The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were among the most turbulent periods in English history. Religion and politics were inseparable, and disagreement over matters of faith frequently led to social unrest, persecution and, ultimately, civil war. Many people had become dissatisfied with what they regarded as the worldliness and corruption of the established Church, while the increasing availability of the Bible in English encouraged ordinary men and women to study the Scriptures for themselves rather than relying solely upon the interpretation of the clergy.

Out of this atmosphere of religious questioning emerged a number of non-conformist movements seeking a return to what they believed to be the simplicity of early Christianity. Among the most influential was the Religious Society of Friends, whose followers became known as Quakers.

Although Quakerism began in the English Midlands, it spread rapidly throughout the north of England, where many communities proved receptive to its message of personal faith, equality and simplicity. By the middle of the seventeenth century, the market town of Wigton and the surrounding countryside had become one of the movement’s most important centres in Cumberland. It was within this remarkable religious landscape that the Wigton School of clockmakers would later emerge.

A young George Fox talking with women in a field 1600s. Hand-colored woodcut. Alamy.com

George Fox (1624–1691), the founder of the Religious Society of Friends, was one of the most influential religious reformers of seventeenth-century England. Born at Fenny Drayton in Leicestershire, Fox became increasingly dissatisfied with the established Church and the religious divisions of his day. After years of spiritual searching, he came to believe that every individual could experience the presence of God directly, without the need for priests, elaborate ceremonies or formal sacraments.

Writing later of this profound experience, Fox recalled:

“I saw also that there was an ocean of darkness and death; but an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness.”

His message of personal faith, simplicity, honesty and equality attracted growing numbers of followers throughout England. These early believers became known first as the Children of the Light and Friends of Truth, before eventually adopting the name Society of Friends. The term Quaker, originally intended as a nickname, was soon widely adopted and remains in common use today.

Among the areas most receptive to Fox’s preaching was Cumberland, where a number of independent religious groups known as Seekers had already separated themselves from the Established Church. These communities were actively searching for a simpler and more personal form of Christianity, making the region fertile ground for Fox’s teachings.

A Quaker's meeting in the seventeenth century. Alamy.com

Around 1652 George Fox visited Tiffinthwaite Farm, just outside the market town of Wigton, where he met William Pearson, one of the local Seekers. Their meeting proved to be a turning point in the religious history of the district.

Inspired by Fox’s teaching, William Pearson embraced the new movement and established one of Cumberland’s earliest Quaker communities. He built a Meeting House on his land and generously provided ground for a Quaker burial place, creating a centre that would serve the growing Society of Friends for many years.

Although Fox encountered hostility during a visit to Wigton in 1653, when he was turned away by an angry crowd, he returned about ten years later and was welcomed once again at Tiffinthwaite Farm. Writing afterwards, he described the gathering as being “very large and precious,” a reflection of how firmly Quakerism had become established within the local community.

Following William Pearson’s death in 1674, the meetings continued uninterrupted. Monthly and Quarterly Meetings were regularly held, while additional Meeting Houses were established throughout the surrounding district. By the beginning of the eighteenth century, Wigton had become one of the principal centres of Quaker life in Cumberland.

Above. 'Memento Mori' . Showing a close-up of the early 8-day Sanderson dial centre c1695. Photograph by Lee Borrett

Below. Showing a close-up of the 'Memento Mori' engraved dial centre of another early John Sanderson 8-day longcase clock which dates from around c1710. Photograph by Lee Borrett

This verse from the Bible (Ecclesiastes 1:2) also appears in the Quaker Bible of Quotes. It has often made me wonder whether some of Sanderson’s earliest clocks, bearing their distinctive memento mori inscriptions, may originally have been intended for Quaker and other non-conformist families within the district. By the closing years of the seventeenth century, Wigton had become an important centre of Quakerism, and Sanderson would almost certainly have counted many Quakers and other non-conformists among his customers.

