efore we get to the story itself, which appears to be well known in Great Britain, or at least around Greenwich, I should mention that it seems extraordinary to me that a private individual should be permitted to “sell” the exact time! But the British are without equal in their enthusiasm for the free market and virtually anything may be privatised!

The story of Ruth Belville is nevertheless worth telling. Ruth, who died in 1943, was the last representative of a family of “time sellers” whose business was founded in 1836. It was clearly a lucrative concept, given that, in the 1920s and 1930s, London – then capital of the world – was apparently well known for the lack of agreement between its public clocks.

Beginning in 1836, a member of the Belville family would regularly take themselves up to the Greenwich Royal Observatory. There, they would set their watch – a very reliable and precise Arnold – according to the Observatory’s official time. They would then return to London and make the rounds of all the gentlemen who had subscribed to their services, and adjust their pocket watches or clocks one by one.

Ruth Belville in 1908

It was a good business and Ruth Belville continued to operate it diligently until a competitor named Mr Wynne, who had his own time-selling business, the Standard Time Company, accused Ruth of using her feminine charms to ensure her clients’ fidelity. But Wynne had other arguments on his side – notably electricity – and succeeded in securing an editorial in The Times on the “lying clocks” of London. It’s safe to assume that discontent with the horological status quo was already rife, given that one reader responded that there was probably “some censorship” as to the exactitude of the time revealed to the public. Another explained that, while individualism was “highly desirable… in many respects, it is out of place in horology.” Others deplored the “heavy pecuniary losses” caused by this imprecision. After all, as we all know, “time is money”.

Nevertheless, Wynne’s initiative caused something of a storm and was excellent publicity for the Greenwich Time Lady’s business. It became the height of fashion to have one’s own personal time adjuster. Once a week, Ruth went to the Greenwich Observatory before 9am. She’d take her watch out of her bag with a “Good morning, Arnold,” scold it gently, “Four seconds fast today!”, then hand it to the “regulator”, who adjusted it and gave it back. She then returned to London to adjust the watches of her subscribers. In 1940, at the height of the Blitz, she decided, at the age of 86, that it was too dangerous to continue to walk the streets of London and retired.

She died three years later, with Arnold at her side. Since then, it would not be inaccurate to say that watchmakers have continued to sell time. And the triumphant return of craftsmanship has once again made it a highly personal enterprise. What could be more fashionable than to be able to put a name and a face to the time one is telling? Back in the early twentieth century, all those who underestimated Ruth Belville learned this lesson to their cost.