Christopher Gould London clock- and watchmaker Christopher Gould is known for his horological talent as well as his business failings.[1] He worked near the northeast corner of the Royal Exchange. Regarded by the clockmaking community as a maker of great repute, he was famed for producing complex, high-quality clocks in superb cases. It is not known where or when Gould was born. He does not appear in the historical record until he became professionally active in London in 1682, when he joined the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers as a Free Brother, presumably by redemption. Based on this knowledge, it may be presumed that he was born around 1655. Upon admittance to the Company, he was described as a ‘Great’ clockmaker, specialising in cathedral and tower (or turret) clocks. Gould's business enjoyed brisk trading. Demand for his timepieces was high enough to justify the taking on of eleven apprentices, including a Charles Gould in 1701. Based on the shared surname, it has been speculated that Charles could have been a relative. We know that Charles came from Middlemarsh, a small village in Dorset in South West England, and was the son of a smith named John Gould. Perhaps Christopher Gould hailed from Dorset as well. Antiquarian Johnny Carter has suggested that Christopher’s identification as a ‘Great’ clockmaker ‘hints at a smithing background’, tentatively connecting him to the smithing trade practised by the Dorset Goulds.[2] Highly complex and magnificently cased Most of Gould’s surviving clocks and watches are in private collection, coming up for sale or auction only occasionally. A few are available in museum collections for viewing or study. One of these, his Musical Moonphase Longcase, is digitally exhibited on Clocktime. Made around 1701, Gould’s full grande sonnerie, musical, moonphase longcase with its break-arch dial is a stunning example of his skill.[3] This musical clock is a highly complex showpiece that plays 14 bells with 28 hammers on the hour, every hour. It even offers a choice of two tunes, Lily Bolero or Cold and Raw. Gould probably hired Thomas Tompion’s case maker to design the clock’s striking burr walnut-veneered case with its break-arch dial and crossbanding in princes wood (also known as kingwood) and tulipwood.[4] Coming soon to Clocktime is Gould’s slightly earlier, full grande sonnerie ‘mulberry’-veneered longcase, made around 1695.[5] Like the musical longcase above, this clock is highly complex and magnificently cased. It has a ‘special’ Tompion Type 2 case that is also attributed to Tompion’s case maker. The design of its deft movement is in accordance with Gould’s own unique layout and techniques, including differently ordered trains and the strike/silent mechanism above the XII, which allowed the owner to turn the striking on and off at will. Carter describes this clock's full grande sonnerie-striking design as Gould’s ‘masterstroke’.[6] The clock has six quarter bells and a multi-piece hammer assembly. Gould spared no expense for this production, which was probably a specially ordered commission. Another example of Gould's craftsmanship is his silver watch with turtleshell case at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (Accession Number: 17.190.1500a, b). It was made around 1700. At the British Museum is an 8-day calendar clock movement and a repeating silver pair-cased verge clockwatch that are associated with Gould, but both are of doubtful origin.[7] Taking inspiration from Tompion Horologists have established that Gould’s clocks have connections to Thomas Tompion’s workshop. There is certainly an argument for Gould taking inspiration from Tompion, or even trading with the master clockmaker to produce his clock cases. In the case of the musical moonphase longcase and the ‘masterstroke’-veneered longcase, discussed above, he clearly ordered Tompion-type ‘special’ cases to house his clock movements. Antiquarian Jonathan Carter and British Museum Curator Jeremy Evans, who are both Tompion experts, explain that thanks to Tompion’s number series (his method of serialising his production), we can see that he made his movements and dials in batches and stocked both (in partial and completed states) in his workshop.[8] He ordered his cases in a similar manner, stocking every case component from caddy shapes to a range of veneers. His cases were based on the same carcass construction of a ‘type’ that correlated to their date of manufacture. This saved time and money, not only for Tompion but also for the makers who sourced components from him. Gould’s clocks were costly commissions, and it was probably more cost-effective for him to order the casing from Tompion’s workshop. Carter also suggests that Gould had access to or at least the opportunity to view Tompion’s movements as well as his cases.[9] He also goes one step further, proposing an alternative scenario: that Gould may have been employed as ‘an occasional outworker for Tompion.’ This is not impossible. A fine line between profit and loss Financially, all clockmakers were obliged to perform a delicate dance: using their profit from their latest commissions to pay for materials and labour for their new ones. Thus, there was a very fine line between profit and loss. This was especially the case for a perfectionist, boundary-breaking maker such as Gould. The manufacturing of his magnificent commissions would have cost him a small fortune up front. Some makers had better financial sense (and were luckier) than others. For instance, Tompion, Daniel Quare and Edward East, all built financially successful clockmaking businesses and amassed enough wealth to sustain themselves (and then some) in later life. Then there were makers who lacked business acumen or luck – or both. For instance, clock- and watchmaker David Ramsay, active in London from 1613, appeared to be successful on paper: he was appointed as Royal Clockmaker to King James VI and I, was at the heart of power in London, and produced stunning, complicated clocks and watches for a wealthy, often royal, clientele. Yet, he was chronically in need of money and ended up in debtors’ prison in 1641. Gould's life followed a similar story, albeit slightly less extreme. Although he was a prodigiously talented, competent and reasonably prolific clockmaker, who clearly had a wealthy clientele, Gould was not a capable businessman. In 1706, he was declared bankrupt.[10] We do not know why, or details of his circumstances, but he clearly was unable to recoup the upfront costs of his expensively produced commissions. Carter explores the possibility that the failure of Gould’s business and his resulting poverty could have been due to extenuating circumstances such as long-term illness.[11] The life of Daniel Quare provides an example of physical infirmity affecting a clockmaker’s ability to practise his craft: his eyesight deteriorated in his later years, meaning that he could not work as well as he did previously. However, the differences from Gould's story are that by the time his sight was failing, Quare had accumulated wealth and solidified his reputation as a clockmaker catering to the aristocracy of Britain and Continental Europe. Around 1717, Quare took on a business partner. It is unclear if he did so because of his failing eyesight, but recruiting a partner certainly helped his business to continue and to thrive during his later years.[12] East, who lived to the ripe old age of 91, did something similar, running his business successfully under management in his twilight years. Whatever his circumstances, Gould never recovered from the bankruptcy. Nor did he manage to revive his clockmaking trade or accumulate enough money to sustain himself or his wife in their later years. According to an advertisement in 1714, he was even reduced to applying for a position as an ale taster. There was some relief. The Clockmakers’ Company were sympathetic and appointed him as a Beadle in 1713. They also gave him a regular pension thereafter. This speaks to the regard in which he was held by fellow clockmakers. Gould died a pauper in 1718. After his death, the Clockmakers’ Company made his widow a pensioner. Dr Kristin Leith, Senior Curator of Clocktime November 2023 End notes [1] Carter 2022, 201. [2] Ibid. [3] Carter 2022, 198–206, Catalogue No. 29; Garnier and Hollis 2018, 372–373, Catalogue No. 115; Taylor 2004, Exhibit No. 85; Taylor 2018, 35, Exhibit No. 115. [4] Carter 2022, 202. [5] Carter 2021b, 160–169, Catalogue No. 34; Darken 2003, 200–203; Dawson et al. 1994, 214–215 and 288, pls 287, 288, 398 and 399. [6] Carter 2021b, 162. [7] The 8-day movement with Dutch striking, housed in the British Museum, was made for a longcase sometime between 1705 and 1715 (Museum number 1958,1006.2155). The Curator of Horology at the British Museum, Jeremy Evans, states that it is unclear whether Gould’s name should be associated with it, as the dial is a replacement, and the parts of the movement are cobbled together from three different clocks. The silver pair-cased verge clock-watch also at the British Museum (Museum number 1888,1201.251) is probably a forgery of work by Gould. It appears to have been made in Geneva, not in London. Both of Gould’s signatures, on the dial and on the movement, are misspelled. [8] Carter 2021b, 162 and 166; Evans et al. 2013, chapter 2. [9] Carter 2021b, 162. [10] Carter 2022, 201. [11] Ibid. [12] It appears that Quare’s failing eyesight did not dim his business acumen, as his partner, Stephen Horseman, went bankrupt within a few years of Quare’s death (Carter 2022, 201). References Carter, J. 2021. The John C Taylor Collection: Part II (Selling Exhibition Catalogue, Carter Marsh & Co). Winchester: Carter Marsh & Co. Carter, J. 2022. The John C Taylor Collection: Part III (Selling Exhibition Catalogue, Carter Marsh & Co). Winchester: Carter Marsh & Co. Darken, J. (editor). 2003. Horological Masterworks: English 17th century clocks from private collections. London: Antiquarian Horological Society. Dawson, P. G., C. B. Drover and D. W. Parkes. 1994 [1982]. Early English Clocks: A discussion of domestic clocks up to the beginning of the eighteenth century. Woodbridge: The Antique Collectors’ Club. Evans, J., J. Carter and B. Wright. 2013. Thomas Tompion – 300 Years: A celebration of the life and work of Thomas Tompion. Walter Lane Publishing. Garnier, R. and L. Hollis. 2018. Innovation & Collaboration: The early development of the pendulum clock in London. Isle of Man: Fromanteel Ltd. Taylor, J. C. and F. Van Kersen. 2004. Huygens’ Legacy: The golden age of the pendulum clock. Isle of Man: Fromanteel Ltd. Taylor, J. C. 2018. Innovation & Collaboration: Exhibition guide. Isle of Man: Fromanteel Ltd.