only the engraving modern, and this is given a spurious appearance of age by rubbing down with sand and earth, and by allowing the lines of the pattern to become filled with dust and dirt. A test that may be found useful is to hold the piece in a strong light, when some part of the engraved portion may be found untouched by the “treatment,” and bearing in its clearness and sharpness of line convincing evidence of its recent origin.

Of the Jacobite glasses, those dedicated to the Old Pretender are entirely beyond the hopes of the ordinary collector. A few exist in old country houses dotted up and down the country and in various museums. One in the British Museum bears the mottoes “Cognoscunt me mei” and “Premium Virtutis.” Young Pretender glasses are naturally much more numerous, and it is probable that specimens may still be found in out-of-the-way places.

Special finds of Jacobite glasses are occasionally made, a whole set being discovered in some unexpected hiding-place. One such set is the famous Oxburgh Hall find, now to be seen and admired in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Eleven Jacobite glasses in all were discovered, eight of them being “Fiat” glasses. Four of them, of a larger size, bear the Prince of Wales’ feathers on the upper surface of the foot. One is the glass inscribed to Sir Watkin Wynn, previously mentioned, and one is of special significance, in that it bears in addition to a portrait of the Young Pretender an inscription, unique in the history of Jacobite glass:

As poetry the verse undoubtedly leaves something to be desired, although as a panegyric it is fairly comprehensive. That fact will, however, in nowise detract from its unique interest in the eyes of the collector, whilst the most rabid Jacobite—if such a person still exists—can hardly fail to be satisfied with such a wholesale and whole-hearted testimony to the merits of the leader whose cause he had espoused—the luckless Prince, whose doom it was to be always remembered “Over the water,” “Great, Brave, Just, Good, Britania’s glory,” and the rest! This was a hero indeed, sans peur et sans reproche. Even the legendary Arthur of Round Table fame could hardly claim more.

A critic might suggest that the portrait which appears on the other side of the glass is hardly worthy of these exalted sentiments, though in point of artistic merit it may fitly challenge comparison with the quality of the verse.

The “Chastleton” glasses form another famous Jacobite set. There are two decanters and eleven wine glasses. The glasses are engraved with the rose and two buds, representing, presumably, James II. and the two Pretenders, and the Cycle Club motto, “Fiat.” In addition there is an oak leaf. Whether this is an allusion to the famous Royal Oak of Boscobel, in which Charles II. took refuge after Worcester, as previously mentioned, or is merely the distinguishing mark of the English Jacobites, just as the thistle was the badge of their Scottish comrades, is obscure.

The decanters are still more interesting, having, in addition to the rose and its two buds, two oak leaves and a compass, the needle of which points to a star apparently rising towards the zenith—probably in hopeful anticipation of the fortunes of the Jacobite cause. Miss Whitmore Jones, the present owner of Chastleton, claims that these were made at Derby.

Glasses thus elaborately inscribed do not exhaust the list of Jacobite glasses. In many cases the rose emblem appears alone, without the incriminating “Fiat” which would inevitably convict the owner of treason. In other cases the emblem was hidden from the casual eye by being engraved underneath the foot. The times were perilous ones, and it behoved careful folk to exercise the greatest caution; hence arose all the system of symbols and catchwords associated with the Jacobite cause. Byrom sums up their attitude in the well-known verse:

It is possible to meet, here and there, with glasses dedicated to the early Georges, but these are few and, to say the truth, are lacking in the interest that their romantic and tragic history threw over everything associated with the hapless Stuart line.

Williamite glasses are more numerous. They,

of course, date from the revolution of 1688, when party feeling on the one side ran as high in favour of Dutch William as it did on the other in favour of the House of Stuart. Many of them were undoubtedly produced in Ireland, the more interesting commemorating the battle of the Boyne. Some bear the portrait of the King—generally crossing the Boyne on horseback. Such specimens are exceedingly rare. Later ones bear only an inscription, “To the Immortal Memory,” or “To the Immortal Memory of the glorious King William,” with possibly a rosebud. These are, of course, more ordinary, but are still worth collecting, providing the purchaser can assure himself that they have not been specially prepared for his benefit.

