Since one of the main functions of a museum is to preserve its collections for generations to come, all museums need to be aware of any potential problem. Museums tend to be dark and they tend to be warm, with objects often housed in cases or left for long periods of time without anyone opening or moving them. And this means that museums are perfect places for bugs!

This is why every three months or so, myself (the Curatorial Assistant) and a volunteer go round the museum to check the bug traps. These are cardboard triangles which sit, hopefully hidden, in small corners or behind furniture and have a sweet smelling sticky pad on them to attract and then capture insects.

You can find out all about the common (and the more rare) pests that can sometimes be found in museums and galleries at the website www.whatseatingyourcollection.com – not for the squeamish among you!

Common insects found in UK museums include:

A case bearing moth. (c) Entomart

Moths (both clothes and case bearing moths)

A carpet beetle. (c) André Karwath

Carpet Beetle (both aried and Guernsey)

A biscuit beetle. (c) Sarefo

The Brown Carpet Beetle or Vodka Beetle. Its nickname, ‘Vodka Beetle’, comes from the second part of its binomial name, Attagenus smirnovi! And if you need some sustenance to accompany your drink, there is also the Biscuit Beetle: so-called because of its fondness for dried foods and spices, pharmacological products, but also (and more importantly for us), leather, books, and some types of furniture.

A silverfish. (c) Aiwok

And, of course, the Silverfish – in fact a small, wingless insect.

A furniture beetle. (c) Entomart

The creepy-crawly that is particularly worrying to museums, especially ones with a furniture collection as extensive as our, is the Furniture Beetle. This beetle is a wood-boring insect, and the females lay their eggs in cracks and holes in the furniture. Thankfully, the Wallace Collection does not have this beetle: touch wood (!) However, if we did have an object affected by this pest we would have to isolate it immediately so that the infestation didn’t spread to other areas of our Collection.

When checking our traps for these, and other, insects, we pick up each trap (gingerly) and record the number of pests we find on it. We have to identify not just the adult beetle or moth but we also have to recognise its larvae too, as these are often the critters that cause the damage in the first place.

We note down any fluctuations in number, and look for unusual patterns that may appear. For example, if there is a peak in numbers in winter when we would usually expect insects to hibernate or die down because of the cold weather then we will need to examine what the reasons behind this may be.

Together with the Conservation team we monitor the levels of cleanliness and examine our objects regularly. So if you see a bug trap on the floor, don’t touch it, it hasn’t been dropped or forgotten it has been deliberately placed to catch pesky little creatures that might eat our objects!

The commode in all its glory after careful conservation

Each year, we must raise at least £2 million in order to carry out the vital work that will allow this unique collection to be enjoyed in its beautiful surroundings for generations to come.  Through a series of blog posts, we would like to share with you some of the extraordinary work that goes on at the Wallace Collection and ask you to contribute to our development of this family collection and international treasure house. Each donation brings us closer to our target, and we appreciate every single one. You can donate online via The Big Give.

This week, we would like to tell you about an exciting project that has rejuvenated one of the collection’s most prized treasures: A Commode for Marie-Antoinette, by Jean-Henri Riesener (1780).

As one of the most accomplished makers of Louis XVI furniture, Riesener was Marie-Antoinette’s favourite cabinet maker. He was known for creating richly decorated pieces covered with mahogany veneers, floral marquetry and gilt mounts. He was also celebrated for his ingenious mechanical fittings which allowed desk- and table-tops to be raised or lowered by a single button.

The Wallace Collection has 10 pieces of furniture either by or attributed to Riesener. This piece was acquired by the 4^th Marquess of Hertford when it came onto the market following the French Revolution. The commode was originally an integral part of the furnishings in Marie-Antoinette’s cabinet intérieur in her apartments at Versailles and her cipher can be seen in the delicate gilt-bronze flower mounts.

A close-up shot of the damaged veneer before conservation

The colourful marquetry has now faded but we were delighted to discover that underneath the veneer, the main body of the commode is in good condition. The exterior, however, needed urgent conservation, skillfully carried out here at Hertford House by Jürgen Huber, our Senior Furniture Conservator.

