Singing Flames—Influence of the Tube surrounding
the Flame—Influence of Size of Flame—Harmonic Notes
of Flames—Effect of Unisonant Notes on Singing
Flames—-Action of Sound on Naked Flames—Experiments with
Fish-Tail and Bat’s-Wing Burners—Experiments on Tall
Flames—Extraordinary Delicacy of Flames as Acoustic
Reagents—The Vowel-Flame—Action of Conversational
Tones upon Flames—Action of Musical Sounds on
Smoke-Jets—Constitution of Water-Jets—Plateau’s Theory
of the Resolution of a Liquid Vein into Drops—Action of
Musical Sounds on Water-Jets—A Liquid Vein may compete in
Point of Delicacy with the Ear
§ 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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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 sonorous pulses, announces itself by
an explosion almost as loud as a pistol-shot. It must occur to you that
a chimney is a tube of this kind upon a large scale, and that the roar
of a flame in a chimney is simply a rough attempt at music.
[Illustration: FIG. 115.]
Let us now pass on to shorter tubes and smaller flames. Placing tubes
of different lengths over eight small flames, each of them starts into
song, and you notice that as the tubes lengthen the tones deepen. The
lengths of these tubes are so chosen that they yield in succession
the eight notes of the gamut. Round some of them you observe a
paper slider, _s_, Fig. 115, by which the tube can be lengthened or
shortened. If while the flame is sounding the slider be raised, the
pitch instantly falls; if lowered, the pitch rises. These experiments
prove the flame to be governed by the tube. By the reaction of
the pulses, reflected back upon the flame, its flutter is rendered
perfectly periodic, the length of that period being determined, as in
the case of organ-pipes, by the length of the tube.
[Illustration: FIG. 116.]
The fixed stars, especially those near the horizon, shine with an
unsteady light, sometimes changing color as they twinkle. I have often
watched at night, upon the plateaux of the Alps, the alternate flash of
ruby and emerald in the lower and larger stars. If you place a piece of
looking-glass so that you can see in it the image of such a star, on
tilting the glass quickly to and fro, the line of light obtained will
not be continuous, but will form a string of colored beads of extreme
beauty. The same effect is obtained when an opera-glass is pointed to
the star and shaken. This experiment shows that in the act of twinkling
the light of the star is quenched at intervals; the dark spaces
between the bright beads corresponding to the periods of extinction.
Now, our singing flame is a _twinkling_ flame. When it begins to sing
you observe a certain quivering motion which may be analyzed with a
looking-glass, or an opera-glass, as in the case of the star.[50] I can
now see the image of this flame in a small looking-glass. On tilting
the glass, so as to cause the image to form a circle of light, the
luminous band is not seen to be continuous, as it would be if the flame
were perfectly steady; it is resolved into a beautiful chain of flames,
Fig. 116.
§ 3. _Experimental Analysis of Musical Flame_
[Illustration: FIG. 117.]
With a larger, brighter, and less rapidly-vibrating flame, you may all
see this intermittent action. Over this gas-flame, _f_, Fig. 117, is
placed a glass tube, A B, 6 feet long and 2 inches in diameter. The
back of the tube is blackened, so as to prevent the light of the flame
from falling directly upon the screen, which it is now desirable to
have as dark as possible. In front of the tube is placed a concave
mirror, M, which forms upon the screen an enlarged image of the
flame. I turn the mirror with my hand and cause the image to pass
over the screen. Were the flame silent and steady, we should obtain a
_continuous_ band of light; but it quivers, and emits at the same time
a deep and powerful note. On twirling the mirror, therefore, we obtain,
instead of a continuous band, a luminous chain of images. By fast
turning, these images are drawn more widely apart; by slow turning,
they are caused to close up, the chain of flames passing through the
most beautiful variations. Clasping the lower end, B, of the tube
with my hand, I so impede the air as to stop the flame’s vibration; a
continuous band is the consequence. Observe the suddenness with which
this band breaks up into a rippling line of images the moment my hand
is removed and the current of air is permitted to pass over the flame.
§ 4. _Rate of Vibration of Flame: Toepler’s Experiment_
When a _small_ vibrating coal-gas flame is carefully examined by the
rotating mirror, the beaded line is a series of yellow-tipped flames,
each resting upon a base of the richest blue. In some cases I have
been unable to observe any union of one flame with another; the spaces
between the flames being absolutely dark to the eye. But if dark, the
flame must have been totally extinguished at intervals, a residue of
heat, however, remaining sufficient to reignite the gas. This is at
least possible, for gas may be ignited by non-luminous air.[51] By
means of the siren, we can readily determine the number of times this
flame extinguishes and relights itself in a second. As the note of the
instrument approaches that of the flame, unison is preceded by these
well-known beats, which become gradually less rapid, and now the two
notes melt into perfect unison. Maintaining the siren at this pitch for
a minute, at the end of that time I find recorded upon our dials 1,700
revolutions. But the disk being perforated by 16 holes, it follows
that every revolution corresponds to 16 pulses. Multiplying 1,700 by
16, we find the number of pulses in a minute to be 27,200. This number
of times did our little flame extinguish and rekindle itself during
the continuance of the experiment; that is to say, it was put out and
relighted 453 times in a second.
A flash of light, though instantaneous, makes an impression upon the
retina which endures for the tenth of a second or more. A flying
rifle-bullet, illuminated by a single flash of lightning, would seem
to stand still in the air for the tenth of a second. A black disk with
radial white strips, when rapidly rotated, causes the white and black
to blend to an impure gray; while a spark of electricity, or a flash
of lightning, reduces the disk to apparent stillness, the white radial
strips being for a time plainly seen. Now, the singing flame is a
flashing flame, and M. Toepler has shown that by causing a striped disk
to rotate at the proper speed in the presence of such a flame it is
brought to apparent stillness, the white stripes being rendered plainly
visible. The experiment is both easy and interesting.
