All Europe soon rang with the report of the marvellous discovery verified at Marly-la-Ville. But before the news of the experiment made at the village near Paris had reached America, Benjamin Franklin had made another, which, if not more conclusive, was at least more original. Ever since he had arrived at his great conclusion regarding the sameness of electricity and lightning, and the possibility of conducting the latter to the ground harmlessly, by means of pointed rods, the discerning citizen of Philadelphia had tried hard to find some means for putting his ideas to a practical test, but met with apparently insurmountable difficulties. His first plan was to set up simply a tall iron rod near his house; but he abandoned this on ascertaining, by measurement, that nearly all stormclouds passed over Philadelphia, which was situated in a plain, at a height of several hundred feet. In his then state of knowledge, he fancied that it was impossible for him to reach the clouds in this manner. He next resolved to await the building of an intended steeple for the principal ecclesiastical edifice, and highest building of Philadelphia, Christ Church. At that time not a steeple pierced the sky in all the extent of the ‘Quaker city;’ nor was there a single one in the whole State of Pennsylvania. But though Franklin made immense efforts to get the steeple erected, starting a lottery for the purpose, and subscribing largely to the funds, the work made little or no progress, many of the principal inhabitants of the city being, from their religious opinions, averse to the project. At last, getting impatient, Franklin’s ingenuity hit upon the simplest of all means for verifying his great discovery.
One day he saw a boy flying a kite, and the thought instantly occurred to him that here was the straight road from the earth to the thunderclouds. Accordingly, he at once set to make a kite for his intended experiments; but fearing he would incur the ridicule of his sober fellow-citizens in engaging in what might seem to them a childish undertaking, he kept the whole matter a profound secret. The kite he made was not distinguished from those used by boys except of being made of silk instead of paper so as to be able to stand the wet. Franklin took an ordinary silk pocket-handkerchief, and fastened it over a cross made of two light strips of cedar, by simply tying the four corners of the handkerchief to the ends of the sticks. He next fastened a thin iron wire, a foot long, to the top of the kite, and having provided it with a loop and tail, attaching to the former a roll of twine, all was ready for the experiment. Watching the skies diligently, he saw a dark thundercloud coming up over Philadelphia late in the evening of July 4, 1752, and at once sallied forth from his house, situated at the corner of Race and Eight streets, into a neighbouring field. There was nobody with him but his eldest son, a lad of about twenty; and, in order to get protection against the heavy downpour, as well as to hide from the gaze of passers-by, the two sought shelter under an old cow-shed. Very likely, had they been seen here at the time, the philosopher and son might have been taken for two escaped lunatics, seeking so propitious an occasion as a thunderstorm to fly their darling kite. Perhaps Franklin too felt a little foolish, for he was about relinquishing his experiment after several flashes of lightning which had not in the least disturbed his kite, when a cloud darker than the previous one came rolling up. All on a sudden, Franklin felt a smart shock, and saw a spark flashing before his eyes. He had fastened the twine holding his kite to a silk ribbon which he held in his hand, joining twine and silk by a large key, attached to a Leyden jar. The latter at once became heavily charged, and as shock followed upon shock, and flash upon flash, there vanished all doubt from Franklin’s mind as to the absolute truth of the grand discovery he had made. It may be imagined with what inward satisfaction the great citizen of Philadelphia drew in his kite, and crept out from under the cow-shed, when the storm was over, and went home exultingly, the happiest of philosophers.
The experiment of Benjamin Franklin in drawing, as he thought, the electricity of stormclouds to the ground by his kite, and thereby demonstrating the necessity for the establishment of lightning conductors, for the protection of persons and buildings, was accepted as thoroughly satisfactory by the whole scientific world of Europe at that time. Franklin was wrong, however, in supposing that the lightning had really passed along his kite-string from the clouds to the earth, for, had this been the case, he would undoubtedly have been killed. What he witnessed was merely the inductive action of the thundercloud on the kite and string. There had been some doubts in respect to the experiment made, at the suggestion of Franklin’s pamphlet, at Marly-la-Ville, since all the witnesses were inexperienced persons, entirely unacquainted with the phenomena of electricity; but there could be none whatever as regarded that tried by the originator himself, and pronounced satisfactory by him. The fame of the wonderful discovery spread with extraordinary swiftness through the civilized world. Praises and congratulations flowed in upon the hitherto obscure citizen of Philadelphia from all sides. The king of France sent him a letter, full of compliments; the Royal Society of London voted him their gold medal, modestly claiming a share in his work; and nearly all the scientific bodies of France, Germany, and Italy elected him an honorary member. But the praise of which Franklin had most reason to be proud came from the great philosopher Immanuel Kant. The sage of Königsberg grandly called him the modern Prometheus, bringing fire from heaven.
