Precious Time: A Cabinet Clock from Augsburg, 1700-1725

Cabinet Clock
1700-1725
Augsburg (Made)
Meissen (Tea Set, Made)
This and all related images courtesy of
The Victoria & Albert Museum

This artful arrangement of wood, boulle marquetry, tortoiseshell, silver, silver-gilt, inlaid mother-of-pearl, ivory, enamel, brass, pietre dure, faceted garnets, turquoise, micromosaic, velvet, porcelain, mirrored glass, gilt bronze, and oil paint on copper sheeting makes for one very involved, brilliant timepiece.


This monumental cabinet clock comes from Augsburg. Both Augsburg and Nuremberg were hubs of important clock making from the 1650 through 1750. Master craftsmen from a variety of media would join forces to create majestic and unusual cases for the clock. This, surely, is one of the finest examples of their capabilities.

Truly extraordinary, this cabinet clock is comprises of nearly twenty costly different materials. Coupled with the high cost of labor for such a piece, surely this was a royal or, at least, noble commission. We don’t know for whom the clock was originally produced, however, the curators at the V&A have determined that this was the same clock that once belonged to Lord Rosebery, British Prime Minister from 1894-5, as evidenced by photographs of the Lord from that time period (see the black and white picture detail below).

Though the clock is certainly interesting in all that’s apparent, from the little Buddha figures to the impressive inlay-work, it also contains some hidden treasures which aren’t immediately seen. For example, a neatly in-set drawer contains a Meissen tea set in a pattern which matches the clock as well as a silver picture frame.

This was a gift to the V&A from Sir Arthur Gilbert and his wife Rosalinde—two of the world's foremost decorative arts collectors, and was included in their 1996 bequest of silver, mosaics, enameled portrait miniatures and gold boxes.

Mastery of Design: The Edward East Clock Watch, 1645

Clock Watch
Edward East, 1645
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Beautiful and functional, this clock-watch strikes the hours and also has an alarm mechanism. The back plate is signed “Eduardus East Londini.”

Edward East (born 1602, died around 1697) was, in 1660, appointed Chief Clockmaker to King, Charles II (ruled 1660-1685). He enjoyed a large and thriving business until 1697, when he may have died. It has, however been noted, that he never really wanted to be a clockmaker and only entered the profession reluctantly.

Despite his rumored resistance, he talent in the profession is undeniable as evidenced by the

finely engraved naturalistic flowers on the reverse of the case. These are in the style of the prints published for the use of engravers and enamellers by Jacques Vauquer (1621-1686) in Paris.

King Charles I was always fascinated by mechanical objects, and also enjoyed making gifts of them. It is thought that this watch was made for the King who gifted it to his sister, Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia to, in turn, gave it to Gilbert Spencer in 1661. 

Unusual Artifacts: Le Gai Violiniste, 1900

Le Gai Violiniste
1900, Paris
The Victoria and Albert Museum

With the dawn of the Twentieth Century, the rich would amuse themselves with playthings such as music boxes and automata. Here we see an example of such an object. This mechanical figure of a man playing a violin contains a clockwork mechanism. It is covered in cloth and features a key on the left side.


While many automata are constructed of papier mache, composition or other materials, this figure features a painted metal head, top hat and hands with metal strips for arms and legs, and black-painted lead feet. In his hand, he holds a metal violin and bow. When wound, he plays the instrument, however, curiously, there is no sound save the click of the mechanism. The automaton retains its original box which has a picture of the violinist on the outside.

Manufactured in Paris around 1900, this is the work of Fernand Martin.

Precious Time: A Sixteenth Century Mechanical Clock

Click on image to enlarge.
Mechanical Clock
Sixteenth Century
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Mechanical clocks were the iPads of the Sixteenth Century. Okay, not really. But, they were the epitome of Sixteenth Century technical ingenuity. Not only were they functional and attractive, they were also costly status symbols. Functional though they were, they were not too dependable and, well…at this point in history, people actually had better luck telling time by watching the movement of the sun.

Here’s a great example of a Sixteenth Century mechanical clock. While the clockworks are a replacement, the construction of the case and mechanism, in which a mythical monster (perhaps a griffin) supports the dial, is very similar to others of the same period—specifically in that the mechanism is hidden in the base and not in the figure itself.

