Winding the Caledonian Park turret clock

 

The clock tower in Caledonian Park, Islington, London

The clock tower in Caledonian Park, Islington, London

 

In Caledonian Park, in the London Borough of Islington, stands a distinctive 45 meter clock tower with four dials that can be seen from far away. It was erected in the 1850s to serve as the command centre of the newly laid out Metropolitan Cattle Market, which had been created to replace the old more centrally located Smithfield Market. The tower is a Grade II listed building.

 

The clock tower served as the command centre of the cattle market. The buildings around the tower were bank and telegraph offices

The clock tower served as the command centre of the cattle market. The buildings around the tower were bank and telegraph offices

 

You can see the clock movement in this short videoclip. Turret clock expert Chris McKay has recently published a facsimile reproduction of A List of Church, Turret and Musical Clocks. Manufactured by John Moore & Sons. 38 & 39, Clerkenwell Close, London, dated 1877. For the year 1854 we find: ‘Islington, London Four 10-ft. 6-in. dials, chiming, for the Cattle Market.’ The chimes are no longer in operation, from what I understand at the insistence of nearby residents. But the clock is still running and showing the correct time.

The movement, made in 1854 by John Moore & Sons, Clerkenwell

The movement, made in 1854 by John Moore & Sons, Clerkenwell

 

During an open day last summer I had a chance to get into the tower, and to see the clock and enjoy the view from the balcony. The organizers were looking to extend their group of volunteers for the weekly winding of the clock. I signed up and am on the rota now, so I regularly climb first a cast iron spiral staircase and then a series of steep ladders to get to the movement and pull up the heavy weight. It’s a good physical exercise and a welcome hands-on experience for someone whose involvement with horology is normally limited to sitting at a desk putting together the quarterly journal of the AHS.

Winding the clock – good exercise

Winding the clock – good exercise

 

The Caledonian Park Friends Group have published a booklet with much information on the history of the market, which for a while also functioned as a flea market. The cover shows the market in full swing, but the artist has made a bad job of representing the tower. If the dials were really as low as where he painted them, climbing up to wind the clock would be a lot easier!

The image on the cover of the booklet...

The image on the cover of the booklet…

... the artist has misrepresented the clock tower

… the artist has misrepresented the clock tower

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Donation to the British Museum

 

I write with a foot in two allied camps; as a member of the AHS and a Curator of Horology at the British Museum.  In October last year the AHS Council generously donated sixteen interesting clocks, watches and horological tools to the BM collections.  The items had in fact been at the BM since 1973, having been deposited on long-term loan when the AHS left its former London HQ.  This conversion to a donation consolidates that loan and upholds one of the core objectives of the AHS which is the support of public collections.   Let us look at three of the items.

 

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Firstly, a lantern clock with centre verge pendulum by Johannes Kent of Congleton, Cheshire, late 17th century.  Lantern clocks with centre pendulum sometimes had “angel wing” extensions to the side doors to accommodate the arc of pendulum.  This clock does not have these, but the side doors (which seem to be later) do not interfere with the action of the pendulum.  Unusually for this time, the clock does not have Huygens’s endless winding system, but has a separate drive for each train.

 

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Next, an interesting year-going movement.  This was probably housed in a slate or marble case, perhaps something like this.  The inscription on the dial is somewhat rubbed and not wholly legible, but it seems to be signed for Edward Watson of King Street, Cheapside, London (working 1815-63) who would have been the retailer for the clock.  The movement is stamped to show that it was made by Achille Brocot of Paris.  Brocot invented this type of long duration movement in the mid-19th century, employing multiple mainsprings in going barrels to drive the clock.  The system has great advantages over using a single large mainspring to achieve a long duration.  Smaller springs are easier to make and much easier to remove for maintenance.  Also, if one of the five springs were to break it would cause far less damage to the clock than a recently-wound single spring with a year’s worth of driving energy being unleashed.

 

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… and finally, an unusual and incredibly useful screwdriver.  It has five slot heads at different orientations enabling access to those awkward screws, such as between the plates of a movement.  Right, I’m off to attend to a newly-installed longcase clock which has stopped – an in-situ adjustment of the back cock should do it..!

 

As with all items in the collections of the British Museum, these items are kept to be made accessible to all members of the public.  An appointment to study them can be made by contacting the horological team at horological@britishmuseum.org or by telephone (020 7323 8395). 

