Part II: The Miracle Windows: How Light and Beauty Preserved the Mythos of the Becket Miracles
The Draw of Light and Beauty to the Medieval Pilgrim
INTRODUCTION
Murder, miracles, and holy light. The murder of Archbishop Thomas Becket (d. December 29, 1170) prompted thousands of pilgrims to travel to Canterbury Cathedral in England to venerate his shrine and to bask in the holy light of the stained-glass cathedral windows. The murder of Becket was likely ordered, or at the least encouraged, by King Henry II after a series of profound personal insults and doctrinal differences between the two men. King Henry, overcome by his anger at Becket, became enraged, and his spoken words of a death-wish for Becket in the presence of four of his knights gave them license to kill.[1]
The death of Becket quickly developed into a cult of devoted pilgrims after numerous miracles were recorded from peasants outside of the monastery and after some visits to Becket’s tomb in the crypt. King Henry did not anticipate the deep reverence for Becket. Upon word of the miracles and the ever-growing fame of Becket, monarchs and dignitaries also began visiting, including King Louis VII of France. Even Henry himself later offered penance in order to make amends. Pope Alexander III, having witnessed the fame and intrigue of so many surrounding Becket’s death and miracles, made the decision that he should be “numbered in the roll of saintly martyrs.”[2] Becket was canonized by Pope Alexander III in 1173.
As the fame of Becket grew and the Cult of Becket was established by pilgrims seeking miracles, the pilgrimage to Canterbury became one of the most celebrated pilgrimages in England and Continental Europe. The dedication of the pilgrims to make the treacherous journey to Canterbury solidified the legend of Becket. The pilgrims found hope and help from the Saint Thomas Becket at Canterbury. However, the legend of Becket might have been lost without the wonder of light and beauty displayed in the pictorial narratives of the stained-glass windows in the chapel of the cathedral.
This essay will highlight one of the stained glass panels held in Trinity Chapel, Panel No. CVMA 13, from Window nV,[3] described in this essay as the “Medieval Pilgrim Panel.” Through the lens of the pilgrims’ visual perception, the light, beauty, and narrative story of the Medieval Pilgrim Panel contributed to the devotion of the church by the pilgrims, while also preserving the mythos of Saint Thomas Becket.
THE DRAW OF LIGHT AND BEAUTY TO THE MEDIEVAL PILGRIM
The window panels depicting the life and miracles of Thomas Becket at Canterbury Cathedral are called the “miracle windows.” The medieval pilgrims were significantly influenced by the miracle windows because of the lack of light and literature in their daily lives. The leaders of the Church understood the draw of light and narrative stories and were instrumental in the design and creation of the windows. Why would a pilgrim leave their home and make the treacherous journey to Canterbury to venerate Saint Thomas Becket? The medieval Catholic pilgrim believed in the power of the gaze; that is, man’s power to gaze at God, and the belief of God’s gaze at man. The understanding of “God as light” allowed the “two gazes [to] meet and establish a mutual, fulfilling ecstatic relationship, the one between person and God.”[4] The pilgrim’s role in this relationship was to pursue the light of God through the power of human freedom. This libero arbitrio (human free choice) was practiced through the obedience of “showing up” through a pilgrimage in order to satisfy the yearning for God while meeting with God’s gaze in return. The pilgrim believed that by “looking and staring at the light, he or she would define himself as a person-stared-at-by-the-light, as a looking-individual-who-is-being-looked-at, a knowing-person-who-is-already-known.”[5] Stained glass was an important way to translate the faith to the pilgrim.
The Cult of Becket became a phenomenon because of the dedication of the pilgrims to make the journey. It was not Becket’s life of materialism and egocentric dealings to keep power that drew the pilgrims; it was the miracles that occurred after his death.[6] The belief in the miracles challenged the pilgrims to seek a miracle of their own, solidifying Canterbury’s place as an important pilgrimage. The gifts from the devoted pilgrims, in turn, paid for restorations to the cathedral and became one of the best examples of Gothic architecture in the Medieval period. The building restorations of Canterbury, including the stained glass, was mostly paid for by pilgrims. Canterbury Cathedral “benefited richly from the gifts of the pilgrims who came to pray and hope for miracles at Becket’s shrine.”[7] The funding of Canterbury Cathedral, therefore, is distinct from other gothic cathedrals, such as St. Denis and Chartres in France, because these cathedrals were mostly funded through royal patronage. This distinction shows the value of the shrine of Saint Thomas Becket to the pilgrim. Although Canterbury had some royal patronage, most of the funding came from the pockets of the pilgrim, whether impoverished or of a higher class.
Understanding the importance of the stained glass at Canterbury through the pilgrims’ “mode of seeing” is crucial in appreciating it today. The pilgrim understood the higher truths of the stained-glass windows through their visual perception.[8] Before the Medieval period, Christian churches were decorated with mosaics, exemplified through the Byzantine Empire. Mosaics, although beautiful in design, repelled the light from candles, preventing the light from passing through. The use of mosaics later turned into the use of windows, although “they were small and not glazed.”[9] As the medium of glass became more prevalent, this lux nova (new light) was visible to the pilgrim and created a heavenly environment that filled the chapel, translated as the gaze of God.
