I now turn to the engraved designs that are found upon the bowls of most of these eighteenth-century glasses. There is not much to be said for the inventive powers or for the technical skill shown by the engraver. Indeed, considering the general low level of the engraved work, there is some temptation to find a Dutch or Flemish origin for any specimen of engraving that shows superior technical or artistic qualities; and there is little doubt that in the case of the earlier pieces at least, such an attribution would be justified.[[257]]
The design that we find most frequently on our eighteenth-century glasses is a rose branch with, on the opposite side, a butterfly. This motive is found on the bell-shaped bowls of early glasses with air-twisted stems. With certain modifications it continued long in use. The rose, with the change of fashion after the middle of the century, became more naturalistic, and the butterfly often takes the form of a moth. Other designs have reference to the beverage destined to be drunk from the glass: for wine-glasses, bunches of grapes and vine-leaves (often accompanied by a humming-bird); ears of barley for beer-glasses; and in the few rare cases where an apple-tree forms part of the design, we may associate the glass with cider. The popular cries—‘No Excise,’ or ‘Wilkes and Liberty’ and ‘No. 45’—which are sometimes found on glasses towards the middle of the century,[[258]] remind us of the new fashion that came in about that time of finding in the decoration of pottery or other ware an opportunity for political propaganda, and for the glorification of the hero of the day. There was not much to be done in this way on the restricted space at command on the bowls of our glasses; towards the end of the century, however, naval emblems are frequently to be found, and the Nelson glasses form a group by themselves.
But of all the glasses that are thus ‘made to speak,’ to use the expression of the great Napoleon, who had strong opinions as to the advantages of this method of political réclame, the most interesting class is formed by the treasured Jacobite glasses, bearing mottoes and emblems of a more or less cryptic character, or, more rarely, portraits of the young or the old Pretender engraved on the bowl.[[259]] The extraordinary fascination exercised over some minds by what George Borrow used to call ‘Charlie-over-the-waterism,’ is nowhere better exhibited than in the almost devotional tone with which this subject is approached by more than one of our authorities. The more important of these glasses, especially the large ones with drawn stems, and those with baluster or rather double-knopped stems, are probably of foreign origin; at all events they were engraved in the north of France or in the Low Countries. Of the rare examples with the head of the young Pretender surrounded by a wreath of laurels, there are very few specimens in our public museums: I can only call to mind a small glass from the Schreiber collection at South Kensington and one or two examples lately presented to the British Museum ([Plate XLIV.]). The most frequent emblem is the rose with two buds, traditionally, I believe, regarded as symbolical of James II. with his son and grandson, although to one not in the inner circle of the cause the relation of the equipoised buds to the central flower would seem rather to point to the old Pretender and his two sons Charles Edward and Henry.[[260]]
As to the inscriptions on these glasses, we find in one instance four stanzas from the Jacobite version of ‘God save the King’ engraved on the bowl. But in most cases the allusion to the cause is of a more disguised character. The commonest of all is the single word ‘Fiat,’ the motto of the Jacobite society known as the Cycle, which flourished in the west of England during the greater part of the eighteenth century.
I may note that among the Jacobite glasses treasured up in many an old house in the west and north of England, one rarely comes across any example that cannot be classed more or less accurately as a wine-glass. Quite exceptional is the decanter engraved with a circular compass-card pointing to a star, between oak leaves and roses (Hartshorne, Plate 64). This decanter is one of a pair preserved, along with as many as eleven of the above mentioned ‘Fiat’ glasses, in the early Jacobean house at Chastleton, on the borders of Oxfordshire and Worcestershire.[[261]] Here also are many other pieces of old English glass to more than one of which I have already referred.
Although the history of English glass during the eighteenth century—it would be more accurate perhaps to say from about 1670 to 1770—tends always to fall back upon the drinking-glass, yet during that time the material was applied also to the manufacture of many other objects. We find in the earlier records frequent reference to large vessels of glass, blown or cast; this was indeed the case as far back as the time when Chiddingfold was the centre of glass-making. A favourite form at the end of the seventeenth century—but here again a drinking-glass—was the ‘yard,’ an exaggerated outgrowth of the Venetian or Low Country ‘flute.’ Thus Evelyn, describing the ceremonies on the occasion of the proclamation of James II., says that at Bromley the king’s health was ‘drunk in a flint glasse of a yard long.’ Some time before this, in 1669, on the occasion of a visit to the glass-house at Blackfriars, the same writer mentions the ‘singing glasses’ that he there had made for him, and which ‘make an echo to the voice ...’ but ‘were so thin that the very breath broke one or two of them.’ At a later time trumpets were made of glass, and some of these have survived.
But few examples, however, of what may be called miscellaneous glass of an earlier date than the seventies of the eighteenth century have been preserved. It was about this time that a great change must have come over the manufacture, though on this point we have strangely little direct information. This period, we know, was a critical one in the history of the minor arts both in England and in France. In the latter country, the simpler and more classical style associated with the reign of Louis XVI. replaced the more unrestrained forms of the Louis Quinze period some years before the death of the latter king. In England we see the new shapes first in the work of the silversmith about the year 1770, and soon after they are well represented in the Chelsea-Derby porcelain. In the case of glass this change is above all to be associated with the increased use of facetting. Flat facets divided by obtuse angles may indeed be found at times on the stems and shoulders of drinking-glasses almost from the commencement of the century. But now these facets take a purely geometrical form. The dishes and basins of the time simply bristle with sharp-pointed pyramids, so that these heavy, solid vessels can scarcely be lifted with impunity.
Now for the first time full advantage was taken of the power possessed by the heavy lead-glass of dispersing the rays of light, for only by the use of these facets was the full fire of the glass developed. This is indeed—so at least it seems to me—the one really important period in the history of English glass. It was not long after this time, towards the end of the century, that use was for the first time made of machinery for driving the grinding-wheels. The glass, whose general outline had been previously determined in the mould, was now quickly channelled with intersecting furrows. There is at South Kensington a small collection of the earlier facetted glass, presented by Mr. H. B. Lennard, which contains some pieces of real artistic merit. This was the period when the square plinth-like base was in fashion—not perhaps in itself a very desirable form. In the Lennard collection are two carved cups with these square feet: the bowl in each case is surrounded by deeply cut gadroons curving as they descend; on other parts the usual facets are found ([Plate XLV.] 1). There is a fine sculpturesque feeling about the treatment of these standing cups that carries one back to far earlier days—in fact I know of no other specimens of English glass where such full advantage has been taken of the qualities of the material, and this without any abuse or exaggeration.[[262]]
