On Christmas Day

It rained quite heavily yesterday on Christmas eve, melting the existing snow on the ground.

Why do I always feel that this long-anticipated day of the year flees without impression?

Christmas Day was magical once. I was young back then.

Perhaps a simple act of decorating a Christmas tree, thus having the ability to celebrate, constitutes Christmas. Or is it just an anticipation?

Elgin National Watch Co.

"The screws in a watch number forty-four, or more than one-quarter Of all its pieces. The Screw and Steel Department is one of the largest in the factory. Its magical little automata, run by nimble-fingered girls, convert shining steel wire into infinitesimal screws, pare down their heads, and cut slots in them for microscopic screwdrivers. They are polished to perfect smoothness, and then, like every other part of the watch, brought to "spring temper"-the temper of the sword-blade-by beating, which leaves them of a rich, deep blue..."

(From Making Watches By Machinery by Albert D. Richardson, Harper's Magazine, July 1869)

The Page in Progress...

Antique Grandfather Clocks

An English Grandfather Clock (Paul Rimbault, 1773, London)

Grandfather Clocks at the Metropolitan Museum of Art
(By Wynlok, Flickr)

A Grandfather Clock at Rosehill House, Coalbrookdale, England
(By Elliott Brown)

(By Dan Brady)

(By Duncan McNeil)

I love antique grandfather clocks.

Grandfather clocks, also called longcase or tall-case clocks, emerged in the 18th century with the invention of the anchor escapement around 1670. The verge escapement, which was widely in use for clock movements that were made before, required very wide pendulum swings to run; therefore, longer pendulums such as the ones found in grandfather clocks were not practical before the 18th century.

The clock consists of the hood, which houses the movement (mechanism) of the clock, the waist, which houses the pendulum, and the base.

To me, unlike today's grandfather clocks, antique clocks seem to possess certain elegance and humaine texture. Many old grandfather clocks have painted dials, and almost all of them have cases that are fully enclosed without having any glass openings. Some cases feature exotic wood veneers and beautiful craftmanship, while others were made simply with English Oak or mahogany. It seems English made many grandfather clocks during the 18th and 19th century, and the dials of these clocks bear their origins, such as London or Cockermouth.


As a child, I really enjoyed reading a collection of fairytale stories. In one of the stories (by Grimm, I later found out), a wolf attacked a house full of young lambs and ate them while their mother was away. The youngest, however, escaped by hiding inside of a grandfather clock. It was so impressionable that I wanted to hide inside if I found one.

The first time I had personally encountered such an old grandfather clock was back when I visited my mother's workplace about a year ago. It was there, a remarkably beautiful old clock that did not work, standing quietly at a lobby. It was from Dartington, England, and its metal dial was one of its fine features. I was rather surprised at the pendulum, which looked so simple, and the weights, which looked rather earthy. When I swinged the pendulum, the clock's second hand turned second by second as it completed one swing.

It made a sound, a sound that resembled a heartbeat. For how many years did it make that same sound?

I look forward to having an old grandfather clock as my lifelong companion.

Saint-Saëns and the Knabe Piano

Camille Saint-Saëns, Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Yesterday I found the following journal article published in December 29th, 1906 by The Music Trade Review (MTR):

"Never before has dignified advertising played such a prominent role in the marketing of the piano and in this the year of 1906 must be set down as unique.

There has perhaps never been a more satisfactory tour than the one which was closed on Thursday when Saint-Saëns, the most distinguished composer of the day, left for his home in Paris. This tour was only one of the gigantic strides made by Wm. Knabe & Co., and will go far toward the artistic exploitation of a piano which is able to stand upon its own merits and to substantiate the most extravagant statements that can be made in its behalf. The letter of Dr. Saint-Saëns is one of those rare tributes to the Knabe piano which is priceless because it carries the true expression not only of one who understands every grade and quality of tone, but whose entire life has been one of frankness and sincerity almost to the point of rudeness."


Camille Saint-Saëns, born in Paris on October 9, 1835, was a musical prodigy who gave a public performance when he was only five years of age. He is best remembered for his musical suite The Carnival of the Animals (Le Carnaval des Animaux).

Coincidentally, Saint-Saëns visited the United States for the first time in 1906. The article above implies that Saint-Saëns, even then a greatly respected and discerning European composer and pianist, gave a recommendation letter to Wm. Knabe & Co.

Yet in 1908, just two years after the article's publication, Wm. Knabe & Co. and Chickering & Sons were dissolved and incorporated into American Piano Co., marking the demise of these venerated century-old piano makers. Perhaps the general taste of music and the status of piano were changing; however, I wonder how the demise occurred in such a short span of time.

The article's extravagant language is quite amusing. It somehow reminds me of the Hindenburg disaster broadcast.


Reference: Edward Lyman Bill, "In the Musical World." The Music Trade Review 43.26 (1906): 16

Korea's First Piano

Gwanghwamun Gate (광화문; 光化門), Seoul, around 1890s

King Gojong (고종; 高宗) of the Joseon Dynasty,
Later the Gwangmu Emperor (광무제; 光武帝) of the Korean Empire

The date as to when the piano was first imported to Korea is yet to be found; however, a newspaper article that records the first two pianos ever imported to Korea survives.

Traditional Korea, isolated and suspicious towards westerners, was only exposed to European culture in the late 19th century, and Korean royal family was usually the first to receive cultural artifacts from Europe. Therefore not surprisingly, the two pianos mentioned in the article belonged to King Gojong.

The article, published by Maeil Sinbo (매일신보; 每日申報) in January 26th, 1918, is as follows:

"[왕세자 전하께서는] 음악에 취미가 특별히 깊으시와 이번 경성에 건너오신 뒤에도 태왕 전하께서 그 말을 들으시고 왕세자 전하의 어리셨을 때에 가지고 노시던 피아노 두 채 를 함녕전으로부터 석조전에 옮기게 하시고 그동안 병이 난(고장 난) 것을 악기 점원이 밤을 새워가면서 급히 고쳐서…."

Trans: "[The Crown Prince] was very deeply involved with music; hence during his visit to Seoul, Your Majesty heard the news and ordered two pianos once toyed by the Crown Prince to be moved from Hamnyeongjeon to Seokjojeon, while an instrument clerk spent a night quickly repairing ill parts of pianos caused by long storage..."

(Note: Hamnyeongjeon and Seokjojeon are buildings located at Deoksugung Palace, Seoul)

Since the Crown Prince Yeongchinwang (영친왕; 英親王) was forced to study in Tokyo in 1907, the article suggests that the pianos were imported at least before 1907.


King Gojong later donated one of the pianos to a church located in Pyongyang. But Korea split up into North and South Korea shortly after its independence from Japanese rule in August 15th, 1945, and the piano fell under North Korea's possession.

In 1990s, North Korea sold some of its historic artifacts, including this piano, to the Chinese after experiencing a devastating femine. South Korea, in order to protect these cultural artifacts, recovered and imported them safely back to South Korea in 1997. However, the piano is still not released to the eyes of public as of today.

A mystery in history is always fascinating. I am very curious as to how the piano looks like.