The heat that pushed us indoors during these dog days of the Alpine summer has placed me in front of the grandfather clock in the only cool room in the chalet, the dining-sitting room, for hours – working, socialising, keeping fresh. Every hour it strikes the hour twice, at the exact time and two minutes later – ‘in case we didn’t hear it the first time’ my mother says, and on the half-hour, once. It’s a clear chime, which carries throughout the chalet, even with the doors shut : there is no chance of not hearing it and so when we go to bed, we remove the lead weight that sets off the clock every half-hour. Then only the unrelenting pendulum swings loudly in the night.
It’s long since I examined this symbol both of time fleeing and permanence. Its casing is rough, rustic, hewn together some 150 years ago from fir wood by a peasant in the mountains of Maurienne in Savoy. Over time it has been polished with beeswax until its patina darkened its colour to a deep honey.
The mechanism comes from the Jura mountains, watch country to this day, where clockmakers used to work in small workshops and sent clock and watch mechanisms throughout Europe. The tin-glazed clock face is surrounded by a detailed brass bas relief depicting a mountain huntsman brandishing a rifle, a dog at his side, on a stylised background of oak leaves, acorns and ivy.
I’m wondering about the three men who made this clock. The clockmaker, unusually, did not mark his name or area on the clock face. The bas-relief artist must have worked with the clockmaker, perhaps in the same workshop or close by, to order. He and the peasant-carpenter remain as anonymous as the clockmaker (how do I know he was not a trained carpenter? Because he made an uneven, rough casing out of what looks like the ends of wood used for making other, larger furniture.) The peasant who bought the mechanism with this decorated clock face was not poor : he could afford a good quality movement that still works 150 years later and tells the right time to the minute. But he was not rich: he had to build his own case, out of cheap fir wood. He made it to last, using thick square wood pegs to hold together the strong boards.
He invested in two pieces of glass: a large necessary one in front of the clock face, and a smaller one he must have chosen for his own pleasure, revealing the brass pendulum, battered by time.
Was he a grandfather, assembling his clock during his well-deserved retirement from back-breaking high altitude Alpine farming and animal husbandry? Or perhaps a mountain guide who whiled away his winter evenings in a makeshift workshop in the decades before winter sports took over the Maurienne and turned his descendants into skiing instructors and ski patrollers in the resorts above Albertville. Was he a young man building a clock for his wife-to-be, to impress her parents and prove his resilience and time-worthiness?
His way of life has disappeared from the Alps. His land was sold to make ski slopes and build chalets for tourists. His great-great-grandchildren live in flats and few of them would know how to make a grandfather clock case. His family sold his clock, perhaps to buy some newly necessary household item or simply because it was old and out of fashion. In the 1960s, Alpine antique dealers went from farm to farm, buying clocks, chests, beds and tables, often for next to nothing from families who didn’t realise their value and timeless beauty.
There is still a handful of bas-relief artists and traditional clockmakers in the Jura, but most have closed their workshops, replaced by high-tech workers or cheaper mass-producing factory workers, many of them in Asia. They too have been overtaken by relentless time.
We collect these ancient rustic pieces to give ourselves a window onto a past that was never ours. The grandfather clock is a time machine to a lost world, a magical bridge to a traditional clockmaker, a brass-working artist in the valleys of the Jura and a mountain peasant-carpenter whose life left no other trace of its passage and culture. Time was slower when that clock was made. It has accelerated beyond the imaginings of its makers, faster than the skiers who whizz down those mountains in winter. Yet the clock is still there and tells the time in the way it always did. It has just struck six: the same six chimes the farmer heard in his rugged wood and stone house 150 years ago. Time has passed. Time has stood still.
34 thoughts on “time machine”
What a gorgeous piece — such attention to detail! I love that the story lives on … you may not know every page of the “book,” but you care enough to read what you do have! 🙂
Grandfather clocks are so boss. I purchased my very own Howard Miller and couldn’t be happier.
