In the fall of 2018, I came across an interesting clock on Facebook Marketplace. The photos were far from ideal and showed a very distressed piece that had clearly spent years in a hot, humid environment—my guess was an attic.
The seller was asking quite a lot for it, but I replied that the clock would require a great deal of work to restore it to anything close to its former glory. After a bit of discussion, we agreed on a reasonable price, though I knew full well that my work was cut out for me.
Here is the before shot showing several missing pieces and a pretty rough finish.
When I purchased the clock, the seller explained that it had been brought to Canada from Europe when her husband’s family immigrated in the 1890s and that it had remained in the family ever since.
By the time I arrived, the house had already been sold, and the family was in the process of liquidating its contents.
The clock is a stylish German-made wall clock produced by Friedrich Mauthe, a manufacturer well known for its Black Forest clocks during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
Based on the design of the trademark stamped on the movement, I originally estimated the clock to date from the late 1890s to the early 1900s—an estimate that seemed consistent with the family history provided by the seller.
The case, however, was not without its issues. Two finials were missing, several case elements had been lost over the years, and the wood dial arch was gone entirely. The most serious problem, though, was the finish. It had become heavily “alligatored,” a term used to describe a surface covered with tiny irregular cracks and ridges resembling reptile skin. Years of heat and sunlight had softened the old finish, allowing dirt and dust to embed themselves into the surface. As the finish dried and contracted, it left behind a rough, uneven texture.
Stripping a clock case is rarely the preferred approach, but in this instance, I felt I had little choice. The finish was simply beyond saving. That restoration process, however, is a story for another time.
After a lot of patience and elbow grease, this was what I thought was the final product.
Was there a Crown or Topper?
What always bothered me about the clock was something else entirely: the very top of the case. It seemed incomplete. I suspected that the clock may once have had a decorative piece on the crown.
In clock terminology, the crown is the decorative assembly that sits on top of the pediment. Because it occupies the highest point of the case and is often ornate and symmetrical, it resembles a royal crown sitting atop a head—hence the name. It is essentially the finishing element that completes the architectural design of the case. The crown is otherwise known as a topper.
Curious about this missing detail, I posted a query on a well-known clock forum. I suggested that the clock might originally have had some type of top crown, a rearing horse, perhaps.
Several members replied, but the consensus was that the case likely had nothing more than a simple finial—or perhaps nothing at all. Even as I remained convinced something was missing, others repeated the same conclusion.
Finally, a highly respected forum member with extensive knowledge of Mauthe clocks stepped in and posted an image from an original manufacturer’s catalogue.
And there it was. No. 247.
And sitting proudly on top of the base section of the crown was a rearing horse.
The catalogue page also provides several technical details, one of which—the height—is helpful in determining the correct size of the crown.
- Dial size: 14 cm (5¾ inches)
- Pendulum length: 42 cm (16¾ inches)
- Case height: 106 cm (42 inches)
- Running duration: 14-day movement
- Function: time and strike
- Case wood: polished walnut
Collectors today often refer to this case style informally as the “Horse Crown” model because of the distinctive rearing horse sculpture mounted on the pediment.
Learning that the clock originally had such a dramatic crown raises an interesting question. What should be done now?
Since 2018, I simply accepted the clock as it was. After all, antique clocks often lose small decorative elements over time, and replacing them can sometimes feel like rewriting history.
But discovering the catalogue image of Model 247 has changed my perspective. Seeing the clock as it was originally intended—with the dramatic rearing horse mounted proudly on the pediment—makes it clear that the rearing horse was an important element of the design.
Without it, the case feels a little unfinished.
So rather than leaving the matter unresolved, I went about searching for a replacement top piece.
I now have a better idea of what I am looking for.
Since the clock stands 42 inches high, the crown should be about 6 inches tall. Looking through listings from an eBay clock-parts supplier, I see that these crowns are typically offered in three sizes—small, medium, and large—so a medium one should fit the bill.
The available versions, which are molded resin, are not exactly like the original crown that once adorned this clock, but they are close enough to restore the overall look of the case.
It is certainly satisfying to restore this Mauthe wall regulator just a little closer to how it left the factory more than a century ago.
Here it is!
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