Part 11 (1/2)

”Oh, I see now,” he exclaimed. ”That would help to make the beat more even, wouldn't it, and insure better time? And now what about Peter Lightfoot's clock? Of course it isn't in existence now?”

”That clock had quite a history, son,” was the old man's reply. ”When the Reformation came and there was danger of its being destroyed, it was moved to Wells Cathedral, and there a part, at least, of the original structure still remains. In 1835, however, its works were found to be pretty well worn out (scant wonder, too) and therefore new works were put in and the dial was repaired. Evidently, long before, the clock had had at its base some revolving horseman which probably delighted the people of that time who were always pleased by automatic figures and scenes in pantomime. Many ancient clocks reflected this childish taste by having attached to them all sorts of figures representing the hours, days of the week, or feasts of the Church. Probably one reason for this was that as the education of the populace was too meager to give them much knowledge of numerals, and as they had but little business of importance to transact, they were far less interested in the time than in the dumb show gone through with by the little carved dolls.

Furthermore, having no calendars, these figures served the purpose of telling them what day it was and reminding them of the church holidays.

This explains why so many of the early clockmakers devoted such a degree of energy and skill to fas.h.i.+oning all sorts of pantomimes to be enacted by miniature figures at certain hours.

”There was the Exeter clock, for instance, which Jacob Lovelace took thirty-four years to make, and which had thirteen different mechanisms.

It did no end of ingenious things. Figures pa.s.sed in procession at the arrival of the hour; tiny bell ringers rang miniature chimes. In fact, so many things went on that to see it was almost as good as a play. No wonder that when Jacob Lovelace died in 1716 it was called his masterpiece.”

”Wasn't there some sort of wonderful clock at Venice?” Christopher asked timidly.

”Yes, indeed! There was a very celebrated seventeenth century clock there, with a blue and gold dial which had above it bronze figures that struck the hour on a bell. Moreover, when the noon of Ascension Day came, the people were reminded of this holy feast by seeing the Magi issue forth from a little door and how before the Virgin, who held in her arms the Christ Child. Every noontime for two weeks this scene was enacted, to the vast delight of a simple, childish people. This is the reason why most clocks of the period had only an hour hand and stressed events of the calendar rather than pointing the flight of the minutes.”

”It seems funny to think of clocks without minute hands, doesn't it?”

Christopher mused.

”Not so funny when you consider what life was at that time and how poorly equipped the public was in arithmetic. Many of them knew nothing of hours or quarter hours. But when the chimes in the village church played a different tune each day of the week--a tune they knew--they soon came to understand, for example, that the Blue Bells of Scotland meant Tuesday, and that Annie Laurie, perhaps, meant Thursday.”

”You do get horribly mixed on the days of the week when you have no calendar and nothing especial to do,” a.s.serted Christopher quickly. ”I remember once when I was in the Maine woods with dad, we both got so confused we hadn't a notion what day it was.”

”Ah, then you have some understanding of the dilemma of your long-ago ancestors,” smiled McPhearson, ”and can comprehend why they were so thankful to have the cathedral clock set them right. n.o.blemen who owned outlying castles would send their servants to the village square, not only to find out the hour but to learn of the sun, moon, stars, and the religious feasts and fasts. For, you see, the majority of the clocks were put up by the clergy for the purpose not only of regulating their own monastic life, but to prod wors.h.i.+pers to remember the ma.s.ses and prescribed feasts of the abbeys.

”Later on when clocks and watches came into more general use, and the making of them was done by artisans instead of monks, time-keeping pa.s.sed out of the hands of the Church (just as the printing of books did later on) and into the hands of guild members and manufacturers. It was when this change became effective that the character of clocks s.h.i.+fted very materially. The religious figures disappeared together with the elaborate pantomimes that accompanied them, and the clockmakers directed their energies to making the clock primarily a time-telling agency.

However, all that was not accomplished in a minute, and when you go abroad, as you will some day, and see some of the quaint old clocks with their procession of Biblical figures, just remember how it was they happened to be made, and what interesting curiosities they are.”

”I'm afraid by the time I ever get to Europe there won't be any such clocks to be seen,” sighed Christopher.

”Oh, yes, there will! You will see, for example, the great clock of Straasburg. Not, to be sure, the original one, for that was made in 1352; neither will you view its successor put up in the latter part of the sixteenth century. Both of those have long since disappeared. Still the third one, which succeeded them and is now well on to a hundred years old, is wonderful enough to excite your admiration. It was inaugurated October 2, 1842, and is one of the marvels of the Old World.

Certainly it incidentally provides the people with all they could ask in the way of information and entertainment. On a level with the ground is a globe telling of the stars visible to the naked eye--their rising, setting, and pa.s.sage over the meridian. Behind this is a calendar indicating the year, month, and day, together with all ecclesiastical feasts and holidays. Above these two is a gallery where allegorical figures pa.s.sing from left to right symbolize the days of the week.

”Apollo, drawn in his chariot by prancing horses, typifies Sunday; Monday we have Diana with her stag. Tuesday comes Mars, Wednesday Mercury, Thursday Jupiter, Friday we have the G.o.ddess Venus, and Sat.u.r.day Saturn.”

”Some clock!” gasped Christopher.

”Oh, that isn't half of it,” protested McPhearson, ”although it sounds amazing enough; there is yet more. Above all these G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses is a clock dial showing ordinary time; a contrivance that gives the movements of the planets; and a globe indicating the phases of the moon.

Nor have we reached the end of the marvels yet. Still higher up are figures to symbolize childhood, youth, manhood, and old age, each of which strikes one of the quarter hours. Beside the ordinary clock dial you will see a moving figure that strikes with its scepter the first note of each quarter hour, while at the same time a figure opposite it turns an hourgla.s.s to mark the complete pa.s.sing of the hour.”

”Gee!”

”Oh, don't imagine you are through with this marvelous clock yet. There is in addition a grim statuette of death which is to remind man of his frailty and the shortness of his days; this strikes each hour with a bone. It is at the very top that we get the touch of more modern Christianity in a procession of the twelve apostles, who at noon pa.s.s before a figure of Christ, bowing at his feet, while he makes the sign of the cross in response, and it is at this instant that the tragic denial of Peter is portrayed by a c.o.c.k, which from its perch on one of the turrets, flaps its wings and crows three times.”

”Why, it would almost be worth a trip to Europe to see such a wonder!”

burst out Christopher.

”Almost. You could also see the clock at Berne while you were about it--a clever mechanism made by the Swiss in 1527. Berne, as you doubtless know, if you have faithfully studied your geography, took its name from the word _baren_, meaning bears; and you know, too, how it came about that the Swiss selected that name for it. In all the shops you will find large and small bears for sale, all carved from wood and converted to every imaginable purpose.”