The phrase above quoted is possibly a reminiscence of the toast given at Orange meetings: “To the glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great and good King William, who freed us from Pope and popery, knavery and slavery, brass money and wooden shoes”—quite a creditable record of achievements.

The “boot” glasses, to which we refer among the freaks, were probably made in large numbers in George III.’s reign to testify to the national hatred of Lord Bute, whose punning emblem, “the boot,” was burnt by the mob in a thousand bonfires, whether justly or unjustly history fails to say. But there is no doubt that Bute was hated with a fury almost without precedent, and the King’s mother, whose favourite he was, was hated with equal intensity. In 1763 a jack-boot and a petticoat were publicly burnt at Temple Bar, and a crowned ass led through the streets by a man in a Scottish plaid. Boot glasses are generally from four and a half to five inches in height. They are often moulded to represent lacings in the front and trimmings at the sides, and were doubtless used for strong waters, cordials, and liqueurs.

Memorial glasses inscribed with the names of our great seamen are, of course, numerous. One to Admiral Hawke, inscribed “Success to the British Fleet” and dated 20th November 1759, was evidently made in commemoration of the battle of Quiberon Bay, in which that great seaman, deliberately ignoring the fighting instructions, flung convention to the winds and won a startling victory, and freed Britain from the dread of a French invasion. Similar glasses

bear the names of Boscawen, Rodney, Anson, Keppel, and Nelson.

The “Nelson” glasses, as may be supposed, are particularly interesting. Some bear the hero’s portrait; others are adorned with a representation of his famous flagship; others, again, were made in commemoration of his death and his burial in St Paul’s Cathedral.

One such specimen described by Mr Hartshorne deserves special mention. It is a goblet rather more than 8 inches in height, on the straight-sided bowl being engraved a representation of the great Admiral’s funeral car in the shape of a ship. On the stern is the historic name Victory. At the prow stands an emblematic figure of Victory, bearing in one hand a laurel wreath and in the other a branch of bay. On the canopy of the car is inscribed the word “Trafalgar,” below it the name “Nile.” It is stated that the glasses were made for the officers of the Victory, each of whom received one in memory of his chief.

The ordinary commemoration glasses made at the time of Nelson’s funeral, and publicly sold as memorials of the event, have on the one side a representation of the funeral car and on the other, encircled by a laurel wreath, the words:

In Memory
of Lord
Nelson
Janʸ 9ᵗʰ 1806

The date is that of the public funeral. These glasses were probably made in considerable numbers, but are now very rare.

Apart, however, from the funeral glasses great numbers of pieces must have been inscribed with his name as a testimony to his popularity and of the public gratitude for his victories.

Miss Wilmer in her book on “Early English Glass” gives an illustration of a tumbler inscribed with the names of Nelson, Duncan, Howe, and St Vincent and the date 1st August 1798, together with various nautical emblems. But, as we have said, the manufacture of commemorative glasses was not confined to occasions of national importance, nor were such glasses dedicated only to national heroes.

Events of very local importance were frequently signalised in this way. Thus one is inscribed “Up to Sowerby Bridge, 1758,” and serves to record certain improvements in the

navigation of the Calder River. A golden fleece which also forms part of the decoration symbolises possibly the commercial advantages likely to accrue thereby. Another commemorates the opening of the Aire to Calder Canal, and bears the inscription, “Success to Trade and Navigation.” Others bear political cries, like a cider glass (Fig. 23) from the Singer Collection. It is characteristically engraved with sprigs of apple blossom and a barrel, presumably of cider. Around the brim is the legend, “No Excise,” a probable reference to the political agitation which followed the attempt of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Francis Dashwood, in 1763 to impose a duty of no less than 4s. a hogshead on cider.