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At present, however, this remains only my own theory. Although the historical circumstances make the idea an intriguing possibility, I have so far found no documentary evidence to prove that these religious verses were engraved specifically for Quaker patrons.

Above   Philippe de Champaigne’s Vanitas (c.1671), reduced to three powerful symbols—Life, Death and Time. The Latin phrase memento mori (“remember that you must die”) served as a reminder of the brevity of earthly life and the certainty of death. The concept has its roots in classical philosophy and Christian teaching, appearing in funerary art and architecture from the medieval period onwards.

Above. Showing a wonderfully interesting and very rare 30-hour  wall clock with religious verse and penny moon feature by Richard Sill of Wigton, c1705. Photographed by Lee Borrett

One of the most intriguing questions surrounding John Sanderson’s earliest thirty-hour clocks is whether they were originally intended to be housed in longcases at all.

This presents no difficulty with Sanderson’s eight-day clocks, as numerous examples survive in their original cases. His early thirty-hour clocks, however, tell a rather different story. The majority of those that have come to light either remain uncased, are displayed today on wall brackets, or have been fitted into cases that appear to be of a later date.

From many years of collecting and studying these remarkable clocks, I believe it is entirely possible that Sanderson’s earliest thirty-hour movements were originally intended to hang on simple wall brackets, much like the celebrated hook-and-spike clocks produced in Gloucestershire by Walter Archer and other contemporary makers.

Such an arrangement would have made good practical and economic sense. Purchasing only the movement would have been considerably less expensive than commissioning a complete longcase, allowing the owner to acquire a reliable domestic clock before investing in an elaborate wooden case at a later date if circumstances permitted.

This theory may also help explain one of the most distinctive features of Sanderson’s earliest work. Many of his lantern-style movements incorporate beautifully cast decorative pillars, and in some cases equally decorative feet. If these movements had always been intended to remain hidden inside longcases, there would have been little practical reason to devote so much time, expense and skill to producing such ornamental castings. Much simpler iron pillars would have served the purpose equally well at far lower cost.

By contrast, Sanderson’s later birdcage movements, with their plain square-section pillars, appear far more suited to permanent installation within conventional longcases, where the movement itself was largely concealed from view.

Although documentary evidence has not yet been found to prove this theory conclusively, the surviving clocks themselves provide compelling circumstantial evidence. Taken together, the surviving evidence suggests that Sanderson’s earliest thirty-hour clocks may have occupied a distinctive place in the evolution of English domestic clockmaking, combining the appearance of lantern clocks with features that anticipated the development of the longcase clock.

17th century longcase by John Sanderson  c1698

The clockmakers of the Wigton School occupy a unique place in the history of English horology. Working in the rural county of Cumberland at the close of the seventeenth century, they developed a distinctive style of clockmaking that reflected not only exceptional craftsmanship but also the religious and social character of the community in which they lived.

The close association between John Sanderson, the Pearson family and the early Quaker movement provides a fascinating historical backdrop to these remarkable clocks. Whether every religious verse engraved upon their dials was intended specifically for Quaker patrons can never be stated with certainty, but it is difficult to ignore the strong connection between the flourishing Quaker community around Wigton and the devotional character of many of the surviving clocks.

John Sanderson remains the central figure in this story. Through his influence, a distinctive regional tradition emerged that was continued by makers such as John Ismay and Richard Sill, producing clocks that are instantly recognisable to collectors today. More than three centuries later, their work continues to offer valuable insight into the craftsmanship, beliefs and daily lives of the people who lived in this remarkable corner of northern England.

As a collector, I have been fortunate to study a number of these rare clocks at first hand. Each newly discovered example contributes another piece to the puzzle, and there is little doubt that further research will continue to expand our understanding of the Wigton School and the remarkable craftsmen who created it.

For me, that is one of the greatest pleasures of collecting early clocks. Every original survivor has its own story to tell, and occasionally those stories allow us to see familiar history in an entirely new light.