabins of leading Steamships and Yachts.
Glasgow International Exhibition of 1901. Large Decorative Mosaic Glass Panels over Main Entrance, representing Saint Mungo
blessing the Arts and the Industries of the Clyde District. Life Size Figures of Craftsmen and Artisans at Work. [These
panels were probably placed in the main Industrial Hall and demolished along with the rest of the purpose-built hall
after the Exhibition closed.]