Enough has been adduced to show the peculiar estimation in which the
art of glass-making was formerly held, and the privileges conferred on
it by the various governments of Europe.
The art was thus almost invested with an air of romance; and a
manufacture commanding so much attention on the part of the governments
was regarded with a great share of awe and wonder.
It is not strange that, in this state of things, various legends should
have been identified with the manufacture and its localities. Among
these legends was that which ascribed to the furnace-fire the property
of creating the monster called the Salamander. It was believed, too,
that at certain times this wonderful being issued from his abode, and,
as opportunity offered, carried back some victim to his fiery bed. The
absence of workmen, who sometimes departed secretly for foreign lands,
was always accounted for by the hypothesis that in some unguarded
moment they had fallen a prey to the Salamander. Visitors, too, whose
courage could sustain them, were directed to look through the bye-hole
to the interior of the furnace, and no one failed to discover the
monster coiled in his glowing bed, and glaring with fiery eyes upon the
intruder, much to his discomfiture, and effectually as to his retreat.
Some gallant knights, armed _cap-a-pie_, it is said, dared a combat
with the fiery dragon, but always returned defeated; the important fact
being doubtless then unknown or overlooked, that steel armor, being a
rapid conductor of heat, would be likely to tempt a more ready approach
of the fabled monster.
There was another current notion, that glass was as easily rendered
malleable as brittle, but that the workmen concealed the art, and the
life of any one attempting the discovery was surely forfeited. An
ancient writer on glass, "Isidorus," states that, in the reign of
Tiberius, an artist, banished from Rome on political considerations, in
his retirement discovered the art of rendering glass malleable; he
ventured to return to Rome, in hopes of procuring a remission of his
sentence, and a reward for his invention; the glass-makers, supposing
their interest to be at stake, employed so powerful an influence with
the Emperor (who was made to believe that the value of gold might be
diminished by the discovery), that he caused the artist to be beheaded,
and his secret died with him. "Blancourt" relates that, as late as the
time of Louis XIII., an inventor having presented to Cardinal Richelieu
a specimen of malleable glass of his own manufacture, he was rewarded
by a sentence of perpetual imprisonment, lest the "vested interest" of
French glass manufacturers might be injured by the discovery. Even at
the present day the error is a popular one, that if the art of making
glass malleable were made known, it would have the effect of closing
nearly all the existing glass-works; while the truth is, that quite the
reverse would be the result. Whenever the art of making glass malleable
is made known, it will assuredly multiply the manufacture to a tenfold
degree.
It was formerly the custom for the workmen, in setting pots in the
glass-furnace, to protect themselves from the heat by dressing in the
skins of wild animals from head to foot; to this "outre" garb were
added glass goggle-eyes, and thus the most hideous-looking monsters
were readily presented to the eye. Show was then made of themselves in
the neighborhood, to the infinite alarm of children, old women, and
others. This always occurred, with other mysterious doings, on the
occasion of setting the pot, or any other important movement attendant
on the business. The ground was thus furnished for very much of the
horrible _diablerie_ connected with the whole history of the manufacture.
A belief was long prevalent that glass drinking vessels, made under
certain astronomical influences, would certainly fly to pieces if any
poisonous liquid was placed in them; and sales of vessels of this kind
were made at enormous prices. Another idea pervaded the community, that
vessels of a certain form, made in a peculiar state of the atmosphere,
and after midnight, would allow a pure diamond to pass directly through
the bottom of the vessel. Various articles, such as colored goblets,
were thought to add to the flavor of wine, and to detract materially
from its intoxicating quality.
All these, and many other popular notions, added greatly to the mystery
and renown of glass manufacturers. We close this number with an extract
from "Howell's Familiar Letters." "Murano," says he, "a little island
about one mile from Venice, is the place where crystal glass is made,
and it is a rare sight to see whole streets where on one side there are
twenty furnaces at work. They say here, that although one should
transfer a furnace from Murano to Venice, or to any of the little
assembled islands about here, or to any other part of the earth beside,
to use the same materials, the same workmen, the same fuel, and the
selfsame ingredients every way, yet they cannot make crystal glass in
that perfection for beauty and lustre as at Murano. Some impute it to
the circumambient air, which is purified and attenuated by the
concurrence of so many fires, that are in these furnaces night and day
perpetually, for they are like the vestal fires, never going out."
There is no manufacturing business carried on by man combining so many
inherent contingencies, as that of the working of flint glass. There is
none demanding more untiring vigilance on the part of the daily
superintendent, or requiring so much ability and interest in the work.
