LOOK BACK IN WONDER Disaster glasses revisited A catalogue of known engravings within the ‘northeastern disaster glass’ genre William Cowan 2013 CONTENTS PREFACE 3 INTRODUCTION 4 PART ONE 9 Mining disasters and accidents PART TWO 80 Other mining-related commemoratives PART THREE 119 Non-mining disasters and commemoratives Glasses in Parts One to Three are presented in chronological order – based on the date engraved on the glass PART FOUR 234 Other recorded events and/or inscriptions EPILOGUE 236 APPENDIX 237 Decorations and additional phrases Look Back in Wonder – Disaster glasses revisited 2 PREFACE The interest engendered following the publication of the book An Alarming Accident - or every glass tells a story (John Brooks and William Cowan, Tyne Bridge Publishing, 2008) and, in particular, the number of ‘new’ glasses that have come to light since, has prompted the assembly of this catalogue raisonné, listing every glass known to John and me at the time of writing. Some details of the event or person commemorated follow each item, or group of items, and the reader seeking more background information is often directed to an appropriate source, or sources. Exact descriptions of glass types and line breaks of inscriptions are, in some instances, missing. This is sometimes because the glass was seen in the early days of our interest, perhaps 20 years ago and long before this work was imagined. In other cases, data has been extracted from articles, private collection descriptions or auction catalogues that lack these precise details. I hope that glass collectors, together with enthusiasts of northeastern and mining history, will find this catalogue of interest and value. William Cowan April 2013 Look Back in Wonder – Disaster glasses revisited 3 INTRODUCTION There is a longstanding association between glass and the northeast of England. As early as the late 17th century the development of flint glass (or lead crystal) led to an expansion in manufacture of domestic table glass and, by the middle of the 18th century, Newcastle-upon-Tyne was producing arguably some of the finest drinking glasses in Europe, most notably those later engraved in Holland and those decorated locally by the famous Beilby family. In the 19th century, this trade had declined in the face of European competition but northeast firms such as Sowerby and George Davison embraced the new technology of press-moulding. Tyneside and Wearside were once again major centres for producing domestic glassware but this time moulded, not blown, glass and aimed at a wider, less wealthy market. Visitors to the Laing Art Gallery in Newcastle-upon-Tyne and the Sunderland Museum and Winter Gardens can see and admire examples of this locally manufactured glassware representing, like coalmining and shipbuilding, an industry for which the northeast of England is justly famous. Drinking glasses, whether elegant 18th century examples or more mundane pressed glass items from the 19th century, were produced in quantity in the region and this fact is relatively well recognised. What is less well appreciated is that there existed another genre of glass, spanning the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and (with very few exceptions) unique to the northeast of the country. These are the so-called ‘disaster glasses’. What were disaster glasses? Over a period commencing somewhere between 1840 and 1860, or possibly a little later, and ending in 1916, there was a custom in the northeast of England of engraving glassware with inscriptions that were memorial, commemorative or celebratory.1 These pieces (typically very inexpensive glass) were sold or distributed to a market that was predominately working class and, since many of them commemorated accidents or disasters in the coalmines of Northumberland and Durham, they came to be known as ‘disaster glasses’. However, as is 1 When was the first disaster glass produced? The answer is, we just don’t know. The glasses catalogued here, in Parts One, Two and Three, are engraved with dates ranging from 1796 (Robert Burns) to 1916 (Lord Kitchener) – but we must beware of assuming the date on the glass is the date of the engraving. For example, the Robert Burns glass is almost certainly an anniversary souvenir, most probably produced to mark the centenary of the poet’s death in 1896. John Books says: “I have always had reservations about the actual time of production of glasses bearing dates before 1862 (Hartley Colliery). Either, the same style of glass was available and the same engravers were working as early as 1832 (see the William Jobling glass in Part Two) or, they were produced as 25th or 50th anniversary glasses and would then fit into the main time frame. In an odd way, I feel this opinion is reinforced by the fact that we still have no glasses bearing dates between 1867 and 1879 after which they multiply rapidly.” Look Back in Wonder – Disaster glasses revisited 4 apparent from the following