§ 5. _Harmonic Sounds of Flame_
A singing flame yields so freely to the pulses falling upon it that
it is almost wholly governed by the surrounding tube; _almost_, but
not altogether. The pitch of the note depends in some measure upon
the size of the flame. This is readily proved, by causing two flames
to emit the same note, and then slightly altering the size of either
of them. The unison is instantly disturbed by beats. By altering the
size of a flame we can also, as already illustrated, draw forth the
harmonic overtones of the tube which surrounds it. This experiment is
best performed with hydrogen, its combustion being much more vigorous
than that of ordinary gas. When a glass tube 7 feet long is placed over
a large hydrogen-flame, the fundamental note of the tube is obtained,
corresponding to a division of the column of air within it by a single
node at the centre. Placing a second tube, 3 feet 6 inches long, over
the same flame, no musical sound whatever is obtained; the large flame,
in fact, is not able to accommodate itself to the vibrating period
of the shorter tube. But, on lessening the flame, it soon bursts
into vigorous song, its note being the octave of that yielded by the
longer tube. I now remove the shorter tube, and once more cover the
flame with the longer one. It no longer sounds its fundamental notes,
but the precise note of the shorter tube. To accommodate itself to
the vibrating period of the diminished flame, the longer column of
air divides itself like an open organ-pipe when it yields its first
harmonic. By varying the size of the flame, it is possible, with
the tube now before you, to obtain a series of notes whose rates of
vibration are in the ratio of the numbers 1:2:3:4:5; that is to say,
the fundamental tone and its first four harmonics.
These sounding flames, though probably never before raised to the
intensity in which they have been exhibited here to-day, are of old
standing. In 1777, the sounds of a hydrogen-flame were heard by Dr.
Higgins. In 1802, they were investigated to some extent by Chladni, who
also refers to an incorrect account of them given by De Luc. Chladni
showed that the tones are those of the open tube which surrounds the
flame, and he succeeded in obtaining the first two harmonics. In 1802,
G. De la Rive experimented on this subject. Placing a little water in
the bulb of a thermometer, and heating it, he showed that musical tones
of force and sweetness could be produced by the periodic condensation
of the vapor in the stem of the thermometer. He accordingly referred
the sounds of flames to the alternate expansion and condensation of
the aqueous vapor produced by the combustion. We can readily imitate
his experiments. Holding, with its stem oblique, a thermometer-bulb
containing water in the flame of a spirit-lamp the sounds are heard
soon after the water begins to boil. In 1818, however, Faraday showed
that the tones are produced when the tube surrounding the flame is
placed in air of a temperature higher than 100° C., condensation being
then impossible. He also showed that the tones could be obtained from
flames of carbonic oxide, where aqueous vapor is entirely out of the
question.
§ 6. _Action of Extraneous Sounds on Flame: Experiments of Schaffgotsch
and Tyndall_
After these experiments, the first novel acoustic observation on flames
was made in Berlin by the late Count Schaffgotsch, who showed that when
an ordinary gas-flame was surmounted by a short tube, a strong falsetto
voice pitched to the note of the tube, or to its higher octave, caused
the flame to quiver. In some cases when the note of the tube was high,
the flame could even be extinguished by the voice.
In the spring of 1857, this experiment came to my notice. No directions
were given in the short account of the observation published in
“Poggendorff’s Annalen”; but, in endeavoring to ascertain the
conditions of success, a number of singular effects forced themselves
upon my attention. Meanwhile, Count Schaffgotsch also followed up the
subject. To a great extent we travelled over the same ground, neither
of us knowing how the other was engaged; but, so far as the experiments
then executed are common to us both, to Count Schaffgotsch belongs the
priority.
Let me here repeat his first observation. Within this tube, 11 inches
long, burns a small gas-flame, bright and silent. The note of the
tube has been ascertained, and now, standing at some distance from
the flame, I sound that note; the flame _quivers_. To obtain the
_extinction_ of the flame it is necessary to employ a burner with a
very narrow aperture, from which the gas issues under considerable
pressure. On gently sounding the note of the tube surrounding such a
flame, it quivers; but on throwing more power into the voice the flame
is extinguished.
The cause of the quivering of the flame will be best revealed by an
experiment with the siren. As the note of the siren approaches that of
the flame you hear beats, and at the same time you observe a dancing of
the flame synchronous with the beats. The jumps succeed each other more
slowly as unison is approached. They cease when the unison is perfect,
and they begin again as soon as the siren is urged beyond unison,
becoming more rapid as the discordance is increased. The cause of the
quiver observed by M. Schaffgotsch was revealed to me. The flame jumped
because the note of the tube surrounding it was nearly, but not quite,
in unison with the voice of the experimenter.
That the jumping of the flame proceeds in exact accordance with the
beats is well shown by a tuning-fork, which yields the same note as
the flame. Loading such a fork with a bit of wax, so as to throw it
slightly out of unison, and bringing it, when agitated, near the tube
in which the flame is singing, the beats and the leaps of the flame
occur at the same intervals. When the fork is placed over a resonant
jar, all of you can hear the beats, and see at the same time the
dancing of the flame. By changing the load upon the tuning-fork, or by
slightly altering the size of the flame, the rate at which the beats
succeed each other may be altered; but in all cases the jumps address
the eye at the moments when the beats address the ear.
While executing these experiments I noticed that, on raising my voice
to the proper pitch, a flame which had been burning silently in its
tube began to sing. The same observation had, without my knowledge,
been made a short time previously by Count Schaffgotsch. A tube, 12
inches long, is placed over this flame, which occupies a position about
an inch and a half from the lower end of the tube. When the proper note
is sounded the flame trembles, but it does not sing. When the tube
is lowered until the flame is three inches from its end, the song is
spontaneous. Between these two positions there is a third, at which, if
the flame be placed, it will burn silently; but if it be excited by
the voice it will sing, and continue to sing.
[Illustration: FIG. 118.]
Even when the back is turned toward the flame the sonorous pulses run
round the body, reach the tube, and call forth the song. A pitch-pipe,
or any other instrument which yields a note of the proper height,
produces the same effect. Mounting a series of tubes, capable of
emitting all the notes of the gamut, over suitable flames, with an
instrument sufficiently powerful, and from a distance of 20 or 30
yards, a musician, by running over the scale, might call forth all the
notes in succession, the whole series of flames finally joining in the
song.
When a silent flame, capable of being excited in the manner here
described, is looked at in a moving mirror, it produces there a
continuous band of light. Nothing can be more beautiful than the sudden
breaking up of this band into a string of richly-luminous pearls at the
instant the voice is pitched to the proper note.
