Of clocks and regulators

In January this year, we bought a Vienna regulator wall clock at a local antique auction held in Robertson. We had decided that we would buy it if the auction price was reasonable. That intention was short-lived when the bidding went above our agreed price and Keith decided that he really liked the clock.

When we got the clock home, we realised that it might not be a case of just hanging it on the wall and winding it up. We decided to take it to a clock smith for a full assessment and service before mounting it on the dining room wall. We were referred to a clock smith in Cape Town by my cousin, himself an avid antique clock collector. The quotation for the service/maintenance of the clock was a greater shock, coming in at about double the auction price. We contemplated consigning it to the loft and cutting our losses.

In the end, we decided to bite the bullet and let the clock smith service it while we repainted the interior of the house. An arrangement that would ensure a ready spot for its eventual hanging.  After seven months, the big day finally came for the delivery from Cape Town and professional installation of the clock. We had been informed that there could be no guarantee unless the clock was hung and set personally by the clock smith. We waited in anticipation for its arrival from Cape Town. We secured a long screw in the wall where it would hang, ensuring that it would not easily dislodge from its position in the 200-year-old bricks and mortar.

After several lengthy meter readings and adjustments to the clock hanging on the wall, the clock smith had to concede defeat and admit that the clock did not want to work. The only way forward was to take it back to Cape Town to disassemble and assess what fault might have arisen on its journey to Towerwater. Such work could of course only be undertaken on it in his workshop where he had all the necessary precision tools at hand.

With heavy hearts we had to watch the clock drive off into the distance with only a solid screw in the wall to remind us that we had seen our clock on the wall, if only for a relatively brief period.

Three weeks later our clock returned. This time it actually worked and could hang happily in its spot, hopefully never to be touched again apart from being wound.

I have referred to it as a clock, but I need to explain that it is actually a Vienna regulator. We are informed that a Vienna regulator is weight driven. Regulator clocks were invented in the late 18^th century for greater timekeeping accuracy. The features of a regulator are, having a quality weight driven mechanism, a heavy pendulum, a second dial registering 60 beats per minute, gear train driven, a deadbeat or pinwheel escapement, and most notably, expressly engineered to keep accurate time. In the home, and in an era when accurate timekeeping was rare, the regulator provided a reliable source from which all other time-pieces could be set or corrected.

Our regulator clock has two gear trains, one for timekeeping and one for striking the hours and half hours. The clockmaker’s trademark, located on the mechanism, is a rose flanked by the letters R and S and the letter M centered beneath. From this we learned that our regulator clock was made by Reinhold Schnekenburger, Clock Maker, in Mülheim, Germany.

The clockmakers trademark and the serial and batch number 

The rose trademark provided divine confirmation for Keith that the universe willed it that this clock should be in Towerwater, with its Rosarium. 

In 1882 Reinhold Schnekenburger bought the firm Rupert Amann Fabrik für Federzug- & Gewicht-Regulateure, of Mülheim founded in 1867. It continued as R. Schnekenburger GmbH a.d. Donau with the rose and with the RSM as a trademark until bankruptcy in 1900.

I have calculated that our clock was most likely manufactured late in the second half of 1890. This calculation followed extensive research and is based on the serial number and batch number system postulated by John Hubby, respected staff member of the National Association of Watch & Clock Collectors in the USA.

Finally, our regulator clock returned to Towerwater, and we could mount it in what will probably be its permanent spot while with us. Suddenly, the rhythm that disappeared when the Town’s church clock stopped, is back in our lives. With the calm tick-tock driven by the rhythmic swing of the pendulum, the Towerwater house has regained its own heartbeat. The hours and half hours are struck with a gentle and mellow gong that reminds us of the constant passing of time.

Keith gained a new toy that needs winding and care, but it needs to be handled gently. The stabilisers on either side of the clock case provide an indication of the precise position the clock needs to be in to allow the pendulum to swing back and forth at peak efficiency. The slightest movement out of this position will make it stop or at the very least, lose time-keeping accuracy.

I like the new heartbeat of the house that provides an ancient rhythm by which to schedule our daily lives. 

The silence of the bells

The clock in a church steeple in a small country town plays a vital part in the regulation of life and daily routines in the community. Traditionally, Churches tended to be found at the centre of a town or village. The clock can be seen from a distance and with the bell chiming the hours and half hours, it is a constant reminder of the passage of time in each working day and one’s ultimate appointment with one’s maker.

Working in the garden at Towerwater, it is convenient to glance up at the time on the church clock down the road. At night the chiming keeps one informed of the time should one be awake. With the town nestled amongst orchards and vineyards, doubtless the clock and bell of the “Gemeente Vandermerwe” Dutch Reformed Church was once a vital source of timekeeping for everyone working in the vineyards and orchards.

The village of Bonnievale was founded in 1922 with the establishment of the Congregation van der Merwe of the Dutch Reformed Church on the 30th of August of that year. The name of the town was arrived at following the building and opening in 1902 of a railway siding called Vale. In 1917 Vale became Bonnie Vale. The town of Bonnievale gained municipal status in April 1953. (Source: Dictionary of South African Place Names, P E Raper, first published in 1987). The current centre piece church of the Congregation van der Merwe, was built in 1952.

During the Covid lockdown, the clock of this church stopped at five minutes past two. With that, the chiming church bell fell silent. It is as if the rhythm of the town has gone. The distant chiming of the bell is not a part of a walk in the country anymore. Walking to town one cannot do a quick time check on the church clock to see how much time one has left before the shops close. It is a natural reflex to glance up at the church clock, to check the time as one passes by.

I believe it is quite expensive to repair or service the church clockwork. With life turned upside down by the pandemic, I am sure the congregation has other pressing priorities. I miss the clock and its bell, now only hand wrung for church services. Their absence has brought a silence that feels out of step with the natural order of things.

With the centenary celebration of the founding of the congregation and church, perhaps there is still a chance that the clockwork might be repaired before the end of the year. I was hoping for the return of the sounds of the church bell chiming the hours through the winter air on 30^th August 2022, but it was not meant to be.