There was a fascination with the light of stained glass during the Medieval period because of the near-constant darkness in life. The only light at night was firelight and candlelight, sometimes only afforded to those who had money to purchase candles. The winter months in particular were very dark. Theological and philosophical interest in light grew as it was studied by clergy, such as the writings of Abbot Suger. Suger wrote of the importance that artifacts, architecture, and objects held to the believer. When writing concerning reliquary gems, for instance, Suger wrote,
The multicolor loveliness of the gems has called me away from external cares…transporting me from material to immaterial things, has persuaded me to examine the diversity of holy virtues, then I seem to see myself existing on some level…beyond our earthly one, neither completely in the slime of earth nor completely in the purity of heaven. By the gift of God I can be transported in an analogical manner from this inferior level to that superior one.[10]
His writings concerning window glass hold a similar appreciation:
One of these [windows] urging us onward from the material to immaterial, shows the apostle Paul turning a mill and the prophets carrying sacks to the mill… [with the accompanying verse] ‘By working the mill, Paul, you take the flour from the bran. You make known the inner meaning of Moses’ law…’[11]
The pilgrim, like Suger, viewed the color and light of stained glass much the same as the vivid color of precious gems. As the light passed through the windows, it resembled jewels often used in reliquaries. The makers of these precious objects were instrumental to the Church at the time. Abbot Suger emphasized the importance of these objects through his writing on the cathedral at Saint-Denis: "An object was worthy if it was constructed of important materials, displayed skilled workmanship, and was destined for an important function.”[12] Stained glass met all three of Suger’s criteria.
It is hard for us to understand the medieval “lack of light” today because we are surrounded by light, but to the pilgrim, light passing through colored glass was sacred. Labarge describes it this way: “I am convinced that the fascination with light as a theological, philosophical and scientific topic of great importance in the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries had a major effect on the development and extension of stained glass in the great Gothic churches built between 1140 and 1250.”[13] The main exposure of the laity to the Christian message was through bible stories, legends, and moral tales preached to them through their local church. Therefore, when the pilgrims saw these stories in the narrative windows at Canterbury illuminated in light, “the lessons were reinforced…whose magnificence contrasted vividly with the bare poverty of their tiny houses.”[14] The Old Testament scripture “let there be light” and “there was light and the light was good” also reinforced these messages.[15]
Who was responsible for creating the stunning glass in Canterbury Cathedral and why were the narrative stories so effective? Although there is no record of the name of the artist, several scholarly sources attribute the glass design to an artist known as the “Methuselah Master.” The Master is credited for the narrative scenes, as “linking naturalism with humanism in a way that is almost antique in spirit,” and that the narrative events “are depicted in a dramatic, shorthand style, with enough characterization and props to tell the stories clearly and convincingly.”[16] Although the identity of the Master is unknown, the process of making stained glass is understood through a useful medieval source describing specifics of the technique, Theophilus’s detailed work, titled De Diversis Artibus. Theophilus believed that artists were given divine authority to create works through their faith. Cynthia Hahn writes, “this idea that art is inspired by truth and faith… has its origin in the Bible and occurs in several medieval sources.”[17]
TECHNIQUE
Because of Theophilus’ writing, we know the process of making medieval stained glass was comprised of seven basic steps: design of the piece on a wooden board/table; glass blowing; glass cutting; arranging on the wooden board; glass painting; firing the glass to bind the enamel paint; and, finally, the glazier would glaze the pieces together using soldered lead. After the glass was designed, blown, cut, and put on the board, the artist would begin the process of glass painting. This included two basic techniques of a flashed-glass process and an enamel painting process.[18] There were other techniques such as stippling and cross-hatching the glass for tonal effect, and sometimes the flaws in the glass were used as areas to create tone. The flashed-glass process included painting the back of a clear piece of glass with silver stain that created a bright golden yellow effect, and then coating this piece with a layer of colored glass that would then be etched away to reveal the gold underneath. The enamel paint process used vitreous paint made of metal oxide mixed with soft glass, creating a black pigment that would be painted onto the surface of the glass and then fired to bind the paint.[19] The process took a workshop of craftsmen to complete, but often the designer of the panels also worked in the role of craftsman.
The Master of the windows of Canterbury was successful in translating the narrative scenes in a simple style that was very convincing to the pilgrim. The pilgrim clearly understood the scenes and cherished them, revealing that stained glass was not created just for aesthetic beauty but also for its narrative importance to the pilgrim. Virginia Raguin notes, “Material choices by the makers both facilitate and focus the communication of meaning not only in the originating period but also over time.”[20] Stained glass was relevant in its time for the way the beauty and light translated truths to the pilgrim. The result of the narrative stories depicted through windows, mixed with the aura of the cathedral, drew thousands of pilgrims over hundreds of years to Canterbury. A beautiful collaboration of story, design, and art that resulted in a meaningful experience to the viewer.
This was simply fascinating to read! I love the idea that not only to gaze upon light is to gaze upon God but that He is gazing back at us, and we are known 🥹🙏🏻
And also, as a person who likes to create and often struggles at times with feeling like it has any value/could be helpful in any way by sharing, I love seeing something made like this that has been used-even considered sacred- for ages; and the people who made it were most likely laboring in love and for His glory (seeing how it’s artist(s) are unknown). It begs me to ask myself, am I willing to make simply because God called me and not for any personal glory? 💗 it’s all very inspiring!
Thank you, Joellen! I love your comments. It’s also interesting to consider how starved they were for scripture and light. Because of poverty and darkness in winter (the lack of light), the narratives in the windows were revelations and often their only teaching. It’s all very beautiful! Thanks for reading 🙏🏼❤️