The next glass is from the same collection. It bears a ship engraved upon the bowl, and has a thickly twisted opal stem and slightly waisted sides, which give a peculiar charm to its shape. On it are inscribed the words, “Success to the Eagle Frigate—John Knill, Commander,” which seems to indicate that it was made to commemorate the launch of that vessel. The fine air-twisted goblet, which is the largest in the illustration, belongs to a period somewhere about 1760. The figure depicted is that of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, then our ally and at the zenith of his military glory. It was through his aid that Pitt was enabled to win our colonies of India and America on the battlefields of Europe, and the exhortation to “Keep it up,” which appears on the glass, was evidently the expression of some British sympathiser’s goodwill. Possibly the piece was made to celebrate one of Frederick’s victories.

The other glass has a small portrait with the inscription, “Long live George, Prince of Wales, 1759.” It is beautifully engraved and altogether one of the finest specimens extant.

Fig. 27 illustrates particularly fine and interesting examples of a tankard, a covered jar, and a grog glass—all excellent of their kind. The tankard on the right of the plate is engraved with vine leaves and bunches of grapes, together with marguerites, and inscribed with the names Joseph and Jane Burrows, and was probably a “marriage” or “betrothal” glass.

The goblet with a square base which stands to the left of the plate (Fig. 24) is very quaint. There is a representation of a sailing craft upon

one side, with the inscription, “The Ann and Bessie,” and on the reverse, “James Oddie, Bromley,” probably the name of the owner both of the craft and the goblet, who registered to posterity his pride in the one by means of the other. This glass, I am informed, was the property of the late A. P. Trapnel, Esq., a renowned collector of Bristol porcelain and, though to a less degree, of old glass.

The covered grog pot or jar in the centre of the group is artistically engraved with roses and festoons, with the inscription, “Success to the Britannia, Edmund Eccleston, 1774.”

For the illustrations of several of the above pieces I am indebted to the courtesy of the late Mr J. T. Herbert Bailey. Such examples, which cannot fail to interest the lover of art as well as the collector of antiques, amply testify to the strides which glass manufacture had made in England, and are also useful as indicating the nature of the finds a collector may even yet make in out-of-the-way places, provided he will first take the precaution to acquire such knowledge of the characteristics of old glass as will serve to protect him from being deceived by modern reproductions. One does not, for example, expect to find engraving or cutting on early importations from Venice, or that the glasses made in commemoration of various events invariably bear appropriate inscriptions, by which they may be immediately identified. Sometimes there is a date alone, sometimes a figure or merely initials, and the collector’s imagination and historical knowledge, as well as his expert acquaintance with the qualities of old glass, are all called into play to determine the date and occasion when the specimen was produced.

It need hardly be said that historical and commemorative glass are very widely imitated, the commonest and most plausible of the various forms of deception adopted being, as elsewhere suggested, to engrave some comparatively valueless specimen of real old glass with figures exactly imitating the genuine thing, and so giving it a fictitious value.

CHAPTER V

BRISTOL AND NAILSEA GLASS

Thirty years later the first glass-maker appears on the roll of the city’s freemen. But seven years previously we read that a certain townsman was admitted a freeman of the city upon his undertaking to train a city schoolboy, as his apprentice, in the difficult art of glass “grinding” without the usual premium of £7. But as early as 1666 an order was made by the City Council to the effect that “no stranger or foreigner should presume to open a shop, either with or without glass windows, under a penalty of £5”—a fact which seems to indicate that, although glass windows may still have been a novelty, there existed facilities for their supply if required.

Apart from casual references like these, the history of Bristol glass is entirely obscure. But as the trade returns for the year 1695 show that the duty on glass for that year amounted to £17,642, and that a “drawback” allowed on exported glass amounted in the case of Bristol to no less a sum than £2976, it is pretty clear that by that time the industry in Bristol had assumed very considerable dimensions.

Bristol glass is certainly the most beautiful of all Old English glass, and there is no doubt that many of the fine specimens one sees, both coloured and plain, were actually produced in the factories of that city. The colouring of Bristol glass is exceptionally brilliant, especially its deep blues. The opaque milky-white ware, which is most common, is often “ribbed” with white streaks or ornamented with flowers in colours and gold, or daubed with red, blue, and yellow, or with one of these colours only. Fig. 29 shows specimens of both kinds.

