"Suddenly a loud noise was heard, and a glittering of fire flashed before our eyes, as if it had been the darting of a thunderbolt. Upon the appearance of this extraordinary phenomenon terror seized upon all present, and none more than myself. This tremendous noise being over, we began to stare at each other, and perceived that the cover of the furnace had burst and flown off, so that the bronze began to run.
"I immediately caused the mouths of my mould to be opened; but, finding that the metal did not run with its usual velocity, and apprehending that the cause of it was that the fusibility of the metal was injured by the violence of the fire, I ordered all my dishes and porringers, which were in number about two hundred, to be placed one by one before my tubes, and part of them to be thrown into the furnace; upon which all present perceived that my mould was filling: they now with joy and alacrity assisted and obeyed me. I, for my part, was sometimes in one place, sometimes in another, givingmy directions and assisting my men, before whom I offered up this prayer: 'O God, I address myself to thee. I acknowledge in gratitude this mercy, that my mould has been filled. I fall prostrate before thee, and with my whole heart return thanks to thy divine majesty.'
"My prayer being over, I took a plate of meat which stood upon a little bench, and ate with a great appetite. I then drank with all my journeymen and assistants, and went joyful and in good health to bed; for there were still two hours of night, and I rested as well as if I had been troubled with no disorder.
"My good housekeeper, without my having given any orders, had provided a good capon for my dinner. When I arose, which was not till about noon, she accosted me in high spirits, and said merrily, 'Is this the man that thought himself dying? It is my firm belief that the cuffs and kicks you gave us last night when you were quite frantic and possessed, frightened away your fever, which, apprehending you should fall upon it in the same manner, took to flight.' So my whole poor family, having got over such panics and hardships, without delay procured earthen vessels to supply the place of the pewter dishes and porringers, and we all dined together very cheerfully; indeed, I do not remember having ever in my life eaten a meal with greater satisfaction or a better appetite. After dinner, all those who had assisted me in my work came and congratulated me upon what had happened, returned thanks to the Divine Being for having interposed so mercifully in our behalf, and declared that they had in theory and practice learnt such things as were judged impossible by other masters. I thereupon thought it allowable to boast a little of my knowledge and skill in this fine art, and, pulling out my purse, satisfied all my workmen for their labor.
"Having left my work to cool during two days after it was cast, I began gradually to uncover it. I first of all found the Medusa's head, which had come out admirably by the assistance of the vents. I proceeded to uncover the rest, and found that the other head—I mean that of Perseus—was likewise come out perfectly well. I went on uncovering it with great success, and found every part turn out to admiration, till I reached the foot of the right leg, which supports the figure. I found that not only the toes were wanting, but part of the foot itself, so that there was almost one half deficient. This occasioned me some new trouble; but I was not displeased at it, as I had expected this very thing.
"It pleased God that as soon as ever my work, although still unfinished, was seen by the populace, they set up so loud a shout of applause, that I began to be somewhat comforted for the mortifications I had undergone; and there were sonnets in my praise every day upon the gate, the language of which was extremely elegant and poetical. The very day on which I exhibited my work, there were above twenty sonnets set up, containing the most hyperbolical praises of it. Even after I had covered it again, every day a number of verses, with Latin odes and Greek poems, were published on the occasion,—for it was then vacation at the University of Pisa, and all the learned men and scholars belonging to that place vied with each other in writing encomiums on my performance. But what gave me the highest satisfaction was that even those of the profession—I mean statuaries and painters—emulated each other in commending me. In fact, I was so highly praised, and in so elegant a style, that it afforded me some alleviation for my past mortification and troubles, and I made all the haste I could to put the last hand to my statue.
"At last, as it pleased the Almighty, I completely finished my work, and on a Thursday morning exhibited it fully. Just before the break of day so great a crowd gathered about it, that it is almost impossible for me to give the reader an idea of their number; and they all seemed to vie with each other who should praise it most. The duke stood at a lower window of the palace, just over the gate, and, being half concealed within side, heard all that was said concerning the work. After he had listened several hours, he left the window highly pleased, and sent me this message: 'Go to Benvenuto, and tell him from me that he has given me higher satisfaction than I ever expected. Let him know at the same time that I shall reward him in such a manner as will excite his surprise.'"
The manuscript of Benvenuto's Life is not carried much farther. The narrative breaks off abruptly in 1562, when Cellini was in the sixty-second year of his age. He does not appear from this time to have been engaged in any work of much importance. After the execution of his grand achievement of the Perseus, the narrative of his life seems to have been the most successful of all the labors of his declining years.
On the 15th day of February, 1570, this extraordinary man died. He was buried, by his own direction, with great funeral pomp. A monk who had been charged to compose the funeral sermon, in praise both of his life and works and of his excellent moral qualities, mounted the pulpit and delivered a discourse which was highly approved by the whole academy and by the people. They struggled to enter the chapter, as well to see the body of Benvenuto as to hear the commendation of his good qualities.
Two or three of the girls had dabbled a little in painting on porcelain, and several of them had become interested in various sorts of pottery. Mabel had been at Newburyport, on a visit with some friends who had a potter's wheel of their own; and she had turned for herself, and had had baked, some vases and dishes which she had brought home with her.
This tempted them all to make a party, in which several of the boys joined, to go to the Art Museum and see the exquisite pottery there, of different sorts, ancient and modern. There they met one of the gentlemen of a large firm of dealers in keramics; and he asked them to go through their magnificent establishment, and see the collection, which is one of great beauty. It shows several of the finest styles of manufacture in very choice specimens.
This prepared them to see Japanese work. And when Uncle Fritz heard of this, he asked Professor Morse, of Salem, if he would show them his marvellous collection of Japanese pottery. Professor Morse lived in Japan under very favorable auspices, and he made there a wonderful collection of the work of the very best artists. So five or six of the young people went down to Salem, at his very kind invitation, and saw there what is one of the finest collections in the world.
All this interested them in what now receives a great deal of attention, the manufacture and ornament of pottery. The wordkeramicsis a word recently added to the English language to express the art of making pottery and of ornamenting it.
When Uncle Fritz found that they really wanted to know about such things, he arranged that for one afternoon they should read about
Bernard Palissy was born, about 1510, in the little town of Biron, in Périgord, France. He became not only a great artist, but a learned physician, and a writer of merit.
Born of poor parents of the working-class, he had to learn some trade, and early applied himself to working glass, not as a glazier, but staining it and cutting it up in little bits, to be joined together with lead for the colored windows so much used in churches. This was purely mechanical work; but Bernard's ambition led him to study drawing and color, that he might himself design and execute, in glass, scenes from the Bible and lives of the saints, such as he saw done by his superiors.