CHAPTER III.
EARLY EXPERIMENTS WITH LIGHTNING CONDUCTORS.
The first actual lightning conductor ever constructed was set up by Benjamin Franklin himself, at his house in Philadelphia. Its main object was to protect the house against the effects of thunderstorms; still experiments were so dear to the heart of the great discoverer, that he could not help making trials even with things devoted to other uses. It was in the summer of 1752 that Franklin erected over his house a lightning conductor, made entirely of iron, but with a sharp steel point on the top, the latter projecting seven or eight feet above the roof, while the end was above five feet in the ground. Curious to know whenever an electrical stream was passing through the conductor, he attached to it an ingenious contrivance, by means of which through an electric spark two bells were set in movement as soon as this took place, the greater or lesser noise from them corresponding with the strength of the electrical current. With the aid of this device Franklin was enabled to observe some curious phenomena, which at first puzzled him not a little. ‘I found the bells rang sometimes,’ he informed a friend, ‘when there was no lightning or thunder, but only a dark cloud over the rod; that sometimes, after a flash of lightning, they would suddenly stop, and at other times, when they had not rung before, they would, after a flash, suddenly begin to ring; that the electricity was sometimes very faint, so that when a small spark was obtained, another could not be got for some time after. At other times, the sparks would follow extremely quickly; and once I had a continual stream from bell to bell, the size of a crow-quill. Even during the same gust there were considerable variations.’ By continued watching, Franklin came to make the discovery that the fluctuations in the electrical current were owing to changes and interchanges, in atmosphere and earth, of positive and negative electricity. He held at first that thunder-clouds are usually in a negative state of electricity, but afterwards discovered that they varied from negative to positive during the same storm.
Notwithstanding the unbounded praises bestowed upon Benjamin Franklin for the great discovery of the lightning conductor, the actual adaptation of it spread with extreme slowness. It was in the country of its origin that it was brought into public use, all the countries of Europe lagging far behind. But even in the Northern States of America, though inhabited by a highly intelligent race, there were great difficulties to overcome. The ministers of religion at first seemed to think that the iron rods were not altogether free from the suspicion of infidelity. Franklin himself had the reputation of being a free-thinker, and indeed never hid from others the fact of his being accustomed to examine all matters by the light of his own reason, and to believe nothing that he could not understand. Perhaps on the same ground many of the New England ministers did not believe in lightning conductors. They could not understand them. A heavy shock of earthquake was felt throughout Massachusetts in the summer of 1755, whereupon a Boston clergyman instantly came forward, denouncing in eloquent strains the erection of a number of lightning conductors which had taken place. The high iron rods, he gravely maintained, had been the cause of the earthquake, by drawing vast masses of electricity from the atmosphere into the ground. A distinguished friend of Franklin, Professor Winthrop, of Harvard College, thought it necessary to come forward and defend lightning conductors against the accusation of accumulating electricity, but without convincing the plaintiff. A different charge, still more serious in the eyes of pious people, had been made against lightning conductors some years before. Another Boston clergyman, coming forward in 1770, opposed the use of Franklin’s iron rods on the ground that, as the lightning was one of the acknowledged means of punishing the sins of mankind, and of warning them from the commission of acts of wickedness, it was impious ‘to prevent the execution of the wrath of heaven.’ To this gentleman also Professor Winthrop deemed it requisite to reply. Franklin himself remained silent, wrapping himself in the mantle of the sage. But he allowed his friend Ebenezer Kinnersley, of Philadelphia, who went travelling, by his wish and partly at his cost, through the principal towns and villages of the New England States, to explain to the people the uses and advantages of lightning conductors, to preface all his lectures by the announcement that the erection of iron rods to protect houses from the effects of thunderstorms was not an act ‘chargeable with presumption, nor inconsistent with any of the principles either of natural or revealed religion.’