It is a matter for great regret that the factories renowned in early times for the beauty and finish of their output did not maintain their existence for a longer period. The exact date at which the famous opaque ware was made is open to considerable doubt, but the year 1760 cannot be very wide of the mark, for reasons to which I have already referred.

In any case, the records of the city show that in that year its glass furnaces were in full blast. We find recorded in 1715 a bequest of china and glass, and in a long account of a feast given to commemorate the accession of Queen Anne there is included among the expenditure of the corporation an item of £6, 14s. for glasses.

At first glass was extremely costly: the corporation was called upon to pay no less than £4, 16s. for “a glass to be placed in Mr Alderman Laroche’s coach, which was broken at the gaol delivery.” Fine specimens of the glass-worker’s art fetched extremely high prices.

The glass itself was exceedingly brittle and easily broken as compared with other English and Irish glass. It was frequently decorated with enamelled colouring, and many specimens are found with finely curved and twisted handles. It was, in my opinion, the object of the Bristol glass-houses to imitate white porcelain, and, in support of this idea, we find manufactured in Bristol glass such articles as vases, cups and saucers, plates, mugs, and other utensils usually made from porcelain and earthenware.

Of course, the art of manufacturing this opaque white or milky glass was well known abroad. The white glass of Venice, of Orleans, and of Barcelona was already famous. The characteristic feature of its manufacture was the large amount of lead and the small quantity of tin employed as ingredients—quantities altogether out of proportion to those used in the manufacture of ordinary transparent glass.

It is no very difficult task for an enthusiast to find to-day excellent specimens of Bristol ware. Its characteristic features are an extraordinary fineness in colour and texture, coupled with a delicate taste both in hue and form. The ware, too, has a peculiar softness to the touch which is quite characteristic, and provides the amateur collector, once he has recognised it, with an excellent test as to the genuineness of the specimen under consideration. The smaller pieces are often beautifully decorated with painted or enamelled flowers, maidenhair fern, and the like.

The illustrations (Figs. 25-26) give an excellent idea of the kind of decoration adopted by the master craftsmen of Bristol. The designs found upon Bristol glass were also, now and again, copies of those found on Venetian and French pieces. But, generally speaking, the decoration of Bristol glass was entirely English in conception and execution. This is particularly the case where the pieces were made for some special occasion or purpose, as, for example, the commemoration of some event of national importance.

Many examples from the Bristol factories are to be found in the various museums, especially at South Kensington, where in the famous Schrieber Collection are some of the finest examples extant. There is, for example, a “Venetian glass”—purely Bristol, of course, but on a Venetian model, which is reproduced as a frontispiece to this volume—and also a pair of candlesticks beautifully ornamented with butterflies, wild flowers, and leaves. They stand out as most admirable specimens from the Bristol factories.

It is a well-known fact that the Bristol product, so admirable was it in quality and appearance and so closely did it resemble the real Venetian glass, was often passed off as the product of the Venice glass-makers—the pastmasters of the art. Many a collection, ostensibly hailing from Venice, must, on a closer scrutiny, be attributed to a place of origin much nearer home. This form of substitution was particularly prevalent in the case of glass ornamented with white twisted threads and in the case of ruby-coloured glasses and mugs.

Many of the earliest specimens were left “raw” at the base, and if the finger be drawn across the ends the existence of sharp edges will become apparent. This is a test of reasonably good value, as I have found on more than one occasion when I have been in doubt. Also, and with the smaller pieces in particular, it was almost universal with the Bristol manufacturer to leave untouched the “mark” or place where the piece was nipped from the blower’s tube. Modern reproductions, whilst faithfully observing and imitating all the beauties of the model, have generally their bases perfectly smooth. Even where the “mark” has been imitated to give an added air of verisimilitude to the specimen, the thing has been overdone, and that so

awkwardly as inevitably to lead to detection. Sometimes, too, in the imitation, the colours used to produce the milky-white tone cease abruptly, leaving the “mark” perfectly transparent. In genuine old Bristol the colour fades gradually, leaving only the very tip of the “mark” clear.

