#32 A WOMAN'S BRIEFS -- SHEET GLASS
LONDON’S CRYSTAL PALACE
It is so like us, we humans.
When we discover that we can do something, like make atomic bombs, combustible engines, angel-food cake, a ghastly scene, plastic, DDT, great music, or in this case, sheet glass; we are simply apt to do it.
In the 11th century, some unnamed German glass gaffer likely grew bored while firing up flowerpots, so rather than twirling his blob of glass in the furnace, he yelled to his buddies (all shirts off, sweaty bodies covered in thick aprons against the scorching heat of furnace flames), “Hey! Watch this!” That guy (probably a middle child) maneuvered his blob of molten glass onto a sheet of molten metal (probably tin), topped it with another heavy slab of metal to press the stuff flat, let it cool, and voila! Sheet glass.
That’s a summary. I’m no expert.
By the 11th century, glass itself was no big deal. It was discovered around 4000 years ago when some smart kid in Mesopotamia said to his mom, “I wonder what happens when you mix sand, soda, and lime?” Probably another middle child messing with stuff without permission.
Somehow, someone carried the “what happens” question on to Egypt where, by 1200ce, Egyptians were pressing hot glass into molds. By 1450ce, they were producing marvelous glass vessels.
“What happens” seemingly got attractive enough, the glass clear enough, that the Romans who then occupied what we know as Trier, Germany, gave the stuff a Latin name, glesum, borrowed from a Germanic word meaning transparent, lustrous substance.
You can see where this is going, I think. Mesopotamian warriors making weapons, Egyptians making water jugs, Romans establishing a glass-making center among Germans, and historians arguing about it all. The Roman Pliny insisted that glass was brought about by the Phoenicians.
Yeah, yeah, whatever. By the 17th century the French were making sheets of glass. I, however, am moving on to 19th century England where the architect/gardener, Sir Joseph Paxton, believed he could do something very special with sheet glass. And, of course, he did.
Paxton designed the Crystal Palace, a structure built in London’s Hyde Park, made of nothing but massive sheets of glass (293,000 of them) held together with thin iron rods. The resulting exhibition hall was three times the size of St. Paul’s Cathedral, reaching 128’ at the central transept, boasted two massive water towers, and stretched itself over eighteen elaborate park acres where geese, ducks, and Long-tailed Tits once waddled and grazed. The palace opened in 1851, and in the 140 days it remained open, more than six million people trod through it.
In 1852, the Palace was dismantled and rebuilt; a private rail station, magnificent gardens sporting life-sized dinosaurs, a massive maze, water towers and all in Sydenham Hill, southeast London. In November 1936, the well-used structure, but for the massive water towers, was destroyed by fire. Then, because they made an easy mark for German bombers, the towers were deliberately destroyed in 1940.
NOVEMBER 1936 FIRE
Wait! Fire? A glass and iron structure, destroyed by fire?
Come on, think about it. Over the years the palace was patched up with wood, and filled with equipment for various sorts of events (including dog & cat shows, cricket matches). It held wooden desks, wooden furniture, filing cabinets, chairs, and tables made of wood, and well, wood burns.
Hundreds of fire fighters fought flames, high winds, and exploding glass to no avail. Paxton’s masterpiece was reduced to twisted metal and heaps of ash.
It’s a marvel, isn’t it? What the human mind and hand can do with stuff the earth yields: an American president’s crystal flute, a Brit’s crystal palace, sand, soda, hydrogen, gunpower, metals, chemicals, atoms, charcoal, inks, feather quills, reeds shaved to a nib; and a pen with which to mark a ballot. Did you know that about a quarter of the human brain’s motor cortex is devoted to controlling hand muscles? Don’t get me started on the magnificient hand.
