with collectors, almost completely ousted the old Georgian silver “salts.” They were often exquisite in design and shape, some being miniature models of the large punch bowls or sweetmeat glasses. The illustration (Fig. 14) is of an imitation pair in Old Sheffield stands.
The water jugs also are of exceptional interest. They were usually shaped on a fine and graceful model, and are heavily cut into step or deep-ringed incisions generally with massive ornamentations of leaves or panel cuttings round the neck, and diamond cuttings and flat fluting at the base. So eager, indeed, were certain of the designers to ensure that no part of the jug should be without its ornamentation, that they went so far as to adorn the handles with deep cutting inside, and placed a huge, deeply cut star on the outside bottom. Weighty substance and wealth of ornament are thus characteristic of Waterford glass, although it is, of course, impossible to say that all Irish glass displaying these qualities came from the Waterford houses.
The jugs illustrated in Fig. 30 are among the finest specimens in existence, and are from the Dublin Museum Collection. A careful inspection will reveal most of the characteristics to which we have referred. The figure on the left is the type most familiar nowadays; the neck is step cut, the body is “strawberry,” and the base is flat fluted. The centre piece is a jug of the earliest shape, and is curiously cut. A band of strawberry cutting round the widest part of the body is flanked top and bottom by bands of leaf cutting; the lip seems so disproportionately large as to give the piece an almost top-heavy appearance. The handle, too, is abnormally large, and is incised on the inside. Its interest is rather more historical than artistic. The third, on the right, is a fine example of flat cutting, the rim being scalloped and the handle deeply scored with “niches,” besides being lavishly ornamented. The base is curious in that it is domed—a very unusual form for a jug.
Many of the Waterford pieces, especially the preserve jars with turn-over collars, were made with covers to protect the upper rim. These are very attractive pieces, and are found in all shapes and sizes. The smaller ones, both with and without collars, are exceedingly pretty and not difficult to acquire.
The four shown in Fig. 33 give an excellent idea of what to expect. Each is distinct, both
as regards design and ornamentation. It will be interesting for the reader to compare them and discover the characteristic features of each.
The decanters which came into vogue in the eighteenth century display the same general character and are very similar in type to the English decanters of the same date. Three of them are shown in Fig. 34, and it may be of service to compare them with the four shown in Fig. 14. The stopper of the central one is of the button type, those of the other two being of the more common “mushroom” variety.
The beautiful pair shown in Fig. 35 deserve a word of special mention. One feature is the lavish use of step cutting round the neck and shoulders, and another the strawberry empanelment on the body. The fine diamond cutting and fluting of the stoppers are also worthy of notice.
Drinking glasses, as we have said, were produced in large numbers. They are generally of two types, the one barrel or bowl shaped after the fashion of our English rummers, the other straight-sided glasses on stems. The specimens shown in Fig. 12 give some idea of their general style as well as of the variety of ornament employed.
It may be well to point out here, for the benefit of those who desire to acquire specimens of Waterford glass, some of the many differences which may be detected between the genuine article and its modern imitation.
To begin with a simple example—the prettily shaped wine glasses of the period with air-threaded or twisted stems are generally reproduced accurately enough, but the twist or thread in the old glass has a pronounced milky appearance as compared with the dead white of the modern reproduction. The twist also is not so regular and even, and the feet are larger and apparently slightly clumsier in the authentic specimens. Numerous connoisseurs attach importance to the centre of the foot, which is usually rough and uneven in the old glass. Another test frequently relied upon by collectors is the fact of the foot being turned over—a fashion which, it is said, was followed only with the earliest specimens. While, however, this may provide corroborative evidence, I should be sorry to rely upon it as a sole test.
Probably the best criterion of all is the colour. It has, as I have already noted, a dull bluish tinge readily recognisable when the specimen is
held up to the light. The better kinds, too, have almost invariably a large and deep-cut star on the bottom.
Cork glass is rarer than Waterford—a result due to the fact that the Cork factories were in existence only for a comparatively short time. The pieces, too, are slighter, less heavy, and by no means so deeply cut. It is much frailer in appearance and, at the first glance, less attractive; but its great beauty is a charming delicacy both of colour and form which grows upon one’s taste. The wine glasses in particular would at once appeal to a connoisseur from this point of view alone. The three decanters shown in Fig. 34 need only be compared with the Waterford decanters shown elsewhere for the lack of heavy cutting to be immediately noticed. The centre one is interesting as being a commemoration piece probably made in the year when the Cork Yeomanry was formed.
Irish glass was not unfrequently profusely engraved and gilt. The gilding was done during manufacture, the gold being burnt in by the aid of borax. In existing specimens much of the gilding has been worn off, so that only traces remain. In cases where it has disappeared entirely a careful scrutiny will show pits and roughnesses, indicating where the decoration formerly stood. Sometimes the places can even be discerned by the touch. Dutch, German, and Austrian reproductions have from time to time flooded the market to be sold to the unwary collector as veritable specimens of Irish art. But these on examination are found to be, as a rule, so coarse and unfinished in their execution that the fraud is obvious. The gilding, in particular, is far inferior to the work of the old craftsmen, who were guided solely by the artist’s desire for perfection, irrespective of toil or cost.
Now and again specimens of Irish moulded glass crop up. These are chiefly pint and half-pint beer glasses with fluted sides and somewhat sparse engraving. The moulded glass is, of course, easily detected since the edges of the fluting are rounded and blunt. The pieces themselves are usually absurdly light if intended for Cork glass, or clumsily heavy if they are intended to pass for the Waterford variety.
A large field, therefore, opens to the average collector of Irish glass. It is wonderfully fine and not too difficult to obtain. Many collectors
too, in their desire to acquire only the earliest specimens, overlook the cut glass altogether as too modern. In spite of this Irish cut glass is now more valuable and far more sought after than any other. After exhaustive inquiries I am satisfied that in Ireland, England, France, and the United States specimens of genuine Irish glass are still to be found, often in the most unlikely places—the property of persons who could not be expected to know their value and of others who ought to but do not.
