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So Long, Edward Burd

October 12, 2018
by the gentle author

With great sadness, I must announce the passing of Edward Burd, Horologist  of Camden Town, who died on Monday aged seventy-nine

Edward Burd

Contributing Photographer Sarah Ainslie & I made the trip to Camden Town to visit Edward Burd, Horologist, in a tottering house which surely had more clocks than any other in London. Meeting Edward made me realise how much I miss the reassuring sound of ticking, interspersed by regular chimes, which was once the universally familiar background of life yet is now slowly vanishing from the world.

“My father Lawrence Burd was a schoolmaster, and a man of obsessions that he would pursue to the highest possible level – photography, alpine gardening and horology. He did all the British Institute of Horology exams and became a Fellow of the Institute, then after about four years he dropped it completely. Just about that time, I was an irritating fourteen year old looking over his shoulder at what he was doing, asking ‘What’s that for?’ and ‘Why are you doing that?’ Instead of telling me to bugger off which any sensible person would do, being a patient schoolmaster, he explained to me what was going on and I was fascinated by it.

So from that age I have always been interested and I kept it up a bit but I became an architect and, while I was struggling to set up my own practice, I could not really do much about it. Yet I kept my hand in, I went to auctions and bought the odd clock. Then, when I retired about twenty years ago, while I still had a bit of energy left I thought I should pursue this thing seriously.

My speciality is English wall clocks which I always find interesting partly because they were never designed to go in drawing rooms, they were always the ‘workhorse’ clock which is why you see them in railway stations and schoolrooms. What I like about them is their mechanisms are very simple and extremely efficient and they are very good timekeepers. There’s no pretensions whatsoever in the design of the case. If they had been going in a drawing room, they would have looked very different. That always appealed to me, that they are unpretentious. Also, they were about the only thing I could afford when I first started. Added to which, if you studied them for a fairly short period of time, you probably knew more about them than most dealers.

Certainly, every town would have an antique shop in those days. They’d say, ‘That’s an old schoolroom clock, five pounds!’ I can remember going into one funny little shop somewhere out in the country and there were three round clocks on the floor, two were made in about 1920 and were pretty horrible and one was eighteenth century with a big wooden dial. I said, ‘How much are the clocks?’ ‘The clocks?’ he said, looking up from doing his racing tips, ‘The clocks are five pounds each,’ which was cheap even then. I couldn’t believe it. I said, ‘Even the big one?’ rather naively. ‘Yes it is a bit big,’ he replied, ‘You can have that for three and a half.’

My father taught me a lot, because he had to learn quite a lot of practical knowledge and make all sorts of things to become a member of the Institute of Horologists. I cannot do all that but, if the clock is not too complicated, I can do a basic overhaul of a wall clock.

Ten or fifteen years ago, it became a business. I would go to a sale to buy a nice clock for myself for my collection and I saw other good clocks being sold very cheaply, so I thought, ‘I could buy that and sell it’ – and it went on from there. I have quite a lot. My collection is about fifty but, altogether, I must have about a hundred and fifty to two hundred clocks.

After about 1840, nearly all clocks were made in factories in Birmingham or London, predominantly in London – Clerkenwell was the place for clocks. When I first became interested in the sixties, all the trades were still in Clerkenwell, supplying and fitting glass, engravers, gilders, dial-painters and materials shops. You could walk around and see them all in fifteen minutes.

My collection is English wall clocks dating from 1750 through to about 1900. The design of the cases changed quite a bit in that era but the movements remained exactly the same. There were not many wall clocks before 1750 because there were not many offices, they were made for solicitors’ offices around 1720 but there were few shops to speak of, it was all markets. An early English wall clock would be about 1780 and they were below stairs in big houses. It was only at the beginning of the nineteenth century that wall clocks became current and they did not become widespread until the 1840s.

A clock is a mechanical object which is comprehensible, these days you have no idea how any device works and, if it doesn’t work, you might as well sling it. Clocks are so incredibly easy to understand. You’ve got a spring, a chain, a series of wheels, the escapement and the pendulum. You wind it up to give it the power and isn’t that clever? So simple and so repairable. It works and it tells the time.