One singing flame may be caused to effect the musical ignition of
another. Before you are two small flames, _f′_ and _f_, Fig. 118 (p.
273), the tube over _f′_ being 10-1/2 inches, that over _f_ 12 inches
long. The shorter tube is clasped by a paper slider, _s_. The flame
_f′_ is now singing, but the flame _f_, in the longer tube, is silent.
I raise the paper slider which surrounds _f′_, so as to lengthen the
tube, and on approaching the pitch of the tube surrounding _f_, that
flame sings. The experiment may be varied by making _f_ the singing
flame and _f′_ the silent one at starting. Raising the telescopic
slider, a point is soon attained where the flame _f′_ commences its
song. In this way one flame may excite another through considerable
distances. It is also possible to silence the singing flame by the
proper management of the voice.
SENSITIVE NAKED FLAMES
§ 7. _Discovery of Sensitive Flames by Le Conte_
We have hitherto dealt with flames surrounded by resonant tubes; and
none of these flames, if naked, would respond in any way to such noise
or music as could be here applied. Still it is possible to make naked
flames thus sympathetic. This action of musical sounds upon naked
flames was first observed by Prof. Le Conte at a musical party in the
United States. His observation is thus described: “Soon after the
music commenced, I observed that the flame exhibited pulsations which
were _exactly synchronous_ with the audible beats. This phenomenon
was very striking to every one in the room, and especially so when the
strong notes of the violoncello came in. It was exceedingly interesting
to observe how perfectly even the _trills_ of this instrument were
reflected on the sheet of flame. _A deaf man might have seen the
harmony._ As the evening advanced, and the diminished consumption of
gas in the city _increased the pressure_, the phenomenon became more
conspicuous. The _jumping_ of the flame gradually increased, became
somewhat irregular, and, finally, it began to flare continuously,
emitting the characteristic sound, indicating the escape of a greater
amount of gas than could be properly consumed. I then ascertained,
by experiment, that the phenomenon _did not_ take place unless the
discharge of gas was so regulated that the flame approximated to
the condition of _flaring_. I likewise determined, by experiment,
that the effects _were not_ produced by jarring or shaking the floor
and walls of the room by means of repeated concussions. Hence it is
obvious that the pulsations of the flame _were not_ owing to _indirect_
vibrations propagated through the medium of the walls of the room to
the burning-apparatus, but must have been produced by the _direct_
influence of aërial sonorous pulses on the burning jet.”[52]
The significant remark, that the jumping of the flame was not observed
until it was near flaring, suggests the means of repeating the
experiments of Dr. Le Conte; while a more intimate knowledge of the
conditions of success enables us to vary and exalt them in a striking
degree. Before you burns a bright candle-flame, but no sound that can
be produced here has any effect upon it. Though sonorous waves of great
power be sent through the air, the candle-flame remains insensible.
[Illustration: FIG. 119.]
[Illustration: FIG. 120.]
But by proper precautions even a candle-flame may be rendered
sensitive. Urging from a small blow-pipe a narrow stream of air through
such a flame, an incipient flutter is produced. The flame then jumps
visibly to the sound of a whistle, or to a chirrup. The experiment may
be so arranged that, when the whistle sounds, the flame shall be either
restored almost to its pristine brightness, or that the small amount of
light it still possesses shall disappear.
The blow-pipe flame of our laboratory is totally unaffected by the
sound of the whistle as long as no air is urged through it. By properly
tempering the force of the blast, a flame is obtained of the shape
shown in Fig. 119. On sounding the whistle the erect portion of the
flame drops down, and while the sound continues the flame maintains
the form shown in Fig. 120.
§ 8. _Experiments on Fish-tail and Bat’s-wing Flames_
We now pass on to a thin sheet of flame, issuing from a common
fish-tail burner, Fig. 121. You might sing to this flame, varying the
pitch of your voice; no shiver of the flame would be visible. You might
employ pitch-pipes, tuning-forks, bells, and trumpets, with a like
absence of all effect. A barely perceptible motion of the interior of
the flame may be noticed when a shrill whistle is blown close to it.
But by turning the cock more fully on, the flame is brought to the
verge of flaring. And now, when the whistle is blown, the flame thrusts
suddenly out seven quivering tongues, Fig. 122. The moment the sound
ceases, the tongues disappear, and the flame becomes quiescent.
[Illustration: FIG. 121.]
[Illustration: FIG. 122.]
Passing from a fish-tail to a bat’s-wing burner, we obtain a broad,
steady flame, Fig. 123. It is quite insensible to the loudest
sound which would be tolerable here. The flame is fed from a small
gas-holder.[53] Increasing gradually the pressure, a slight flutter of
the edge of the flame at length answers to the sound of the whistle.
Turning on the gas until the flame is on the point of roaring, and
blowing the whistle, it roars, and suddenly assumes the form shown in
Fig. 124.
When a distant anvil is struck with a hammer, the flame instantly
responds by thrusting forth its tongues.
[Illustration: FIG. 123.]
[Illustration: FIG. 124.]
An essential condition to entire success in these experiments disclosed
itself in the following manner: I was operating on two fish-tail
flames, one of which jumped to a whistle while the other did not. The
gas of the non-sensitive flame was turned off, additional pressure
being thereby thrown upon the other flame. It flared, and its cock
was turned so as to lower the flame; but it now proved non-sensitive,
however close it might be brought to the point of flaring. The narrow
orifice of the half-turned cock interfered with the action of the
sound. When the gas was turned fully on, the flame being lowered by
opening the cock of the other burner, it became again sensitive. Up
to this time a great number of burners had been tried, but with many
of them the action was _nil_. Acting, however, upon the hint conveyed
by this observation, the cocks which fed the flames were more widely
opened, and our most refractory burners thus rendered sensitive.
In this way the observation of Dr. Le Conte is easily and strikingly
illustrated; in our subsequent, and far more delicate, experiments the
precaution just referred to is still more essential.
