THE BURNING MIRRORS OF ARCHIMEDES.
Many have questioned the facts recorded by several historians, concerning the surprising effects of the burning mirrors of Archimedes, by means of which the Roman galleys besieging Syracuse were consumed to ashes. Descartes, in particular, discredited the story as fabulous; but Kircher made many experiments with a view of testing its credibility. He tried the effect of a number of plane mirrors; and, with five mirrors of the same size, placed in a frame, he contrived to throw the rays reflected from them to the same spot, at the distance of more than 100 feet; and by this means he produced such a degree of heat, as led him to conclude that, by increasing their number, he could have set fire to inflammable substances at a greater distance. He likewise made a voyage to Syracuse, in company with his pupil Schottius, in order to examine the place of the alleged transaction; and they were both of opinion, that the galleys of Marcellus could not have been more than thirty paces from Archimedes' mirrors.
M. Buffon also constructed a machine, consisting of a number of mirrors, by which he seems to have revived the secret of Archimedes, and to have vindicated the credit of history in this respect. His experiment was first made with twenty-four mirrors, which readily set fire to combustible matter composed of pitch and tow, and laid on a deal board at the distance of seventy-two feet. He further pursued the attempt by framing a kind of polyhedron, consisting of 168 pieces of plane looking-glass, each six inches square; and by means of this machine, some boards of beech-wood were set on fire at the distance of 150 feet, and a silver plate was melted at the distance of 60 feet. This machine, in the next stage of its improvement, contained 360 plane mirrors, each eight inches long and six broad, mounted on a frame eight feet high and seven broad. With twelve of these mirrors, light combustible matter was kindled at the distance of twenty feet; with forty-five of them, at the same distance, a large tin vessel was melted, and with 117, a thin piece of silver. When the whole machine was employed, all the metals and metallic minerals were melted at the distance of twenty-five and even of forty feet. Wood was kindled in a clear sky at the distance of 210 feet. M. Buffon afterwards constructed a machine which contained 400 mirrors, each six inches square, with which he could melt lead and tin at the distance of 140 feet.
But perhaps the most powerful burning mirror ever constructed, was that of Mr. Parker, an eminent glass manufacturer of London; it was made in the begining of this century by one Penn, an ingenious artisan of Islington. He erected an outhouse at the bottom of his garden, for the purpose of carrying on his operations, and at length succeeded in producing, at a cost of £700, a burning lens of a diameter of three feet, whose powers were astonishing. The most hard and solid substances of the mineral world, such as platina, iron, steel, flint, &c., were melted in a few seconds, on being exposed to its immense focus. A diamond weighing ten grains, exposed to this lens for thirty minutes, was reduced to six grains, during which operation it opened and foliated like the leaves of a flower, and emitted whitish fumes; when closed again, it bore a polish, and retained its form. Ten cut garnets, taken from a bracelet, began to run into each other in a few seconds, and at last formed one globular garnet. The clay used by Wedgewood to make his pyrometric test ran in a few seconds into a white enamel; and several specimens of lavas, and other volcanic productions, on being exposed to the focus of the lens, yielded to its power.
A subscription was proposed in London to raise the sum of 700 guineas, in order to indemnify the inventor for the expense he had incurred in its construction, and retain it in England; but, through the failure of the subscription, and other concurring circumstances, Mr. Parker was induced to dispose of it to Captain Mackintosh, who accompanied Lord Macartney in his celebrated embassy to China; and the mirror, much to the loss and regret of European science, was left at Pekin.
MAGNETIC CORRESPONDENCE IN THE
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
In one of Addison's contributions to the Spectator (No. 241), we find the following curious instance of what may almost be considered as the foreshadowing of the electric telegraph. It is quoted from the writings of Strada, the celebrated Roman Jesuit, who died in 1649. In his "Prolusiones," a series of polished Latin essays upon rhetoric and literature, he gives an account of a chimerical correspondence between two friends, by the help of a certain loadstone, which had such virtue in it, that if touched by two several needles, when one of the needles so touched began to move, the other, though at ever so great a distance, moved at the same time and in the same manner. He tells us that two friends, being each of them possessed of these needles, made a kind of dial-plate, inscribing it with twenty-four letters—in the same manner as the hours of the day are marked upon the ordinary dial-plate. They then fixed one of the needles on each of these plates, in such a manner that it could move round without impediment so as to touch any of the twenty-four letters. Upon their separating from one another into distant countries, they agreed to withdraw themselves punctually into their closets at a certain hour of the day, and to converse with one another by means of this their invention. Accordingly, when they were some hundred miles asunder, each of them shut himself up in his closet at the time appointed, and immediately cast his eye upon his dial-plate. If he had a mind to write anything to his friend, he directed his needle to every letter that formed the words that he had occasion for—making a little pause at the end of every word or sentence, to avoid confusion. The friend, in the meanwhile, saw his own sympathetic needle moving of itself to every letter which that of his correspondent pointed at. By this means, they talked together across a whole continent, and conveyed their thoughts to one another, in an instant, over cities or mountains, seas or deserts.... In the meanwhile (adds the Essayist, playfully), if ever this invention should be revived, or put in practice, I would propose that upon the lovers' dial-plate there should be written, not only the twenty-four letters, but several entire words which have always a place in passionate epistles; as flames, darts, die, languish, absence, Cupid, heart, eyes, hang, drown—and the like. This would very much abridge the lover's pains in this way of writing a letter—as it would enable him to express the most useful and significant words with a single turn of the needle.