A little personal experience may be worth repeating here. I was in a small, dilapidated general shop near the London Docks; the shopkeeper, fancying he detected in me a possible victim, drew my attention to a pair of celery glasses and began to descant upon their age, the difference between them and Cork or Bristol glass, and so on. After I had examined them carefully and satisfied myself that they were genuine—they were about 10 in. high with a very thin herring-bone cutting upon their flat-cut sides—I asked the price, which was absurdly high; then, disclosing my identity, I asked what he would say if I told him they were not genuine but only reproductions. To my utter astonishment, he exclaimed that he “must have been done.” The price—“if they were any use to me”—dropped considerably. Then I told him they were genuine, and sent a friend of mine, who is a collector, to purchase them, but not without the man endeavouring to obtain a price which was not only far above what he had asked me but considerably above the real value of the articles.
I record this episode for the benefit of my readers who may be tempted to depend upon the seller’s opinion for a guarantee of the genuineness of their “finds.” Speaking generally, the ordinary shopkeeper’s knowledge is of the most superficial type and should never be relied upon, while, of course, his interest lies entirely in one direction.
Research fails to throw much light upon the glass factory of Londonderry, nor is it easy to find pieces bearing indisputable proof of their origin. But it is a fact that in 1820 one John Moore transformed a sugar establishment in that city into a glass factory and, with his son, carried on the manufacture until 1825. Then a prohibitive duty stopped it. It is possible that only the black ale bottles were manufactured there. As for the glass exported from Londonderry to America, it is difficult to determine whether it was manufactured in that city or merely exported thence. The latter is the more probable, since by the Act of 1746 a duty of 9s. 4d. was imposed on every cwt. of material used in making Crown plate, flint, and white glass in Ireland, as against a duty of 2s. 4d. per cwt. in England, from which it will appear that Ireland in those days had no great incentive to manufacture glass in opposition to England.
It is almost impossible to obtain authentic examples of the work of individual Irish factories. Nor can one state with any degree of certainty that a certain pattern, cutting, or style is identified with any one factory or another. Both the Waterford and Cork glass firms came from England, and brought with them English workmen. Hence it is pretty certain that the designs and styles adopted by them were replicas of those utilised in England, and not peculiar to Ireland or copies of ancient Irish relics. So, too, with the ornamentation.
Possibly some of the earliest Waterford glass was gilt, for in 1784 one John Grohl obtained a concession for this purpose. A native of Saxony, he probably brought with him the secret of his art, for the “disclosure” of which he and a certain John Hand were rewarded by the Dublin Society. The finest diamond cutting, strawberry cutting, and flat fluting were done at Waterford; but pieces were not always cut at their place of manufacture. Thus we hear of a Waterford dish going to Cork for ornamentation with the characteristic designs of the factories there. The cutters, too, had often to decorate their pieces to the purchaser’s taste.
There seems to have been little coloured glass made in Ireland, although specimens are not unfrequently offered for sale. The writer was offered recently, on the Continent, some “Old Irish glass” of perfect colouring—deep blue, red, and yellow, with fine heavy cutting—but the lightness of the pieces proved them modern, probably from some Dutch factory.
In concluding this chapter a word may be given to Scottish glass, which is very like Irish in texture, although its existence is commonly ignored by collectors and writers alike. As an industry glass-making was, of course, of little importance in Scotland, but it is interesting to learn that in the reign of James VI., John Maria dell’ Aqua of Venice was appointed Master of the Glass-Works in Scotland. The famous liqueur glass shaped like the flower of the thistle was probably from a Bohemian original. It is heavily cut, with an acorn bottom upon a round stem, and reproductions can be seen in almost every shop window that displays glass. Early examples are difficult to obtain and their genuineness equally difficult to guarantee. It is assumed that many of the Jacobite glasses were manufactured in the Scottish factories. Secrecy being absolutely essential, it is hardly necessary to state that no authentic records of production are to be found.
The courtesy of the authorities of the Dublin Museum has enabled me to add another, and, from a collector’s point of view, a most interesting, section on the subject of Irish glass.
The museum possesses one of the finest collections of Old Irish glass in existence, many pieces from which are reproduced in the illustrations to this chapter. These illustrations are of pieces as nearly perfect as it is possible to obtain, and are therefore useful in enabling the collector to form a standard as regards this particular form of glass.
The three decanters illustrated in Fig. 34 are undoubtedly Cork glass. Apart from the fact that the centre one bears an inscription, “Success to Cork Yeomen,” which seems to indicate that it was made about the time the Irish Brigade was being raised—early in the nineteenth century—it bears all the distinctive characteristics of the Cork factories.
The drinking glasses (Fig. 12) are also undoubtedly Irish, of about the same period, and probably came from Waterford. The reader should carefully note the cutting of the two end pieces; they are of totally different types, each being perfect in its own style. That on the left has the hobnail cutting common in England about the time when the Irish factories were first established. It was probably imitated from an English model or made by one of the English craftsmen who were largely responsible for the introduction of glass manufacture into Ireland.
The end glass on the right-hand side is an excellent example of the grace, beauty, and simplicity associated with the best Waterford pieces; its flat-cut sides are characteristic of its place of origin. I have occasionally seen similar specimens in London, and they have always appealed to me as the most perfect examples of the Irish drinking glass of the eighteenth century. The other two specimens are of the same type as the English rummers or punch glasses; they are prettily engraved, and make an effective contrast to the other glasses of the same period.
Irish cut-glass decanters and stoppers, such as the specimens illustrated in Fig. 34, are not difficult to find nowadays if one is expert enough and careful enough to avoid the many imitations that exist. High prices are demanded for genuine pieces in which the cutting and colour are good, and which satisfy the tests by which the connoisseur judges the antiquity of his finds.
The centre decanter has a finger-fluted base, and the length of the neck makes it an unusual specimen. Possibly the idea was to enable it to be more easily grasped and held when full; but the design is undoubtedly graceful, and this is one point which the amateur collector should never ignore when seeking to make a worthy collection. It is well to bear in mind both artistic merit and intrinsic worth.