In the gradual spread of lightning conductors through the British colonies of North America, Franklin himself took the leading part. He employed all his leisure time, engrossed though it was more and more by political affairs, in which he was destined to take a world-famous part, in going from one part of the country to another, advocating the use of conductors, advising as to the best mode of their construction, and, whenever he could, examining into the effects of strokes of lightning upon buildings. How minute he was in these inspections, and how practical in the conclusions he almost invariably drew from them, Franklin gives proof in one of his letters addressed to his friend Collinson in London. He tells him that he inspected the church of Newbury, in Massachusetts, which had been struck by lightning, and traced, foot by foot and inch by inch, the road which the electric current had taken, creating great havoc and destruction. ‘The steeple,’ he says, ‘was a square tower of wood, reaching seventy feet up from the ground to the place where the bell hung, over which rose a taper spire, of wood likewise, reaching seventy feet higher, to the vane of the weathercock. Near the bell was fixed an iron hammer to strike the hours; and from the tail of the hammer a wire went down through a small gimlet-hole in the floor the bell stood upon; then horizontally under and near the plastered ceiling of that second floor, till it came to a wall; and then down by the side of this wall to a clock which stood about twenty feet below the bell. The wire was not bigger than a common knitting-needle.’ It surprised Franklin that ‘the lightning passed between the hammer and the clock in this wire, without hurting either of the floors, or having any effect upon them, except making the gimlet-holes, through which the wire passed, a little bigger, and without hurting the wall or any part of the building.’ The inference he drew from this was, that even a comparatively thin mass of metal would give passage to a powerful electric stream. ‘The quantity of lightning that passed through the steeple,’ he informed his correspondent, ‘must have been very great, as shown by its effects on the lofty spire above the bell, and on the square tower below the end of the clock pendulum; and yet, great as this quantity was, it was conducted by a small wire and a clock pendulum, without the least damage to the building as far as they extended.’
Besides travelling and employing lecturers, to make the advantages of lightning conductors known, Franklin found means of doing so in an annual publication he had started in the year 1732, known as ‘Poor Richard.’ This almanac, humorous in form but very serious in substance, which had acquired an enormous circulation, proved in the end the most powerful instrument for spreading information on the great subject dear, above all others, to Franklin’s heart, and leading his countrymen to adopt, before all other nations, the wonderful metal rod, protective against ‘the wrath of heaven.’ In several of the editions of the almanac, notably the ‘Poor Richard’ for the year 1758, Franklin drew attention to his lightning conductors in simple advertisements, drawn up in a spirit of absolutely touching modesty and self-abnegation. Not seeking the slightest reward for himself, nor even mentioning his name, he only sought to benefit others by instructing them how to get protection against the dangers of lightning. ‘It has pleased God,’ ran the advertisement in the almanac, ‘in His goodness to mankind, at length to discover to them the means of securing their habitations and other buildings from mischief by thunder and lightning. The method is this:—Provide a small iron rod, which may be made of the rod-iron used by nailers, but of such a length that, one end being three or four feet in the moist ground, the other may be six or eight feet above the highest part of the building. To the upper end of the rod fasten about a foot of brass wire, the size of a common knitting-needle, sharpened to a fine point; the rod may be secured on the house by a few small staples. If the house or barn be long, there may be a rod and point at each end, and a middling wire along the ridge from one to the other. A house thus furnished will not be damaged by lightning, it being attracted by the points and passing through the metal into the ground without hurting anything. Vessels also, having a sharp-pointed rod fixed on the top of their masts, with a wire from the foot of the rod reaching down round one of the shrouds to the water, will not be hurt by lightning.’ Franklin had occasion subsequently greatly to modify the advice here given. He early discovered his error of lightning being ‘attracted by the points;’ and also found that his recommendation to people to construct their own lightning conductors only led to grievous calamities. There came reports from all sides of houses having been severely damaged by lightning notwithstanding having conductors, and close investigation soon showed that in every instance the apparatus was defective, having been erected by unskilful hands, either the owners themselves, or a set of wandering impostors, who soon made themselves notorious as ‘lightning-rod men.’