Another good test is to place the specimen in a strong light, preferably sunlight. If, when examined, the colour is mixed, the piece is of doubtful authenticity. Spurious specimens often run “cloudy” or patchy, possibly because of bad mixing. This is, of course, a useful test, provided one does not rely upon it entirely, for certain specimens of undoubted authenticity display somewhat similar features. In particular, I remember an old drinking flask marked with irregular streaks of white, where this test would have proved absolutely misleading. Possibly the “feel” of the glass is the best criterion, genuine old Bristol being much softer to the touch than any modern imitation.

So many pitfalls await the average collector of Bristol glass that I should hardly advise anyone to make this his sole hobby, for although it is still possible to find small pieces—cups, salt-cellars, small bowls, finger basins, mugs, and the like—the really important pieces of Bristol glass are few, and they and their owners are pretty well known to the cognoscenti. At any rate I have not met anyone, in recent years, who could boast of a considerable find in this direction.

A very fine specimen, described as “Old Bristol, 1760,” was put up for sale some eighteen months ago, near London. Its genuineness was further guaranteed by a label pasted on the base, showing that it had passed through a well-known London auction-room. The owner, a dealer in a small way, failing to find a customer in London, had put it into the sale of the effects of a cottage. It was bought in by its owner for £3, 3s., and eventually at the end of the day realised only 36s. I saw the piece subsequently. It was obviously a reproduction, though a very good one, and certainly worth what was given for it; but as he had purchased it as real old glass, and at a proportionate figure, it will, I fancy, be a long time before he again endeavours to secure a bargain in Old Bristol. I have known many such instances, and as a result of my experience I have come

to the conclusion that, while pieces of Bristol can be picked up now and again, particularly in the west of England, it will not pay the amateur collector to confine himself to this particular variety.

I am indebted to Mr Cole of South Molton Street, London, for the illustration (Fig. 26) of a pair of very fine early Bristol vases which, although undecorated, are exquisite in colour and form, and a beautiful example of the maker’s art. The frilling round the base deserves special notice.

The central piece in the photograph is a long-necked vase decorated with coloured enamels, and known to be the work of Michael Edkin, a Bristol enameller of distinction. If carefully examined, it affords ample evidence of the skill and painstaking care to which the best specimens of this ware owe their artistic merit.

Spiral wine glasses are still often to be found in or near Bristol, and the fact that these are rarely found in other parts of the country seems to indicate that they were a favourite form with the Bristol glass-makers. Among the examples of Bristol ware here reproduced (Fig. 27) is included a pair of vases. These rank among the finest specimens still extant of Michael Edkin’s work. This talented artist was a painter of some merit, who gradually drifted into glass painting, and for some twenty-six years, from 1762 to 1788, was engaged by various firms to decorate their ware with birds, flowers, etc. He was also, it may be added, a singer and an actor of no little distinction.

Fig. 26 shows a pair of candlesticks, 6½ inches in height, from the British Museum Collection. They are excellent examples of Edkin’s taste and delicacy of execution. Great quantities of glass decorated by him must have been exported, and I have found undoubted specimens of his work in Rome and the museums of other Continental cities I have visited. One of the very finest specimens of his art is a richly gilt and decorated tea-tray, now in the Museum of Practical Geology. Another example from the British Museum Collection is the fine mug, ornamented with a portrait and the word “Liberty” in gold, possibly made by some sympathiser with the revolutionary spirit which strongly affected Britain as well as France towards the close of the eighteenth century.

Edkin also decorated many blue ground pieces, and it is interesting to learn that his remuneration for the ornamentation of a jug in colour and gilt, which must have taken a considerable time, was the lordly sum of 8d., a striking commentary upon the value placed upon skilled craftsmanship in the eighteenth century. Like many other artists he had to be content with the posthumous reward which fame bestows.