Two other fine early specimens of Waterford glass are illustrated in Fig. 31. The “collared” or turn-over flower bowl is a fine example of eighteenth-century work. The cutting, it will be seen, is entirely different from that of the piece on the right; for whereas the latter is entirely flat cut, with the exception of its finely scalloped edges in the former, the whole design is finished in the “fluted” style. In both, as in most pieces of the kind and period, the “dome” or hollow foot is found.
The large glass dish on a stand on the other side is almost unique. Such pieces are very difficult to find in their entirety; indeed, the only other existing, to my knowledge, is in the Marquis of Bute’s collection. Perfect specimens are hardly obtainable now except when a fine collection is dispersed at the death of its owner. Even then, as all such notable pieces are well known to collectors, the competition for them is very keen, and the private buyer, unless his purse is of the “bottomless” kind, is hardly likely to obtain them. Occasionally one may, by happy accident, come across a really fine piece in some unexpected quarter, but such chances are few and far between. Moreover, there is always between the finder and his find the spectre of the fake merchant, whose wont it is to plant his most seductive wares in out-of-the-way places, so as to give them a fictitious appearance of genuineness. No important piece should ever be purchased without an inquiry into its history. It ought to be possible in every such case to discover sufficient as to its origin and former ownership to place its bona fides beyond doubt; if not, it is best to let the apparent bargain go.
I remember, not many years ago, waiting upon a lady in a very ordinary house in a London suburb. She had replied to an advertisement in which I had offered to purchase old glass. A glance was sufficient to show me that her collection contained nothing likely to appeal to my taste. Yet I did have a find; for she had, in addition to what I saw at first, two dishes somewhat similar in shape to a large fruit dish, but with the cipher C.R. cut upon each (Fig. 36). These were actually made and presented to Queen Charlotte on a visit which Her Majesty paid to some glass-works during a tour in Ireland. Their authenticity was guaranteed by a letter from an old tutor of the Queen relating the circumstances and handing down the pieces as a relic. The owner asked £15 for them. Needless to say, they changed hands, only to do so again shortly after, and this time at the enhanced and respectable figure of fifty-five guineas. In spite of their beauty and their apparent air of genuine antiquity, I should have hesitated to purchase them but for the additional evidence afforded by the letter. One cannot be too careful.
The sweetmeat glasses (Fig. 11) are particularly fine of their kind. Each has its individuality: the one has an opal-twisted stem with a “dome” foot and a finely cut edge, whilst the other displays some exquisite cutting both on the upper part and the base. These, again, are uncommon pieces, not to be met with every day nor easily procured when met. Still, they make a more frequent appearance at sales than the larger pieces. A more ordinary variety is not so high and has flat sides and cutting. A genuine specimen, though, is not to be despised, but the type is one very freely imitated.
Some fine celery bowls of the same period are worthy of note. They are excellent specimens of the art of glass-cutting both as regards design and finish, and they are somewhat rare. As much as seven or eight guineas was recently asked in the West End of London for a
plain example with a slight herring-bone cutting. It was certainly genuine, but was hardly a supreme specimen of the decorative cutter’s art. The price, however, will give some idea of what would be asked for such superb specimens as those reproduced in the photograph.
The Old Irish water jugs shown in Fig. 30 are of the earliest type. That on the left is the pattern most often seen and most generally copied; in fact, during the Early Victorian era most jugs were of this design. It, however, originated in the Irish factories.
The centre piece, as well as the jug on the right, are both rare; possibly the style was not often repeated. Certainly the tremendous handle placed upon the centre one gives it a most clumsy appearance, while, in regard to the one on the right, one cannot help feeling there is something wanting at the base. They were improved upon towards the middle of the nineteenth century, when smaller handles and firmer bases were added to the design.
It is curious to note how in this kind of glass the strawberry, or flat, square style of cutting, prevails. Traces of it appear upon almost every article, so that it was evidently a favourite form of decoration, and was possibly regarded as a relief from the flat, scalloped, or slip cutting then in vogue.
On the plate (Fig. 33) there are examples of sugar basins or bowls, in which the cutting is of the same kind, save that the specimen on the right is “flat” cut, with cut steps. This variety is particularly rare, and consequently highly prized among collectors. They are usually of stout, heavy glass, the cutting being very deep and the edges of the “flats” sharp. These traits will, of course, not help the collector to discriminate between the veritable antique and its modern replica. But it should be borne in mind that the modern is invariably more brilliant, has a whitish look, and is “cleaner” in every detail than the real glass of this period.
It may be mentioned that the centre bowl, although particularly attractive, is by no means so rare as other specimens figured in this chapter. Indeed, pieces of this character and design are frequently to be procured. Still, a genuine piece is well worth the collector’s attention.
The same plate (Fig. 33) illustrates some rare pickle or jam jars, displaying among them all the principal cuttings then in vogue. The end one on the right is the only exception, having an engraved ornamentation. These specimens are frequently copied, but originals are still to be obtained.
The Cork houses, the product of which was finer and slighter than other Irish glass, turned out a great quantity of these. Prices run from six guineas upwards. They are copied in great number in Holland, often in small sizes and with flat cutting, so that care must be taken in choosing. Unfortunately the distinctive features—design, colour, and shape—all readily lend themselves to reproduction and, with increasing skill in imitation, make it exceedingly difficult to determine between the true and the false.
HITHERTO we have confined our attention to what one may term the legitimate drinking glass in its different varieties. But there were many freak glasses and curious objects made of glass by our forefathers, and these have a special fascination for lovers of the antique. In some cases they appeal because of their quaintness and bizarrerie of form, in others because of their purpose, while other examples have little to commend them save their antiquity.
One curious specimen which I came across not long ago was a flask in the shape of a pair of bellows. The nozzle was closed by a cork, and there was a hole in one handle of the bellows by which it might be suspended from a nail in the wall. It was probably employed by some ancient apothecary or alchemist to hold drugs. I should hardly care to dogmatise as to its period, but it was unmistakably of English origin, and certainly quaint and interesting enough to be worth acquiring.