When the clock was striking the hours, the monster’s beak opened and closed and, his wings flapped. Neat!

Honestly, the only thing in the then-near future, that threatened the dominance of the mechanical clock was the development of the steam engine in the late Eighteenth Century.

Bertie's Weekly Pick: A Clockwork Bear, 1850-1899

Every week, I'm giving Bertie a chance to pick a favorite object to discuss.  This week, he's decided on this cute, but sadly-muzzled, toy bear which was the subject of a past article. 

Clockwork Bear
1850-1899
France?
The Victoria & Albert Museum

While the concept of a “Dancing Bear” seems quite cruel to us now, it was a staple of Nineteenth Century carnivals and an idea that was often incorporated into children’s playthings. To begin with, the bear was already a favorite subject of toy makers of the Nineteenth Century both in Europe and in the U.S. Here’s a rabbit skin and clockwork example which not only looks disturbingly realistic, but also dances just like the bears that people would see in traveling shows.

This poor bear stands on its hind legs and balances its weight on a walking stick. A figure of wood and cardboard covered in fur, it contains a clockwork mechanism. The bear has a brown glass eye (the other is missing), red plush jaws and teeth made of bone. Its nose and paws are of carved and painted wood. Upon his mouth, he wears a brass wire muzzle from which hangs an attached chain and ring.

Probably the work of a French toymaker, the toy is operated by a large brass key with a circular handle which is inserted into the right side of the body. When the metal rod on the left side is moved, the figure is animated--alternately rocking from side to side to give the impression of walking and dancing.

It’s attractive and horrible all at the same time, sort of like the very idea of a dancing bear.

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: A German Mechanical Dancing Toy, 1865-75

Mechanical Dancing Toy
1865-1875
The Victoria & Albert Museum

A colorfully-dressed couple dances around an opulent setting—this was the stuff of the upper-classes and was out of reach for most people, especially children. So, imagine a child’s face as he or she gazed at this magnificent mechanical toy which was made in Germany between 1865 and 1875. Sadly, most children would never have had a chance to see this toy. This was made as a conversation piece for wealthy Nineteenth-Century men and women who already had access to such events. Automata such as this were made in contrast to the novelty pieces which glutted the limited market. This was the elegant answer to all of the smoking monkeys and laughing urchins.


The mechanical figures are housed in a box of polished wood with a glass panel at the front. The while of the box is surrounded by a carved, gilt frame. The brass clockwork mechanism which operates the figures as well as the music box is activated by releasing the control switch after winding with an iron key.

The scene of a three-sided ballroom is adorned with mirrored walls and a red cloth curtain, and is trimmed with gold metallic paper. Across the front top is a band of similar cloth. The floor is of printed paper over wood, showing birds, trees,, flowers and fruit and a lead chandelier is suspended from the top. At some point later, two electric lights were added.

The figures are two bisque German dolls with blonde wigs. The woman wears a purple jacket trimmed with gold, a cream skirt covered with black lace, and black lace attached to the top of the head. The man wears a purple jacket with green and gold trim, green breeches and a green cap which extends to a long point at the back, decorated with gold trim and a gold and purple tassel.

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: A Clockwork Bear, 1850-1899

Clockwork Bear
1850-1899
France?
The Victoria & Albert Museum

While the concept of a “Dancing Bear” seems quite cruel to us now, it was a staple of Nineteenth Century carnivals and an idea that was often incorporated into children’s playthings. To begin with, the bear was already a favorite subject of toy makers of the Nineteenth Century both in Europe and in the U.S. Here’s a rabbit skin and clockwork example which not only looks disturbingly realistic, but also dances just like the bears that people would see in traveling shows.

This poor bear stands on its hind legs and balances its weight on a walking stick. A figure of wood and cardboard covered in fur, it contains a clockwork mechanism. The bear has a brown glass eye (the other is missing), red plush jaws and teeth made of bone. Its nose and paws are of carved and painted wood. Upon his mouth, he wears a brass wire muzzle from which hangs an attached chain and ring.

Probably the work of a French toymaker, the toy is operated by a large brass key with a circular handle which is inserted into the right side of the body. When the metal rod on the left side is moved, the figure is animated--alternately rocking from side to side to give the impression of walking and dancing.

It’s attractive and horrible all at the same time, sort of like the very idea of a dancing bear.

