Lightning Conductors. F.C.S. Richard Anderson
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.’
Having improved in various ways the lightning conductor set up experimentally over his own house, Franklin erected a second one, of larger dimensions, to protect the residence of one of his friends, Mr. West, a wealthy merchant of Philadelphia. The apparatus, constructed entirely under the supervision of Franklin, consisted of an iron rod half an inch in diameter throughout its length, and ending at the bottom in a thick iron stake, driven four or five feet into the ground. The top of the conductor, rising nine feet above the central stack of chimneys, was formed by a brass wire ten inches in length, tapering off in a sharp point. Franklin considered the brass wire, which was screwed and soldered inside the iron rod, a great improvement upon simple iron, having discovered brass, as well as copper, to be better conductors of electricity. The result justified his expectations. Not many months after the lightning conductor had been erected over the mansion of Mr. West, a thunderstorm more severe than had been experienced for many years broke over Philadelphia. Vivid flashes of lightning followed each other incessantly, one of them striking, visible to all beholders, the house of Mr. West, touching the point of the conductor on the roof, and appearing again on its base in a thin sheet of flame. Naturally, Franklin was delighted at this first notable result of his grand discovery, and lost no time in examining the traces of the lightning over his conductor. He found that the sharp metal point at the upper end had been melted, and the small brass wire reduced from ten to seven and a half inches, with its top very blunt. The thinnest part of the wire, he saw at once, had disappeared in smoke, while the portion below it, a little thicker, had simply been liquefied, sinking down while in a fluid state, and forming a rough irregular cap, lower on one side than on the other. This was a highly interesting test, showing that the wire on the summit of the conductor must not be made too thin, so as to be liable to be burnt. But still more interesting to Franklin was the investigation of the report, confirmed on all sides, that a sheet of flame had been seen at the base of the conductor, where it was connected with the earth. He at once suspected that the earth at the point, and down to the end of the metal rod, had been very dry, and such indeed was the case. Hence he arrived at the conclusion that all conductors should go deep enough into the earth to find sufficient moisture quickly to dissipate the electric fluid. All subsequent experience, down to the present day, has proved that the inference of the practical philosopher of Philadelphia was as sound in this respect as in the rest of his ever clear and lucid judgments.
Like most other inventions and discoveries, that of the lightning conductor was destined not to be without its early martyrs. Among the many searchers in the science of electricity on the continent of Europe who had eagerly seized the ideas of Benjamin Franklin, and entered enthusiastically upon the experiments recommended by him, was Professor George Wilhelm Richmann, of St. Petersburg. He had conceived some theories of his own regarding electrical discharges, and constructed for experimental purposes an apparatus which he called the ‘gnomon,’ one of the uses of which was to measure the comparative strength of electrical currents. The instrument consisted of a tube of metal, terminating in a small glass vessel, into which, for some unknown reason, he put a quantity of brass filings. Attached to the tube of metal, at its top, was a chain, so arranged as to be easily attached or detached from it, and this was fastened to an iron rod going to the roof, in the form of a lightning conductor, as prescribed by Franklin. It seems to have been the notion of the professor that he might lead the electrical current from the clouds down into his ‘gnomon’ bottle, there to measure its strength; though it is difficult to conceive how a man acquainted with the manifestations of the mystic force with which he was experimenting, and knowing its powerful effects, should not have perceived the extreme danger of thus leading it into a nonconducting element. However, the enthusiastic man, evidently blind to all consequences, set out on his course of experiments. A violent thunderstorm coming over St. Petersburg on August 6, 1753, Professor Richmann hurried to his ‘gnomon,’ attached the chain to the phial, and then stood to watch the effect, with not more than a foot and a half distance between his head and the glass tube. Near him, but further behind, stood a friend, M. Solokow, who was going to make a drawing of the electrical apparatus. All on a sudden, there came a terrible flash of lightning, described as ‘a ball of fire’ by M. Solokow, down from the skies, falling upon the ‘gnomon’ and springing from thence upon Professor Richmann, laid the latter dead on the floor, and his companion senseless.
When the body of the unfortunate professor came to be examined, it was found that the electric current had passed right through him, entering at the forehead, and coming out at the sole of the left foot, both places being distinctly marked by red spots and small perforations, like those of a needle. There were no other marks of injury visible, either inwardly or outwardly, except a number of red and blue spots over the back and shoulders, which grew larger the day after, and seemed to bring with them symptoms of rapid decay. Some of the medical men attending the ‘post mortem’ examination were most desirous to enter into further observations, so as to ascertain, if possible, the actual cause which produced death by a stroke of lightning, but they had no opportunity. When they returned to the professor’s house, the second day after his death, the body was already so far decomposed as to be unrecognisable, and it was with difficulty that the remains of the first martyr of applied electricity could be got into a coffin and carried to their last resting-place.
The appalling death of Professor Richmann produced an enormous commotion, far beyond what might be expected from a similar event, throughout the learned world of Europe. In France especially the occurrence created the deepest impression, mingled with admiration of what was called the ‘glorious death’ of the St. Petersburg professor, and more than one student of electrical science boldly declared his determination to become a martyr in the same noble cause. But reflection, probably, brought better counsel, for, as it happened, there were no more contributions, for the time being, to the roll of martyrs.
CHAPTER IV.
GRADUAL SPREAD OF LIGHTNING CONDUCTORS IN EUROPE.
In singular contrast with the burst of applause with which the whole scientific world of Europe received the great discovery of Benjamin Franklin, was the extreme slowness of the actual introduction into Europe of lightning conductors. The opposition they met with in Franklin’s own country was trifling to that which they encountered in the principal states of Europe, more particularly in England and France. It was natural, perhaps, that the lower classes—ultra-conservative, through the mere effect of ignorance, in every country in the world—should see danger in the setting-up of iron rods which, as they were told, drew lightning from the skies; and it was, perhaps, equally natural that religious fanatics should regard them with extreme suspicion, as removing one of their imagined instruments of heaven for punishing sinful mortals. Both these classes, the untaught multitude and the bigoted zealots, opposed in Europe, as they did in America, the establishment of lightning conductors; but to the strength of these parties was unexpectedly added a third in a not numerous but powerful section of learned literary men. They were chiefly French, but had many adherents in England, as well as in Germany, the savants of both countries looking then upon France as the seat of all science, and indeed human knowledge.
The opposition raised against lightning conductors in France was entirely personal, its origin being due to the wounded vanity of a very estimable but likewise a very weak man, the already mentioned Abbé Nollet. Born in 1700, the Abbé had very early in life gained renown for his scientific researches, and after a while devoted much of his time to electrical experiments, in conjunction with two other celebrated men, Dufay and De Réaumur. When the report of Franklin’s discoveries arrived in Europe, the Abbé Nollet was generally looked upon as the greatest of living ‘electricians,’ and the general