When he was old enough, curious to see the world and learn new things, he took a journey on foot through several provinces of France, by observation thus supplying the defects of his early education, and reaping a rich harvest of facts and ideas, which developed the qualities of his intelligence.
It was at this time that the Renaissance in Art was making itself felt throughout Europe. Francis I. of France encouraged all forms of good work by his patronage;and wherever he went the young Palissy was animated and inspired by the sight of beautiful things.
Faience, an elegant kind of pottery, attracted his attention. This appeared first in the fourteenth century. The Arabs had long known the art of making tiles of clay, enamelled and richly ornamented. They brought it into Spain, as is shown in the decorations of the Alhambra at Seville and elsewhere. Lucca della Robbia in Italy first brought the art to perfection, by making figures and groups of figures in high relief, of baked clay covered with shining enamel, white, tinted with various colors. The kind of work calledmajolicadiffered from the earlier faience by some changes in the material used for the enamel. In the middle of the sixteenth century remarkable historical paintings were executed in faience, upon hugeplaques. All the cities of Italy vied with each other in producing wonders in this sort of work; it is from one of them, Faenza, that it takes its name. The method of making the enamel was a deep secret; but Bernard Palissy, with long patience and after many failures, succeeded in discovering it,—or, rather, in inventing for himself a new method, which in some respects excelled the old.
Palissy was the author of several essays, or "Discourses;" and from one of these, written in quaint old French, we have his own account of his invention.
He married and settled down in the year 1539 with a good income from his intelligent industry. He had a pleasant little house in the country, where, as he says, "I could rejoice in the sight of green hills, where were feeding and gambolling lambs, sheep, and goats."
An incident, apparently slight, disturbed this placid domestic happiness. He came across a cup of enamelledpottery, doubtless from Italy. "This cup," he says, "was of such beauty, that, from the moment I saw it, I entered into a dispute with myself as to how it could have been made."
Enamel is nothing more than a kind of glaze colored with metallic acids, and rendered opaque by the mixture of a certain quantity of tin. It is usually spread upon metal, when only it is properly called enamel; but this glaze can also be put upon earthenware. It makes vessels water-tight, and gives them brilliancy of surface. To find out how to do this was to make a revolution in the keramic art.
In France, in the sixteenth century, the only vessels, such as jugs or vases, were made either of metal, wood, or coarse porous pottery, through which water could penetrate; like the goulehs of the Arabs, or the cantaras of the Moors, which are still used for fresh water to advantage, since the evaporation of the drops keeps the water cold.
Many attempts had been made to imitate the beautiful and costly vases of China; but no one succeeded until the potters of Italy found out how to make faience. The discovery was hailed as a most valuable one. The princes who owned the works guarded their secret with jealous care,—to betray it would have been punished by death; so that Bernard Palissy had no hope of being taught how it was done, even if he should go to the places in Italy where the work was carried on.
"But," he says, "what others had found out, I might also discover; and if I could once make myself master of the art of glazing, I felt sure I could elevate pottery to a degree of perfection as yet unknown. What a glory for my name, what a benefit to France, if I could establish this industry here in my own land!"
He turned and turned the cup in his fingers, admiring the brilliant surface. "Yes," he said at last; "it shall be so, for I choose! I have already studied the subject. I will work still harder, and reach my aim at last."
Exceptional determination of character was needed for such an object. Palissy knew nothing about the component parts of enamels; he had never even seen the process of baking clay, and he had to begin with the very simplest investigations. To study the different kinds of earth and clay, to acquire the arts of moulding and turning, and to gain some knowledge of chemistry, all these were necessary. But he did not flinch, and pursued his idea with indomitable perseverance.
"Moving only by chance," he says, "like a man groping in the dark, I made a collection of all the different substances which seemed at all likely to make enamel, and I pounded them up fine; then I bought earthen pots, broke them into small bits, numbered these pieces, and spread over each of them a different combination of materials. Now I had to have a furnace in which to bake my experiments. I had no idea how furnaces were usually made; so I invented one of my own, and set it up. But I had no idea how much heat was required to melt enamels,—perhaps I heated my furnace too much, perhaps not enough; sometimes my ingredients were all burned up, sometimes they melted not at all; or else some were turned to coal, while others remained undisturbed by the action of the fire."
Meanwhile the resources of the unlucky workman were fast diminishing; for he had abandoned his usual work, by which he earned his living, and kept making new furnaces, "with great expense and trouble, and a great consumption of time and firewood."
This state of affairs much displeased his wife, who complained bitterly, and tried to divert her husband from an occupation which earned for him nothing but disappointment. The cheerful little household changed its aspect; the children were no longer well-dressed, and the shabby furniture and empty cupboards betrayed the decay which was falling upon the family. The father saw with profound grief the wants of his household; but success seemed ever so near to him, that he could not bear to give it up. His hope at that time was but a mirage; and for long afterwards, in this struggle between intelligence and the antagonism of material things, ill fortune kept the upper hand.
One day, tired out by his failures, it occurred to him that a man brought up to baking pottery would know how to bake his specimens better than he could.
"I covered three or four hundred bits of broken vase with different compounds, and sent them to afabriqueabout a mile and a half from my house. The potters consented to put my patterns with their batch for the oven. Full of impatience, I awaited the result of this experiment. I was on hand when my specimens came out. I looked them anxiously all over; not one was successful!
"The heat had not been strong enough, but I did not know this; I saw only one more useless expense of money. One of the workmen came to me and said, 'You will never make anything out of this; you had better go back to your own business.'"
Palissy shook his head; he had still in his possession some few valuable articles, souvenirs of happier days, which he could sell to renew his experiments. In spite of the reproaches of his wife, he bought more ingredients and more earthenware, and made new combinations.
Failure again! However, he would not be beaten. Some friends lent him a little money; he sat up at night to make new mixtures of different substances, all prepared with such care that he felt sure some of them must be good. Then he carried them again to the potters, whom he urged to the greatest care. They only shrugged their shoulders, and called him "crack brain;" and when the batch was done, they brought the results to Palissy with jeers. Some of the pieces were dirty white; others green, red, or smoked by the fire; but all alike in being dull and worthless.
It was over. Discouragement took possession of Palissy. "I returned home," he says, "full of confusion and sadness. Others might seek the secret of enamels. I must set to work and earn money to pay my debts and get bread for the family."
