Old Glass and How to Collect it

by J. Sydney Lewis

We have seen how, in the beginning, English glass-workers were a nomad race. As the woods in one place were exhausted they moved to fresh fields and forests new—much to the annoyance of the populace, who depended upon those woods for their household firing, and of the Government, who sought to preserve them for the maintenance of the fleet.

In 1615 a proclamation was made forbidding the use of wood for glass smelting, the furnaces being in future compelled to burn sea-coal or charcoal or other fuel. The same ordinance prohibited the importation of foreign glass or the immigration of foreign glass-workers.

In the same year Sir Richard Mansel, a man of considerable standing in the realm, who had been experimenting in glass-making with the aid of Venetian workmen, was granted a licence for making glass with coal, and set up furnaces in London and at Purbeck, Milford Haven and Newcastle. It is a matter for regret that no product of his furnaces is known to exist to-day, a fact the more surprising in that his licence was renewed at various times, and so covers a considerable stretch of the most interesting period of the art. At any rate we find him petitioning in 1641 that he might be protected against persons importing glass from abroad, whereas he was paying a rent of £1000 per annum for his monopoly. His name is mentioned as late as 1653, so that for nearly forty years he controlled, more or less, the business of glass production in England.

It is a matter for some congratulation, however, that Mansel employed, in some kind of managerial capacity in his Broad Street works, a certain James Howell, who enjoys the reputation of being one of the liveliest and most pleasing writers of the period. In the famous Howell’s letters, “Epistolæ Ho-Elianæ,” which were published between 1645 and 1655, we have a delightful commentary on the events of his time, and incidentally a number of curious and useful sidelights on the conduct of glass manufacture both in England and on the Continent.

It is said that Sir Kenelm Digby, of Royalist fame, invented in 1632 the art of making glass bottles to contain the wine which hitherto had been drawn straight from the wood. But Fame which credits him with this discovery would seem to have forgotten that in Elizabeth’s time ale was sold in glass bottles, and a quaint old volume yclept “The English Housewife” refers in 1575 to round bottles with narrow necks for “bottle ale,” the corks being tied down with stout string.

The Commonwealth, save for what may be gleaned from Howell’s pages, adds but little to our knowledge of glass. The Puritans were, perhaps, more addicted to smashing it, in the form of stained-glass windows, than manufacturing it for domestic utilities. But with the Restoration there came a great change. The then Duke of Buckingham, who appears, like others of his name, to have had a keen eye to the main chance, started a glass furnace at Greenwich. In 1663 he petitioned the King that he might be granted a licence to make mirrors, he having been at great expense in finding out the art and mystery thereof—“a manufactory not known nor heretofore used in England”—a curious contradiction to Mansel’s claim in 1620, and one which seems to imply that the Duke was by no means particular as to what he said provided he might gain his ends.

There were numbers of competitors at the time all claiming to be the inventors of crystal glass. The authorities, however, awarded the palm to one Thomas Tilson, who in 1663 was granted a patent, in which he is described as the inventor of crystal glass. It appears clear that Tilson had produced a material of greater merit than any of his predecessors or contemporaries. It is probable that this material was lead glass—flint glass as it was and is still called. One point in support of this theory is that it was too brittle to be used in making vessels, and Tilson consequently confined himself to the manufacture of mirrors, windows for coaches, etc.

Specimens of the work of this period may be found in many places—country houses, mansions, halls, etc.—throughout the country. At Hampton Court Palace there are, for example, several magnificent mirrors that testify to the skill of the craftsmen—Venetian and English—of this period. Some of the window glass is of the same date and may be readily distinguished by its mauve tinge—a possible result of the action of light on the peroxide of manganese, which was one of the constituents. At a slightly later date other glass-houses were founded in Lambeth, Stourbridge, Newcastle-on-Tyne, and other places, notably in Surrey and Sussex.

All this while, however, there was a great trade in imported Venetian glass, which the Council was, time and again, petitioned to prohibit. Fortunately both for the future of the art of glass-making in England and for the cheapness and quality of the ware, which was now in great demand, the efforts of the protectionists were unavailing.

Much of our knowledge of the glass of the period is due to the discovery of the trading books and order sheets of one John Greene, who seems to have dealt in imported glass, ordering from the Venetian furnaces vessels to his own specification and design. Fortunately some specimens of these are still in existence, but it need hardly be said that examples of the seventeenth century, both home manufactured and imported, are of the extremest rarity. He would be a fortunate collector who should discover, say, “a speckled emerald coverd beere glasse” or a “milk-whit cruet” either with or without “feet and ears of good hansom fashion.”