Precious Time: A Magnificent Watch by Markwick and Markham, 1750-75

Clock-Watch
Markwick and Markham
1750-1775
The Victoria & Albert Museum

From the Eighteenth-Century makers of luxury “clock-watches,” Markwick & Markham, we see this glorious specimen with quarter-repeating movement, verge escapement and and enamel dial. It features gilt-metal cases, with an embossed outer case, adorned with chased gold and decorated with gold piqué work on leather

Signed Markwick-Markham, London, it is is numbered 14103. James Markwick and Robert Markham created elegant clocks and watches for the Turkish market, as well as formed a partnership under their joint names to operate a London shop-front from about 1725 to 1805.

The specific term, “Clock-Watch” refers to the oversized watches which were in vogue at the time. Not only could they be carried on a person, but they could be displayed in a room on a hook (usually from a necessaire) and employed as a clock while traveling. This model, made for export, is fitted with Turkish gradations and strikes the hours and quarters on a silver bell. This beautiful watch uses three cases: a gilt-metal case which is pierced and engraved with foliage, another outer case which is similarly decorated, and an extra outer case which is pierced in openwork with Rococo scrolls and foliage and with panels of shagreen (leather of rough, un-tanned skin) decorated with piqué in gold.

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: George III’s Astronomical Clock, 1765

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
via The Royal Collection Trust
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Astronomical Clock
1765
Made for King George III
Mahogany, Brass, Silver, Enamel
Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty
Queen Elizabeth II

King George III had a keen passion for clocks, horology and science in general. Items such as this clock were infinitely attractive to him. This astronomical clock cost the then-astronomical sum of £1042. The cost was well worth it. The end result is a magnificent creation with a shining mahogany case, brass palm-frond columns and silver plaques with bas relief figures of the Royal lion and unicorn.


In June of 1765, this bracket clock was installed in Buckingham House (now Buckingham Palace), and George III was fascinated by it and its many functions. It features a complex quarter-striking movement which displays the time of day on the front clock face on a 24-hour dial with hands for mean and solar time. The central portion of the clock features a painted landscape which shows the passage of the sun across the sky as well as a small dial which records the time at thirty locations around the world. A dial at the top of the bracket records the date and month with the year being recorded to the left and the location of the planets on the right. A silver sphere at the reverse, shows the phases of the moon as well as high and low tide at thirty-two seaports across the world.

It’s an extremely complicated device, and frankly does as much as any modern creation, but in a much more elegant and attractive way.

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
via The Royal Collection Trust
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
via The Royal Collection Trust
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
via The Royal Collection Trust
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
via The Royal Collection Trust
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
via The Royal Collection Trust
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Precious Time: Thomas Jefferson’s Astronomical Clock, 1812

Astronomical
Clock
1812
Thomas Voight
Mahogany, Walnut
Monticello

The third President of the United States was a scientific kind of guy and liked to be as precise about everything as possible—this included the time of day. He didn’t feel that everyone needed to be as precise as he was. For example, the clock on the outside of Monticello only has an hour hand because Jefferson didn’t think that the field workers needed to know the minutes, but that’s another issue.

Jefferson always wanted an Astronomical Clock—like King George III, darn it! In fact, he even commissioned a young clockmaker, David Rittenhouse (no relation to Ulrika) to make one for him. But, there was a little historical hiccup which prevented the swift completion of the clock—that pesky Revolutionary War.

It wasn’t until 1812 that Jefferson finally got his Astronomical Clock. This tall-case mahogany and walnut clock by Thomas Voight told the time, the lunar phase and the day of the week. It was purposely made without a striking mechanism so that it could be used in Jefferson’s bedroom without distrubing his sleep. It’s pretty, but not too exceptional. However, it seemed to please the President a great deal.

Precious Time: An English Bracket Clock, 1710

Bracket Clock
Paulet, 1710
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Here’s a nice looking clock. This type of bracket clock (too large for use in a carriage, but too small for a reception room) would have been used when travelling. They were designed to be carried from place to place and worked nicely on board a ship where they were fitted into a case fixed to the wall of a cabin.

This clock is signed by the maker—known only as “Paulet.” Little is known about Paulet except that his signature appears on several clocks found in wealthy English estates. Despite his French-appearing name, he is believed to have worked in London. One example of his work resides in the Metropolitan Museum, New York. This clock retains its original key which bears the royal monogram of Queen Anne (ruled 1702-1714).