Most luckily for him at this time, a task was given him by government, for which he was well suited, and which brought him good pay. The king, Francis I., having had, like many another sovereign, some difficulty with his faithful subjects in the matter of imposts, now found it necessary to make a new regulation of taxes; and for this, among other things, an inspection of the salt marshes on the coasts of France was needed, in order to name the right sums for taxation, and a knowledge of arithmetic was required as well. Palissy was appointed; and to the great delight of his family, who thought that his mind would now be forever diverted from the search for enamel, he set forth to explore the islands and the shores of France. He drew admirable outlines of the forms of the salt marshes, and wrote with eloquence upon the sublimity of the sea.
Ease and comfort came back. His task was ended; but debts were paid, and plenty of money remained.
The first thing he saw on returning home, alas! was the cup,—his joy and despair. "How beautiful it is! how brilliant!" he exclaimed; and once more he threw himself into the pursuit of the elusive enamel.
It was easy to see that the so much admired faience of Italy was simply common baked clay, covered with some substance glazed by heat, but so composed as to adhere to the surface after it had cooled. But what substance? He had tried all sorts of materials; why had none of them melted? Palissy at length decided that the fault had been in using the common potter's furnace. Since the materials were to be vitrified by the process, they should be baked like glass. He broke up three dozen pots, pounded up a great quantity of different ingredients, and spread them with a brush on the fragments; then he carried them to the nearest glass-works. He was allowed to superintend the baking himself; he put the specimens in the oven, and passed the night attending the fire. In the morning he took them out. "Oh, joy! Some of the compounds had begun to melt; there was no perfect glaze, only a sign that I was on the right road."
It was, however, still a long and weary one. After two more years, Palissy was still far from the discovery of enamelling, but during this time he was acquiring much knowledge. From a simple workman he had become a learned chemist. He says himself, "The mistakes I made in combining my enamels taught me more than the things which came right of themselves."
There came a time, which he had once more resolved should be the last, when he repaired to the glass-works, accompanied by a man loaded with more than three hundred different patterns on bits of pottery. For four hours Bernard gloomily watched the progress of baking. Suddenly he started in surprise. Did his eyes deceive him? No! it was no illusion. One of the pieces in the furnace was covered with a brilliant glazing, white, polished, excellent. Palissy's joy was immense. "I thought I had become a new creature," he says. "The enamel was found; France enriched by a new discovery."
Palissy now hastened to undertake a whole vase. For many and large pieces there was not room enough at his disposition in the ovens of the glass-works. He did not worry about that, for he was quite sure he could construct one of his own. He decided, too, at once to model and fashion his own vases; for those which he bought of the potters, made of coarse and heavy forms, no longer suited his ambition. He now designed forms, turned and modelled them himself. Thus passed seven or eight months. At last his vases were done, and he admired with pride the pure forms given to the clay by his hands. But his money was giving out again, and his furnace was not yet built. As he had nothing to pay for the work, he did all the work himself,—went after bricks and brought them himself on his back, and then built and plastered with his own hands. The neighbors looked on in pity and ridicule. "Look," they said, "at Master Bernard! He might live at his ease, and yet he makes a beast of burden of himself!"
Palissy minded their sarcasms not at all. His furnace was finished in good time, and the first baking of the clay succeeded perfectly. Now the pottery was to be covered with his new enamel. Time pressed, for in a few days there would be no more bread in the house for his children. For a long time he had been living on credit, but now the butcher and baker refused to furnish anything more. All about him he saw only unfriendly faces; everyone treated him as a fool. "Let him die of hunger," they said, "since he will not listen to reason."
His wife was the worst of all. She failed to see any heroism in the obstinacy or perseverance of her husband,—no wonder, perhaps, with the sight of her suffering children before her eyes. She went about reciting her misfortunes to all the neighborhood, very unwisely, as she thus ruined the credit of her husband, his last and only resource.
Palissy was already worn out by so much manual labor, to which he was little accustomed; nevertheless, he worked by night, and all night long, to pound up and prepare the materials for his white enamel, and to spread it upon his vases. A report went abroad, caused by the sight of his lamp constantly burning, that he was trying to coin counterfeit money. He was suspected, despised, and avoided, and went about the streets hanging his head because he had no answer to make to his accusers.
The moment which was to decide his life arrived. The vases were placed in the furnace, and for six continuous days and nights he plied the glowing fire with fuel. The heat was intolerable; but the enamel resisted, nothing would melt, and he was forced to recognize that there was too little of the glazing substance in the combination to vitrify the others. He set to work to mix another compound, but his vases were spoiled; he borrowed a few common ones from the pottery. During all this delay he did not dare to let the fire go out, it would take so much wood to start it again. Once more the newly covered pots were placed in the intense furnace; in three or four hours the test would be completed. Palissy perceived with terror that his fuel was giving out. He ran to his garden, tore up fences, and cut down trees whichhe had planted himself, and threw all these into the two yawning mouths of the furnace. Not enough! He went into the house, and seized tables, chairs, and bureaus; but the house was but poorly furnished, and contained but little to feed the flames. Palissy returned. The rooms were empty, there was absolutely nothing more to take; then he fell to pulling up the planks of the floor. His wife, frightened to death, stood still and let him go on. The neighbors ran in, at the sound of the axe, and said, "He must be a fool!"
But soon pity changed to admiration. When Palissy took the vases from the furnace, the common pots which all had seen before dull and coarse, were of a clear pearly white, covered with brilliant polish.
So much emotion and fatigue had told upon the robust constitution of Palissy. "I was," he says, "all used up and dried up on account of such toil, and the heat of the furnace. It was more than a month since I had had a dry shirt on my body, and I felt as if I had reached the door of the sepulchre."
In spite of the success which he had now attained, our potter had by no means reached the end of his misfortunes. He sold his vases, but could not get much for them, as there were but a few, of poor shapes; for those which he had modelled himself had all failed to take the enamel, and the successful ones were only common things, bought on credit. The small sum which he got by selling them was not enough by any means to cover his expenses, pay his debts, and restore order to the house from which pretty much everything was burned up for firewood in his furnace.
However, he was supported and happy in the thought of his success. He said to himself: "Why be sad, whenyou have found what you were seeking for? Go on working, and you will put your enemies to shame."
Once more he succeeded in borrowing a little money. He hired a man to help him; and for want of funds, he paid this man by giving him all his own good clothes, while he went himself in rags. The furnace he had made was coming to pieces on account of the intense heat he had maintained in it for six days and nights during his last experiment. He pulled it to pieces with his own hands, working with fingers bleeding and bound up in bandages. Then he fetched water, sand, lime, and stone, and built by himself a new furnace, "without any help or any repose. A feverish resolution doubled my strength, and made me capable of doing things which I should have imagined impossible."