The commode has been returned to its former glory by stabilising the marquetry, painstakingly rehydrating the existing glue one tiny piece at a time. The dark polish that was applied in the 1940s has now been removed and a final treatment process has taken place to protect and stabilise this stunning and important piece of furniture.

The Riesener commode is now back on display in the Study, which contains more examples of Marie-Antoinette’s furniture than any other room in the world. This amazing transformation can we seen in this short video about the conservation process, and you can read more about the making of the video in Danielle’s blog post here. Readers in London might like to come and visit our Conservation Galleries to view the new display focusing specifically on the commode.

In order to continue with our vital conservation programme, we need your help. If you can, please make a donation via The Big Give. Thank you for your support.

Pietro and Ferdinando Tacca, ‘Hercules with the Bull’.

The powerful composition in bronze, by the seventeenth-century Florentine sculptors Pietro and Ferdinando Tacca, shows the classical hero Hercules grappling with the river god Acheloüs, transformed into the form of a bull. It is one of a series of large bronzes depicting stories from the legend of Hercules: two of which, Hercules with the Centaur and Hercules with the Bull, are in the permanent collection of works of art at the Wallace Collection. Ferdinando Tacca (1619-1686) was a multi-talented figure who as well as being a successful sculptor was also an architect, engineer and a stage designer for the theatre.  His extraordinary sense of Baroque theatricality can be felt too in his bronze sculpture, which is full of drama and exciting and complex interplay between figures.

The Classical myth inspiring this sculpture is one of love, violence and metamorphosis. One of Hercules’ rivals for the hand of his beloved Deianeira was the river god Acheloüs. During a tremendous wrestling match with Hercules, Acheloüs was able to transform himself into the forms of other monstrous creatures, a bull-headed man, a serpent and a bull. Hercules defeated the bull by pulling off one of its horns, which then became transformed into the well-known symbol of the cornucopia, or horn of plenty. A magnificent cornucopia can be seen in the Flemish painter Jacob Jordaens’ newly conserved Allegory of Fruitfulness in the Wallace Collection.

This model originated as one of a set of large bronzes depicting scenes from the life of Hercules, originally part of an abortive commission for King James I of England. Pietro Tacca’s original models seem only to have been cast after his death, by his son Ferdinando.

The Wallace Collection also possesses two fine bronze candlesticks from a Calvary Group, made by Ferdinando Tacca for the Chapel of the Ducal palace in Massa, near Carrara in Tuscany, and inventoried in 1662. The group included a second pair of angels as well as a large Cross with the Crucified Christ. It was broken up in 1796, when the palace was pillaged by French troops, following Napoleon’s invasion of Italy and on the Emperor’s orders. Both figures are, exceptionally, signed by Ferdinando Tacca in monogram on the drapery around their waist. As well as visiting Hercules with the Bull in the Large Drawing Room, visitors can venture to the Sixteenth-Century Gallery where they will find these two Tacca works of art.

Not only can visitors enjoy seeing this special loan in the context of other works by Pietro and Ferdinando Tacca, but they can also see this unique bronze alongside many other works of art that were once part of the French Royal Collection. The cast of Hercules with the Bull was first recorded in 1689 in the collection of the Grand Dauphin, son of  King Louis XIV of France, and carries on the rump of the bull the royal collection inventory number ’302′. All objects in the collection were numbered, and visitors can find numbers 297 and 298 in the Billiard Room, inscribed on two bronze fire-dogs on marble pedestals, cast c. 1655-1680 from models by the Italian bronze sculptor Alessandro Algardi. Algardi, like Pietro and Ferdinando Tacca, takes inspiration from Classical mythology, and the two, impressive fire-dogs represent Jupiter victorious over the Titans: ‘Fire’ and Juno Controlling the Winds: ‘Air’.