Among the commoner “finds” of this kind are the glass paper weights, made with, apparently, a bunch of flowers inside, which is visible when viewed laterally and disappears on a vertical view, when the observer sees nothing but clear glass. I have seen many examples of this kind on sale in shop windows in London, and the price asked is usually modest enough even for a good specimen.
In olden times it was customary to place names and dates upon the bottles which held the best ale. Many of these are still in existence, mostly, however, in collections. They are certainly by no means beautiful as far as appearance goes, their interest being centred upon the date, and upon the fact that the practice has now been obsolete for many years. To a casual eye these ale bottles appear black, but if held up to a strong light a greenish tinge is plainly marked. They are very stout and amazingly tough, so that they may even be dropped upon the ground without fear of breaking or chipping. This, by the way, is often put forward by experts as the best test of their genuineness. The test is, however, something on the drastic side. Moreover, dropping other people’s bottles to test their bona fides is a practice hardly likely to commend itself to the seller, and one which might prove unexpectedly costly to the connoisseur.
There are many other objects made in glass which are worthy of note—knife-rests, rolling-pins, walking-sticks, quaintly shaped jugs, baskets, forks, bells and horns.
The knife-rests often assume most curious forms. A not unfrequent type was that of a hound running at full stretch, fore and hind legs widely extended, and the body coloured to nature. Salt-cellars, too, were made, like the paper weights before mentioned, with sprays of flowers inside. These were made in two pieces, which were fused together after the flowers, painted on paper or thin canvas, had been placed between them.
Small glasses made in the form of flowers or their petals, and glass buttons and beads decorated (sic) with faces, names, dates, initials, etc., are other examples of freakwork in glass which the amateur should be glad to acquire.
Possibly one, more fortunate than his fellows, may chance across a “toddy-lifter.” At first sight this bears a distinct resemblance to a tiny decanter; on examination, however, it will be found to be without either bottom or stopper.
The toddy-lifter, as its name implies, was used instead of a ladle for filling glasses with punch or toddy from the bowl. The open bell of the lifter was dipped into the liquid and at once filled. Then the opening at the top was closed by the finger and the “lifter” raised out of the bowl, the contents being retained in it by atmospheric pressure until the finger was removed from the top, when the contents were discharged into the consumer’s glass. One would imagine that a ladle would prove equally useful and more convenient. Possibly, however, the fact that the toddy-lifter never spilt a drop of its contents, however unsteady the hand that held it, was not without its advantages in a hard-drinking age. Similar pieces of Scottish origin may be found. These are usually more club-shaped, and are even rarer than the English examples.
None of the foregoing pieces is particularly difficult to acquire, and it is comparatively easy, therefore, to form an adequate collection of really fine specimens. By fine I do not, of course, mean rare or exceptional pieces, but specimens of sterling merit of which the collector may be proud and which are likely to increase in value. They are mostly in the hands of people who have no conception of their merits, either pecuniary or artistic.
A few years ago I found in an old book shop quite a collection of old Bristol glass paper weights. The fact that each bore upon it a view of some object or place of interest in Bristol or its environs should have furnished a direct clue to their identity. One particularly fine specimen was used as the lid of an old glass ink-pot. Its owner readily parted with it as a thing of no value, for a few pence. But it may interest the budding collector—no less than its late owner should he by chance read these lines—to learn that the purchaser resold it shortly after for a very respectable sum to someone more appreciative of its merits.
Freak glasses proper include yards and half-yards, boots, cocked hats, frog glasses, and trick glasses designed to send their contents anywhere but in the direction which the would-be consumer intended.
The yards and half-yards are great curiosities; they resemble nothing so much as a coaching horn in shape and size. There are two kinds, the one the genuine old Cambridge ale-yards, and the other trick glasses which had the knack when partially emptied of suddenly expelling the remainder of their contents with a splash into the drinker’s face, to his great discomfiture and the huge delight of the onlookers, who had probably arranged the whole thing for the benefit of some innocent person.
Unfortunately, in the sudden start with which the drinker received the unexpected disposition of the contents of his glass, the vessel itself was so frequently damaged that specimens of ale-yards are very difficult to obtain. It will be noticed that in our illustration (Fig. 37) the specimen is cracked near its mouth. It need hardly be said that any collector who is fortunate enough to obtain an example in reasonably good condition may esteem himself fortunate.
As to the reason of the sudden emptying I cannot do better than quote from Mr Hartshorne, an old friend and the greatest authority on Old English glass.
“The trick yard glass arose from the knob at the end of the footless one. It was found that on expanding into a bulb the ‘knob’ or ‘knot,’ the difficulty of emptying the vessel was greatly increased, because when this feat was nearly accomplished the air passed down the tube into the bulb and caused the remainder of the contents to fly into the face of the drinker.”
This was by no means an uncommon occurrence in wayside inns of the seventeenth century, the spectators often betting upon the result.
At the annual “Vinis” of the Mock Corporation of Hanley, Staffs, the initiation of a member included the drinking of a yard of port, while the freeman of Stoke-on-Trent had as a preliminary to admission to dispose of a yard of ale.
To “floor the long glass” at Eton is also an accomplishment which many never achieve.
I have seen many fine specimens, notably one belonging to my old friend, Mr John George Mortlock of Cambridge; but it is rare to find them undamaged, the involuntary jerk of the victim who finds the liquid splashing into his face being usually fatal to the unwieldy glass.
Another similar example is furnished by such glasses as that shown in Fig. 37. On the one side it is marked “King,” on the other “Tinker.” The “innocent” invited to drink was asked to choose from which side he would drink, and, prompted by loyalty, vanity, or pure folly, he was almost certain to drink with the king rather than the tinker. But artfully concealed in the band of decoration round the rim was a series of small holes, through which, when the glass was tilted, the liquor ran, soaking the drinker’s waistcoat instead of finding its way down his throat.
Possibly the old coaching glasses may fitly find a place in this connection. They are without feet, the stem ending in a bulb which was often cut. When, in the old coaching days, the vehicle pulled up at a wayside inn, the landlord brought out his tray with the glasses inverted upon it. They were filled from the bottle and emptied at once—the idea being that as the drink would have to be consumed at once, there was no need to make the glass so that it could be set down while the liquor was only partly consumed. These are now rare, and to discover one would be a great achievement for the ordinary collector.