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How did Arnold get to the Clockmakers’ Museum?

 

On 23 October, the Clockmakers’ Museum opened at the Science Museum. The new gallery is a treasure-trove of horological history, home to so many wonderful items it’s hard to know where to look next. Tucked away in one showcase is a modest-looking pocket watch that would be easy to miss, yet tells a story close to my heart—that of Ruth Belville, whose biography I wrote in 2008.

Gallery view of the Clockmakers' Museum.  The world’s oldest clock and watch collection includes more than 600 watches, 30 clocks and 15 marine timekeepers, which map the history of innovation in watch and clock making in London from 1600 to the present day.

The Clockmakers’ Museum at the Science Museum

 

The watch was originally the property of John Belville, an astronomer at the Royal Observatory Greenwich, who used it between 1836 and his death twenty years later to carry accurate Greenwich Time round a network of subscribers across London.

The Belville family’s pocket watch, ‘Arnold’, at the Clockmakers’ Museum

The Belville family’s pocket watch, ‘Arnold’, at the Clockmakers’ Museum

The movement of Arnold

The movement of Arnold

When John died in 1856, the watch was passed to Maria, his wife, who continued carrying it round London until 1892, when she retired. She then passed it to her daughter, Ruth, who named it ‘Arnold’ after its maker, John Arnold. Ruth carried the time to town with Arnold until 1940, when she retired, aged 86.

But it was not the end of the line for Arnold. Ruth had always wanted it to have a good home. ‘When it retires from business … I think the dear old thing ought to be put in the British Museum’, she told the Evening News in 1908. In 1921, Ruth changed her mind, stating that she ‘should wish the Royal Observatory to have the first offer of purchasing my chronometer’. Yet neither received Arnold.

Ruth Belville in the Evening News, 1929

Ruth Belville in the Evening News, 1929

 

In 1941, the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers granted Ruth a pension which gave her crucial financial security in her retirement. Ruth repaid its generosity in January 1943, when she wrote to the Company offering her watch for its museum when the time came. The Company accepted, noting that ‘by doing so her name would be perpetuated for all time’. Eight months later, Ruth died with Arnold by her bedside. The watch was duly transferred to the Company’s collection and ended up on display at Guildhall.

Now I needn’t go to Guildhall to see Arnold—delightful though my visits there always were—but instead I can pop into the magnificent new gallery at the Science Museum during my lunch break. I hope you’ll have a chance to see it too.

 

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Inaugural meeting of the AHS Wristwatch Group

This post was written by Mat Craddock of the Wristwatch Group

 

A Breguet watchmaker preparing for a busy evening of demonstrations (Photo Yarek Baranik)

A Breguet watchmaker preparing for a busy evening of demonstrations (Photo Yarek Baranik)

 

On Thursday 29th October, the AHS’s first new Group in over forty years held its inaugural event. The Wristwatch Group, whose aim is to further research into, and to increase the understanding of, wristwatches, has been working with one of the oldest and prestigious names in watches, Montres Breguet SA, to host the event.

Breguet’s newly-opened three storey boutique on Old Bond Street was the perfect venue, with vintage pieces on display alongside current models, many clearly showing a direct lineage from Abraham Louis’ extraordinary and often revolutionary designs. One of Breguet’s in-house watchmakers guided guests through the often bewildering complications and materials on these modern watches, which are now just as likely to be using titanium and silicon, as brass or gold, such as the Breguet Tradition 7077. This fascinating new piece is a bifurcated model with two movements working independently at different frequencies: a relatively traditional time-only mechanism (3Hz); and a 20-minute chronograph operating at 5Hz.

 

AHS Council member Jonathan Betts opening the evenings' talks (Photo Yarek Baranik)

AHS Council member Jonathan Betts opening the evenings’ talks (Photo Yarek Baranik)

 

The evening was introduced by Jonathan Betts MBE on behalf of the Chairman of the Council, and was followed by two talks by two of this country’s most knowledgeable Breguet experts, Andrew Crisford and Stuart Kerr. Jonathan’s introduction also paid respect to AHS President Lisa Jardine, a firm supporter of the Group, who had sadly passed away a few days before.