§ 9. _Experiments on Flames from Circular Apertures_
A long flame may be shortened and a short one lengthened, according
to circumstances, by sonorous vibrations. The flame shown in Fig. 125
is long, straight, and smoky; that in Fig. 126 is short, forked, and
brilliant. On sounding the whistle, the long flame becomes short,
forked, and brilliant, as in Fig. 127; while the forked flame becomes
long and smoky, as in Fig. 128. As regards, therefore, their response
to the sound of the whistle, one of these flames is the complement of
the other.
In Fig. 129 is represented another smoky flame which, when the whistle
sounds, breaks up into the form shown in Fig. 130.
When a brilliant sensitive flame illuminates an otherwise dark room,
in which a suitable bell is caused to strike, a series of periodic
quenchings of the light by the sound occurs. Every stroke of the bell
is accompanied by a momentary darkening of the room.
The foregoing experiments illustrate the lengthening and shortening of
flames by sonorous vibrations. They may also produce _rotation_. From
some of our homemade burners issue flat flames, about ten inches high,
and three inches across at their widest part. When the whistle sounds,
the plane of each flame turns ninety degrees round, and continues in
its new position as long as the sound continues.
[Illustration: FIG. 125.]
[Illustration: FIG. 126.]
[Illustration: FIG. 127.]
[Illustration: FIG. 128.]
[Illustration: FIG. 129.]
[Illustration: FIG. 130.]
A flame of admirable steadiness and brilliancy now burns before you.
It issues from a single circular orifice in a common iron nipple. This
burner, which requires great pressure to make its flame flare, has
been specially chosen for the purpose of enabling you to observe, with
distinctness, the gradual change from apathy to sensitiveness. The
flame, now 4 inches high, is quite indifferent to sound. On increasing
the pressure its height becomes 6 inches; but it is still indifferent.
When its length is 12 inches, a barely perceptible quiver responds to
the whistle. When 16 or 17 inches high, it jumps briskly the moment an
anvil is tapped or the whistle sounded. When the flame is 20 inches
long you observe a quivering at intervals, which announces that it is
near roaring. A slight increase of pressure causes it to roar, and
shorten at the same time to 8 inches.
Diminishing the pressure a little, the flame is again 20 inches long,
but it is on the point of roaring and shortening. Like the singing
flames which were started by the voice, it stands on the brink of
a precipice. The proper note pushes it over. It shortens when the
whistle sounds, exactly as it did when the pressure is in excess. The
action reminds one of the story of the Swiss muleteers, who are said
to tie up their bells at certain places lest the tinkle should bring
an avalanche down. The snow must be very delicately poised before this
could occur. It probably never did occur, but our flame illustrates the
principle. We bring it to the verge of falling, and the sonorous pulses
precipitate what was already imminent. This is the simple philosophy of
all these sensitive flames.
When the flame flares, the gas in the orifice of the burner is in a
state of vibration; conversely, when the gas in the orifice is thrown
into vibration, the flame, if sufficiently near the flaring point,
will flare. Thus the sonorous vibrations, by acting on the gas in the
passage of the burner, become equivalent to an augmentation of pressure
in the holder. In fact, we have here revealed to us the physical
cause of flaring through excess of pressure, which, common as it
is, has never been hitherto explained. The gas encounters friction
in the orifice of the burner, which, when the force of transfer is
sufficiently great, throws the issuing stream into the state of
vibration that produces flaring. It is because the flaring is thus
caused that an infinitesimal amount of energy in the form of vibrations
of the proper period can produce an effect equivalent to a considerable
increase of pressure.
§ 10. _Seat of Sensitiveness_
[Illustration: FIG. 131.]
That the external vibrations act upon the gas in the orifice of the
burner, and not first upon the burner itself, the tube leading to it,
or the flame above it, is thus proved. A glass funnel R, Fig. 131,
is attached to a tube 3 feet long and half an inch in diameter. A
sensitive flame _b_ is placed at the open end T of the tube, while a
small high-pitched reed is placed in the funnel at R. When the sound
is converged upon the root of the flame, as in Fig. 131, the action is
violent; when converged on a point half an inch above the burner, as in
Fig. 132, or at half an inch below the burner, as in Fig. 133, there is
no action. The glass tube may be dispensed with and the funnel alone
employed, if care be taken to screen off all sound, save that which
passes through the shank of the funnel.[54]
§ 11. _Influence of Pitch_
[Illustration: FIG. 132.]
[Illustration: FIG. 133.]
All sounds are not equally effective on the flame; waves of special
periods are required to produce the maximum effect. The effectual
periods are those which synchronize with the waves produced by the
friction of the gas itself against the sides of its orifice. With some
of these flames a low deep whistle is more effective than a shrill
one. With others the exciting tremors must be very rapid, and the
sound consequently shrill. Not one of these four tuning-forks, which
vibrate 256 times, 320 times, 384 times, and 512 times respectively
in a second, has any effect upon the flame from our iron nipple.
But, besides their fundamental tones, these forks, as you know, can
be caused to yield a series of overtones of very high pitch. The
vibrations of this series are 1,600, 2,000, 2,400, and 3,200 per
second, respectively. The flame jumps in response to each of these
sounds; the response to that of the highest pitch being the most prompt
and energetic of all.
To the tap of a hammer upon a board the flame responds; but to the tap
of the same hammer upon an anvil the response is much more brisk and
animated. The reason is, that the clang of the anvil is rich in the
higher tones to which the flame is most sensitive. The powerful tone
obtained when our inverted bell is reinforced by its resonant tube has
no power over this flame. But when a halfpenny is brought into contact
with the vibrating surface the flame instantly shortens, flutters, and
roars. I send an assistant with a smaller bell, worked by clockwork, to
the most distant part of the gallery. He there detaches the hammer; the
strokes follow each other in rhythmic succession, and at every stroke
the flame falls from a height of 20 to a height of 8 inches, roaring as
it falls.
[Illustration: FIG. 134.]
[Illustration: FIG. 135.]
The rapidity with which sound is propagated through air is well
illustrated by these experiments. There is no sensible interval between
the stroke of the bell and the ducking of the flame.