pages, their terms of reference were much wider than pit disasters and glasses in the same style were engraved to commemorate accidents and disasters unconnected with the coal mines. Other events, both notable and not so notable, including deaths of individuals, famous or not at all famous, were also subjects for commemoration and promotion, as were simple sentiments such as ‘Peace and Plenty’ and ‘Health and Happiness’. The outbreak of the Transvaal (Boer) War in 1899 prompted the engraving of several different glasses and thereafter events of national, as well as local, interest also became subjects for commemoration. There were a lot of disaster glasses about. Judging by the number that survive it is likely that they were engraved in very considerable quantities; indeed it is said that by the end of the 19th century there were few working class homes in the northeast that did not have one of these glasses on the mantelpiece or windowsill. Some, such as those commemorating the deaths of individuals, cannot have been created in large numbers and others, like those engraved ‘A present to…’ are presumably unique but events such as the Hartley Colliery and Victoria Hall disasters clearly resulted in a large output. The glasses were of indifferent quality; aimed at the least affluent end of the market, they cannot have been sold - if sold they were - for more than a few pence each. They came in a wide variety of styles. The most typical example is a pub rummer, a glass about 100mm tall with a bowl that is either rounded or straight- sided. Tumblers were also engraved, often thinly blown barrel-shaped vessels, but moulded tumblers of various designs are also seen. Small wine glasses on stems are common and tankards are represented, either as a glass of about a half-pint capacity or more often as a miniature tankard, about 25mm high – just a cheap souvenir not intended for drinking out of. Occasionally one comes across items such as jugs, bowls and dishes but what links all these artifacts, apart from a frequent association with the northeast of England, is the style of engraving. Once you are familiar with it, it is almost always recognisable. Unless the subject is of national interest (wars or coronations, for example) we have not - with very rare exceptions - found similar glasses commemorating incidents or individuals outside the northeast. It is this, together with the idiosyncratic style of the engraving that, in our opinion, places this genre of glass firmly within Northumberland and County Durham. With only one exception so far identified, the items are wheel-engraved. Engraving with a diamond point and etching using acid are time-consuming processes whereas engraving with a copper wheel driven by a foot operated treadle, whether in a workshop or as an itinerant trade, would be a task quickly executed. When enough glasses are examined certain features of the engraving become apparent that allow us to identify different hands at work. For example, many inscriptions commence ‘In Memory of…’ but there are two distinct styles of the capital ‘M’ pointing to two different engravers. Again, another engraver punctuates his inscriptions with full stops after every word and another spells Success in the 18th century fashion as Succefs. Towards the end of the period cursive script made way for capital letters, suggesting yet another hand at work. Look Back in Wonder – Disaster glasses revisited 5 Spelling mistakes are common. ‘Lost there lives’, ‘Shure to thrive’ and ‘Hees a jolly good fellow’ were engraved by people who were less than fully literate and inaccuracies of ages and dates point to a certain lack of attention to detail. A common feature on the reverse side of glasses is a fern or a clover leaf, and two styles of the latter can be identified. For a fuller examination of these aspects of the engraving, the reader is referred to An Alarming Accident.2 There is evidence that glass engraving was pursued as an itinerant trade. But other glasses must have been engraved on premises open to those who wanted glasses engraved immediately, for example, to commemorate a death in the family. And such workshops would be more appropriate for engraving glasses produced in quantity, such as those commemorating major pit disasters. Why were these glasses engraved and how were they acquired? Ask people in the northeast whether they have ever heard of ‘disaster glasses’ and it is likely that, if they have, the one certain thing that they know about them is that they were sold in the pubs and clubs to raise funds for the relief of those injured in pit accidents and for the bereaved families. (This was in the days before insurance, employers’ liability or national social security.) Whether or not this is the case, there were obviously other reasons for commissioning or acquiring so-called disaster glasses since we now recognise that many glasses have no relevance to mines or mining, let alone to accidents or disasters.