Andrew Crisford entertains a packed room, on the marketing flair of Abraham Louis Breguet (photo Yarek Baranik)

Andrew Crisford entertains a packed room, on the marketing flair of Abraham Louis Breguet (Photo Yarek Baranik)

 

Andrew drew parallels between modern wristwatch marketing practices, such as product placement, the use of brand ambassadors and accessorising, and the pioneering efforts by Abraham Louis. It seems that even in the early 19th century, Breguet was ahead of the game. Stuart began his talk by describing the circumstances that lead to the Longitude Act, via the alleged murder of Sir Cloudesley Shovell on the sands of Porthellick Cove. Shovell’s pocket watch, an English verge had recently been brought into the boutique and was, along with some of Andrew’s Breguet-related paraphernalia, available for guests to view.

 

Stuart Kerr, the Boutique Manager, tempting an audience of three with a new Breguet watch (Photo Yarek Baranik)

Stuart Kerr, the Boutique Manager, tempting an audience of three with a new Breguet watch (Photo Yarek Baranik)

 

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Watching over us

 

Victoria and Albert Museum, view from southwest (© V&A Images)

Victoria and Albert Museum, view from southwest (© V&A Images)

 

Walking up Exhibition Road in London on the way to the Science Museum, you just have to look to your right and up a bit, and there stands one of our great horological giants. On the façade of the Victoria & Albert Museum stand a cohort of celebrated figures in Britain’s manufacturing heritage. Thomas Tompion is there amongst some illustrious company. On his left and right are St. Dunstan, the Patron Saint of craftsmen, sculptor William Torell, printer, William Caxton, goldsmith George Heriot, blacksmith, Huntingdon Shaw, cabinet maker Thomas Chippendale, potter, Josiah Wedgwood, bookbinder, Roger Payne and designer, William Morris. These figures, finely sculpted in Portland stone, make up part of the museum’s façade designed by Aston Webb and begun in 1899 when Queen Victoria laid the foundation stone. However, it was not to be until 1909 that King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra officially opened the new building.

 

Thomas Tompion by Abraham Broadbent (Photograph by Robert Freidus)

Thomas Tompion by Abraham Broadbent (Photograph by Robert Freidus)

Tho: Tompion Automatopaeus, print by John Smith after Sir Godfrey Kneller, 1697 (© The Trustees of the British Museum)

Tho: Tompion Automatopaeus, print by John Smith after Sir Godfrey Kneller, 1697 (© The Trustees of the British Museum)

The figure of Tompion was sculpted by Abraham Broadbent (1868-1919). He was born in Shipley, the son of a stonemason. He studied in London at the South London Technical School of Art and went on to become one of the more celebrated sculptors of his time, particularly in works in the baroque style.

 

Looking at Broadbent’s image of Tompion, however, it would seem that he had no access to the well-known mezzotint portrait of Tompion by John Smith after a portrait by Sir Godfrey Kneller. Tompion is depicted holding a watch in his left hand, and what appears to be a magnifying glass in his right hand. It would seem that Broadbent did not discuss his proposed figure with a watchmaker, even in the late 19th century, such a visual aid was not the preferred instrument. Nevertheless, it is great to see that one of the clock and watchmaking giants is there amongst a pantheon of recognized celebrities.

Thomas Tompion by Abraham Broadbent (crop)

Close-up of Broadbent’s Tompion

Close-up of the mezzotint print

Close-up of the mezzotint print

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For a detailed account of all the Victoria & Albert Museum sculptures around the building façade, see http://www.victorianweb.org/sculpture/misc/va/facade.html

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Sushi, Saké and a Send-Off

 

The finished article

The finished article

 

December 2014’s Antiquarian Horology featured a clock made in 1573 by De Troestenbergh in Brussels, rebadged and given as a gift (by Spanish survivors of a 1609 shipwreck off Japan) to the great Shogun, Tokugawa Ieyasu.

In May 2014, Johan ten Hoeve of The Clockworks worked on conserving the clock in a Japanese shrine, its home since the early 17th century, measuring and photographing everything. The authorities wanted more than just conservation – they wanted a replica of the movement, sitting alongside, so that visitors could understand the magic of this striking and alarm clock, four centuries old and plaything of their most revered Shogun. In August 2015, Johan and David Thompson (the project’s ambassadorial godfather) travelled to Japan to witness the significant honour accorded to the replica on its arrival and installation.

 

This was no ordinary project. Johan could only rely on details taken over a week. From mid-2014 to mid-2015, he devoted hours ultimately uncountable to producing a working copy of the movement. Pillars were turned with a hand graver, fusees roughly filed out by hand, flies cut and filed from the solid, shaped plates pierced out of steel plate, and so on.

