§ 1. Rhythm of Friction: Musical Flow of a Liquid through a Small Aperture
FRICTION is always rhythmic. When a resined bow is passed across a string, the tension of the string secures the perfect rhythm of the friction. When the wetted finger is moved round the edge of a glass, the breaking up of the friction into rhythmic pulses expresses itself in music. Savart’s beautiful experiments on the flow of liquids through small orifices bear immediately upon this question. We have here the means of verifying his results. The tube A B, Fig. 113, is filled with water, its extremity, B, being closed by a plate of brass, which is pierced by a circular orifice of a diameter equal to the thickness of the plate. Removing a little peg which stops the orifice, the water issues from it, and as it sinks in the tube a musical note of great sweetness issues from the liquid column. This note is due to the intermittent flow of the liquid through the orifice, by which the whole column above it is thrown into vibration. The tendency to this effect shows itself when tea is poured from a teapot, in the circular ripples that cover the falling liquid. The same intermittence is observed in the black, dense smoke which rolls in rhythmic rings from the funnel of a steamer. The unpleasant noise of unoiled machinery is also a declaration of the fact that the friction is not uniform, but is due to the alternate “bite” and release of the rubbing surfaces.
Fig. 113.
Where gases are concerned, friction is of the same intermittent character. A rifle-bullet sings in its passage through the air; while to the rubbing of the wind against the boles and branches of the trees are to be ascribed the “waterfall tones” of an agitated pine-wood. Pass a steadily-burning candle rapidly through the air; an indented band of light, declaring intermittence, is often the consequence, while the almost musical sound which accompanies the appearance of this band is the audible expression of the rhythm. On the other hand, if you blow gently against a candle-flame, the fluttering noise announces a rhythmic action. We have already learned what can be done when a pipe is associated with such a flutter; we have learned that the pipe selects a special pulse from the flutter, and raises it by resonance to a musical sound. In a similar manner the noise of a flame may be turned to account. The blow-pipe flame of our laboratory, for example, when inclosed within an appropriate tube, has its flutter raised to a roar. The special pulse first selected soon reacts upon the flame so as to abolish in a great degree the other pulses, compelling the flame to vibrate in periods answering to the selected one. And this reaction can become so powerful—the timed shock of the reflected pulses may accumulate to such an extent—as to beat the flame, even when very large, into extinction.
§ 2. Musical Flames
Nor is it necessary to produce this flutter by any extraneous means. When a gas-flame is simply inclosed within a tube, the passage of the air over it is usually sufficient to produce the necessary rhythmic action, so as to cause the flame to burst spontaneously into song. This flame-music may be rendered exceedingly intense. Over a flame issuing from a ring burner with twenty-eight orifices, I place a tin tube 5 feet long and 2-1/2 inches in diameter. The flame flutters at first, but it soon chastens its impulses into perfect periodicity, and a deep and clear musical tone is the result. By lowering the gas the note now sounded is caused to cease, but, after a momentary interval of silence, another note, which is the octave of the last, is yielded by the flame. The first note was the fundamental note of the surrounding tube; this second note is its first harmonic. Here, as in the case of open organ-pipes, we have the aërial column dividing itself into vibrating segments, separated from each other by nodes.
Fig. 114. A still more striking effect is obtained with this larger tube, a b, Fig. 114, 15 feet long and 4 inches wide, which was made for a totally different purpose. It is supported by a steady stand, s s′, and into it is lifted the tall burner, shown enlarged at B. You hear the incipient flutter: you now hear the more powerful sound. As the flame is lifted higher the action becomes more violent, until finally a storm of music issues from the tube. And now all has suddenly ceased; the reaction of its own pulses upon the flame has beaten it into extinction. I relight the flame and make it very small. When raised within the tube, the flame again sings, but it is one of the harmonics of the tube that you now hear. On turning the gas fully on, the note ceases—all is silent for a moment; but the storm is brewing, and soon it bursts forth, as at first in a kind of hurricane of sound. By lowering the flame the fundamental note is abolished, and now you hear the first harmonic of the tube. Making the flame still smaller, the first harmonic disappears, and the second is heard. Your ears being disciplined to the apprehension of these sounds, I turn the gas once more fully on. Mingling with the deepest note you notice the harmonics, as if struggling to be heard amid the general uproar of the flame. With a large Bunsen’s rose burner, the sound of this tube becomes powerful enough to shake the floor and seats, and the large audience that occupies the seats of this room, while the extinction of the flame, by the reaction of the
