Early Clocks | Lee Borrett
A
John Sanderson
'Sleeping Beauty' , c1700
A highly interesting, unrestored early 30-hour religious-versed wall clock by John Sanderson of Wigton, with a rare penny moon feature, c1700.
A Remarkable
‘Sleeper’
The term ‘sleeper’ is occasionally used in the antiques trade to describe an object that has recently come to light after perhaps spending many years stored away in a loft, basement, shed or barn. Such objects can sometimes be found covered in dust and heavily tarnished, but for the collector this can be particularly exciting because there is a good chance that they have escaped the attentions of modern restorers.
As a collector of early clocks, I have always found the discovery of a genuine ‘sleeper’ particularly rewarding. There is something very special about seeing an early clock exactly as it has survived, complete with the accumulated marks, tarnishing and repairs acquired during its long life.
The subject of this article is a particularly interesting example: an early 30-hour religious-versed wall clock by John Sanderson of Wigton, dating from around c1700. It survives today in a remarkably untouched and unrestored condition and is illustrated here essentially ‘as found’.
The stunning early John Sanderson wall clock illustrated survives today in an extremely dirty and tarnished condition throughout. It has a handsome 10.75-inch square brass dial with a busy dial centre featuring a penny moon that is set within the middle of a deeply engraved Memento Mori religious verse that reads ‘Remember Man Die thou must and after that to judgement just’. There is also a square date calendar to the lower part of the dial centre below the verse and there is ringing to the inside and outside of the chapter ring. The verse is a powerful reminder of the religious purpose behind so many of the earliest Wigton clocks. Memento Mori — literally, remember that you must die — was a familiar Christian theme in seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century devotional culture, reminding the viewer of mortality, judgement and the need to live a virtuous life.
The Dial
Above Showing the handsome 10.75-inch square brass dial with a busy dial centre featuring a penny moon that is set within the middle of a deeply engraved religious verse that reads ‘Remember Man Die thou must and after that to judgement just’. (Memento Mori). Photographed by Lee Borrett.
Below. Showing the John Sanderson dial centre with deeply engraved Memento Mori verse (Bear Death in mind), ringing to the inside of chapter ring and a square date calendar. Photographed by Lee Borrett.
The Penny Moon
The penny moon is one of the most charming features of this early clock. The engraved religious verse has been arranged around the moon, creating an unusually intimate relationship between the decorative and devotional elements of the dial.
Above The rare penny moon feature. Note how the religious verse has been engraved around the moon. Photographed by Lee Borrett.
The four corners of the thin solid brass dial sheet have been left without applied spandrels, a characteristic feature of many of Sanderson’s earliest clocks. The simplicity of the bare corners allows the original sheet-brass construction of the dial to be appreciated.
The chapter ring has trident-type half-hour markers and is signed at the bottom: John Sanderson, Wigton Fecit. Interestingly, the chapter ring retains a long original casting fault running between the 40- and 45-minute numerals. It is almost like a scar in the brass and provides a wonderful reminder that these clocks were handmade objects produced in a working provincial workshop rather than perfectly finished factory products.
Above Showing the long original casting fault running between the 40- and 45-minute numerals. Photographed by Lee Borrett.
Below. Signed at the bottom of chapter ring John Sanderson, Wigton Fecit. Photographed by Lee Borrett.
The large, heavily built iron and brass birdcage movement, with its turned brass lantern-style pillars and feet, is typical of John Sanderson’s early work and fits closely within the characteristic construction of the early Wigton School clocks. Despite being covered in many years of accumulated dust, the movement appears to have survived in remarkably original condition. It retains its original wheelwork and chain pulleys, with relatively little evidence of later interference. One of the rear lantern feet has been crudely replaced at some point during the clock’s long history. The replacement itself appears old and may perhaps have been carried out by a previous owner. It is impossible to establish exactly when or why the repair was undertaken, although it is an interesting feature in its own right.
The Movement
Above. Rear view of the movement showing the crudely replaced lantern foot. Photographed by Lee Borrett.
Above. Showing a side view of the heavily built John Sanderson movement which is full of thick dust. Photographed by Lee Borrett.
Below. Showing an opposite side view of the movement. Photographed by Lee Borrett.
Below. Showing the top plate. Photographed by Lee Borrett.
I purchased this clock about twenty five years ago from the private collection of Chris Papworth, then owner of Kelvedon Clocks in Colchester.