Filing a fusee

Filing a fusee

Filing up the one-piece fly

Filing up the one-piece fly

Piercing out a plate

Piercing out a plate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Depthing arrangements

Depthing arrangements

Crossing out

Crossing out

Wheel teeth were formed using modern cutters, and modern machinery played a large role, but it was a year spent file-in-hand, forming, shaping and finishing.

 

 

 

 

The art of the hand engraver

The art of the hand engraver

Others contributed – notably the Whitechapel Bell Foundry for the bell, while the solid silver dial and hour hand were decorated by members of the Hand Engravers Association.

 

 

 

 

 

The original sits in a shrine, while Johan entered near monastic isolation for a year. In August 2015, to mark his own long journey, to thank the many who had helped, and also to enlighten friends who had not seen him for months, The Clockworks hosted an evening of sushi, saké and Asahi. This was a chance to see the working replica before its long journey to Shizuoka, joining De Troestenbergh’s original. It was a great evening, celebrating the traditional internationalism of horology in which a Dutchman in London worked to an ancient Flemish design to produce a clock for a Japanese shrine. Campai!

Party o'clock

Party o’clock

 

 

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BHI Clock & Watch Conservation and Restoration Forum, 5th September 2015

 

Earlier this month the British Horological Institute hosted a day of lectures and discussion relating to horological conservation and restoration at their headquarters in Upton Hall.

Upton Hall, headquarters of the BHI (Image: Andy Stephenson [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)

Upton Hall, headquarters of the BHI (Image: Andy Stephenson [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)

 

The terms “conservation” and “restoration” are applied to different philosophies of approach to maintaining and repairing objects.  Conservation typically describes an approach of minimal intervention, i.e. attempts to preserve the existing material of a clock or watch as far as possible, whilst still enabling it to serve its required use. Restoration can describe attempts to revert a clock or watch (that has received alterations over the years) back to its conjectured original state.  This typically involves involves the alteration or removal of existing material which, even if not original to the object, can be considered to be part of its history.

There are proponents and opponents of each approach, with many falling somewhere in-between. There is no black or right – every conservation project is different. The differing motives of the stakeholders (who might include horologists and their clients, or visitors to a museum) and the intended use of an object are all valid considerations in the decision-making process which affects the outcome of a project.

The forum aimed to explore these issues through a series of talks from professionals in the field.  The AHS was very well represented with six of the seven speakers being members;

  • Ken Cobb – Welcome and Introduction
  • Alison Richmond – ICON’s Perspectives
  • Matthew Read – Conservation Training and Education in Horology
  • Oliver Cooke – Managing Dynamic Objects in Museum Collections
  • Chris McKay – Conservation on Larger Objects (Turret Clocks)
  • Keith Scobie-Youngs – Working with Others – Project Management within Conservation
  • Jonathan Betts – Conservation/Restoration for the National Trust and Other Heritage Organisations

The forum ended with a positive and interesting open panel discussion.

L-R, Jonathan Betts, Chris McKay, Keith Scobie Youngs, Ken Cobb, Matthew Read, Oliver Cooke, Alison Richmond (Image: BHI)

L-R, Jonathan Betts, Chris McKay, Keith Scobie Youngs, Ken Cobb, Matthew Read, Oliver Cooke, Alison Richmond (Image: BHI)

 

One of the key messages of the day was that the BHI and all horological practitioners have a key role in helping to educate, as widely as possible, all stakeholders in the conservation process on these issues because only with this knowledge might they know how their decisions in the present will affect our heritage in the future. The forum was thus a very positive contribution towards this vital aspect of antiquarian horology and Kenneth Cobb and the BHI must be lauded for making it happen.

 

 

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Taking the first watch

This post was written by Mat Craddock of the Wristwatch Group

 

It’s possible that we may never know for sure when the first wristwatch was made, although that hasn’t stopped a number of Swiss brands laying claim to the production of some iteration of that ur-device.

The Patek Philippe N° 27’368 is such a piece – a six line, gilt, cylinder escapement encased in a rectangular gold bracelet with a hinged, hunter-style cover – although it’s not clear who originally commissioned it from Antoine Norbert de Patek and Jean Adrien Philippe.

