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Extract from the September 2009 Magazine
September 2009 Magazine Pages 12-13 FROM CASK TO FLASK
or wood to clay: the barrel reveals some of its many guises

by Robin Hildyard
Imitation, unconscious or deliberate, is so much a part of the history of style that, without it, advances in art and craft might be slow indeed. More often than not, it is accompanied by diversification into other materials, either for practical or aesthetic reasons, summed up by the word 'skewmorphic' (which, along with other quaint remnants of the graecophile Victorian museum world such as 'eponymous' and 'taxonomic', is still cherished by curators for the precision of its meaning). On a less erudite level, a perfect example of successful transmutation in the applied arts can be found in the shape of the humble barrel. Commonplace and so much taken for granted, the essentially functional form of this vessel has lent itself to a vast and disparate array of objects made entirely without stave or hoop.
What we know as a 'barrel' is in fact a cask containing 36 gallons, part of a range graduating from the 4½-gallon 'pin' to the 225-gallon 'tun' so often found on inn signs in multiples of three. Its origins are said to extend to Gaul in the first century AD when casks of fir began to replace the ubiquitous low-fired 6-gallon earthenware amphora for wine, oil and fish. Unlike cylindrical buckets of leather or birch bark, casks gained enormous strength from their bowed and compressed construction, on the same principle as the arch and, indeed, partly sharing its form with that marvel of nature, the egg shell. So useful and adaptable was the barrel - made of inexpensive materials, collapsible for bulk transport, suitable for wet or dry goods, infinitely repairable and reusable, and whatever its weight able to roll at the command of a single person - that cooperage rapidly developed into a much respected trade: or strictly two trades, that of the dry cooper with his tubs and general storage vessels and the wet cooper with a much more exacting job. Unfortunately the very refinement of the craft carried the seeds of its own destruction, for its reliance on the eye and judgement of the cooper, not to mention the use of naked fire to soften the staves, precluded mass-production by machine, while simultaneously paving the way for eventual replacement by kegs of cast aluminium, pressurised and reduced to the role of mere plumbing in the cellar below. Today the unchanging skills of the craft thrive but on a greatly reduced scale, supplying, for example, the tannin-rich oak barrels essential for the maturing of sherry and whisky.

September 2009 Magazine

Figure 4. Love gift in the form of a harvest barrel, lead-glazed red earthenware with inlaid white clay decoration forming a heart, and 'Isaac Axcell dec.16 1796'. Made in Sussex. Length 5¼. (The Potteries Museum, Stoke-on-Trent)

The impecunious Victorian drinker who escaped the confines of an overcrowded and sparsely furnished home would have been appalled by the 21st century austerity of formica bar, pool table and juke box, dimly lit by the inane flashing of a fruit machine. What counted in those hard times was the illusion of richness, so that from the 1830s onwards, the huge expansion of cities included vast numbers of purpose-built pretentious public houses elaborately fitted out with mahogany, cut and stencil-decorated glass, and behind the bar pewter tankards, plain glass rummers, fancy labelled bottles and rows of colourful barrels for Gin, Brandy and Rum. With typical attention to economy of manufacture, mouldable materials such as clay, cast iron and papier-mache were freely used at this period to imitate their betters, and in the case of salt-glazed stoneware bar casks, either round or oval, the deception was further heightened by being 'japanned in imitation of all fancy woods, and gilded in the best style', as offered in 1873 by Doulton & Watts of Lambeth (figures 1 and 2).
Similarly, the Brampton potteries in Derbyshire had begun using moulding and sprigging techniques in earnest from around 1830, developing a wide range of attractive lustrous brown ware which included 1- 2-gallon bar casks with the Royal Arse (incorrectly rendered with the Hanoverian quartering relinquished by Queen Victoria) and heavy vine-leaf borders, their interiors hygienically lined with heavy lead-glaze (figure 2).Spirit kegs and barrels...much esteemed for their hardness and durability' were recorded by Jewitt as being made in Brampton by Matthew Knowles as late as 1878, along with similar versions by Oldfield and Briddon, although some may date from the 1840s, particularly those with the Prince of Wales feathers which may commemorate the birth of Victoria's eldest son in 1841. At Bristol the potteries of Messrs Price and Powell seem to have concentrated on making large bottles for cider and navy rum for which there was a constant demand, but eventually employed their yellowish Bristol-glaze on oval bar casks, made by lining an open two-piece mould, while neatly thrown bar casks with a greenish liquid glaze were also made by George Skey at Tamworth. Bearing in mind that the sprigged Royal Arms on the front of Bristol tobacconists' jars were left unglazed in order to provide a key for the paint, it is unlikely that any of these shiny bar casks were ever decorated.
> Far away from the pub, the constant need for water (and sometimes strong waters) by the agricultural community working in the field was supplied by a range of costrels and bottles which varied according to local traditions. Ignoring the obvious model, the miniature wooden barrel with its carrying loops, some pottery-producing areas like Verwood preferred their own regional speciality, the Medieval-looking 'Dorset owl' which continued in use as late as the 1950s. Others such as the Donyatt potteries in Somerset dipped their red clay wares in white slip and lead glaze, onto which green copper oxide was splashed, resulting in a small, rustic and almost indestructible vessel (figure 3).