When the sound acting on the flame is of very short duration a curious
and instructive effect is observed. The sides of the flame half-way
down, and lower, are seen suddenly fringed by luminous tongues, the
central flame remaining apparently undisturbed in both height and
thickness. The flame in its normal state is shown in Fig. 134, and
with its fringes in Fig. 135. The effect is due to the retention of
the impression upon the retina. The flame actually falls as low as
the fringes, but its recovery is so quick that to the eye it does not
appear to shorten at all.[55]
§ 12. _The Vowel-flame_
A flame of astonishing sensitiveness now burns before you. It issues
from the single orifice of a steatite burner, and reaches a height of
24 inches. The slightest tap on a distant anvil reduces its height to 7
inches. When a bunch of keys is shaken the flame is violently agitated,
and emits a loud roar. The dropping of a sixpence into a hand already
containing coin, at a distance of 20 yards, knocks the flame down. It
is not possible to walk across the floor without agitating the flame.
The creaking of boots sets it in violent commotion. The crumpling, or
tearing of paper, or the rustle of a silk dress, does the same. It is
startled by the patter of a rain-drop. I hold a watch near the flame:
nobody hears its ticks; but you all see their effect upon the flame.
At every tick it falls and roars. The winding up of the watch also
produces tumult. The twitter of a distant sparrow shakes the flame; the
note of a cricket would do the same. A chirrup from a distance of 30
yards causes it to fall and roar. I repeat a passage from Spenser:
“Her ivory forehead full of bounty brave,
Like a broad table did itself dispread;
For love his lofty triumphs to engrave,
And write the battles of his great godhead.
All truth and goodness might therein be read,
For there their dwelling was, and when she spake,
Sweet words, like dropping honey she did shed;
And through the pearls and rubies softly brake
A silver sound, which heavenly music seemed to make.”
The flame selects from the sounds those to which it can respond. It
notices some by the slightest nod, to others it bows more distinctly,
to some its obeisance is very profound, while to many sounds it turns
an entirely deaf ear.
[Illustration: FIG. 136.]
In Fig. 136, this wonderful flame is represented. On chirruping to
it, or on shaking a bunch of keys within a few yards of it, it falls
to the size shown in Fig. 137, the whole length, _a b_, of the flame
being suddenly abolished. The light at the same time is practically
destroyed, a pale and almost non-luminous residue of it alone
remaining. These figures are taken from photographs of the flame.
[Illustration: FIG. 137.]
To distinguish it from the others I have called this the “vowel-flame,”
because the different vowel-sounds affect it differently. A loud and
sonorous U does not move the flame; on changing the sound to O, the
flame quivers; when E is sounded, the flame is strongly affected. I
utter the words _boot_, _boat_, and _beat_, in succession. To the first
there is no response; to the second, the flame starts; by the third, is
thrown into greater commotion; the sound _Ah!_ is still more powerful.
Did we not know the constitution of vowel-sounds this deportment would
be an insoluble enigma. As it is, however, the flame illustrates the
theory of vowel-sounds. It is most sensitive to sounds of high pitch;
hence we should infer that the sound _Ah!_ contains higher notes than
the sound E; that E contains higher notes than O; and O higher notes
than U. I need not say that this agrees perfectly with the analysis of
Helmholtz.
[Illustration: FIG. 138.]
This flame is peculiarly sensitive to the utterance of the letter S.
A hiss contains the elements that most forcibly affect the flame.
The gas issues from its burner with a hiss, and an external sound of
this character is therefore exceedingly effective. From a metal box
containing compressed air I allow a puff to escape; the flame instantly
ducks down not by any transfer of _air_ from the box to the flame, for
the distance between both utterly excludes this idea—it is the _sound_
that affects the flame. From the most distant part of the gallery my
assistant permits the compressed air to issue in puffs from the box; at
every puff the flame suddenly falls. The hiss of the issuing air at the
one orifice precipitates the tumult of the flame at the other.
When a musical-box is placed on the table, and permitted to play, the
flame behaves like a sentient and motor creature—bowing slightly to
some tones, and courtesying deeply to others.
§ 13. _Mr. Philip Harry’s Sensitive Flame_
Mr. Philip Barry has discovered a new and very effective form of
sensitive flame, which he thus describes in a letter to myself: “It is
the most sensitive of all the flames that I am acquainted with, though
from its smaller size it is not so striking as your vowel-flame. It
possesses the advantage that the ordinary pressure in the gas-mains is
quite sufficient to produce it. The method of producing it consists in
igniting the gas (ordinary coal-gas) not at the burner but some inches
above it, by interposing between the burner and the flame a piece of
wire-gauze.”
I give a sketch of the arrangement adopted in Fig. 138. The space
between the burner and gauze was 2 inches. The gauze was about 7 inches
square, resting on the ring of a retort-stand. It had 32 meshes to the
lineal inch. The burner was Sugg’s steatite pinhole burner, the same as
used for the vowel-flame.
The flame is a slender cone about four inches high, the upper portion
giving a bright-yellow light, the base being a non-luminous blue flame.
At the least noise this flame roars, sinking down to the surface of the
gauze, becoming at the same time invisible. It is very active in its
responses, and, being rather a noisy flame, its sympathy is apparent to
the ear as well as the eye.
“To the vowel-sounds it does not appear to answer so discriminately as
the vowel-flame. It is extremely sensitive to A, very slightly to E,
more so to I, entirely non-sensitive to O, but slightly sensitive to U.
“It dances in the most perfect manner to a small musical snuff-box,
and is highly sensitive to most of the sonorous vibrations which affect
the vowel-flames.”
§ 14. _Sensitive Smoke-jets_
It is not to the flame, as such, that we owe the extraordinary
phenomena which have been just described. Effects substantially the
same are obtained when a jet of unignited gas, of carbonic acid,
hydrogen, or even air itself, issues from an orifice under proper
pressure. None of these gases, however, can be seen in its passage
through air, and, therefore, we must associate with them some substance
which, while sharing their motions, will reveal them to the eye. The
method employed from time to time in this place of rendering aërial
vortices visible is well known to many of you. By tapping a membrane
which closes the mouth of a large funnel filled with smoke, we
obtain beautiful smoke-rings, which reveal the motion of the air. By
associating smoke with our gas-jets, in the present instance, we can
also trace their course, and, when this is done, the unignited gas
proves as sensitive as the flames. The smoke-jets jump, shorten, split
into forks, or lengthen into columns, when the proper notes are sounded.