The Patek Philippe #27368, the first Swiss wristwatch, was made in 1868 and sold to the Countess Koscowicz for 1200 francs

The Patek Philippe #27368, the first Swiss wristwatch, was made in 1868 and sold to the Countess Koscowicz for 1200 francs

 

The watch is usually behind the well-maintained glass of the Patek Philippe Museum in Geneva, so it was wonderful to be able to see it as part of the Watch Art Grand Exhibition in London’s Saatchi Gallery during May. This exhibition took the visitor through an immersive area showing an introductory film, introduced them to metier d’arts and other decorative skills, and included over 400 pieces, from automata to automatics, which spanned almost five hundred years of watchmaking.

Coach watch with repetition and music by J Chauvel (movement) and John Dearmer I (case), London c1735

Coach watch with repetition and music by J Chauvel (movement) and John Dearmer I (case), London c1735

 

At the end of the route, British watchmakers answered visitors’ questions about case refinishing, movement assembly and the chiming mechanism of a minute repeater movement.

Calibre CHR 29-535 PS Q , just one of 49 watch movements on display

Calibre CHR 29-535 PS Q , just one of 49 watch movements on display

 

Patek  N° 27’368 was made primarily as a timepiece to be worn on the wrist, rather than as a piece of jewellery (i.e. the bracelet is of secondary importance). That must have required, one imagines, a great leap of faith on the part of Messrs Patek and Philippe. While wristwatches gained popularity with women during the 1880s and 90s, and were also produced for men as military timekeepers during a similar period, the earlier oblong-shaped repeater for wristlet sold to the Queen of Naples on 5th December 1811 by Breguet, appeared to have made no horological or sociological impact at all.

N° 27’368 was finally sold to the Countess on November 13, 1876, some eight years after it had first been built.

 

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Chronometers in hell

 

In my previous post, ‘Having a smashing time’, we saw how watches are being tested for shock resistance, which can involve some pretty heavy handling. Another method of testing timepieces is prolonged exposure to heat and cold. This was especially important for marine chronometers, who would travel to all parts of the globe, so it was important to determine to what degree their rate was affected by temperature fluctuations.

The Time Department at the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, where the rate of chronometers was tested, had a large oven in which chronometers were kept for eight weeks at a temperature of about 85 or 90 degrees Fahrenheit, that is around 30 degrees Celsius.

The chronometer oven at Greenwich, as illustrated in in E. Walter Maunders, The Royal Observatory Greenwich - a glance at its history and work (1900). Sir George Airy’s comparison with Dante’s Hell is on p. 170 of this book, which is available on-line here

The chronometer oven at Greenwich, as illustrated in in E. Walter Maunders, The Royal Observatory Greenwich – a glance at its history and work (1900). Sir George Airy’s comparison with Dante’s Hell is on p. 170 of this book, which is available on-line here

 

A recent article in Antiquarian Horology had a section on chronometer testing facilities in 19th-century Germany. In Hamburg they had both an ice cellar and a gas-heated oven. The naval observatory in Wilhelmshaven was less well equipped: “Neither an ice cellar nor a heating apparatus was available. The radiators of the central heating acted as makeshift for the latter, and tests in lower temperatures were conducted in winter by opening the windows. Sometimes the required temperature of 5º could not be reached due to mild weather”.

The first building for testing of chronometers erected in 1876 on the premises of the Hamburg astronomical observatory, had both a Raum für hohe Temperatur (ground floor, top left) and an ice cellar (bottom right). From Eugen Gelcich, Geschichte der Uhrmacherkunst, Weimar 18925, plate X

The first building for testing of chronometers erected in 1876 on the premises of the Hamburg astronomical observatory, had both a Raum für hohe Temperatur (ground floor, top left) and an ice cellar (bottom right). From Eugen Gelcich, Geschichte der Uhrmacherkunst, Weimar 18925, plate X

The gas-heated oven in the first building for testing of chronometers. From Eugen Gelcich, Geschichte der Uhrmacherkunst, Weimar 18925, plate XI

The gas-heated oven in the first building for testing of chronometers. From Eugen Gelcich, Geschichte der Uhrmacherkunst, Weimar 18925, plate XI

 

Manufacturers of chronometers could have their own heat and cold testing apparatus. An oven and an ice-box used by the London-based watch and clockmakers Daniel Desbois and Sons are in the Museum of the History of Science in Oxford. Normally these two objects are kept in storage, but some years ago they were taken out for display in a temporary exhibition ‘Time Machines’. When I visited the exhibition, the curator, Dr Stephen Johnston, told me that at first sight some visitors thought the ice box was a toilet!

