One, the mainspring
The mainspring winds.
Every mechanical clock begins as stored effort. A ribbon of blued steel, four metres long, is coiled into a brass barrel with a key, one turn at a time. Two days of patience, held in a drum the size of a biscuit.
4.2 m of spring steel
Two, the going train
The gears mesh.
The barrel’s slow pull is handed down four wheels and pinions, each one multiplying the speed by about five. Count the teeth: forty-four, forty, thirty-six, thirty-two. Every tooth is cut, cleaned and checked by hand.
Ratio 1 : 566
Three, the escapement
The escapement ticks.
Here is the part that makes it a clock and not a clockwork toy. The anchor locks and releases one tooth at a time, kicked on by the balance as it swings. The hairspring breathes, and every beat is the same length.
28,800 beats an hour
Four, the orrery
The planets align.
The same idea, scaled up and pointed at the sky. Six planets on six brass arms, all driven from one crank under the table. Every so often they fall into a line. We built the machine to show you when.
Six arms, one crank