What gives it accuracy is not the escapement but the pendulum. The rate of oscillation depends upon the length of the pendulum. Most pendulums have a rod made of brass which is much easier to work than steel, but brass shrinks and expands much more than steel. So timekeeping with a brass pendulum is less accurate – within a couple of minutes a week – whereas a steel rod will keep time within about half a minute a week. At the end of the winter when night-time temperatures get low, you have to regulate them because the pendulum will shrink in the cold, become shorter, and the clock will go faster. A hot spell will make the metal expand and clock will slow down.

My early clocks were made by craftsmen without power tools or electric light, just working by flickering candles. It is extraordinary that they managed to produce clocks of such enormous quality and so accurate. I can sit and watch them for hours.

The sound is very important too. If you have had a hard day and it is raining and it has all been bit much, and you come in and there is this ticking, and you have a cup of tea and put your feet for a few minutes, then you are all right – it is looking after you, it has its own spirit.”

John Decka, Poplar c. 1785 (John Decka was apprenticed to William Addis, and is recorded working 1757-1806)

French, Royal Exchange c. 1860 (This clock was almost certainly built into the bulkhead of boat)

T.Rombach, 206 Grange Rd, Bermondsey c. 1900

Stubbs, Old Kent Rd c. 1870

Thwaites & Reed, Clerkenwell c. 1850

De St Leu, London c. 1785

W.A. Watkins, Carey St, Lincoln’s Inn c. 1870

Bray, 165 Tottenham Court Rd c. 1850

S. Mayer, 76 Union St, Borough c. 1890

Edward Burd, Horologist

Portraits copyright © Sarah Ainslie

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12 Responses leave one →
  1. Susan permalink
    October 12, 2018

    I do hope he had someone (or more than someone) to leave his clocks to. They’re such a lovely way to honour his memory.

  2. Paul Loften permalink
    October 12, 2018

    It is an education to read each and every blog. I now know how the weather affected the accuracy of pendulum clocks. The expansion and shrinkage of metal. Well I never ! Thank you both. The world is a sadder place without people like Mr Burd

  3. October 12, 2018

    I cannot put it better than Paul Loften, the world is a sadder place without Mr. Burd. And yes, teh sound is important, the ticking, the bells telling you the hours, the halves and the quarters, ever without a cup of tea… Sit tibi terra levis, Edward Burd.

  4. October 12, 2018

    Lovely to read about the satisfaction Edward gained from his hobby during his retirement. These clocks played an important part in the lives of ordinary Victorian people at work, school or when taking journeys.

    Tick tock.
    The old school clock
    is silent now.
    It ticks no more.
    Long gone the file of children
    and the master by the door.

    I hope the collection finds a good home

  5. Ian Silverton permalink
    October 12, 2018

    Bailey Jones, your words on the school master and children,and the clock, made me feel rather sad, about time now gone, well put

  6. Marcia Jane Howard permalink
    October 12, 2018

    What an interesting insight into the world of clocks. May you rest in peace Edward, with just the soft tick of your favourite clock to go with on your onward journey

  7. October 13, 2018

    Time has come for Mr Edward Burd — R.I.P.

    Love & Peace

  8. Jean Mason permalink
    October 13, 2018

    An interesting article about early clocks and the sad loss of another National Treasure. I hope his clocks will find caring owners.

  9. October 14, 2018

    Thank you Ian Silverton. Something about those well made, utilitarian clocks keeping time for so many years inspired me to compose a few lines. I felt quite sad that their latter day custodian had passed away. I hope there is a museum somewhere who would be interested in buying them as I think they have real historical value.

  10. Paul Martin permalink
    December 14, 2018

    Just heard about Edward , first met him andMary 40 years ago via Malcolm Glikstien when I use to repair their family cars. It was Edward that has inspired me in the world of horological interest,,was always fascinated by his clock collection,always good to see him at the clock fairs and chat with a shared friend Will Barnard.
    RIP Edward,sadly missed.

  11. John Drinkwater permalink
    December 27, 2018

    So sorry to read here about Edward i did not realise how ill he was and if i know i would have not been in touch with you about the small railway clock that i bought from him, So sorry .
    I will probably be in touch later when your thing are sorted about probably acquiring a Fusee verge. Once again so sorry.

  12. January 9, 2020

    As well as Edwards love for clocks, and his family, was his love for Bacon sandwiches, as long as the bacon was crispy.
    My daughter is 15, and some mornings when I ask her what she wants for breakfast, she replies, ” Can I have an Edward Burd”
    so for the rest of my life when I see a clock or smell Bacon cooking, I think of my friend.
    What a wonderfully way to remember such a lovely gentleman.

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