Copper-covered oven in which chronometers were placed to check their performance at high temperatures. Photo © Museum of the History of Science, Oxford

Copper-covered oven in which chronometers were placed to check their performance at high temperatures. Photo © Museum of the History of Science, Oxford

Icebox for testing the performance of marine chronometers. They were placed inside the cylindrical tin and surrounded by ice. Photo © Museum of the History of Science, Oxford

Icebox for testing the performance of marine chronometers. They were placed inside the cylindrical tin and surrounded by ice. Photo © Museum of the History of Science, Oxford

 

Sir George Airy, the late Astronomer Royal from 1835 to 1881, in one of his popular lectures drew a humorous comparison between the unhappy chronometers, thus doomed to trial, now in heat and now in frost, and the lost spirits whom Dante describes as alternately plunged in flame and ice. He was referring to Dante’s La Divina Comedia, Book One: Hell, III, 76-82: There, steering toward us in an ancient ferry came an old man with a white bush of hair, bellowing: “Woe to you depraved souls! Bury here and forever all hope of Paradise: I come to lead you to the other shore, into eternal dark, into fire and ice.”

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Commemorating an invasion that never happened

Last month saw the bicentenary of the Battle of Waterloo and the end of the Napoleonic era. To mark the anniversary, this week’s blog posting looks at two curious watch dials. The unusual point being that they both appear to come from the same manufacturer, but were made to celebrate victories on both sides of the conflict. One of which never happened.

Gillray's print showing the 'Republican flotilla in danger' © NMM Ref. PW3949

Gillray’s print showing the ‘Republican flotilla in danger’ © National Maritime Museum (NMM) Ref. PW3949

The first of the two watch dials was made around 1798 when the prospect of a French invasion of England was real and, for many, a terrifying prospect. Rumours abounded of the French rafts that would carry tens of thousands of troops and weapons to English shores. The images of these vessels distributed by the printmakers ranged from the allegedly factual to the overtly ridiculous.The French perspective was bullish about the prospect of invasion. Not only were they confident of success, but they also believed that the English would, for the most part, welcome the invasion. Gillray’s print (above) records that there were indeed those who may have welcomed the French. Whig collaborators are shown on the right-hand-side of the picture trying to winch the French transporter ashore and their efforts are being foiled by Prime Minister, William Pitt the Younger, seen as the wind blowing the flotilla to destruction.

The 'descente en Angleterre' watch dial. ©NMM Ref.

The ‘descente en Angleterre’ watch dial. ©NMM Ref.

The dial depicts the ‘descente en Angleterre’ with a more traditional fleet of ships sailing towards the heavily defended English shoreline and serves as a useful glimpse into the mind of the manufacturer, keen to capitalize on the bullish French mood of early 1798.

The scene on the second dial is identifiable as the Battle of the Nile because of the burning ship on the left-hand-side of the image. This represents the French Flagship, L’Orient, which exploded with such violence that fighting was temporarily halted and it became a symbolic feature in popular representations of the Battle.

Commemorating the Battle of the Nile  © Pieces of Time, December, 2012

A watch commemorating the Battle of the Nile © Pieces of Time, December, 2012

There is a near-identical row of box-shaped buildings placed along the horizon on both dials. This suggests that they both came from the same source. Such buildings seem more appropriate for the northern coast of Africa than the southern shores of Britain and so it was probably a generic depiction preferred by the artist.

Details from the 'descente' (above) and Nile (below) watch dials, showing the similar depiction of buildings

Details from the ‘descente’ (above) and Nile (below) watch dials, showing the similar depiction of buildings

As an asides, the invasion watch dial has a later counterpart in the Museum’s medal collection. A rare sample medal was struck in 1804 with dies intended to be used in London by the victorious French conquerors. Despite amassing a substantial force in the Boulogne area, the embarkation was prevented, principally by the diversion of troops and resources to the Battle of Ulm and, secondarily, by the English blockades.

Sample medals to celebrate the invasion. Reverse marked: frappe a Londres en 1804 © NMM Ref. MEC0831

Sample medals to celebrate the invasion. Reverse marked: frappe a Londres en 1804 © NMM Ref. MEC0831

 

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