Francesco’s watches

A lover of beauty with an occasional weakness for luxury, in his frequent trips between the Low Countries and France, Francesco had accumulated a magnificent collection of French and German pendant watches from the early seventeenth century, and even some rare sixteenth century specimens; various contemporary oignon style watches, small alarm clocks, a few carriage clocks and travel clocks, with verge mechanisms and chimes of which, as a connoisseur, he was particularly fond. Yet, more and more, it was time itself—observed and measured on those enamelled faces—that bit by bit, left its mark on Francesco’s own face, like a fine blade cutting deeper and deeper. Like a condemned man, he felt the hours of his seductive power counting down, opening a silent autumnal sorrow in him. Not that he felt suffering or anguish, but he had the uneasy feeling of old age creeping into his future. An enormous solitude, the doomed daughter of liberty, oppressed him like the embrace of a lover no longer desired, as bittersweet as the smell of fermenting grapes on a damp October night.

Francesco Michiel, one of the characters in The Laws of Time, is a passionate collector of timepieces. But what kinds of clocks and watches did Francesco like and us? And how was time measured in 1730 Venice?
The twenty-four hours of the day were counted from half an hour, or three quarters of an hour, after sunset, when the Ave Maria sounded the twenty-fourth hour. With this method, the various moments of the day did not always fall at the same hour, as the hourly count depended on the extent of daylight and night.
To orient readers to the times of the day in The Laws of Time, this is the actual data, as it would be read today, for Venice on 9 November 1730: dawn was at 06:29, sunrise was at 07:01, sunset was at 16:47, dusk was at 17:08. There were 9 hours and 46 minutes of light. The twenty-fourth hour, which tolled the completion of the day, rang, then, at around 17:30. From that moment the count began for the new day, so that, at what we would now designate as six-thirty in the evening, the first hour sounded. Thus, when Catterina asked the hairdresser to return towards the twenty-fourth hour she intended five-thirty in the afternoon.
It should be added that the evening of November 9, 1730 was moonless and that, being a foggy season, the first light of the day did not appear with the rising of the sun, but took a little while to make its presence felt. In the afternoon, around 5.00 pm, it was already dark.

 

 

 

 

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