Underneath this gas-holder are placed two small basins, the one
containing hydrochloric acid, and the other ammonia. Fumes of
sal-ammoniac are thus copiously formed, and mingle with the gas
contained in the holder. We may, as already stated, operate with
coal-gas, carbonic acid, air, or hydrogen; each of them yields good
effects. From our excellent steatite burner now issues a thin column of
smoke. On sounding the whistle, which was so effective with the flames,
it is found ineffective. When, moreover, the highest notes of a series
of Pandean pipes are sounded, they are also ineffective. Nor will the
lowest notes answer. But when a certain pipe, which stands about the
middle of the series, is sounded, the smoke-column falls, forming a
short stem with a thick, bushy head. It is also pressed down, as if by
a vertical wind, by a knock upon the table. At every tap it drops. A
stroke on an anvil, on the contrary, produces little or no effect. In
fact, the notes here effective are of a much lower pitch than those
which were most efficient in the case of the flames.
[Illustration: FIG. 139.]
The amount of shrinkage exhibited by some of these smoke-columns, in
proportion to their length, is far greater than that of the flames. A
tap on the table causes a smoke-jet eighteen inches high to shorten
to a bushy bouquet, with a stem not more than an inch in height. The
smoke-column, moreover, responds to the voice. A cough knocks it down;
and it dances to the tune of a musical-box. Some notes cause the mere
top of the smoke-column to gather itself up into a bunch; at other
notes the bunch is formed midway down; while notes of more suitable
pitch cause the column to contract itself to a cumulus not much more
than an inch above the end of the burner. Various forms of the dancing
smoke-jet are shown in Fig. 139. As the music continues, the action of
the smoke-column consists of a series of rapid leaps from one of these
forms to another.
In a perfectly still atmosphere these slender smoke-columns rise
sometimes to a height of nearly two feet, apparently vanishing into
air at the summit. When this is the case, our most sensitive flames
fall far behind them in delicacy; and though less striking than the
flames, the smoke-wreaths are often more graceful. Not only special
words, but every word, and even every syllable, of the foregoing stanza
from Spenser, tumbles a really sensitive smoke-jet into confusion. To
produce such effects, a perfectly tranquil atmosphere is necessary.
Flame-experiments, in fact, are possible in an atmosphere where
smoke-jets are utterly unmanageable.[56]
§ 15. _Constitution of Liquid Veins: Sensitive Water-jets_
[Illustration: FIG. 140.]
[Illustration: FIG. 141.]
[Illustration: FIG. 142.]
We have thus far confined our attention to jets of ignited and
unignited coal-gas—of carbonic acid, hydrogen, and air. We will now
turn to jets of water. And here a series of experiments, remarkable
for their beauty, has long existed, which claim relationship to those
just described. These are the experiments of Felix Savart on liquid
veins. If the bottom of a vessel containing water be pierced by a
circular orifice, the descending liquid vein will exhibit two parts
unmistakably distinct. The part of the vein nearest the orifice is
steady and limpid, presenting the appearance of a solid glass rod.
It decreases in diameter as it descends, reaches a point of maximum
contraction, from which point downward it appears turbid and unsteady.
The course of the vein, moreover, is marked by periodic swellings and
contractions. Savart has represented these appearances as in Fig. 140.
The part _a n_ nearest the orifice is limpid and steady, while all the
part below _n_ is in a state of quivering motion. This lower part of
the vein appears continuous to the eye; but the finger can be sometimes
passed through it without being wetted. This, of course, could not be
the case if the vein were really continuous. The upper portion of the
vein, moreover, intercepts vision; the lower portion, even when the
liquid is mercury, does not. In fact, the vein resolves itself, at
_n_, into liquid spherules, its apparent continuity being due to the
retention of the impressions made by the falling drops upon the retina.
If, while looking at the disturbed portion of the vein, the head be
suddenly lowered, the descending column will be resolved for a moment
into separate drops. Perhaps the simplest way of reducing the vein to
its constituent spherules is to illuminate the vein, in a dark room, by
a succession of electric flashes. Every flash reveals the drops, as if
they were perfectly motionless in the air.
Could the appearance of the vein illuminated by a single flash be
rendered permanent, it would be that represented in Fig. 141. And here
we find revealed the cause of those swellings and contractions which
the disturbed portion of the vein exhibits. The drops, as they descend,
are continually changing their forms. When first detached from the
end of the limpid portion of the vein, the drop is a spheroid with
its longest axis vertical. But a liquid cannot retain this shape, if
abandoned to the forces of its own molecules. The spheroid seeks to
become a sphere—the longer diameter, therefore, shortens; but, like a
pendulum which seeks to return to its position of rest, the contraction
of the vertical diameter goes too far, and the drop becomes a flattened
spheroid. Now, the contractions of the jet are formed at those places
where the longest axis of the drop is vertical, while the swellings
appear where the longest axis is horizontal. It will be noticed that
between every two of the larger drops is a third one of much smaller
dimensions. According to Savart, their appearance is invariable.
I wish to make the constitution of a liquid vein evident to you by a
simple but beautiful experiment. The condensing lens has been removed
from our electric lamp, the light being permitted to pass through a
vertical slit directly from the carbon-points. The slice of light
thus obtained is so divergent that it illuminates, from top to bottom,
a liquid vein several feet long, and placed at some distance from
the lamp. Immediately in front of the camera is a large disk of zinc
with six radial slits, about ten inches long and an inch wide. By the
rotation of the disk the light is caused to fall in flashes upon the
jet; and, when the suitable speed of rotation has been attained, the
vein is resolved into its constituent spherules. Receiving the shadow
of the vein upon a white screen, its constitution is rendered clearly
visible to all here present.
This breaking-up of a liquid vein into drops has been a subject of
frequent experiment and much discussion. Savart traced the pulsations
to the orifice, but he did not think that they were produced by
friction. They are powerfully influenced by sonorous vibrations. In the
midst of a large city it is hardly possible to obtain the requisite
tranquillity for the full development of the continuous, portion of
the vein; still, Savart was so far able to withdraw his vein from the
influence of such irregular vibrations that its limpid portion became
elongated to the extent shown in Fig. 142. It will be understood that
Fig. 141 represents a vein exposed to the irregular vibrations of the
city of Paris, while Fig. 142 represents one produced under precisely
the same conditions, but withdrawn from those vibrations.
