Monday Exposure: Prague's astronomical clock

Prague's astronomical clock, the Orloj, puts on quite a show every day. The wondrous main clock, with four moving parts, was completed in 1410. Later generations have added moving figures, a "Walk of the Apostles," a crowing rooster, and a rotating calendar.

                    1          golden cockerel who crows at the top of the hour

                    1          bell in the clock tower which peals the hours

                    3          sets of mechanisms: the astronomical clock, the calendar clock, and the moving statues

                    3          celestial movements recorded: the Sun, the moon, and the ecliptic revolution of stars

                    4          parts of the astronomical clock which rotate: Sun, moon, outer ring of time, and Zodiacal ring

                    4          moving figures: Vanity (with mirror), a Jewish moneylender (with bag of gold), Death (as skeleton
                                with hourglass and ringing a bell), and a Turk (representing hedonism)

                    4          non-moving figures: a Chronicler, an Angel, an Astronomer, and a Philosopher

                  12          statues of apostles who parade at the doors above the clock every hour

                  12          signs of the Zodiac on the Zodiacal ring

                  12          months on the calendar dial

                  23.93     hours for a Sidereal day (i.e., time reckoned from the Earth's motion relative to the stars)

                  24          hours on the outer ring, with the "24" indicating the time of sunset (Old Czech time)

                  24          hours in Roman numerals (I–XII repeated twice) indicating modern Central European Time

                  24          hours in "Babylonian" time, with twelve hours for daylight (indicated by the curved blue lines on
                                the central dial) and twelve hours for nighttime, the length of each of the hours changing
                                depending upon the time of year

                  28          days of the lunar phase displayed on the clock's moon

                150          years the clock has been continuously repaired and regularly functioning (since 1866)

                365          days listed on the calendar dial, with the current day at the top

                606          years of age for the central astronomical clock

              1490          probable year the calendar was added

              1572          probable year of finish of repairs and perfection of mechanisms which remain largely intact and
                                in use today

              1948          year the clock was reconstructed after damage in World War II

Using the Roman numerals, you can see that I took this photo around 6:45 am. (I work hard for you people.) Using the curved inner sections with the Arabic numerals, you can see that this was the second hour of daylight. The four statues around the clock are, from left to right: Vanity; a Jewish moneylender; Death; and a hedonist Turk.

The calendar face has a rotating outer band with 365 days of the year. Meanwhile, the inner golden circle rotates for the months of the year. While the Astronomer and Philosopher stand to the right, the Chronicler and Angel had been taken away for repair and cleaning.

Two of the Apostles parade by, looking rather warlike with spear and sword.

Death turns his hourglass while the Turk strums his lute.

Every hour the crowds gather to watch the clock's show.

Like this? You might want to check out some further Monday Exposure posts:






Monday Exposure: Lysicrates Monument











Monday Exposure: Stirling Bridge









Monday Exposure: Michelangelo's Pietà

Monday Exposure: Railway time

Railways are said to "annihilate both time and space"; this they can only do safely and satisfactorily by keeping time.
          — William Baddeley, The Mechanics' Magazine, Vol. 33, Nov. 27, 1840


Well into the 1800s, the time of day often differed in neighboring villages and towns. Partly, it was because time was a matter of guesswork. Sundials were in common use. At best, ordinary people might rely on a church bell or a town clock for guidance. Appointments and meeting times were vague and flexible. Schedules were advisory, not prescriptive. Most people had no watch or clock in their home until the 20th century. In the 19th century, clocks were rare; accurate clocks rarer still.

Moreover, there was no standard time across a region, country, or continent. Heading east to west across Britain, a traveler gained fifteen minutes or more over the course of 24 hours, and likewise lost fifteenish minutes if traveling east. Norwich time was several minutes ahead of London time. Oxford was officially 5 minutes and 2 seconds behind London's time; Leeds was 6 minutes and 20 seconds behind; Exeter was 14 minutes behind.

This led to mayhem and disaster for the emerging rail industry.

