A very rare early religious versed wall clock by Henry Sheppard of Wigton, c1710. Photographs by Lee Borrett

Henry Sheppard

Wigton, c1710

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The extremely rare and wonderfully unrestored early eighteenth-century religious-versed 30-hour clock illustrated here was made by Henry Sheppard of Wigton around c.1710 and is presently the only clock by this maker known to me. The polished brass dial centre is engraved with the religious verse so strongly associated with John Sanderson and the early Wigton School:

‘Remember man,
That Dye thou must,
And after that,
To judgement just.’

The appearance of this characteristic verse, together with the clock’s substantial brass and iron lantern-type movement and distinctive method of construction, clearly places Henry Sheppard within the remarkable group of provincial clockmakers now generally referred to as the Wigton School. The movement survives in a particularly original and unrestored condition, retaining its original wheelwork and brass collets. Like many of the earliest Wigton School clocks, I believe it was originally made to stand on a simple wall bracket, leaving its decorative brass lantern-style movement exposed.

At some time around c.1740, approximately thirty years after the clock was made, it was adapted to the much grander green-lacquered longcase in which it remains today. The four brass spandrels appear to have been added to the dial at approximately the same time, bringing its appearance into keeping with the fashion and greater grandeur of its new case. Far from detracting from the clock, this early alteration forms a fascinating part of its natural history and provides a rare surviving example of how one of these relatively inexpensive early Wigton wall clocks could be updated and rehoused as fashions and the circumstances of its owners changed.

The Dial

Above. Showing the wonderfully unrestored brass dial of the Henry Sheppard religious-versed 30-hour clock, c.1710. Photograph by Lee Borrett

Below. A close-up of the signature, ‘Henry Sheppard, Wigton Fecit’ — Henry Sheppard of Wigton made it. Photograph by Lee Borrett

Below. Showing a close-up of Henry Sheppard’s polished dial centre, engraved with the religious verse so strongly associated with John Sanderson and the Wigton School: ‘Remember man, That Dye thou must, And after that, To judgement just.’ Photograph by Lee Borrett

Below. Showing a close-up of one of the twin-cherub-and-crown spandrels with crossed maces, probably added when the clock was housed in its present longcase around c.1740. Photograph by Lee Borrett

The Movement

Above. A rear view of the Henry Sheppard lantern-type brass and iron movement, which survives in a wonderfully unrestored condition. Photograph by Lee Borrett

Below. Showing a side view of the Henry Sheppard movement. It survives in superb original condition throughout, including retaining its original wheelwork and brass collets. Photograph by Lee Borrett

Below. Showing a view of the top plate. Typically of these early Wigton School clocks, Henry Sheppard secured the movement to the dial by pinning it at the top and lugging it at the bottom. Photograph by Lee Borrett

The Green-Lacquered Case

The clock is now housed in a fascinating and unrestored oak green-lacquered longcase with caddy top and finials. Close examination shows that the original Henry Sheppard wall clock was adapted, or ‘married’, to this considerably grander case around c.1740, approximately thirty years after the clock itself was made. At approximately the same time, the four brass spandrels appear to have been added to the previously plainer dial, bringing the appearance of the clock into keeping with the fashion and grandeur of its new case. I believe that, like many of these earliest religious-versed Wigton clocks, the Henry Sheppard clock originally stood on a simple wall bracket. This would have kept its initial cost relatively low while allowing the attractive brass lantern-style movement to remain fully visible.

Its subsequent adaptation to a longcase provides a fascinating glimpse into the changing fortunes and tastes of an eighteenth-century owner. By around c.1740 the original wall clock was perhaps considered somewhat old-fashioned, while the imposing green-lacquered case with its caddy top, finials and raised decoration would have transformed it into a much grander piece of household furniture.

Far from regarding this early marriage negatively, I consider it an important part of the clock’s natural history. The Henry Sheppard movement appears to have spent approximately the first thirty years of its life as a wall clock and probably most of the following three centuries housed in this remarkable green-lacquered case.

Above Showing the Henry Sheppard clock housed in its wonderfully unrestored green-lacquered oak longcase with caddy top and finials. The clock was probably originally made around c.1710 to stand on a simple wall bracket and was adapted to this much grander case around c.1740, when the four brass spandrels appear to have been added to its dial. The case must have presented a very impressive appearance when new. Photograph by Lee Borrett

Left. Showing a close-up of the trunk door with its surviving raised lacquer decoration.