One may also mention the singing glasses, which were made to vibrate to a certain musical note, and so would repeat the note when sounded or sung, just as the string of a piano or violin will do. This, of course, was a great mystery to unscientific persons, but is susceptible of a very simple explanation. Evelyn was greatly puzzled over the phenomenon. Certain glasses, he remarked, “made an echo to the voice, but were so thin that the very breath broke them.” The fact is, of course, that the glass broke through the intensity of its own vibration, just as a pane of glass in a church window will sometimes break when the organ is used. The note played having the same period of vibration as the pane of glass, the latter vibrates in unison with it, and if the note is continued for sufficiently long, the vibration becomes so intense as to break the pane. It is for an exactly similar reason that a regiment of soldiers breaks step when marching over a bridge, for fear that the rhythm of the march might chance to coincide with the period of vibration of the bridge, and so set up rhythmic movements which might weaken the structure.
Such glasses are distantly allied to the musical glasses which, when filled up to a certain point, produce a musical note when the bowl is thrown into vibration by the finger or a violin bow. By filling such glasses to different heights, it is possible to produce a complete scale, and so to play any desired tune.
Other freak glasses take the form of boots—some of these are quite elaborate, the lacing being imitated in glass-work, as also were spurs, straps, etc. The “boot” glass used to express the popular execration of Lord Bute has been already referred to in the chapter on Commemorative Glasses. Then there are cocked hats, various birds and beasts, all highly inconvenient for the purpose for which a glass is intended, but all associated with some idea, family crest, or particular superstition. There are glasses from which, though apparently full, it is impossible to drink; there are others, with tiny electric bulbs in the base, which light up on the pressure of a button, irradiating the contents with a glow of light and adding I know not what meretricious attraction to the contents. These, I need hardly say, are modern, and have no real place among Old English glass. One I remember was formed at the base into the semblance of an eye, with the legend “Eye-water,” a description of the probable contents, which, it is to be feared, was borne out neither by their destination nor their character—unless, indeed, they were of so potent a nature as to bring the water into the bibber’s eyes.
Another curious example had engraved upon the inside of the bottom the figure of the gallows-tree, with its ghastly fruit, and the grim legend “The last drop.” Whether the maker was a humorist or a temperance reformer anxious to point his moral in the most effective way, I am unable to decide.
Somewhat similar are the glasses which have a frog or a snake at the bottom, possibly with the idea of giving a mild surprise. There are many other varieties. Indeed, the production of freak glasses was only limited by the imagination of the time that produced them, and by its capacity for amusement, and had no relation to taste. They are rarely produced nowadays: possibly we have become more exacting and less easily amused than our ancestors. This is a serious and a utilitarian age.
PRESUMABLY, as long as there is a demand for old glass, there will be found persons sufficiently unscrupulous to attempt to eke out the very limited supply of the genuine article by imposing upon the credulity, or ignorance, of collectors, and supplying them, greatly to the vendor’s advantage, with more or less colourable imitations of what they desire.
I have in a previous chapter dealt with certain experiences of my own with regard to “Fiat” glasses. That, however, was only by the way. The subject of frauds and imitations in Old English glass is of quite sufficient importance to warrant a chapter to itself. There is, probably, no department of the “antiques” beloved of the collector in which there is so much room for fraud as in Old English glass, and there is certainly none in which imitation has been carried to a finer point.
One can hardly blame the manufacturer for this. The demand for old glass is much larger than the supply, and the collector, who is desirous of nothing so much as to complete his “set,” is insistent in his inquiries. But the trouble comes when a reproduction, altogether admirable in itself, is passed off for the thing it is not—a genuine specimen of the early glass-worker’s art—bearing a value proportioned to its antiquity and presumed rarity.
I saw, not long ago, in a silversmith’s in the south of England, a great number of specimens set out for sale as genuine old glass, at a price corresponding to their supposed value, but every piece, without exception, belonged to what a connoisseur would term the “bad age,”. i.e. anything from the year 1850 onwards. The dealers must have known its period and its worth, or rather its worthlessness, and yet they allowed it to be sold as the real thing. Unfortunately, this is no uncommon occurrence, and it is a pity that the practice cannot be checked. The ordinary trader is not permitted to sell margarine as butter, or the publican manufactured spirit as pure grape brandy, but the dealer in antiques seems to claim a special licence to impose upon the unwary, and may with impunity—or, at least, often does—pass off as rare specimens of ancient craftsman’s work things which to the seeing eye are obvious and clumsy frauds, and virtually worthless.
Nor is the large dealer the only culprit. Small second-hand shops teem with “faked” antiques, and many of these, and also certain pawnshops, make a great part of their profit out of the unwary and unskilled hunter for bargains in glass, china, engravings, sporting prints, and all the other objects that tempt a collector’s eye.
Fig. 14 illustrates a common type of such bargains. These pieces were procured at a pawnbroker’s establishment in South London. They are obviously imitations of Early Georgian salt-cellars, but they were offered to the author as “genuine old Waterford sweetmeat dishes,” and then as “perhaps salt-cellars,” and finally as “old glass ice-cups,” at a price dwindling from 31s. 6d., through 25s. to 15s., at which I purchased them as “awful examples” of the fate that awaits the collector who goes bargain-hunting in antiques with an enthusiasm greater than his knowledge.