Tacca’s Hercules with the Bull left the Royal Collection during the French Revolution and has now been generously lent by a private collector, to allow it to be appreciated and studied in the fascinating new contexts afforded by the Wallace Collection. Eagle-eyed visitors might also recognize the sculpture from last year’s acclaimed exhibition at the Royal Academy, Bronze, where it was on show until December.

Hercules with the Bull is on display in the Large Drawing Room until September.

When I was told that we were to acquire an eighteenth-century book with the title L’eloge des tetons I thought that my French must be seriously at fault, since it sounded rather risqué, if not positively pornographic. I know that in art ordinary rules about showing the naked female form are somewhat suspended but this seemed to be going a little bit too far, especially for a book of this period. However, it turned out that my French was not at fault at all. This book, to be housed in an eminently respectable art library is really and honestly about what might – euphemistically and in contemporary parlance – be called a woman’s ‘endowments’.

Titlepage of ‘L’Eloge des Tetons’, purchased for the Library in 2012 through the John McKee Bequest.

After getting over my initial reaction of surprise and hilarity, I was most intrigued by this extraordinary publication and the reason for its inclusion in our collection. The explanation, as I was somewhat relieved to find out, lay in the provenance of the book. It once belonged to Richard Seymour-Conway, the 4^th Marquess of Hertford, and is a handsome volume bound to match other books from his library. The boards are marbled and the spine is covered in fine leather with gold tooling, including the Hertford’s crest of the phoenix rising from flames. If not for the title the book might be taken for a slim volume of sermons.

Once the book arrived, I soon saw that the text itself is far from being the slightly pornographic publication aimed at men that I had first imagined. In actual fact, the book, first published in 1720, this edition from 1775, claims to be for the amusement of ladies, and is dedicated to an anonymous countess. There are no illustrations and the text is a mixture of prose and poetry in praise or ridicule of the female form. Some of the passages are quite ribald but I can certainly imagine them causing a lot of amusement. Many of the poems are taken from earlier centuries and show a robust appreciation of the female body and somewhat earthy language similar to those of English Renaissance poets such as Donne or Marvell. The use of allusions and less formal words for describing female beauty (or the lack thereof) make some parts of the text rather challenging for the non-native French speaker but this passage (p. 51-52) by the unnamed author and the following poem by the 16^th-century poet Clément Marot illustrate the tone of the book and its quotations from poetry and prose.

Vous voyez par-là, Madame, que la blancheur, la rondeur & la fermeté sont des qualités essentiellement requires à des beaux Tetons. Ces deux dernieres sont moins communes que l’autre dans vos quartiers, & c’est un mal. Marot, qui étoit un connoisseur, les aimoit ronds: vous l’allez voir dans ces vers quie referment des conseils sur le choix d’uns Maîtresse.

Quand vous voudrez faire une Amie,

Prenez-la de belle grandeur,

En son esprit non endormie,

Et son Tetin bonne rondeur.

Douceur

En cœur,

Langage

Bien sage,

Dansant, chantant par bons accords,

Et ferme de cœur & de corps,

Si vous la prenez trop jeunette,

Vous en aurez peu d’entretien;

Pour durer prenez la brunette,

En bon point, d’assure maintien,

Tel bien

Vaut bien

Qu’on fasse

La chasse

Du plaisant gibier Amoureux;

Qui prend telle proïe, est heureux.

Now that the book has been catalogued it will join other books of a similar age and provenance in the Londonderry Cabinet. So, the next time you walk past it, see if you can find the one ‘naughty’ book amongst all the serious art-related titles!

The Londonderry Cabinet in the Large Drawing Room

Helen Jones, Library Cataloguer

I’d like to share the story of our latest project, a rarely seen peek into our conservation studio to investigate the conservation of one of our most famous pieces of furniture, Queen Marie-Antoinette’s Riesener commode.