This time the oven heats admirably, the enamels appear to be melting. Palissy goes to rest, and dreams of his new vases, which must bring enough to pay all his debts; his impatient creditors come in the morning to see the things taken from the furnace. Palissy receives them joyfully; he would like to invite the whole town.
When the pieces came out of the oven, they were shining and beautiful; but—always but!—an accident had deprived them of all value. Little stones, which formed a part of the mortar with which the furnace was built, had burst with the heat, and spattered the enamel all over with sharp fragments cutting like a razor, entirely spoiling it of course. Still, the vases were so lovely in form, and the glaze was so beautiful, that several people offered to buy them if they could have them cheap. This the proud potter would not bear. Seizing the vases, he dashed them to the ground; then utterly worn out, he went into the house and threw himself on the bed. Hiswife followed him, and covered him with reproaches for thus wasting the chance of making a few francs for the family. Soon he recovered his elasticity, reflecting "that a man who has tumbled into a ditch has but one duty, and that is to try to get out of it."
He now set to work at his old business of painting upon glass, and after several months had earned enough to start another batch of vases. Of these, two or three were successful and sold to advantage; the rest were spoiled by ashes which fell upon the enamel in the furnace while it was soft. He therefore invented what he called a "lantern" of baked clay, to put over the vases to protect them in baking. This expedient proved so good that it is still used.
The enamel once discovered, it would be supposed that all trouble was over; but it is not enough to invent a process,—to carry it out, all sorts of little things have to be considered, the least of which, if not attended to, may spoil all the rest. These multiplied accidents, with all the privations and sufferings he had undergone, were attacking the health of Palissy. He says in his simple style,—
"I was so used up in my person, that there was no shape or appearance of curve on my arms or legs; my so-called legs, indeed, were but a straight line, so that when I had gartered my stockings, as soon as I began to walk, they were down on my heels."
His enamelled pottery now began to make a living for its inventor, but so poor a living that many things were wanting,—for instance, a suitable workshop. For five or six years he carried on the work in the open air; either heat, rain, or cold spoiled many of his vases, while he himself, exposed to the weather, "passed whole nights at the mercy of rain and cold, without any aid, comfort, orcompanionship except that of owls screeching on one side and dogs howling on the other. Sometimes," he continues, "winds and tempests blew with such violence inside and outside of my ovens, that I was obliged to leave, with a total loss of all they contained. Several times when I had thus left everything, without a dry rag upon me, on account of the rain, I came in at midnight or daybreak without any light, staggering like a drunken man, all broken down at the thought of my wasted toil; and then, all wet and dirty as I was, I found in my bedroom the worst affliction of all, which makes me wonder now why I was not consumed by grief." He means the scolding and reproaches of his wife.
But the time came when his perseverance was rewarded, and his pottery brought him the fame and money he deserved. He was able to make new experiments, and add to the value of his discovery. Having obtained the white enamel, he had the idea of tinting it with all sorts of colors, which he did successfully. He then began to decorate his faience with objects modelled from nature, such as animals, shells, leaves, and branches. Lizards of a bright emerald color, with pointed heads and slender tails, and snakes gliding between stones or curled upon a bank of moss, crabs, frogs, and spiders, all of their natural colors, and disposed in the midst of plants equally well imitated, are the characteristic details of the work of Palissy.
These perfect imitations of Nature were taken actually from Nature herself. Palissy prepared a group of real leaves and stones, putting the little insects or animals he wished to represent in natural attitudes amongst them. He fastened these reptiles, fishes, or insects in their places by fine threads, and then made a mould of the whole in plaster of Paris. When it was done, he removed the littleanimals from the mould so carefully that he could use them over and over again.
Thus, after sixteen years passed in untiring energy, sixteen years of anxiety and privation, the artist triumphed over all the obstacles opposed to his genius. The humble potter, despised of all, became the most important man in his town. His productions were sought for eagerly, and his reputation established forever.
His life henceforth was not free from events, but these were not connected with his invention. His fame came to the knowledge of the queen mother Catherine de Médicis; for Francis I. was no longer living, and Charles IX. had succeeded Francis II. upon the throne. He was summoned to Court, and employed to build grottos, decorated with his designs, by personages of distinction,—one especially for the queen herself, which he describes in his Discourse of the "Jardin Delectable."
He was in Paris at the time of the terrible massacre of St. Bartholomew, where, as he was a Huguenot, he would doubtless have perished but for the protection of the queen, who helped him to escape with his family.
Later, however, in the midst of the troubles and terrors of the time, he was thrown into the Bastille; and there he died, an old man of eighty years.
"We call the Americans a nation of inventors," said Fergus. "How long has this been true?"
"That is a very curious question," said Uncle Fritz. "You remember we were talking of it before. When I go back to think of the hundred and fifty years before Bunker Hill, I think there must have been a great many inglorious Miltons hidden away in the New England towns. Really, the arts advanced very little between 1630 and 1775. Flint-locks had come in, instead of match-locks. But, actually, the men at Bunker Hill rested over the rail-fence old muskets which had been used in Queen Anne's time; and to this day a 'Queen's arm' is a provincial phrase, in New England, for one of these old weapons, not yet forgotten. That inability to improve its own condition comes to a people which lets another nation do its manufacturing for it. You see much the same thing in Turkey and French Canada. Just as soon as they were thrown on their own resources here, they began to invent."
"But," said Fergus, "there was certainly one great American inventor before that time."
"You mean Franklin,—the greatest American yet, I suppose, if you mean to measure greatness by intellectual power and intellectual achievement. Yes; Franklin's great discovery, and the inventions which followed on it,were made twenty-five years and more before Bunker Hill."
"What is the association between Franklin and Robinson Crusoe?" asked Alice. "I never read of one but I think of the other."
Uncle Fritz's whole face beamed with approbation.
"You have started me upon one of my hobbies," said he; "but I must not ride it too far. Franklin says himself that De Foe's 'Essay on Projects' and Cotton Mather's 'Essay to do Good' were two books which perhaps gave him a turn of thinking which had an influence on some of the events in his after life. And you may notice how an 'Essay on Projects' might start his passion for having things done better than in the ways he saw. The books that he was brought up on and with were books of De Foe's own time,—none of them more popular among reading people of Boston than De Foe's own books, for De Foe was a great light among their friends in England.
"If Robinson Crusoe, on his second voyage, which was in the year 1718, had run into Boston for supplies, as he thought of doing; and if old Judge Sewall had asked him to dinner,—as he would have been likely to do, for Robinson was a godly old gentleman then, of intelligence and fortune,—if there had been by accident a vacant place at the table at the last moment, Judge Sewall might have sent round to Franklin's father to ask him to come in. For the elder Franklin, though only a tallow-chandler,—and only Goodman Franklin, notMr.Franklin,—was a member of the church, well esteemed. He led the singing at the Old South after Judge Sewall's voice broke down.