Wall Clocks,

Markets and Edinburgh

I have long believed that many of the earliest Wigton School clocks with brass lantern-style movements were originally intended to be sold as relatively inexpensive wall clocks, perhaps through local markets at Wigton and throughout the surrounding district. Their substantial decorative movements could be displayed openly upon a simple wall bracket, avoiding the considerable additional expense of a wooden longcase.

Remarkably, documentary evidence now shows that the market for Wigton clocks could extend much farther afield. On 18 May 1715 the Edinburgh Incorporation of Hammermen recorded the seizure of two clocks from ‘John Sanderson, clockmaker in Wigtoun in England’, after he had apparently offered them for sale in Edinburgh. The clocks were returned to him upon payment of twenty shillings sterling, and on 21 May Sanderson entered into the required bond undertaking not to bring clocks, watches or similar work into Edinburgh for sale again. We cannot know what form those two Sanderson clocks took, and the Edinburgh records do not tell us whether they were housed in longcases. Nevertheless, the episode proves that clocks made within this remarkable Cumbrian tradition were being carried considerable distances in search of customers.

The late Brian Loomes also suggested that the distinctive lantern-movement clocks associated with Sanderson and his followers may originally have stood upon wall brackets rather than necessarily being housed in longcases. Such an arrangement would have reduced their initial cost and, importantly, made them considerably easier to transport.

From my own experience of collecting and examining surviving Wigton School clocks, I believe that many of these early religious-versed 30-hour examples probably began life in this way. Some were subsequently housed in cases made especially for them, while others — as with the Henry Sheppard clock illustrated here — were eventually adapted to previously occupied cases in response to changing fashion or circumstances.

Such alterations form an important part of their history. Rather than viewing an early and sympathetic marriage such as this negatively, I see it as evidence of the clock’s long working life and the generations of owners who continued to value and use it.

Summary

The Henry Sheppard clock illustrated here is an exceptionally rare survivor from the early Wigton School of Clockmaking and is presently the only clock by this maker known to me. In his 1977 book The Clockmakers of Cumberland, John B. Penfold recorded only one clock by Henry Sheppard, describing it as carrying the inscription: ‘Remember Man That Dye Thou Must, And After That To Jodgement Just’. It is therefore quite possible that Penfold was referring to the very clock illustrated here, although without further information or a surviving photograph this cannot presently be proved. Very little documentary information about Henry Sheppard himself has so far come to light. Nevertheless, the clock provides compelling physical evidence of his connection with the Wigton School. Its distinctive religious verse, brass and iron lantern-type movement, method of attaching the movement to the dial and overall construction closely reflect the clockmaking tradition associated with John Sanderson and his circle. The clock is particularly fascinating because it also preserves evidence of two quite different periods in its history. Probably made around c.1710 as a relatively inexpensive wall clock, it appears to have spent its first thirty years standing upon a simple bracket with its brass movement exposed. Around c.1740 it was adapted to the considerably grander green-lacquered longcase in which it remains today, with four brass spandrels apparently being added to the dial at approximately the same time. There is also an intriguing later family possibility. In 1748 a John Sheppard married Jane Hendrie, and it is tempting to wonder whether John may have been related to Henry Sheppard and whether Jane was connected with the Wigton clockmaker James Hendrie. At present, however, I regard this as an interesting possibility rather than an established family relationship.

For me, the great attraction of this wonderfully unrestored clock lies not only in its extreme rarity but in the story preserved within its fabric. Its religious dial, original lantern-style movement and later eighteenth-century lacquered case together illustrate the changing life of a provincial clock over more than three centuries and provide another remarkable surviving link with the early Wigton School of Clockmaking.

Acknowledgement

I would like to thank Harry Ratcliffe, who made it possible for me to acquire this exceptionally rare early Wigton clock. Harry first discovered the Henry Sheppard religious-versed clock housed in its green-lacquered longcase around forty years ago and subsequently retained it in his own private collection until I was fortunate enough to acquire it from him for inclusion on this website.

I would also like to acknowledge the pioneering research of the late Brian Loomes, whose work did more than anyone else’s to advance our understanding of John Sanderson and the Wigton School of Clockmaking.

His book Brass Dial Clocks, together with his numerous published articles, remains essential reading for collectors and historians interested in these remarkable Cumbrian clockmakers. Much of the historical and horological background used in preparing this article has been informed by his published research, together with my own study of surviving clocks and continuing research into the Wigton School.