All films produced so far aim to share something with our existing or potential virtual visitor, allowing them an insight into an area not normally viewed by the public. Our first film took the viewer behind the scenes of the refurbishment of the Dutch galleries, talking to the Director, Curator and Project Manager about the curatorial and logistical vision behind the eighteen month process and examining the role of the various craftsmen involved, from specialist silk hangers to gilders. We released the film in segments providing an update on the refurbishment process; a complement to the closed door to the space that visitors encountered in the gallery, and were hopefully intrigued by.

Our second film followed a typical family day, A Day in the Eighteenth Century and featured talks, costumed characters, games, craft activities and treasure hunts. The Wallace Collection offers a rich vein for young imaginations to mine, but not all know about these activities. This film was a means of sharing the sense of fun, excitement and exploration.

This sense of exploration has been expanded in our newest conservation film.  The Wallace Collection has a remarkable collection of ten pieces made by or attributed to Jean-Henri Riesener. Riesener started out as a poor German immigrant but an opportune marriage to the widow of his former master, Jean-François Oeben, allowed him control of his workshop, side-lining  strict French guild regulations set up to prevent foreign competition.  By 1774 he had received the official title of ébéniste du roi (Cabinetmaker to the King,) a title fitting for his artistically skilled and technically accomplished production.

Conservation work is ongoing at the Collection and all furniture and metalwork is conserved on site, yet this remains an unknown world for many visitors. Our conservators identify pieces and produce a thorough conservation proposal, working in tandem with the Curator to ensure the works of art remain in the best possible condition for the future. Work is characterised by minimum intervention wherever possible and only well proven, tested methods are used.

Prior to the actual filming process, I prepare a raft of documents from the original object file on the history of the piece and the conservation plan. The object file contains all research and correspondence on the work of art whilst it has been in the Wallace Collection.  It’s important that Rachel and Mark from Chocolate Films know as much as possible about what they will be filming. It’s a complicated procedure and they need to have a clear idea of the story before they embark, to help in the edit suite. We speak in detail with all the interviewees before any filming begins and devise a set of questions and prompts and a loose narrative.

The conservation process is time consuming, focusing on minute detail. Filming takes place in the conservation studio over several months, allowing us to capture the different stages of the process – interviewing Head of Conservation, David Edge, about the first pieces to be removed, the gilt bronze mounts, which are showing some signs of corrosion, and, at subsequent stages, Senior Furniture Conservator, Jürgen Huber, as he removes the varnish which has darkened in the sixty years since it was applied, rehydrates the marquetry and parquetry and finally re-polishes the commode.

The crew are intrigued to see the piece deconstructed in the tiny upstairs studio. With the base plinth, drawers and mounts removed a stately piece appears much more humble, and importantly, offers fascinating insights into the process of creation. We know that the base plinth was enlarged and re-veneered sometime before the commode’s purchase by the 4th Marquess of Hertford in 1865. We discover pencil marks left (in very unobtrusive places) by conservators from the 1940s. When originally completed the commode was much brighter, the natural and stained woods including yellow, green, pink and blue to match the silk on the walls of Marie-Antoinette’s intimate and private cabinet intérieur. The removal of the gilt bronze mounts, which had protected the wood from the effects of light, makes the change in colour, a gradual process over hundreds of years, instantly visible before our eyes.

We learn from Jürgen that the initial examination has resulted in a fascinating discovery. The gilt bronze royal insignia of Marie-Antoinette’s initials had been carefully cut so that part of it could be removed, therefore potentially making the piece unconnected to Marie Antoinette. It’s well known that Riesener was employed after the French Revolution to remove royal insignia from his furniture; many of the pieces he re-purchased himself in the hope of selling them on. Analysis of the metal using an  XRF portable scanner showed that the removeable section of the mount has the same composition as the rest of it, so perhaps it was taken off at the time of the Revolution, and then re-inserted (perhaps by Riesener himself) at a later date when it was no longer politically unwise to acknowledge Royal connections. Unfortunately it wasn’t a successful tactic for Riesener, who died in comparative poverty in 1806.

To capture the story, directors Rachel and Mark choose to use a Canon EOS 5D Mark II. This camera, whilst fairly small, records very rich, detailed images: exactly what is required when filming detailed processes on intricate and beautiful objects.