The Bristol factories are said to have made all sorts of articles, flasks, bells, walking-sticks, bellows, etc., in glass, but there is much uncertainty on this head, and I doubt if the greater part of such articles classified as coming from Bristol should not, as a matter of fact, claim Nailsea as their place of origin. We can certainly ascribe oil, vinegar, and pepper pots, candlesticks, salt-cellars, and vases to Bristol, as the daintily decorated pepper and sugar castors, shown in Fig. 27, prove, so that it is at least possible for the other articles enumerated also to have been made there, but where there is so much uncertainty, the collector who desires to be on the safe side had better refrain from giving Bristol the benefit of the doubt.

It must not be inferred, however, that all Bristol glass is of the opaque kind. The magnificent piece shown in the frontispiece is quite transparent, the apparent opacity of the background of the landscape being due to enamel laid on the glass. The fine decanter reproduced in Fig. 25 is also an example of what Bristol could do in transparent glass, the decoration, here again, being in enamel.

Nailsea Glass.—The glass-works of Nailsea were established in 1788, a few miles to the south-west of Bristol, and were, for some time, carried on with success; but the ware was crude and lacking in the finish characteristic of the best Bristol specimens. The earliest pieces were made of yellowish or dark green glass, with blotches of white, as in the jug shown in Fig. 28. They were usually very inferior in style, colour, texture, and workmanship, and were consequently not greatly sought after by purchasers; hence the output was restricted, and the factory after a while seems to have confined its efforts to producing plain white glass with quaint and curious forms of decoration. A pair of bellows, for example, was decorated like the fins of a fish, with tiny projections and spines all over it. Towards the

end of its career, which closed in 1763, the output was a clear glass of greenish tint, with faintly coloured streaks. Fig. 29 is a characteristic example. I have also seen a few pieces gilt. The glass is now exceedingly scarce, and good specimens command a very high price. There is a curious charm about Nailsea glass. In appearance, the best specimens are of a dark toffee-like colour, and when held up to a strong light exhibit a greenish tinge. The lighter and finer kinds display a characteristic ground which, if not beautiful, is certainly quaint. Collectors who are fortunate enough to come across a specimen of Nailsea at a reasonable figure should undoubtedly seize the opportunity of acquiring it, but such opportunities are few and, were they more numerous, it is hardly likely that anyone would wish to form a large collection of it. The “Simpson” Jug, illustrated in Fig. 28, is transparent, but of a curious yellowish-green tinge, and is probably one of the last pieces produced at the old factory.

CHAPTER VI

IRISH GLASS—CORK AND WATERFORD

The finest examples of the earliest period are to be found in the Royal Irish Antiquities

Collection, which includes the famous Ardagh Chalice, the Tara Brooch, the Cross of Cong, and the Crozier of Clonmacnoise, as well as other well-known and interesting exhibits. At any rate, experts are agreed that even at this early date the art of enamelling on glass was practised in Ireland, being probably introduced by the Phœnicians who, in turn, had acquired the art from Ancient Egypt. In support of this belief is the fact that a large piece of red enamelled glass was found in the Rath of Caílchon on Tara Hill; but it is equally clear that the art of glass-making, if introduced at the time mentioned, speedily fell into desuetude, for there is no mention of any manufacture of glass between the ninth and the seventeenth centuries, nor are there to be found any specimens which may be attributed to this period. There are, further, no traces of the manufacture even of window glass of the commonest description.

In the seventeenth century, however, there were many interesting squabbles with regard to glass-making patents and their infringement, and there are records of petitions to the King concerning them; but from the Patent Roll of King James I. it appears that little was done. Still, we have it on record that permission was given to import glass in 1675, and it is suggested that craftsmen in Ireland attempted to imitate the work of Continental glass-workers, and various sums of money were granted by the Universities and others interested, to assist them in so doing. Some progress undoubtedly was made, for it is clear that by the eighteenth century factories were in existence and glass was being actually made in Dublin, Waterford, Cork, Belfast, and Londonderry.