In the 1840s, clocks — and time — became standard across British train stations. This clock, from the Great Western Railway, was built around 1850 and used for more than 100 years.

Rail transport was developing at a lightning speed. Steam locomotives first appeared in 1811. The first steam trains for passengers came in 1825. By 1830, the first inter-city route opened. Mail was first sent by rail in 1838. In 1839, the first timetable was published. By the 1850s, Britain had more than 7,000 miles of track.

As more and more trains crisscrossed the country — carrying goods and, increasingly, passengers — the need for standardization became readily apparent. Neither stationmasters, nor train conductors, nor passengers were certain when a train would depart its station. Trains frequently delayed departure to allow for stragglers. Travelers often missed connections because of the vagaries of timekeeping in different towns.

Even worse, the running of trains across the network of tracks had become a nightmare of accidents and near-misses. The railway system was an integrated whole, even if it was operated by numerous privately-owned railway companies. Timetables had just been invented, but given the non-uniformity of time across the land they were more ideal targets than actual planning tools. Even if the train personnel could figure out the complexities of local times, no one could rely on trains traveling at regular and reliable intervals. Trains which should have clear track in front of them might find themselves delayed by trains which had dithered before leaving a station or, perilously, find trains heading toward them from the opposite direction.

It was a mess. A dangerous mess. And even more significantly for these new titans of industry, a costly mess.

The railway bosses demanded that time be standardized. At first, they met with resistance from many municipalities, which had no desire to reset their clocks at the fiat of nouveau riche railway owners. So the rail bosses took matters into their own hands. By 1841, the Great Western Railway ordered that all of its stations would use London time, regardless of the local time around the stations. Passengers who wished to ride the trains found themselves forced to use the railway's timekeeping instead of the local timekeeping.

Other railways followed suit. In 1845, the Liverpool and Manchester Railway petitioned Parliament to require a single uniform time for the entire rail network. The petition failed.

But the railway bosses pushed on. In 1847, the major railway operators agreed they should all adopt London time — generally called Greenwich time due to the location of the Royal Observatory — as soon as the Post Office supported the shift. Carrying of the mail was a major source of income, of course, and the Post Office was a valuable client. But more significantly, although the Post Office had no official role in setting the standardization of time for the railways, it gave the railway operators a veneer of government authority. When the Post Office granted its consent later in 1847, most British railways adopted London time on 1 December 1847.

Still, some municipalities held out. Instead of changing the time on their clocks, they decided . . . to add another minute hand. Essentially, they stuck their tongues out and said ppfffttt! One minute hand showed the local time while the other, sometimes smaller, minute hand showed the new railway standard time. Watches on sale showed local and London time. Eventually, the silliness of their behavior outweighed their protest, and the local time went away. Bristol held out until 1852. By 1855, approximately 98% of the public clocks in the U.K. were on London time, though some cities, like Bath, dragged on until 1860.

Finally, in 1880, Parliament passed its Definition of Time Act to confirm the fait accompli on the ground, a standard time across the United Kingdom.

Wells Cathedral

Dominating the small southwestern English town (pop. ~ 10,400) in which it's set, Wells Cathedral is the first wholly Gothic cathedral in England. It was built throughout the 1200s — the primary construction was completed in 1306 — but significant additions were made in the following centuries, including towers on the west facade and the lady chapel on the eastern end. So while its general style is "Gothic," the cathedral is really a mishmash of "Early English" Gothic, "Geometric" and "Decorated" Gothic, and "Perpendicular" Gothic, among other subcategories.

The west facade of Wells Cathedral is 150 feet wide and 100 feet tall.

The initial view when entering the cathedral's green.

At bottom center of this picture is an entrance called the "north porch," which was intended as the normal entrance for the cathedral. It's in the relatively plain Early English Gothic style. The central tower, at the top center of this picture, was added to the building in the early 1300s and is in Decorated Gothic style. The original structure wasn't able to properly support its weight, so some ingenuous arches were added inside, as shown in a photo below.