Unlike all other branches of labor, it is carried on by night and day,
is governed by no motive power connected with steam or water, and has
no analogy to the production of labor by looms or machinery.
The crude material of earth being used, each portion requires careful
refining from natural impurities, and when compounded, being dependent
upon combustion in the furnace for its completion, (which combustion is
effected by change of the atmosphere beyond the power of man to direct,
but exercises a power to affect the heat of the furnace acting for good
or for evil,) much responsibility rests upon the furnace-tenders;
constant care on their part is required. A slight neglect affects the
quality of the glass. A check upon the furnace in founding-time will
spoil every pot of metal for the best work. Overheat, too, will destroy
the pots, and the entire weekly melt will be launched into the cave, at
a loss of several thousand dollars. Even with the utmost care, a rush
of air will not uncommonly pass through the furnace and destroy one or
more pots in a minute's space. And when the furnace has yielded a full
melt, and is ready for work, many evils are at hand, and among the
ever-jarring materials of a glass-house, some one becomes adverse to a
full week's work; vigilance is not always the price of success.
Again: no branch of mechanical labor possesses more of attraction for
the eye of the stranger or the curious, than is to be witnessed in a
glass-house in full play. The crowded and bee-like movements of the
workmen, with irons and hot metal, yet each, like the spheres of his
own orbit, presents a scene apparently of inextricable confusion.
It is a difficult task to describe the curious and interesting
operations of the glass-blowers; for the present we may say, that there
is no other employment so largely dependent upon steadiness of nerve
and calm self-possession. The power of manipulation is the result of
long experience. The business of the glass-blower is literally at his
"fingers' ends." It is most interesting to witness the progress of his
labor, from the first gathering of the liquid metal from the pot, and
the passing it from hand to hand, until the shapeless and apparently
uncontrollable mass is converted into some elegant article. Equally
interesting is it to witness with what dexterity he commands, and with
what entire ease he controls the melted mass; the care, also, with
which he swings it with force just enough to give it the desired
length, joins it to other pieces, or with shears cuts it with the same
ease as paper. The whole process, indeed, is one filled with the most
fascinating interest and power.
Of all the articles of glass manufacture, none command a greater degree
of attention than the article called the salver, and no other develops
so pleasing and surprising effects in its processes. When seen for the
first time, the change from a shapeless mass, the force with which it
flies open at the end of the process, changing in an instant into a
perfect article, all combine to astonish and delight the beholder.
Mystery is as much a characteristic of the art now as at any former
period; but it is a mystery unallied to superstition,--a mystery whose
interpreter is science,--a mystery which, instead of repelling the
curious and frightening the ignorant, now invites the inquiring and
delights the unlearned.
By the following, we find that the romance of glass-making has not yet
died out. We copy from the "Paris Annual of Scientific Discovery," for
1863, the following:--
"It would appear there is yet some secret in glass-making unknown to
the world at large, as the manufactory of Mr. Daguet, of Soletere,
France, is known to be in possession of an undivulged method, which
enables them to make glass of a purity which all other manufacturers
are not able to rival. A railway, recently constructed and running past
Mr. Daguet's works, has so affected the glass-pots, by the tremor
occasioned by the locomotives and trains, that work has had to be
suspended. For this Mr. Daguet brought an action, during the past year,
against the railway company for damages; but when the case came on for
trial, the court held that it would be impossible to assess damages
unless it were made cognizant of the secret, and its pecuniary
advantage to Mr. Daguet. The latter declined imparting this, and the
court refused to proceed further."
We have shown that glass, while it has contributed so largely to the
material well-being of man, has also administered profusely to the
pleasure of woman. The belle enjoys the reflection of her beauty in its
silvered face,--a pleasure peculiarly her own, as we all know,--and if
we may believe poesy, the mermaid, her rival of the coral groves in the
fathomless ocean, looks with equal satisfaction upon her dubious form,
as seen in her hand-mirror. And what would Cinderella be to the nursery
without her glass slipper!
But leaving poetry to its own prolific devices, where would science
find itself without the aid of glass? The astronomer's and chemist's
vocation would be gone. Suns, planets, and stars would have no exact
existence to us, and their laws be unknown. The seaman would blunder
his way on the ocean, lucky if he guessed aright his course, and
cursing his "stars," when he did not. In short, glass is the
indispensable servant of science in almost all its forms, and where it
does not discover it protects. Its loss would throw back the world into
antediluvian ignorance, not to mention the countless eyes it would
deprive of sight, of their intellectual food, and freedom of way.