Some examples of early Waterford glass are, as far as shape and size go, replicas of glasses made in England at about the same period, but the reason for the almost immediate popularity of the Irish glass was its perfection of colour. A fine specimen which recently came under my notice is a preserve jar with cover (Fig. 30), about 18 inches in height, handsomely cut and shaped, with a square base and a fine spiked cover. It is undoubtedly one of the finest examples of early Waterford glass which it has been my privilege to inspect.

Genuine Waterford glass is characterised by a peculiar bluish tint in its body—due, it is generally recognised, to the presence of lead—but

attributed by some to some peculiar quality of the flint employed, which was obtained from pits in the vicinity. Personally, I lean to the former hypothesis. Cork glass, on the other hand, is distinguishable by a pale yellow or amber tint—in all probability the result of the presence of iron. These tones are characteristic, for though the colouring of glass has been brought by modern workers to a fine art, yet no one has succeeded in exactly reproducing them so that, to the expert eye, the genuine old Irish glass is unmistakable.

About the year 1753 the Dublin Society offered a premium for the establishment of a glass factory in County Cork. There seems, however, to have been some reluctance in taking advantage of the offer, for it was not until 1782 that the first glass factory was established there. Then Atwell Hayes, Thomas Burnett and Francis Richard Rowe demanded assistance from Parliament in carrying on the industry. They proposed to erect two houses, one for bottles and one for window glass and, from their advertisements appearing shortly after in the Irish papers, offering to sell glass at their manufactory, and guaranteeing satisfaction, it would appear that their venture met with considerable success.

From 1780 onward Cork exported a good deal of glass. In the year 1801 alone, the considerable number of 111,000 drinking glasses was sent to America, Portugal, and various other places abroad, while in the next year there is record of 6129 dozen bottles and 40,000 drinking glasses being shipped abroad, which indicates a considerable output.

The trouble involved in founding such an industry in those days must have been considerable. In this case, two years were taken up in procuring the necessary concessions, but the industry, once started, took firm root, and the advertisements appearing in the Press—in particular, The Hibernian Chronicle (May 1784) and The Cork New Evening Post (1792), copies of which are preserved in the Museum of Dublin Antiquities, indicate what progress it was making and, incidentally, possess a curious interest from their quaint wording and setting forth.

The following is an example:—

In style, as we have already said, Waterford glass closely approximates to Old English of the Georgian period. If anything, however, the cutting was deeper, the angles and spikes being often so sharp as to make it dangerous to grasp the pieces tightly.

Numerous table services of glass of this period exist, as well as decanters, punch bowls, and dishes. All are deeply cut, the chief designs being the hobnail and diamond patterns. Sometimes we find fluted stems and finely cut spiked or striped sides. The majority of the larger pieces, such as the punch and salad bowls, had square feet or bases which, while possibly adding to their stability, certainly enhanced the beauty of their appearance. The salad bowl shown on the left of Fig. 31 is an excellent example: the collar or turn-over at the rim is remarkable for its depth and also for its superb cutting. The bowl on the right is a remarkable specimen of very uncommon type. It is oval in shape—a shape not easily blown even at the present time—and has facet cutting upon the outside as well as a particularly fine cut scalloped edging. The base, too, is in admirable keeping with the rest of the design.

Fig. 32 is another particularly fine piece of Waterford glass, worthy of note as an example of hobnail cutting, as well as for the depth of its collar and its general effectiveness.

The celery bowls shown in Fig. 31 are also admirable specimens. That on the left is waisted and is “strawberry” cut. The centre one is an example of fine fluted and diamond cutting, with a square base and domed foot, and the one on the right has a collar and is flat cut on the middle of the bowl.

Oval or oblong dishes for fruit or sweetmeats were often made with fan-shaped rims and sides, high in the centre, then sloping downwards, to rise again to an equal height at the ends. Old Irish cut-glass salt-cellars are greatly sought after nowadays for the dinner-table, and have,