It is difficult to lay down any hard and fast rule by which to test the genuineness of specimens discovered in this haphazard way. Possibly the best is the colour “test.” Does it look right in colour?—not too green and not too steely, for crafty imitators often tend to overdo these qualities. Does it bear too evident signs of age? One has heard of chips and “hair” scratches artificially produced in order to give it that appearance of advanced age which is so grateful to the eye of the collector and the pocket of the vendor. Your best plan is not to jump at once but to take a piece of good glass with you by which to test the find and compare the two as to colour, sharpness of cutting and design, and so on. With caution you may expect now and again to pick up in this casual way some pieces worthy of your attention, and maybe once or twice a specimen worth its place in any collection. For good examples of glass and china have been known to be pawned for a fraction of their worth, neither the depositor nor the pawnbroker having the slightest inkling of their value. But the shops above all others to be shunned by the picker up of unconsidered trifles are the shops whose windows scream, by the aid of plastered tickets, of the “special bargains” to be obtained within. The collector may well abandon hope who enters here; there is probably not a genuine piece in the place. If there is it occupies a prominent place as a decoy duck, and is generally marked at an absurdly low price, the salesman depending on his knowledge of human nature to foist off something else on the unwary or diffident customer. I have had, on occasion, an unholy joy in entering some such place and defeating all the efforts of the salesman to divert my attention, carrying off the only decent piece in the place at a price possibly fifty per cent. lower than its intrinsic value. But such pleasures are not for all nor, indeed, for many. In actual practice the would-be purchaser is generally told that that particular specimen is not for sale, that “a customer had left it to be valued,” “that it had been put in the window by mistake,” or some other cock-and-bull story.
Other places to be shunned are the sham Oriental bazaars where Eastern jewellery, Japanese ivories, jars, fans, beads, etc., are sold. Many such establishments cater expressly for the unwary and unwise collector. He will find, if his hobby be glass, glass of all kinds and descriptions from Elizabethan downwards, and will be treated with such charming solicitude and deference that he may well become blinded to the fact that the whole stock is counterfeit, and that the whole atmosphere of the place is specially designed to conceal that awkward but essential fact. The cheat is assisted by the delightful courtesy of the saleswoman.
But apart from the scores of recognised ways in which this nefarious business of planting frauds on the innocent is carried on, there are many less obvious and consequently more dangerous traps for the unwary. Of these one only hears from the victims themselves. Thus one, attracted by a specimen in a shop window, may become an interested listener to a conversation in which the beauty of the said piece and its phenomenal cheapness are the theme. It probably never occurs to the dupe that the respectable-looking lady and gentleman are in the employ of the shopkeeper, and that their conversation was arranged entirely for his benefit.
Then comes the great question of sales, private or otherwise. There is the complete clearance owing to the proprietor’s death. There is a window full of miscellaneous stock, including certain good pieces. There is also the notice, “Nothing sold until the 21st.” By the 21st the few good pieces, having achieved their object, have disappeared. But the crowd they have attracted is there, and is there with the intention of buying—and buys! Again, there is the family compelled by misfortune to realise immediately all its assets, and in so doing to sacrifice everything. Who would not pick up a bargain when to do so is to do a good turn?
All such methods are transparent enough if one stops to consider and to analyse. But how seldom one does!
A very fine and lucrative trade is carried on in Old Bristol and Nailsea glass, for the reason that in no other kind of glass is it so difficult to distinguish the false from the true. The milky white surface lends itself particularly to imitation. I remember some specimens brought to me by a well-known collector. They were a pair of small bottles, pepper and vinegar, and my visitor was mightily proud of his “find” and his bargain. But on a careful examination I fear that he realised, with some sense of discomfiture, that the “deceased ancestor” who had been dangled before him was something of a myth, and that the specimens were only modern reproductions and probably foreign at that. To my surprise, on visiting a local museum on the West Coast recently, I found the same two pieces exhibited as specimens of early Bristol glass. The best test for this description of glass is carefully to scrutinise the decoration with a strong magnifying glass. The magnification will reveal alike the perfection of the workmanship of the real old Bristol manufacture and the poverty and roughness of the imitation. Further, Bristol glass is soft to the touch, with a beautiful smooth body. Often, too, on turning the glass upside down you find in the centre a clear spot devoid of the opal tint, probably due to the workman running all his colour off at this point. The “fake” will probably in addition to being rough in texture be light in weight and of a milk and watery hue, possibly even with a greyish tinge.
The difficulty one has in discriminating between the true and the false in this connection is accentuated by the fact that vast quantities of imitations of old glass have been sent over from Germany and Austria, and although there is every probability that the influx will cease for some time to come, yet there is, unfortunately, from the point of view of the amateur collector, already in existence—in England and America—so large a number of specimens of Bristol and Nailsea glass with a strong Teutonic “accent” that there is no likelihood of a dearth of it for some years to come. And although much of it bears such obvious traces of its origin that “he who runs may read,” yet much is so perfectly cut and so similar in appearance to the genuine ware that the amateur is likely to be deceived, and particularly the amateur who, having learned the characteristics of this make of glass, looks for them in his “find.” He will certainly discover them, for is it not the business of the astute manufacturer of fakes to see that they are there? His business depends upon his ability to deceive the would-be connoisseur, to whom, in this case, the possession of a little knowledge is an infinitely dangerous thing.
The commonest examples of high-class frauds are dishes, salt-cellars, decanters, and preserve jars. All such should be subjected to a most careful examination. If the characteristics you have expected to find are particularly evident, all the more caution is necessary. Even then you will probably find that you will have to pay for your experience. For your comfort in misfortune, I may say that I have never yet met a collector who had not, in the beginning, fallen a victim to the wiles of the “fake-house.” And only by the experience so gained—and unfortunately paid for—has he learnt to shun the net that is spread, in vain, in the sight of any “old” bird. But the process is often a lengthy one.
My advice is that when any find appears to be doubtful or, worse, appears too good to be true, to take it on approval for a day or so, or purchase it on condition that you receive the full amount paid if the article is returned safe and sound within, say, a week. You will not find it difficult to secure such an agreement—only get it in writing. If the dealer will not consent, and you have made up your mind, take a day to think over it, and then take your risk and buy. If you have made a mistake you will probably discover it, and will not repeat it.
A friend of mine boasted some years ago that he had never made a bad mistake in judging glass, because he had “kept his eyes open,” and invariably asked some one who “knew” to accompany him whenever he thought he had discovered a piece worthy of being added to his collection; but, alas! during a summer holiday spent among the Irish lakes he fell a victim. The lady who was the vendor had evidently kissed the Blarney stone, and as she was moving and the matter was urgent, a price—a tall one—was fixed on the spot, and my friend became the possessor of a remarkably fine collection which expert examination proved to be entirely of Dutch extraction. And the moral! Well, had he in the beginning relied upon his own judgment he would have made mistakes, but he would, at the same time, have acquired first-hand knowledge and have escaped a serious disaster.