Chris explained to me at the time that he had owned the clock for approximately fifteen years after being asked by the widow of a watchmaker to clear his workshop. The watchmaker had worked as a trade repairer, carrying out watch repairs for several jewellers’ shops in the vicinity of Billericay, Essex. His workshop was in the attic of his house and, although it was apparently a well-organised working environment, everything had to be carried up and down through a very small loft opening using a loft ladder. He had apparently worked in this workshop for around thirty years. His widow told Chris that the clock had been in the workshop for as long as she could remember. She had no idea where it had originally come from, but the watchmaker had put it to one side with the intention of restoring it when he had the time. We all know that feeling! Fortunately for the clock, that day never came. At the time, it was still relatively common for early clocks to undergo very heavy restoration, sometimes with the intention of returning them to an almost new appearance. Chris explained to me that attitudes towards the restoration of early clocks had subsequently become considerably more sympathetic. In this case, the watchmaker’s lack of time may therefore have been the best thing that could have happened to this particular clock.
The Clock’s
Remarkable History
A True
‘Sleeping Beauty’
Above. Showing the early Sanderson clock sitting on its later primitive oak wall bracket. Photographed by Lee Borrett.
Preserving the ‘Sleeper’
Like Chris Papworth, I decided not to have this clock restored. For me, the heavily tarnished brass, accumulated dust, old repair and general sleepy appearance are not faults to be removed but part of the clock’s remarkable history. They tell us that this is not simply an early clock that has subsequently been made to look old; it is an early clock that has genuinely survived. I find this untouched condition particularly desirable. Of course, I am only the present custodian of this remarkable survivor. A future owner may one day decide to restore the movement and return the clock to full working order. Until that time, however, I am very happy to leave this little ‘Sleeping Beauty’ exactly as I found her — quietly waiting after more than three centuries.
John Sanderson was born in 1671 and was brought up at Tiffinthwaite Farm, near Wigton, where his father Robert was a blacksmith. It is believed that John may have served an apprenticeship under the Quaker clockmaker John Ogden at Bowbridge in Yorkshire during the 1680s. By about 1690 he was back in the Wigton area, working as a clockmaker at Tiffinthwaite. Sanderson became the central figure in what is now known as the Wigton School of Clockmaking, a distinctive regional tradition that produced a remarkable group of early provincial clocks during the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.The early religious-versed 30-hour clocks associated with the school are particularly interesting. Their substantial brass lantern-style movements, relatively simple dials and deeply engraved religious verses give them a distinctive character that separates them from many contemporary clocks produced in the larger English clockmaking centres. It is thought that Sanderson and other Wigton makers sold clocks locally at Wigton and in the surrounding districts, with examples possibly travelling considerably farther afield, including towards Edinburgh. The marketplace would have provided an important opportunity for local makers to sell their work directly to prospective customers.
From my own experience of collecting these clocks, I believe that many of the early 30-hour examples with lantern-style movements were probably originally intended to be used as wall or bracket clocks, before some were subsequently housed in wooden cases.This is, however, my own interpretation based upon studying surviving examples rather than a documented fact. The evidence provided by caseless survivors such as this one is nevertheless intriguing. Some clocks were later housed in newly made cases, perhaps reflecting the fashions of a later generation, while others appear to have been adapted into previously occupied cases. For the collector, I regard all of this as part of the natural history of an early clock. Rather than diminishing their interest, later cases, repairs and alterations can provide evidence of how these clocks were used, valued and passed from one generation to another. This particular Sanderson is therefore especially fascinating. If it really has escaped being housed in a case throughout its long life, it could preserve an unusually rare glimpse of how one of Sanderson’s early religious-versed 30-hour clocks may originally have appeared when displayed in a Cumbrian home more than three centuries ago.
The Wigton School
Clockmaking
of
This remarkable little clock provides a fascinating glimpse into the earliest years of the Wigton School and into the way these early religious-versed 30-hour clocks may originally have been used. Its heavily tarnished dial, accumulated dust, old repair and substantial lantern-style movement all bear witness to a long and largely undocumented working life. Whether it really did remain on a wall or bracket throughout much of its existence can never be known with certainty, but its survival without a case makes this an intriguing possibility.
For me, that uncertainty is part of the clock’s appeal. Rather than restoring away the evidence of its age, I have chosen to preserve it in the condition in which it came to light. After more than three centuries, this early Sanderson remains a wonderfully evocative survivor — a true ‘Sleeping Beauty’ from the formative years of the Wigton School.
Conclusion
Acknowledgement
I would like to acknowledge with sincere gratitude the late Brian Loomes, whose pioneering research laid much of the foundation for our understanding of John Sanderson and the Wigton School of Clockmaking.
His book Brass Dial Clocks, together with his many articles and studies of early provincial clockmaking, remains an invaluable source for collectors and researchers interested in these remarkable Cumbrian makers.
Much of the historical background surrounding John Sanderson and the Wigton School presented on this website has been informed by Brian’s published research. I have also drawn upon my own study of surviving clocks, observations made through collecting and comparing examples, and information that has come to light through subsequent research.
Brian Loomes’s contribution to the study of early English clocks was immense, and his work continues to influence and encourage collectors and researchers today. I am particularly grateful to have been able to build upon the foundation he established.