Despite some empty niches — courtesy of Protestant troops who destroyed all of the "graven images" they could reach — the cathedral still boasts roughly 300 statues. It is the finest collection of medieval statuary in the United Kingdom. The topmost statue is . . . you guessed it! . . . Christ, supported by the twelve apostles, and then a bunch of other guys (kings, Biblical figures, etc.).

Christ in judgment, right hand pointed up in benediction, left hand pointed down to . . . you know where.

Twelve apostles stand just below Jesus. Below the apostles are holes out of which trumpets used to play on holy days.

Some statues seem to try to hide in the crevices. Did you notice the face peering out in the hole on the right?

Inside the cathedral it's light and bright. The skinniness of the nave is contrasted with its height. Remember that really wide facade on the outside? The interior of the cathedral isn't anywhere nearly as wide, so the facade is really what's known as a "screen" facade, screening off the view of the cathedral behind it.

The ceiling isn't particularly high, but the skinny width of the nave makes it seem taller.

The ceiling was whitewashed in the 1600s. When the Victorians scraped off the whitewash in the 1840s they found one of these flower designs, and decided to copy it all over the ceiling.

The most striking aspect of the interior is the enormous "scissor arches" holding up the central tower. While the original cathedral building was finished in in 1306, the central tower was built between 1315 and 1322. Within a short time they realized the tower was too heavy for the foundation, and so the scissor arches were built between 1338 and 1355. Also known as a "double arch," with one arch facing down and one arch facing up, this design helped transfer weight from the sinking western side of the tower to the firm eastern side.

Scissor arches in Wells Cathedral.

The north transept houses what I think is the biggest treasure in the cathedral: the world's oldest continually-operating mechanical clock. Wikipedia says the clock face was built by a monk from Glastonbury around 1325. I think that's unlikely, however.

The Wells Cathedral clock. Below it is a crucifix carved from a yew tree by a German prisoner of war during World War II.

The length of medieval hours varied depending on the month and whether it was day or night. That's because the Church, following Jesus's description of 12 hours per day (John 11:9), divided daylight (i.e., sunrise to sunset) into 12 hours, and nighttime (i.e., sunset to sunrise) into 12 hours. Since the length of daylight depends on the time of year — short daylight period on December 21 and long daylight period on June 21 — the length of each of the 12 hours of daylight or nighttime similarly depended on the time of year. On the summer solstice, the daylight hours were each much longer than the nighttime hours. For example, in London on the summer solstice, a daylight hour lasted about 80 minutes and a nighttime hour lasted about 40 minutes. The only days of the year that had 24 equal-length hours were the spring and autumn equinoxes.

If the Wells Cathedral clock face was actually made in 1325 showing 24 equal-length hours — as it displays in its outer ring — it would have shown the correct time only two days per year (spring and autumn equinox). I'm quite damn sure the clock face was not made in 1325. In fact, the concept of 24 equal-length hours began in Italy in the early 1300s, spread to mainland Europe, and it wasn't until the 1370s or later that the concept of equal-length hours arrived in England. Likewise, the clock's middle ring, showing 60 equal-length minutes per hour, was a concept also not introduced into England until the late 1300s. Consequently, I think the clock face was not built until the late 1300s.

The mechanism running the Wells Cathedral clock was crafted between 1386 and 1392, and my guess is that the clock face was created at the same time. That mechanism was replaced in the cathedral in the 1800s, but it was moved to the Science Museum in London where it still operates.

Besides the hours and minutes, the clock's inner ring shows dates of the month and phases of the moon. Also, as an added bonus, every fifteen minutes a spinning display above the clock face shows jousting knights getting knocked over.

If you look closely (the sun is a little after "II" and there's a dot at the 15 minute mark), you can see I took this photo of the Wells Cathedral clock at 2:15, just after the knights had stopped jousting.

In the mid-1400s, they placed a clock face on the outside of the cathedral. It's run by the same mechanism as the indoor clock.

The knights toll the bells every 15 minutes.