"Nay, when one remembers how much Sewall had to do with printing, one might imagine that the boy BenFranklin should wait at the door with a proof-sheet, and even take off his boy's hat as Robinson Crusoe came in."
Here Bedford Long put in a remark:—
"There are things in Robinson Crusoe's accounts of his experiments in making his pipkins, which ought to bring him into any book of American inventors."
"I never thought before," said Fergus, "that De Foe's experiences in making tiles and tobacco-pipes and drain-pipes fitted him for all that learned discussion of glazing, when Robinson Crusoe makes his pots and pans."
"Good!" said Uncle Fritz; "that must be so.—Well, as you say, Alice, there are whole sentences in that narrative which you could suppose Franklin wrote, and in his works whole sentences which would fit in closely with De Foe's writing. The style of the younger man very closely resembles that of the older."
"And Franklin would have been very much pleased to hear you say so."
"He was forever inventing," said Uncle Fritz. "As I said, he was worried unless things could be better done. If he was in a storm, he wanted to still the waves. If the chimney smoked, he wanted to make a better fireplace. If he heard a girl play the musical-glasses, he must have and make a better set."
"And if the house was struck by lightning, he went out and put up a lightning-rod."
"He had a little book by which people should make themselves better; for he rightly considered that unless a man could do this, he could make no other improvement of much account."
And when Uncle Fritz had said this, he found the passage, which he bade John read to them.
"I made a little book in which I allotted a page for each of the virtues. [He had classified the virtues and made a list of thirteen, which will be named below.] I ruled each page with red ink, so as to have seven columns, one for each day of the week, marking each column with a letter for the day. I crossed these columns with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning of each line with the first letter of one of the virtues, on which line and in its proper column I might mark, by a little black spot, every fault I found upon examination to have been committed respecting that virtue upon that day. The thirteen virtues were: 1.Temperance; 2.Silence; 3.Order; 4.Resolution; 5.Frugality; 6.Industry; 7.Sincerity; 8.Justice; 9.Moderation; 10.Cleanliness; 11.Tranquillity; 12.Chastity; 13.Humility. Each of these appears, by its full name or its initial, on every page of the book. But the full name of one only appears on each page.
"My intention being to acquire the habitude of these virtues, I judged it would be well not to distract my attention by attempting the whole at once, but to fix it on one of them at a time, and when I should be master of that, then to proceed to another,—and so on, till I should have gone through the thirteen; and as the previous acquisition might facilitate the acquisition of certain others, I arranged them with that view. Temperance first, as it tends to procure that coolness and clearness of head which is so necessary where constant vigilance has to be kept up, and a guard maintained against the unremitting attraction of ancient habits, and the force of perpetualtemptations."[6]And so he goes on to show how Temperance would prepare for Silence, Silence for Order, Order for Resolution, and thus to the end.
Here is the first page of the book, with the marks for the first six of the virtues.
TEMPERANCE.Eat not to Dulness.Drink not to Elevation.S.M.T.W.Th.F.S.T.S.****O.******R.**F.**I.*S.J.M.C.T.C.H.
"I determined to give a week's strict attention to each of the virtues successively. Thus, in the first week my great guard was to avoid every the least offence againstTemperance, leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only marking every evening the faults of the day.Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first line, marked T, clear of spots, I supposed the habit of that virtue so much strengthened, and its opposite weakened, that I might venture extending my attention to include the next, and for the following week keep both lines clear of spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could go through a course complete in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. And like him who having a garden to weed does not attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, which would exceed his reach and his strength, but works on one of the beds at a time, and, having accomplished the first, proceeds to the second, so I should have, I hoped, the encouraging pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress I made in virtue, by clearing successively my lines of their spots, till in the end, by a number of courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean book, after a thirteen weeks' daily examination."
Uncle Fritz said that this plan of Franklin's had been quite a favorite plan of different people at the end of the last century. Richard Lovell Edgeworth, and Mr. Day, and a good many of the other reformers in England, and many in France, really thought that if people only knew what was right they would all begin and do it. They had to learn, by their own experience or somebody's, that the difficulty was generally deeper down.
There was a man, named Droz, who published a little book called "The Art of being Happy," with tables on which every night you were to mark yourself, as a school-mistress marks scholars at school, 10 for truth, 3 for temper, 5 for industry, 9 for frugality, and so on.[7]
"But in the long run," said Uncle Fritz, "there may be too much self-examination. If you really look up and not down, and look forward and not back, and loyally lend a hand, why, you can afford to look out and not in, in general."
Fergus brought the talk back to the lightning-rod, and asked where was the earliest hint of it.
The history seems to be this. In the year 1747 a gentleman named Collinson sent to Franklin, from England or Scotland, one of the glass tubes with which people were then trying electrical experiments. Franklin was very much interested. He went on repeating the experiments which had been made in England and on the Continent of Europe. With his general love of society in such things, he had other glass tubes made, and gave them to his friends.
He had one immense advantage over the wise men of England and France, in the superior dryness of our air, which greatly favors such experiments. Almost any one of the young Americans who will read this book has tried the experiment of exciting electricity by shuffling across a Brussels carpet on a dry floor, and then lighting the gas from a gas-jet by the spark. But when you tell an Englishman in London that you have done this, he thinks at first that you are making fun of him. For it is very seldom that the air and the carpet and the floor are all dry enough for the experiment to succeed in England. This difference of climate accounts for the difficulty which the philosophers in England sometimes found in repeating Dr. Franklin's experiments.
When it came to lightning and experiments about that, he had another very great advantage; for we have many more thunder-storms than they have. In the year 1752,when Mr. Watson was very eager to try the lightning experiments in England, he seems to have had, in all the summer, but two storms of thunder and lightning.
Franklin made his apparatus on a scale which now seems almost gigantic. The "conductor" of an electrical machine such as you will generally see in a college laboratory is seldom more than two feet long. Franklin's conductor, which was hung by silk from the top of his room, was a cylinder ten feet long and one foot in diameter, covered with gilt paper. In his "Leyden battery" he used five glass jars, as big as large water-pails,—they held nine gallons each. One night he had arranged to kill a turkey by a shock from two of these. He received the shock himself, by accident, and it almost killed him. He had a theory that if turkeys were killed by electricity, the meat would perhaps be more tender.