One often finds replicas of old glass moulded; and as moulded glass was, of course, the earliest kind, the pieces seem to acquire a spurious value. Moulded glass with its heavy, thick appearance and its rounded edges lends itself easily to imitation. But the reproductions are often made in common glass, which gives itself away to the touch. One need hardly be an expert to detect common glass by its feel and texture.
It must not be assumed that the best method of forming a collection is to pick up those pieces which appear to be cheap. Real old glass, like other genuine antiques, is greatly sought after and commands a highly respectable price. This question of price is really a considerable factor to the amateur collector. His aim should be to get a complete collection, however small, and his danger that of duplicating, simply because he sees a specimen cheap. “Oh, I must have that; I gave nearly twice as much for the one I have,” is a sentiment often heard. But the collector must eliminate duplicates unless he aims at completing a set, say a dozen of wine glasses or finger basins. The ultimate fate of duplicates is to be “weeded out” often at a price far below what they cost.
I remember a case in point in which a novice found himself, after a brief experience, the owner of so large a collection that his cupboards failed to accommodate it, and he had to have larger ones made. And yet one shelf alone contained four barley wine glasses, five ordinary air-twisted stem glasses, three Early English plain wine glasses, four early finger basins, and five rummers of different shapes—all of the most ordinary type.
When by experience he had acquired wisdom these and similar articles were sent to the sale-room. Two lots did not elicit a single bid, and the remainder went for far less than had been paid for them. Now, however, he possesses a good representative collection, which will be sure to fetch, when under the hammer, a sum which will produce a handsome return upon his expenditure.
There is to-day such a craze for what is old, that it is difficult to find anything that is not faked. I often wonder, when dining with friends, if they are aware of the real nature and origin of the glass they use. On the other hand, one finds in some places, particularly old country houses, pieces almost priceless pushed away into corners as if they were of no value at all.
I remember some years ago finding in a village not far from Liverpool, an old dame, who had passed her life as housekeeper to a wealthy merchant, using a fine, genuine old Waterford bowl, about 18 inches in diameter, for stewed fruit. The bowl was easily worth from eighteen to twenty guineas, while the plates on the table were the commonest procurable. Needless to say, that bowl is no longer in her possession, having been replaced by a substitute of far greater appeal to her.
In spite of such occasional finds as this, the amateur who in pursuit of his hobby makes a habit of raiding old country cottages, shops, and inns, must be exceedingly wary and look upon exceptional discoveries with an exceedingly sceptical eye. An amusing experience that befell a friend of the author’s—a foreign glass merchant—is perhaps worth recounting in this connection.
Arriving one day at an inn in the south of England, he was surprised to find set out in the place of honour some very inferior specimens of wine glasses—reproductions of an early type which he was easily able to identify as his own manufacture. Entering into conversation with the landlord, he was informed that a distant ancestor of that worthy, soldiering in Ireland, had the fortune to render some signal service to a native of that distressful country and was given the glass in token of gratitude. Apart from the appropriateness of the gift, and a certain improbability that articles of such fragility would survive the vicissitudes of a campaign, the landlord proved not only willing but eager to dispose of his valued heirlooms at a price unexpectedly moderate for pieces of such antiquity and rarity. The humour of the situation, however, developed when the prospective purchaser produced a pocket-book and read to the astonished landlord the last order his firm had received for “one dozen imitation antique glasses with twisted stems at twenty-one shillings a dozen.” The difference between this and the thirty shillings apiece which the landlord demanded left a very pretty margin of profit.
Old glass is, of course, so easily imitated that it is hardly surprising there should be many such pitfalls in the path of the unwary, and I can only hope that the foregoing remarks may prove of some assistance in preventing my reader from falling a victim to the many specious attempts made for his deception. But it is well, wherever possible, to examine at leisure any piece that may strike the eye, and in the surroundings which it will occupy. Artificial light, too, is a very treacherous medium in which to examine glass of any kind. Any find should be examined by daylight and side by side with other pieces of whose authenticity there is no doubt. Then with a little training he should be able to determine with a fair degree of accuracy the genuine specimens from the false, and this in spite of the resources of modern science, which have enabled the “faker” to copy texture and colour with all but exactitude, and of the skill of the workman who reproduces faithfully the form and decorations of the original.
GLASS-COLLECTING is so full of interest that it need not be followed on any large scale. It is equally fascinating when pursued in the humblest fashion, by ransacking old second-hand shops in lowly districts as well as country cottages. A nucleus is soon formed, and, that accomplished, the collector is in the toils of his hobby, and unless he is an utter failure, one of those hopeless and helpless folk who can never learn to discriminate between the true and the false, he speedily acquires a collection which has not only provided him with a delightful recreation but is a source of considerable pride.
Of course, it must not be imagined that anyone can go into a second-hand shop, a marine-store dealer’s, or a pawnshop, and come out with a bargain every time. Nor do I assert that every piece bought will justify the enthusiasm of the first moments of possession. But I do say that, given reasonable judgment, anyone may form the nucleus of a small collection, and that with decent care in adding to it pieces that are considered rare, genuine, and unusual, the result will be entirely gratifying—yielding a full measure of artistic satisfaction, to say nothing of pecuniary advantage.
I need hardly say that the seeker for bargains should not attempt to pursue his object in large West End shops or their equivalents in provincial cities. Rent, rates, and large salary lists preclude any possibility of cheapness there. And further, if I may venture to let my readers into a secret, there are hundreds of so-called antique dealers in our principal cities who are as incapable of telling the real antique from the artful fake as the veriest tyro. Their statements, about glass in particular, are often utterly unreliable. There are good firms to be found who have expert knowledge and whose judgment may be relied upon, but they are few and far between. The so-called expert antiquary is only too often a victim to his own too alluring imagination. He thinks he knows, “good, easy man,” when in reality fancy is building him a home of romance, into which, unluckily, he leads his too credulous client. And—then the disillusionment! And confidence in expert opinion vanishes into the realm of the things that were.