The drops into which the vein finally resolves itself are incipient
even in its limpid portion, announcing themselves there as annular
protuberances, which become more and more pronounced, until finally
they separate. Their birthplace is near the orifice itself, and under
even moderate pressure they succeed each other with sufficient
rapidity to produce a feeble musical note. By permitting the drops to
fall upon a membrane, the pitch of this note may be fixed; and now we
come to the point which connects the phenomena of liquid veins with
those of sensitive flames and smoke-jets. If a note in unison with that
of the vein be sounded near it, the limpid portion instantly shortens;
the pitch may vary to some extent, and still cause a shortening;
but the unisonant note is the most effectual. Savart’s experiments
on vertically-descending veins have been recently repeated in our
laboratory with striking effect. From a distance of thirty yards the
limpid portion of the vein has been shortened by the sound of an
organ-pipe of the proper pitch and of moderate intensity.
I have also recently gone carefully, not merely by reading, but by
experiment, over Plateau’s account of the resolution of a liquid
vein into drops. In his researches on the figures of equilibrium of
bodies withdrawn from the action of gravity, he finds that a liquid
cylinder is stable as long as its length does not exceed three times
its diameter; or, more accurately, as long as the ratio between them
does not exceed that of the diameter of a circle to its circumference,
or 3.1416. If this be a little exceeded the cylinder begins to narrow
at some point or other of its length; nips itself together, breaks,
and forms immediately two spheres. If the ratio of the length of the
cylinder to its diameter greatly exceed 3.1416, then, instead of
breaking up into two spheres, it breaks up into several.
A liquid cylinder may be obtained by introducing olive-oil into a
mixture of alcohol and water, of the same density as the oil. The
latter forms a sphere. Two disks of smaller diameter than the sphere
are brought into contact with it, and then drawn apart; the oil clings
to the disks, and the sphere is transformed into a cylinder. If the
quantity of oil be insufficient to produce the maximum length of
cylinder, more may be added by a pipette. In making this experiment it
will be noticed that, when the proper length is exceeded, the nipped
portion of the cylinder elongates, and exists for a moment as a very
thin liquid cylinder uniting the two incipient spheres; and that, when
rupture occurs, the thin cylinder, which has also exceeded _its_ proper
length, breaks so as to form a small spherule between the two larger
ones. This is a point of considerable significance in relation to our
present question.
Now, Plateau contends that the play of the molecular forces in a liquid
cylinder is not suspended by its motion of translation. The first
portion of a vein of water quitting an orifice is a cylinder, to which
the laws which he has established regarding motionless cylinders apply.
The moment the descending vein exceeds the proper length it begins to
pinch itself so as to form drops; but urged forward as it is by the
pressure above it, and by its own gravity, in the time required for the
rounding of the drop it reaches a certain distance from the orifice.
At this distance, the pressure remaining constant, and the vein being
withdrawn from external disturbance, rupture invariably occurs. And the
rupture is accompanied by the phenomenon which has just been called
significant. Between every two succeeding large drops a small spherule
is formed, as shown in Fig. 141.
Permitting a vein of oil to fall from an orifice, not through the
air, but through a mixture of alcohol and water of the proper density,
the continuous portion of the vein, its resolution into drops, and the
formation of the small spherule between each liberated drop and the
end of the liquid cylinder which it has just quitted, may be watched
with the utmost deliberation. The effect of this and other experiments
upon the mind will be to produce the conviction that the very beautiful
explanation offered by Plateau is also the true one. The various laws
established experimentally by Savart all follow immediately from
Plateau’s theory.
In a small paper published more than twenty years ago I drew attention
to the fact that when a descending vein intersects a liquid surface
above the point of rupture, if the pressure be not too great, it enters
the liquid _silently_; but when the surface intersects the vein below
the point of rupture a rattle is immediately heard, and bubbles are
copiously produced. In the former case, not only is there no violent
dashing aside of the liquid, but round the base of the vein, and in
opposition to its motion, the liquid collects in a heap, by its surface
tension or capillary attraction. This experiment can be combined with
two other observations of Savart’s, in a beautiful and instructive
manner. In addition to the shortening of the continuous portion by
sound, Savart found that, when he permitted his membrane to intersect
the vein at one of its protuberances, the sound was louder than when
the intersection occurred at the contracted portion.
I permitted a vein to descend, under scarcely any pressure, from a tube
three-quarters of an inch in diameter, and to enter silently a basin of
water placed nearly 20 inches below the orifice. On sounding vigorously
a Ut_{2} tuning-fork the pellucid jet was instantly broken, and as
many as three of its swellings were seen above the surface. The rattle
of air-bubbles was instantly heard, and the basin was seen to be filled
with them. The sound was allowed slowly to die out; the continuous
portion of the vein lengthened, and a series of alternations in the
production of the bubbles was observed. When the swellings of the vein
cut the surface of the water, the bubbles were copious and loud; when
the contracted portions crossed the surface, the bubbles were scanty
and scarcely audible.
Removing the basin, placing an iron tray in its place, and exciting the
fork, the vein, which at first struck silently upon the tray, commenced
a rattle which rose and sank with the dying out of the sound, according
as the swellings or contractions of the jet impinged upon the surface.
This is a simple and beautiful experiment.
[Illustration: FIG. 143.]
[Illustration: FIG. 144.]
[Illustration: FIG. 145.]
Savart also caused his vein to issue horizontally and at various
inclinations to the horizon, and found that, in certain cases,
sonorous vibrations were competent to cause a jet to divide into two
or three branches. In these experiments the liquid was permitted to
issue through an orifice in a thin plate. Instead of this, however,
we will resort to our favorite steatite burner; for with water also
it asserts the same mastery over its fellows that it exhibited with
flames and smoke-jets. It will, moreover, reveal to us some entirely
novel results. By means of an India-rubber tube the burner is connected
with the water-pipes of the Institution, and, by pointing it obliquely
upward, we obtain a fine parabolic jet (Fig. 143). At a certain
distance from the orifice, the vein resolves itself into beautiful
spherules, whose motions are not rapid enough to make the vein appear
continuous. At the vertex of the parabola the spray of pearls is more
than an inch in width, and, further on, the drops are still more widely
scattered. On sweeping a fiddle-bow across a tuning-fork which executes
512 vibrations in a second, the scattered drops, as if drawn together
by their mutual attractions, instantly close up, and form an apparently
continuous liquid arch several feet in height and span (shown in Fig.