From its installation around 1390 until 2010 — for those of you who, like me, are math-challenged, that's more than 600 years — the clock was wound three times per week by the "Keeper of the Great Clock at Wells." Each winding took about an hour to make 800 turns of the three 550-pound weights that powered the mechanism. The last clock-winder decided to retire in 2010, and they replaced him with an electronic motor.

Enough with the clock!, you're thinking.

Up a staircase from the north transept is the octagonal Chapter House (i.e., the place where the clergy gathered to hear a chapter of the Bible, as well as to discuss other business). It has a beautiful fan-vaulted ceiling, with the fans interlocking and decorated with carved foliage such as leaves or acorns. Each of the 50 or so monks' stalls are adorned with playful carved heads.

Fan vaulting in the Chapter House.

Carved heads overlooking the monks' stalls.

The heads display a good deal of variation.

Crossing the nave of the church, through the scissor arches, to the south transept, is an old baptismal font. How old? It dates from the previous church on the site built in 705 A.D. If your kid gets baptized in Wells Cathedral, it's done using the same font as has been used for 1,300 years.

Baptismal font at Wells Cathedral.

At the eastern end of the cathedral lies the Lady Chapel (i.e., a chapel added to many cathedrals as the worship of the Virgin Mary intensified during the later medieval period). Its stain glass is beautiful but unusual. In 1685, some Protestants rose in revolt against the Catholic king, Charles II. They smashed the windows at the same time they were tearing down statues from the west facade (along with smashing the organ and stabling their horses in the nave). Some of the windows could be reconstructed, but many of the windows could not. So they put the stained glass back up in a glorious kaleidoscope.

Lady Chapel at Wells Cathedral. If it looks a bit asymmetrical to you, you're right; they didn't quite build it correctly symmetrically.

They successfully reconstructed these windows.

These windows couldn't be reconstructed and so are now a jumble.

The windows have parts that were reconstructed and others so jumbled they're kaleidoscopic.

If you've been reading this blog, you know how I love me some stone carvings in churches, such as in Rosslyn Chapel. At Wells, the best carvings are on pillars in the south transept. They were clearly carved with a sense of humor. One shows a man with a toothache. Another shows a peasant with a thorn in his foot.

Toothache, or is he just making a face at us?

I feel his pain.

One sequence of carvings circling around the top of a pillar shows two thieves stealing fruit and the farmer apprehending them.

Two thieves steal fruit in an orchard.

The farmer captures one of the miscreants by grabbing his ear.

The farmer smacks the other thief with his pitchfork. The farmer is so vigorous that his hat falls off.

My only disappointment during our visit to the cathedral was missing the world-renowned choir, which was off for a few weeks. They usually sing a nightly evensong concert. The cathedral has had a boys choir for more than 1,100 years. Let that sink in for a moment. They've had a continuous boys choir since 909. That's certainly one of the oldest musical groups in the world. It currently has 18 boys, aged eight to fourteen. I believe they have a full private school education provided in compensation for their service. The cathedral added an adult male choir in the 12th century. They got around to adding a girl's choir in 1994.

The joint boy and adult male choir is one of the best choirs in the world. It has a recording contract and tours around the world. I'm determined to go back to Wells just to hear the choir.

A couple of other things caught our attention at the cathedral. First was this door. It was marked as a fire exit, but we think you might explore other options:

I hope your fire allows for a slow, relaxed exit. You'll need to unbar the door, pull up the posts stuck into the ground, and then release the metal bar hooked into the door.

We also quite liked the cloisters. They were striking visually, as you can see below. Really, it's just a square hallway with a courtyard in the middle. What makes them odd is that the cathedral was not monastic and so it had no actual need for cloisters. There were no monks to keep sheltered away from the world. In fact, they have no real explanation for why the cloisters were built.

Atmospheric cloisters.

Wells Cathedral is not the most prettified of churches, but it has a number of very interesting elements. This is a cathedral to be savored for its many constituent parts. We found it fascinating.

For more about the city of Wells, the Bishop's Palace, and the Vicar's Close, see here: http://www.coloringwithoutborders.com/2013/10/wells-bishops-palace-vicars-close-and.html