A friend of mine recently purchased a “Fiat” glass from a large and famous West End house. He was assured that it was genuine, and on the strength of that assurance paid a fair price. Within three days he was back, furious at being deceived. They returned his money. To my own knowledge, that particular firm has had many old wine glasses engraved with the “Fiat” decoration and emblems. They are stored in a dark cupboard and one only is shown at a time. There is little doubt that many collectors have suffered from this insolent piece of trickery. Personally, were I starting to collect glass in a small way, and for any reason preferred not to go out into the highways and byways to gather in what I might find, I would shun the big dealer altogether. I should select a small man whom I had reason to believe scrupulous and “clean”—a man with a reputation to gain and, consequently, a business to make. Such a man will generally have had a sound training, will know his subject, and take pleasure in justifying your confidence.
The question of price is always a serious one, and it is easy to understand the reluctance of the amateur to inquire the price of a piece which has taken his fancy, knowing, as he does, that the sum asked may probably be as many guineas as he may be prepared to pay shillings. Yet a price, though high, need not necessarily be excessive; a genuine specimen acquires value in proportion to its rarity rather than its beauty of design or build. As to genuineness, a decent firm will readily give a guarantee by writing upon the bill something of this nature, “We guarantee this article to be genuine old —— glass, made and decorated at ——, about the year ——, and in the event of the purchaser wishing to return it within one week, we will refund in full the amount paid, provided the article is returned in perfect condition.” A short time limit is only fair, as the seller must protect himself against a possible loss of sale.
One word as to judging glass. It is not necessary to assume that a glass is old because it “rings” well; yet this is a common belief. The clearness with which a glass will ring depends on many things, the most important being its shape. Thus finger basins, rummers, large glasses, bowls, and preserve jars invariably ring well whether ancient or modern. The expert will judge by texture, the colour peculiar to the variety of glass, the shape, and the style of decoration. Even here he may readily be deceived, all these features being reproduced with remarkable fidelity. Only a short time ago a buyer to a large London firm asked my opinion with regard to a bowl which he had bought as “Early English glass.” To all appearance it was genuine, and yet it was clearly proved to be of Dutch, and very recent Dutch, manufacture. This Dutch glass is imported in large quantities, but the expert eye can readily detect it. The colour is a uniform green—a kind of deep-sea tint, and very clear. Moreover, the ware is not nearly so heavy as the genuine Waterford, which it resembles, and the facets of the cutting are too perfect and sharp. The muddy-coloured glass is also frequently imitated in the Dutch factories. Here again the weight is an important test; it is far lighter than the genuine English product. Even the facial scratches with which age invariably adorns the bases of all glass vessels are imitated by the modern “fake” merchant. A brief rubbing with pumice stone or rubbing the specimen against a stone will produce the desired effect.
The best training for the amateur collector is to spend a few weeks in examining a really good collection, say that in the British Museum or in the South Kensington Museum. Thus the eye becomes educated to the colour, shape, texture, style of decoration, etc., of the various kinds of glass, and is less likely to be deceived by even the best of modern imitations.
Then there is the eternal question of price. One point should be always before the collector’s mind: In the event of my being compelled to realise my collection, what price may I hope to get for it? To the collector the buying price and the selling price are intimately connected. There is so much capital to be locked up, so much time employed, so much skill displayed, and there should be a fair recompense for all three. And, further, there is the ever-present risk that fashion may change, and articles once greedily sought after may become unsaleable because they are “out of fashion.” Of course, one obvious way of purchasing to advantage is when others have to sell at a disadvantage; when collections come into the market because of the death or misfortune of their owner. At such sales I have known many bargains picked up, although it is again necessary to emphasise the need for wariness. Bogus sales are not unknown, and it is a common practice for genuine sales to be “salted,” and often pretty liberally, by the introduction of inferior imitations, in the hope that, among much that is undoubtedly genuine, they may escape detection.
I may, perhaps, be permitted to say a word as to the prices which should be paid in the ordinary way at such sales. An old Waterford cut-glass jug is, provided its cutting is perfect, certainly worth a five-pound note. A very common dodge is to sell an old Waterford jug with a cracked handle, the crack being where it is least likely to show, i.e. at the top or bottom of the handle close to where it joins the body. For an ordinary spiral wine glass 7s. 6d. to 10s. is a fair price, but glasses with baluster stems are easily worth a guinea. Most expensive of all are the real “Fiat” glasses: £9, £10, £15, and even more may be paid for one. I saw one sold a few months ago for the record price of nineteen guineas.
If you come across a “Fiat” glass priced at a five-pound note, or less, you may be sure of one of two things: either the owner does not know the value of the piece or it is an imitation. Baluster stems are not often to be met with, but they may well be worth anything from £1 to 30s. Of course, in considering this question of price one must not forget that often a fancy price is willingly paid in order to complete a set, or for some other reason. Irish finger glasses with double lip are, roughly, worth from 5s. to 7s. 6d., and sometimes higher prices are given for sets of a dozen, or even half a dozen. Opaque glass is rare, and glasses with opaque twists are worth about 15s. apiece. Masonic, thistle, and boot glasses run about three, two, and one guinea respectively. Salt-cellars, with their Irish flat cutting, cost anything from a guinea each, and vinegar and oil bottles about 30s. I have purposely refrained from mentioning any large or important pieces; there are many such perfectly well known to the expert. It is, of course, quite impossible to fix a price for these. As an Appendix to this book I have drawn up a list of prices fetched by important pieces at recent sales. A large Waterford bowl will fetch twenty-five to thirty guineas, and if its genuineness is incontestable and its artistic merit high, it may well bring twice that figure.
Personally, I consider that the high-water mark has been reached in the price of ordinary pieces of old glass. There is certainly a great demand for it at the moment; but such crazes are rarely lasting, and the time may come when antique glass, which has largely dispossessed antique silver, will itself fall into disfavour before the onset of some newer fancy.