He acknowledges Mr. Collinson's present of the glass tube as early as March 28, 1747. On the 11th of July he writes to Collinson that they ("we") had discovered the power of points to withdraw electricity silently and continuously. On this discovery the lightning-rod is based. He describes this quality, first observed by Mr. Hopkinson, in the following letter:—
"The first is the wonderful effect of pointed bodies, both indrawing offandthrowing offthe electrical fire.
"For example, place an iron shot, of three or four inches diameter, on the mouth of a clean, dry glass bottle. By a fine silken thread from the ceiling, right over the mouth of the bottle, suspend a small cork ball about the bigness of a marble; the thread of such a length, as that the cork ball may rest against the side of the shot. Electrify the shot, and the ball will be repelled to the distance of four or five inches, more or less, according to thequantity of electricity. When in this state, if you present to the shot the point of a long, slender, sharp bodkin, at six or eight inches distance, the repellency is instantly destroyed, and the cork flies to the shot. A blunt body must be brought within an inch and draw a spark, to produce the same effect. To prove that the electrical fire isdrawn offby the point, if you take the blade of the bodkin out of the wooden handle, and fix it in a stick of sealing-wax, and then present it at the distance aforesaid, or if you bring it very near, no such effect follows; but sliding one finger along the wax till you touch the blade, the ball flies to the shot immediately. If you present the point in the dark, you will see, sometimes at a foot distance and more, a light gather upon it, like that of a firefly or glow-worm; the less sharp the point, the nearer you must bring it to observe the light; and at whatever distance you see the light, you may draw off the electrical fire, and destroy the repellency. If a cork ball so suspended be repelled by the tube, and a point be presented quick to it, though at a considerable distance, it is surprising to see how suddenly it flies back to the tube. Points of wood will do near as well as those of iron, provided the wood is not dry; for perfectly dry wood will no more conduct electricity than sealing-wax.
"To show that points willthrow offas well asdraw offthe electrical fire, lay a long, sharp needle upon the shot, and you cannot electrize the shot so as to make it repel the cork ball. Or fix a needle to the end of a suspended gun-barrel or iron rod, so as to point beyond it like a little bayonet; and while it remains there, the gun-barrel or rod cannot, by applying the tube to the other end, be electrized so as to give a spark, the fire continually running out silently at the point. In the dark you may seeit make the same appearance as it does in the case before mentioned."
The next summer, that of 1748, the experiments went so far, that in a letter of Franklin's to Collinson he proposed the electrical dinner-party, which was such a delight to Harry and Lucy:—
"Chagrined a little that we have been hitherto able to produce nothing in this way of use to mankind, and the hot weather coming on when electrical experiments are not so agreeable, it is proposed to put an end to them for this season, somewhat humorously, in a party of pleasure on the banks of theSkuylkill. Spirits, at the same time, are to be fired by a spark sent from side to side through the river, without any other conductor than the water; an experiment which we some time since performed, to the amazement of many. A turkey is to be killed for our dinner by theelectrical shock, and roasted by theelectrical jack, before a fire kindled by theelectrified bottle; when the healths of all the famous electricians in England, Holland, France, and Germany are to be drank inelectrified bumpers, under the discharge of guns from theelectrical battery."
It was in a letter to Collinson of the next year, 1749,—as I suppose, though it is not dated,—that the project of the lightning-rod first appears. It is too long to copy. The paragraphs most important in this view are the following:—
"42. An electrical spark, drawn from an irregular body at some distance, is scarcely ever straight, but shows crooked and waving in the air. So do the flashes of lightning, the clouds being very irregular bodies.
"43. As electrified clouds pass over a country, high hills and high trees, lofty towers, spires, masts of ships, chimneys, &c., as so many prominences and points, draw the electrical fire, and the whole cloud discharges there.
"44. Dangerous, therefore, is it to take shelter under a tree during a thunder-gust. It has been fatal to many, both men and beasts.
"45. It is safer to be in the open field for another reason. When the clothes are wet, if a flash in its way to the ground should strike your head, it may run in the water over the surface of your body; whereas, if your clothes were dry, it would go through the body, because the blood and other humors, containing so much water, are more ready conductors.
"Hence a wet rat cannot be killed by the exploding electrical bottle, when a dry rat may."
In a letter of 1750, based upon observations made in 1749, Franklin said distinctly, after describing some artificial lightning which he had made:—
"If these things are so, may not the knowledge of this power of points be of use to mankind, in preserving houses, churches, ships, &c., from the stroke of lightning, by directing us to fix, on the highest parts of these edifices, upright rods of iron made sharp as a needle, and gilded to prevent rusting, and from the foot of those rods a wire down the outside of the building into the ground, or down round one of the shrouds of a ship, and down her side till it reaches the water? Would not these pointed rods probably draw the electrical fire silently out of a cloud before it came nigh enough to strike, and thereby secure us from that most sudden and terrible mischief?
"To determine the question whether the clouds that contain lightning are electrified or not, I would propose an experiment to be tried where it may be done conveniently. On the top of some high tower or steeple, place a kind ofsentry-box, big enough to contain a man and an electrical stand. From the middle of the stand let an iron rod rise and pass bending out of the door and then upright twenty or thirty feet, pointed very sharp at the end. If the electrical stand be kept clean and dry, a man standing on it, when such clouds are passing low, might be electrified and afford sparks, the rod drawing fire to him from a cloud. If any danger to the man should be apprehended (though I think there would be none), let him stand on the floor of his box, and now and then bring near to the rod the loop of a wire that has one end fastened to the leads, he holding it by a wax handle; so the sparks, if the rod is electrified, will strike from the rod to the wire, and not affect him."
The Royal Society "did not think these papers worth printing"!
But, happily, Collinson printed them, and they went all over Europe. The demonstration of the lightning theory, which he had wrought out by his own experiments, was made in France, May 10, 1752; and in Philadelphia by Franklin with the kite in the next month, before he had heard of the success in France. Franklin's friend Dalibard tried the French experiment. Here is his account of it, as he sent it to the French Academy, as Roxana translated it for the young people:—
I have had perfect success in following out the course indicated by Mr. Franklin.
I had set up at Marly-la-ville, situated six leagues from Paris, in a fine plain at a very elevated level, a round rod of iron, about an inch in diameter, forty feet long, and sharply pointed at its upper extremity. To secure greater fineness at the point, I had it armed with tempered steel, and then burnished, for want of gilding, so as to keep itfrom rusting; beside that, this iron rod is bent near its lower end into two acute but rounded angles; the first angle is two feet from the lower end, and the second takes a contrary direction at three feet from the first.
