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.