Once the conservation process itself is complete, Chocolate Films return to film the ‘reveal’ of the commode in situ, back in the Study, surrounded by other key objects commissioned and owned by Marie-Antoinette. As with all gallery filming, this takes place early in the morning before the arrival of our visitors. Curator of French Decorative Arts, Helen Jacobsen, is interviewed to provide more context on the historical importance of the piece.

The film is now in the hands of Chocolate Films who take away detailed footage of the entire process, with the brief of condensing this into a six minute film! No mean feat! In the edit suite they choose appropriate music and intersperse older images of the piece, including photographs from 1903 from our detailed object files.  The first draft of the film is then presented and no dramatic changes are made: we hope an indication of good preparation, a clear sense of purpose and an effective working brief. Slight chronological issues are quickly resolved and a quick visit for extra sound provides the additional voiceover to complete the picture.

Once signed off internally, the film is made available for visitors on the Interact section of our website, on our You Tube page and promoted through our social media channels. There are also plans for further usage for this particular film. In April, a display will open in the Conservation Gallery on the Riesener commode. This film will play on a terminal in the gallery, aiding understanding.

The discoveries made on the Riesener commode aren’t isolated. This is just one example of the many fascinating stories that emerge over time, in the process of the focused curatorial and conservation work which happens every day at the Wallace Collection; bringing to life the beautiful pieces which were commissioned by intriguing patrons, created by master craftsmen and privy to fascinating historical events.

We hope that this film and this insight into its creation goes some way in revealing a hidden world to many of our visitors, both virtual and actual; to both ignite and quench your interest. Do let us know if you enjoy it, and also any ideas you have for further films.

Danielle Cunningham, Marketing & Press Manager

]]> http://wallacecollection.org/blog/2013/03/filming-the-conservation-of-marie-antoinettes-commode/feed/ 2 http://wallacecollection.org/blog/2012/12/refugee-tour-guides-present-wallace-collection-hidden-treasures/ http://wallacecollection.org/blog/2012/12/refugee-tour-guides-present-wallace-collection-hidden-treasures/#comments Thu, 06 Dec 2012 08:00:43 +0000 admin http://wallacecollection.org/blog/?p=1625 Read More]]> Since February 2011, a remarkable group of volunteer Refugee Tour Guides from a range of African countries have embarked on an ambitious venture with the Wallace Collection, to learn about the museum’s intriguing history and collections. Supported by the National Lottery through the Heritage Lottery Fund, the group have completed a unique training programme to learn how to create and deliver guided tours and to master the art of public speaking in both intimate and large gallery spaces. Participants have selected and researched their favourite works of art and will now share their knowledge with the public in a series of fascinating free tours that will be delivered every Thursday and Saturday throughout December and January.

Souleyman Sow Presents

The Hidden Treasures of the Wallace Collection

1pm, Thursday 13 December

And coming up…

Abdul Hussein Mohammed presents his Highlights of the Wallace Collection

2.30pm, Saturday 15 December

This charming portrait miniature by Candide Blaize shows him at the tender age of seven, just after he had been brought by his mother Agnes Jackson to Paris, to begin life with the family of his father, the future 4th Marquess of Hertford. On display in West Gallery II.

Dame Rosalind is especially passionate about the French decorative arts, one of the most internationally-renowned areas of excellence in the Wallace Collection. These she has championed not just though her three-volume publication The Wallace Collection: Catalogue of Sèvres Porcelain (1988) but also, from 1994-2010, in her refurbishment of twelve rooms for the arts of France on the ground and first floors of Hertford House.

The Trustees of the Wallace Collection have decided to celebrate this dedication with an endowment fund in Dame Rosalind Savill’s honour, to ensure that curatorial expertise and scholarship in this area remain at the forefront of life at the Wallace Collection in the future. The Dame Rosalind Savill Endowment for 18th-century French Decorative Arts will support a Curator specialising in 18th-century French furniture, porcelain or goldsmiths’ work.