Wednesday, the 10th of May, 1752, between two and three in the afternoon, a man named Coiffier, an old dragoon, whom I had intrusted with making the observations in my absence, having heard rather a loud clap of thunder, hastened at once to the machine, took the phial with the wire, presented the loop of the wire to the rod, saw a small bright spark come from it, and heard it crackle. He then drew a second spark, brighter than the first and with a louder sound! He called his neighbors, and sent for the Prior. This gentleman hastened to the spot as fast as he could: the parishioners, seeing the haste of their priest, imagined that poor Coiffier had been killed by the thunder; the alarm was spread in the village; the hail-storm which began did not prevent the flock from following its shepherd. This honest priest approached the machine, and, seeing that there was no danger, went to work himself and drew strong sparks. The cloud from which the storm and hail came was no more than a quarter of an hour in passing directly over our machine, and only this one thunder-clap was heard. As soon as the cloud had passed, and no more sparks were drawn from the iron rod, the Prior of Marly sent off Monsieur Coiffier himself, to bring me the following letter, which he wrote in haste:—
I can now inform you, Sir, of what you are looking for. The experiment is completely successful. To-day, at twenty minutes past two,p. m., the thunder rolleddirectly over Marly; the clap was rather loud. The desire to oblige you, and my own curiosity, made me leave my arm-chair, where I was occupied in reading. I went to Coiffier's, who had already sent a child to me, whom I met on the way, to beg me to come. I redoubled my speed through a torrent of hail. When I arrived at the place where the bent rod was set up, I presented the wire, approaching it several times toward the rod. At the distance of an inch and a half, or about that, there came out of the rod a little column of bluish fire smelling of sulphur, which struck the loop of the wire with an extreme and rapid energy, and occasioned a sound like that which might be made by striking on the rod with a key. I repeated the experiment at least six times, in the space of about four minutes, in the presence of several persons; and each experiment which I made lasted the space of aPaterand anAve. I tried to go on; the action of the fire slackened little by little. I went nearer, and drew nothing more but a few sparks, and at last nothing appeared.
The thunder-clap which caused this event was followed by no other; it all ended in a great quantity of hail. I was so occupied with what I saw at the moment of the experiment, that, having been struck on the arm a little above my elbow, I cannot say whether it was in touching the wire or the rod, I was not even aware of the injury which the blow had given me at the moment when I received it; but as the pain continued, on my return home I uncovered my arm before Coiffier, and we perceived a bruised mark winding round the arm, like what a wire would have made if my bare flesh had been struck by it. As I was going back from Coiffier's house, I met Monsieur le Vicaire, Monsieur de Milly, and the schoolmaster, to whom I related what had just happened. They all threedeclared that they smelt an odor of sulphur, which struck them more as they approached me. I carried the same odor home with me, and my servants noticed it without my having said anything to them about it.
This, Monsieur, is an account given in haste, but simple and true, which I attest, and you may depend on my being ready to give evidence of this event on every opportunity. Coiffier was the first who made the experiment, and repeated it several times; it was only on account of what he had seen that he sent to ask me to come. If other witnesses than he and I are necessary, you will find them. Coiffier is in haste to set out.
I am, with respectful consideration, Monsieur,
Yours, &c.,
[Signed]Raulet,Prior of Marly.
May10, 1752.
"I do not understand," said Uncle Fritz, "how it happened that no one attempted the experiment before. Franklin had proposed it, very distinctly, in 1750. His friend Dr. Stuber says that he was waiting for the erection of a steeple in Philadelphia. You see, the Quakers, who had founded this city, would have none; they derided what they called 'steeple-houses,' little foreseeing what advantage could be drawn from a steeple.
"Meanwhile, in 1750, in October, he did take a view of New York from the 'Dutch Church steeple,' which had been struck by lightning in the spring of that year. And here he was able to confirm his theory, by seeing that 'wire is a good conductor of lightning, as it is of electricity.'"
While some of the children were reading these electrical passages, others were turning over the next volume; and to their great delight, they found a picture of the "Musical Glasses."
"I never had the slightest idea what musical glasses were," said Jack; and he spouted from Goldsmith the passage from "The Vicar of Wakefield," where the fashionable ladies from London talked about "Shakspeare and the musical glasses."
"Were they Dr. Franklin's musical glasses?"
"I never thought of that," said Uncle Fritz, well pleased; "but I think it is so. John, look and see what year 'The Vicar of Wakefield' was written in."
John turned to the Cyclopædia, and it proved that Goldsmith wrote that book in 1766.
"And you see," said Uncle Fritz, "that it was in 1762 that Franklin made his improvement, and that Mr. Puckeridge, the Irish gentleman, had arranged his glasses before. I think you would find that the instrument gradually worked its way into fashion,—slowly, as such things then did in England,—and that Goldsmith knew about Dr. Franklin's modification.
"I do not now remember any other place where Goldsmith's life and his touched. But they must have known a great many of the same people. Franklin was all mixed up with the Grub Street people."
Meanwhile John was following up the matter in the Cyclopædia. But he did not find "Armonica." Uncle Fritz bade him try in the "H" volume; and there, sure enough, was "Harmonica," with quite a little history ofthe invention. Mr. Puckeridge's fascinating name is there tamed down to Pochrich, probably by some German translator. Dr. Franklin's instrument is described, and the Cyclopædia man adds:—
"From the effect which it was supposed to have upon the nervous system, it has been suggested that the fingers should not be allowed to come in immediate contact with the glasses, but that the tones should be produced by means of keys, as with a harpsichord. Such an instrument has been made, and called the 'harpsichord harmonica.' But these experiments have not produced anything of much value. It is impossible that the delicacy, the swell, and the continuation of the tone should be carried to such perfection as in the simpler method. The harmonica, however much it excels all other instruments in the delicacy and duration of its tones, yet is confined to those of a soft and melancholy character and to slow, solemn movements, and can hardly be combined to advantage with other instruments. In accompanying the human voice it throws it into the shade; and in concerts the other instruments lose in effect, because so far inferior to it in tone. It is therefore best enjoyed by itself, and may produce a charming effect in certain romantic situations."
"'Romantic situations'! I should think so," said Mabel, laughing. "Is not that like the dear German man that wrote this? I see myself lugging my harmonica to the edge of the Kauterskill Falls."
"How do you know he was a German?" said Alice.
"Because, where John read 'the simpler method,' it says 'the before-mentioned method.' No Englishman or American in his senses ever said 'before-mentioned' if he could help himself."
"Do let us see how dear Dr. Franklin made his machine."
And the girls unfolded the old-fashioned picture, which is in the sixth volume of Sparks's Franklin, and read his description of it as he wrote it to Beccaria.