They are fantastic. We have another, much more ‘professional’ one from England (this is our holiday place.)This one holds a special place in my heart because it’s so rough – yet lovely – and obviously made by a mountain farmer. Fantastic movement.
That was lovely. I love when I’m taken to a different time and place through someone else’s writing. You did that for me today. Thank you.
uffa no so come si fa un blog bellissimo il tuo
Thank you, Mikalee! I love the stories that old things and pictures have to tell us. Don’t you?
Thank you, MJ Conner! I love it when I succeed 🙂
Terry, con amor e tempo, trovando ispirazione in altri blog e leggere l’aiuto di WordPress
thank you 🙂
Very nice! I feel transported to another place, another time, and another way of life. Thank you.
This is beautiful. My grandfather is a clockmaker and this is how I think of him, both ancient and modern, always timely. He’s recently retired at 92 yrs of age, but he still spends his time in the basement workshop creating a new clock from designs he draws himself.
Love the description of the clock to go along with the pics. But even more, the thoughtful descriptions and speculations of that time gone by…Beautiful written. How lucky you are to be able to look upon this timeless work of art.
Beautiful. I guess we are all nostalgic creatures.. Swing by my blog is you wish, cheers.
That was a well crafted essay and I appreciated your selection of contemporary and archival photography to help tell the story. In a sense, I’ve always thought cameras were a form of a time-machine, at least for going in one direction, as they take you back to forgotten moments in time…
What a lovely piece of writing. Honestly I hadn’t expected to be so moved and melancholy at first. You have done this wonderful piece of history such justice, it’s creators would be proud to know how valued it truly is. I hope that you have it forever and then pass it on to someone who loves it as much as you.
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What a gorgeous clock and sweet post about it! Congrats on FP!
Very interesting time machine post.Great to read some thing unique .Thank you for following my site.Regards.Jalal
I have such fond memories of listening to my family’s grandfather clock chime at the hour…it’s a sound of my childhood.
Cheers to you,
I really like the article.”The grandfather clock is a time machine to a lost world”, what an excellent way to describe it.
a beautiful piece of furniture….my dad was a carpenter,joiner,cabinet maker,pattern maker and roof builder and he was invoved with another old gentleman for a while making clocks…….they have both passed on and their great skills have gone with them…….i inherited many top quality hand tools dating back to the 30s and earlier…..i am busy playing around with making fake pirate chests out of old packaging boxes……real hardwoods ,leather and brass are just too expensive these days so experiments with artifical materials is the order of the day.
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Many thanks for all your kind words. These days we tend to look at ‘things’ (and sadly, people too) as all too easy to throw away. Yet things have histories and stories to tell. They are linked to people, to places, to eras. They carry within them so much more than simple bits and pieces put together. I certainly hope to keep this clock as long as I’m alive.
I wonder, what stories will be told of the things we make today? Do we still cherish some of our ‘things’?
thegreatgodpan1 (brilliant name), those are some lovely chests that you’re making. Chests are another interest of mine.
I collect (and love) antique objects. whether a piece of 18th century china or an engraving of that period or an early textile. I love knowing these are merely mine for a while and often wonder who used them before I did.
A beautiful post. With a little sadness in it, times flies and the “old” world disappears…
But the works of these people will not. I prefer to think the owner was a mountain guide…
Robert, there is always sadness at the passing of a world that created beautiful things. We look around and think – we are more comfortable, but will we leave beauty to those who come after us, or just mountains of junk?
Yes, I like to think he was a guide as well 🙂
broadsideblog – oh yes, these questions we ask of the objects we own that have been owned, sometimes many times, before! And there could be so many answers.
Really had fun reading this. I too had once came upon a grandfather clock, although it was kind of smaller, you known the ones that are hung on the wall.
A thoroughly well written article, your skill with the pen leaves me in awe and jealous.
Please check my humble attempts at blogging out, mabye one day I will write with as much flair and pinasche as you do!
Beautiful blog 🙂
what a lovely story! that grandfather clock is incredible! x
Thank you for your compliments on the blog and post, they are very encouraging!
I think I may have been a grandfather clock in my prior life.