To contribute to this appeal please download a donation form.

This appeal is being run by the Hertford House Trust (Charity Number: 1109802). The Hertford House Trust is an independent charitable trust set up to advance the education of the public in the appreciation of the Fine and Decorative Arts by providing for the enhancement of Hertford House and the Wallace Collection.

To examine the paintings, images are captured using high resolution digital photography, infrared and x-ray, and small paint samples are taken. Initial results have already revealed how complex Reynolds’ technique really was!

This very exciting project will continue to yield new and surprising results, with all the research being made publicly available later in the project. Alongside this, the Wallace Collection will continue to provide updates as new discoveries are made. The first restored painting has already arrived back at the Collection: ‘Mrs Elizabeth Carnac,’ which can now be seen in the Great Gallery. The project will culminate in an exhibition, catalogue and scholarly conference at the Collection in 2014, which is sure to be well worth the wait!

The Wallace Collection is delighted to announce that our two most popular French clocks, the magical carillon chimes of which have entranced generations of visitors, are once again playing their original eighteenth-century tunes.  The clocks are on display in the Front and Back State Rooms of the Collection, 

The first is the Stollewerck Carillon Clock (F96), a spring-driven musical mantel clock (pendule à musique) attributed to Jean-Claude Chambellan Duplessis père, dating to around 1760-63, which plays a different tune each hour from a total repertoire of 14 tunes.  Its movement is by Pierre Daillé, and the carillon itself is the work of Michel Stollewerck.  The Hunting Carollon Clock (F97) is also a spring-driven musical mantel clock, made in about 1762, the case also attributed to Duplessis.  It plays one of 13 tunes each full hour, on the hour.  The clock-case was cast and chased by François-René Morlay and the movement is by François Viger, but the maker of the carillon is not known.

The decision had to be taken some five years ago, on conservation grounds, no longer to run the carillons, effectively silencing the clocks and drastically reducing the experience for visitors in the galleries.

Now, avoiding any further wear and tear to the particularly complex and delicate carillon movements of these two historically-important clocks, the tunes triggered by the clock ‘going train’ movement on the hour, every hour, are in fact digital recordings, of such high quality that it is impossible to tell the difference.  The decision to use recordings, rather than allowing the carillon movements to run, was not an easy one to take, but this was the only way that we could all enjoy the wonderfully evocative and arresting sound of the chimes whilst simultaneously protecting the delicate mechanical musical movements for posterity.  Much thought, effort, research and inventiveness has gone into the digital sound system devised for the clocks.  So innovative was the final solution that the Collection is currently applying for a Pilgrim Trust Award to recognise the work of the principal contract sound-engineer, John Leonard, and Senior Furniture Conservator Jurgen Huber, who between them successfully brought it about.

In the case of most of the clocks in the Wallace Collection, the parts of the movements most prone to suffer wear have long ago been replaced, so the question of wear and tear to ‘original’ parts does not often arise.  The case of the carillon clocks is somewhat different, however.  The intricacy and mechanical complexity of their chiming trains, and in particular their use of a musical carillon cylinder mechanism (similar to those found in old-fashioned musical boxes), means that they are particularly prone to mechanical problems and wear.  The musical cylinder is made of brass, with tiny (0.3mm diameter and 1mm long) fragile metal pins inserted into it.  As the cylinder slowly turns, levers engage with these pins to lift hammers which then fall onto a range of different bells, thereby creating a tune.  To play a different tune each hour, once it has finished playing the cylinder is moved about 1mm sideways, with the consequence that different pins then lift different hammers to create a different tune.  Over time, however, the pins in the cylinder wear down or break, and their contact points with the levers and hammers abrade, so the pins and/or the contact parts have to be replaced.  Furthermore, there is a greater risk of wear and tear with this kind of mechanism, because the cylinder turns very slowly and is at rest in one position for quite a long time, therefore accumulating a substantial amount of dust brought in by the thousands of visitors who pass through our galleries every month; the main clockwork mechanism positioned directly above the cylinder can then drip oil onto the cylinder, turning the dust into a form of abrasive paste.  On the Hunting Carillon Clock the pins had already been replaced, probably even before it entered the Collection.  Recognising the fragility of the musical cylinder, recordings were made of all the melodies; advances in sound technology enabled these to be re-recorded to a much higher standard than ever before.