A masterpiece of chased, gilt brass and silver, the clock strikes hours and repeats the hours and quarters. The alarm is set by means of the central dial and the indicator on the top dial is for the calendar.

Toys of the Belle Époque: A Clockwork Pig, 1890

Clockwork Toy Pig and Rider, 1890
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Long before handheld digital devices, people still wanted their toys to be somewhat interactive. Our Victorian and Edwardian counterparts were very clever with clockwork—producing exceptional automata and animated items ranging from the most serious of time pieces to the most frivolous of toys. I think this clockwork pig falls closer to the category of the latter.

I like this pig. He looks like a happy pig despite the fact that he has a rider. This is just one example of the beautiful automata designed during the Nineteenth Century—particularly in Germany, France and England. Automata had a place in the home as toys, yes, but they also served as conversation pieces, curious and, even, decorative objects. Functional Victorian clockwork pieces are rare and difficult to come by. They can occasionally be found in pieces or in poor-working order.

This pig seems to have held up well. He and his friend now reside in The Victoria & Albert Museum. The geographical origins of this pig are somewhat sketchy. Curators at the V&A place it around 1890 and most likely originating in France or Germany. The pleased pig walks on his thin legs—wound by a key in his stomach. His rider can move his arms (one of them, missing a hand) back and forth. Items such as this were often imported to England and the United States during the Nineteenth Century. Because of their small size, they weren’t heavily taxed and could be purchased for a relatively low cost. Today, however, an item such as this is worth a small fortune. 

The Art of Play: A German Mechanical Dancing Toy, 1865-75

Mechanical Dancing Toy
1865-1875
The Victoria & Albert Museum

A colorfully-dressed couple dances around an opulent setting—this was the stuff of the upper-classes and was out of reach for most people, especially children. So, imagine a child’s face as he or she gazed at this magnificent mechanical toy which was made in Germany between 1865 and 1875. Sadly, most children would never have had a chance to see this toy. This was made as a conversation piece for wealthy Nineteenth-Century men and women who already had access to such events. Automata such as this were made in contrast to the novelty pieces which glutted the limited market. This was the elegant answer to all of the smoking monkeys and laughing urchins.


The mechanical figures are housed in a box of polished wood with a glass panel at the front. The while of the box is surrounded by a carved, gilt frame. The brass clockwork mechanism which operates the figures as well as the music box is activated by releasing the control switch after winding with an iron key.

The scene of a three-sided ballroom is adorned with mirrored walls and a red cloth curtain, and is trimmed with gold metallic paper. Across the front top is a band of similar cloth. The floor is of printed paper over wood, showing birds, trees,, flowers and fruit and a lead chandelier is suspended from the top. At some point later, two electric lights were added.

The figures are two bisque German dolls with blonde wigs. The woman wears a purple jacket trimmed with gold, a cream skirt covered with black lace, and black lace attached to the top of the head. The man wears a purple jacket with green and gold trim, green breeches and a green cap which extends to a long point at the back, decorated with gold trim and a gold and purple tassel.

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: A Magnificent Watch by Markwick and Markham, 1750-75

Clock-Watch
Markwick and Markham
1750-1775
The Victoria & Albert Museum

From the Eighteenth-Century makers of luxury “clock-watches,” Markwick & Markham, we see this glorious specimen with quarter-repeating movement, verge escapement and and enamel dial. It features gilt-metal cases, with an embossed outer case, adorned with chased gold and decorated with gold piqué work on leather

Signed Markwick-Markham, London, it is is numbered 14103. James Markwick and Robert Markham created elegant clocks and watches for the Turkish market, as well as formed a partnership under their joint names to operate a London shop-front from about 1725 to 1805.

The specific term, “Clock-Watch” refers to the oversized watches which were in vogue at the time. Not only could they be carried on a person, but they could be displayed in a room on a hook (usually from a necessaire) and employed as a clock while traveling. This model, made for export, is fitted with Turkish gradations and strikes the hours and quarters on a silver bell. This beautiful watch uses three cases: a gilt-metal case which is pierced and engraved with foliage, another outer case which is similarly decorated, and an extra outer case which is pierced in openwork with Rococo scrolls and foliage and with panels of shagreen (leather of rough, un-tanned skin) decorated with piqué in gold.