144). As long as the proper note is maintained the vein looks like a
frozen band, so motionless does it appear. On stopping the fork the
arch is shaken asunder, and we have the same play of liquid pearls as
before. Every sweep of the bow, however, causes the drops to fall into
a common line of march.
A pitch-pipe, or an organ-pipe yielding the note of this tuning-fork,
also powerfully controls the vein. The voice does the same. On pitching
it to a note of moderate intensity, it causes the wandering drops to
gather themselves together. At a distance of twenty yards, the voice
is, to all appearance, as powerful in curbing the vein, and causing its
drops to close up, as it is when close to the issuing jet.
The effect of “beats” upon the vein is also beautiful and instructive.
They may be produced either by organ-pipes or by tuning-forks. When two
forks vibrate, the one 512 times and the other 508 times in a second,
you will learn in our next lecture that they produce four beats in a
second. When the forks are sounded the beats are heard, and the liquid
vein is seen to gather up its pearls, and scatter them in synchronism
with the beats. The sensitiveness of this vein is astounding; it
rivals that of the ear itself. Placing the two tuning-forks on a
distant table, and permitting the beats to die gradually out, the
vein continues its rhythm almost as long as hearing is possible.
A more sensitive vein might actually prove superior to the ear—a
very surprising result, considering the marvellous delicacy of this
organ.[57]
By introducing a Leyden-jar into the circuit of a powerful
induction-coil, a series of dense and dazzling flashes of light, each
of momentary duration, is obtained. Every such flash in a darkened room
renders the drops distinct, each drop being transformed into a little
star of intense brilliancy. If the vein be then acted on by a sound
of the proper pitch, it instantly gathers its drops together into a
necklace of inimitable beauty.
In these experiments the whole vein gathers itself into a single arched
band when the proper note is sounded; but, by varying the conditions,
it may be caused to divide into two or more such bands, as shown in
Fig. 145. Drawings, however, are ineffectual here; for the wonder of
these experiments depends mainly on the sudden transition of the vein
from one state to the other. In the _motion_ dwells the surprise, and
this no drawing can render.[58]
SUMMARY OF CHAPTER VI
When a gas-flame is placed in a tube, the air in passing over the flame
is thrown into vibration, musical sounds being the consequence.
Making allowance for the high temperature of the column of air
associated with the flame, the pitch of the note is that of an open
organ-pipe of the length of the tube surrounding the flame.
The vibrations of the flame, while the sound continues, consist of a
series of periodic extinctions, total or partial, between every two of
which the flame partially recovers its brightness.
The periodicity of the phenomenon may be demonstrated by means of a
concave mirror which forms an image of the vibrating flame upon a
screen. When the image is sharply defined, the rotation of the mirror
reduces the single image to a series of separate images of the flame.
The dark spaces between the images correspond to the extinctions of
the flame, while the images themselves correspond to its periods of
recovery.
Besides the fundamental note of the associated tube, the flame can also
be caused to excite the higher overtones of the tube. The successive
divisions of the column of air are those of an open organ-pipe when its
harmonic tones are sounded.
On sounding a note nearly in unison with a tube containing a silent
flame, the flame jumps; and if the position of the flame in the tube be
rightly chosen, the extraneous sound will cause the flame to sing.
While the flame is singing, a note nearly in unison with its own
produces beats, and the flame is seen to jump in synchronism with the
beats. The jumping is also observed when the position of the flame
within its tube is not such as to enable it to sing.
NAKED FLAMES
When the pressure of the gas which feeds a naked flame is augmented,
the flame, up to a certain point, increases in size. But if the
pressure be too great, the flame roars or flares.
The roaring or flaring of the flame is caused by the state of vibration
into which the gas is thrown in the orifice of the burner, when the
pressure which urges it through the orifice is excessive.
If the vibrations in the orifice of the burner be super-induced by an
extraneous sound, the flame will flare under a pressure less than that
which, of itself, would produce flaring.
The gas under excessive pressure has vibrations of a definite period
impressed upon it as it passes through the burner. To operate with
a maximum effect upon the flame the external sound must contain
vibrations synchronous with those of the issuing gas.
When such a sound is chosen, and when the flame is brought sufficiently
near its flaring-point, it furnishes an acoustic reagent of unexampled
delicacy.
At a distance of 30 yards, for example, the chirrup of a house-sparrow
would be competent to throw the flame into commotion.
It is not to the flame, as such, that we are to ascribe these effects.
Effects substantially similar are produced when we employ jets of
unignited coal-gas, carbonic acid, hydrogen, or air. These jets may be
rendered visible by smoke, and the smoke jets show a sensitiveness to
sonorous vibrations even greater than that of the flames.
When a brilliant sensitive flame illuminates an otherwise dark room,
in which a suitable bell is caused to strike, a series of periodic
quenchings of the light by the sound occurs. Every stroke of the bell
is accompanied by a momentary darkening of the room.
A jet of water descending from a circular orifice is composed of two
distinct portions, the one pellucid and calm; the other in commotion.
When properly analyzed the former portion is found continuous; the
latter being a succession of drops.
If these drops be received upon a membrane, a musical sound is
produced. When an extraneous sound of this particular pitch is produced
in the neighborhood of the vein, the continuous portion is seen to
shorten.
The continuous portion of the vein presents a series of swellings and
contractions, in the former of which the drops are flattened, and in
the latter elongated. The sound produced by the flattened drops on
striking the membrane is louder than that produced by the elongated
ones.
Above its point of rupture a vein of water may be caused to enter water
_silently_; but on sounding a suitable note, the rattle of bubbles
is immediately heard; the discontinuous part of the vein rises above
the surface, and as the sound dies out the successive swellings and
contractions produce alternations of the quantity and sound of the
bubbles.
In veins propelled obliquely, the scattered water-drops may be called
together by a suitable sound, so as to form an apparently continuous
liquid arch.
Liquid veins may be analyzed by the electric spark, or by a succession
of flashes illuminating the veins.