"Is it the Beccaria who did about capital punishment?" asked Fergus.
"No," Uncle Fritz said, "though they lived at the same time. They were not brothers. The capital-punishment man was the MarquisofBeccaria, and thatofmakes a great difference in Europe. This man 'did' electricity, as you would say; and his name is plain Beccaria without anyof."
Then Mabel, commanding silence, at last read the letter to Beccaria. And when she had done, Uncle Fritz said that he should think there might be many a boy or girl who could not buy a piano or what he profanely called a Yang-Yang,—by which he meant a reed organ,—who would like to make a harmonica. The letter, in a part not copied here, tells how to tune the glasses. And any one who lived near a glass-factory, and was on the good-natured side of a good workman, could have the glasses made without much expense.
Letter of Franklin to J. B. Beccaria.
London, July 13, 1762.
Reverend Sir,—... Perhaps, however, it may be agreeable to you, as you live in a musical country, to have an account of the new instrument lately added here to the great number that charming science was already possessed of. As it is an instrument that seems peculiarly adapted to Italian music, especially that of the soft and plaintive kind, I will endeavor to give you such a description of it,and of the manner of constructing it, that you or any of your friends may be enabled to imitate it, if you incline so to do, without being at the expense and trouble I have been to bring it to its present perfection.
You have doubtless heard of the sweet tone that is drawn from a drinking-glass by passing a wet finger round its brim. One Mr. Puckeridge, a gentleman from Ireland, was the first who thought of playing tunes formed of these tones. He collected a number of glasses of different sizes, fixed them near each other on a table, tuned them by putting into them water more or less, as each note required. The tones were brought out by passing his finger round their brims. He was unfortunately burned here, with his instrument, in a fire which consumed the house he lived in. Mr. E. Delaval, a most ingenious member of our Royal Society, made one in imitation of it, with a better form and choice of glasses, which was the first I saw or heard. Being charmed by the sweetness of its tones, and the music he produced from it, I wished only to see the glasses disposed in a more convenient form, and brought together in a narrower compass, so as to admit of a greater number of tones, and all within reach of hand to a person sitting before the instrument, which I accomplished, after various intermediate trials, and less commodious forms, both of glasses and construction, in the following manner.
The glasses are blown as nearly as possible in the form of hemispheres, having each an open neck or socket in the middle. The thickness of the glass near the brim about a tenth of an inch, or hardly quite so much, but thicker as it comes nearer the neck, which in the largest glasses is about an inch deep, and an inch and a half wide within, these dimensions lessening as the glasses themselves diminish in size, except that the neck of the smallest ought not to be shorter than half an inch. The largest glass is nine inches diameter, and the smallest three inches. Between these two are twenty-three different sizes, differing from each other a quarter of an inch in diameter. To make a single instrument there should be at least six glasses blown of each size; and out of this number one may probably pick thirty-seven glasses (which are sufficient for three octaves with all the semitones) that will be each either the note one wants or a little sharper than that note, and all fitting so well into each other as to taper pretty regularly from the largest to the smallest. It is true there are not thirty-seven sizes, but it often happens that two of the same size differ a note or half-note in tone, by reason of a difference in thickness, and these may be placed one in the other without sensibly hurting the regularity of the taper form.
The glasses being thus turned, you are to be provided with a case for them, and a spindle on which they are to be fixed. My case is about three feet long, eleven inches every way wide at the biggest end; for it tapers all the way, to adapt it better to the conical figure of the set of glasses. This case opens in the middle of its height, and the upper part turns up by hinges fixed behind. The spindle, which is of hard iron, lies horizontally from end to end of the box within, exactly in the middle, and is made to turn on brass gudgeons at each end. It is round, an inch in diameter at the thickest end, and tapering to a quarter of an inch at the smallest. A square shank comes from its thickest end through the box, on which shank a wheel is fixed by a screw. This wheel serves as a fly to make the motion equable, when the spindle with the glasses is turned by the foot like a spinning-wheel. Mywheel is of mahogany, eighteen inches diameter, and pretty thick, so as to conceal near its circumference about twenty-five pounds of lead. An ivory pin is fixed in the face of this wheel, and about four inches from the axis. Over the neck of this pin is put the loop of the string that comes up from the movable step to give it motion. The case stands on a neat frame with four legs.
To fix the glasses on the spindle, a cork is first to be fitted in each neck pretty tight, and projecting a little without the neck, that the neck of one may not touch the inside of another when put together, for that would make a jarring. These corks are to be perforated with holes of different diameters, so as to suit that part of the spindle on which they are to be fixed. When a glass is put on, by holding it stiffly between both hands, while another turns the spindle, it may be gradually brought to its place. But care must be taken that the hole be not too small, lest, in forcing it up, the neck should split; nor too large, lest the glass, not being firmly fixed, should turn or move on the spindle, so as to touch or jar against its neighboring glass. The glasses are thus placed one in another, the largest on the biggest end of the spindle, which is to the left hand; the neck of this glass is towards the wheel, and the next goes into it in the same position, only about an inch of its brim appearing beyond the brim of the first; thus proceeding, every glass when fixed shows about an inch of its brim (or three quarters of an inch, or half an inch, as they grow smaller) beyond the brim of the glass that contains it; and it is from these exposed parts of each glass that the tone is drawn, by laying a finger upon one of them as the spindle and glasses turn round.
My largest glass is G, a little below the reach of a common voice, and my highest G, including three completeoctaves. To distinguish the glasses the more readily to the eye, I have painted the apparent parts of the glasses withinside, every semitone white, and the other notes of the octave with the seven prismatic colors,—viz., C, red; D, orange; E, yellow; F, green; G, blue; A, indigo; B, purple; and C, red again,—so that glasses of the same color (the white excepted) are always octaves to each other.
This instrument is played upon by sitting before the middle of the set of glasses, as before the keys of a harpsichord, turning them with the foot, and wetting them now and then with a sponge and clean water. The fingers should be first a little soaked in water, and quite free from all greasiness; a little fine chalk upon them is sometimes useful, to make them catch the glass and bring out the tone more readily. Both hands are used, by which means different parts are played together. Observe that the tones are best brought out when the glasses turnfromthe ends of the fingers, not when they turntothem.
The advantages of this instrument are, that its tones are incomparably sweet, beyond those of any other; that they may be swelled and softened at pleasure by stronger or weaker pressure of the finger, and continued to any length; and that the instrument, being once well tuned, never again wants tuning.
In honor of your musical language, I have borrowed from it the name of this instrument, calling it the Armonica.
With great respect and esteem, I am, &c.,
B. Franklin.