With such recordings in hand, it was only a short step to suggesting that they be used to save further wear and tear to the carillon movements, especially since the advent of miniaturized sound-systems should theoretically make it easy to install a music-player inside the clock-case.  With conservation issues increasingly on everyone’s mind, few nowadays would dispute the necessity for considering such action.  Over the past few years the musical cylinder on both clocks had become increasingly unreliable, so that only major interventive restoration (potentially threatening the aesthetic and structural integrity of the clock movements) would have reversed the situation.  For a long time now, both clocks have only played a single melody, whereas originally, a different tune would have played each hour, the change-over taking place automatically thanks to complicated but fragile connections within the mechanism itself.  To correct this fault, several worn internal parts would have had to be replaced (involving very interventive, highly-specialized and expensive work, without any guarantee that it would not cause still more parts to wear down).  The replacing of original parts on any work of art is always controversial, and in this case would have been especially so.  Worse of all, however, it was by now clear that any such replacement of parts would not ‘solve’ the problem once and for all, but only postpone it for other generations to face again, in the future.

However, although seemingly straight-forward, this idea in fact took nearly four years to come to fruition, turning out to be infuriatingly difficult to accomplish in the way that we desired.  Quite a few museums have digital recordings of clocks, either replicating the sound of the going train, or the hourly chimes, but these recordings usually either run continuously or are activated by visitors pressing a button.  In many cases the fact that visitors are listening to a recording is very obvious, both because of the way in which the recordings are accessed and their poor audio-quality.  What we wanted was a device which would play the recording of our chimes upon being triggered by the movement of the clock’s own internal mechanism, but without causing additional strain or wear to any original moving parts.  It would have been easy to have a sound-player, connected to the mains electricity supply, somewhere in the room near to each clock, which would have played the melodies either according to an electronic timer or as activated by a visitor.  However, we wanted the chiming melody to play in synchronisation with the clock movement rather than according to ‘real’ time, and without the intervention of our visitors.  The logical conclusion was to have the recording triggered or activated by the clock movement, just as it would have been originally, but without physical contact with any moving parts, and to have the sound emanating from the clock itself rather than a loudspeaker outside the case. Both of these requirements relied on extreme miniaturization and advanced electrical technology; we very rapidly discovered that we needed much more than just a micro-switch, an MP3 player, and an electric battery!

Ultimately, the dedication, commitment and ingenuity of John Leonard, a professional sound-engineer, working closely with Jurgen Huber, senior furniture conservator, led to the development of the new system, which features the following innovations:

• It plays all the tunes of our two French musical clocks, in sequence, as with the original carillon movements
• The sound quality is undistinguishable from the original
• It is activated by the clock movement (the ‘going train’), and not by a digital timer or by visitors pressing a button
• Playback is activated by a optical micro-switch that does not require physical contact with any original moving part of the ‘going train’
• The clock movements are unaffected and will still be wound as usual every week
• Everything including the loudspeakers fits into the very tight existing space within the clock-case; nothing has been altered, removed or fixed to the original fabric of the clock
• The device can be removed at any time without leaving any trace of its existence
• The system is battery-operated and can run for up to five days before needing replacement
• It does not require any cables, contacts or other parts to be visible outside the original clock case

There are not many alternatives to what we have done; the least interventive would have been to stop the carillon movement completely and have no melody playing at all, or alternatively we could have spent a huge sum of money to build and install a modern replica carillon, placing the original in store; a very controversial treatment which would have altered the very fabric of this historic clock.  What we have now done, however, is completely and safely reversible, altering nothing of any part of the mechanism.