Old Glass and How to Collect it

by J. Sydney Lewis

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.