SOUND

BY

JOHN TYNDALL, D.C.L., LL.D., F.R.S.

NEW YORK
P. F. COLLIER & SON
MCMII
7

SCIENCE

TO THE MEMORY

OF

MY FRIEND RICHARD DAWES

LATE DEAN OF HEREFORD

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED

J. T.

CONTENTS

Fog-Siren

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION

In preparing this new edition of “Sound,” I have carefully gone over the last one; amended, as far as possible, its defects of style and matter, and paid at the same time respectful attention to the criticisms and suggestions which the former editions called forth.

The cases are few in which I have been content to reproduce what I have read of the works of acousticians. I have sought to make myself experimentally familiar with the ground occupied; trying, in all cases, to present the illustrations in the form and connection most suitable for educational purposes.

Though bearing, it may be, an undue share of the imperfection which cleaves to all human effort, the work has already found its way into the literature of various nations of diverse intellectual standing. Last year, for example, a new German edition was published “under the special supervision” of Helmholtz and Wiedemann. That men so eminent, and so overladen with official duties, should add to these the labor of examining and correcting every proof-sheet of a work like this, shows that they consider it to be what it was meant to be—a serious attempt to improve the public knowledge of science. It is especially gratifying to me to be thus assured that not in England alone has the book met a public want, but also in that learned land to which I owe my scientific education.

Before me, on the other hand, lie two volumes of foolscap size, curiously stitched, and printed in characters the meaning of which I am incompetent to penetrate. Here and there, however, I notice the familiar figures of the former editions of “Sound.” For these volumes I am indebted to Mr. John Fryer, of Shanghai, who, along with them, favored me, a few weeks ago, with a letter from which the following is an extract: “One day,” writes Mr. Fryer, “soon after the first copy of your work on Sound reached Shanghai, I was reading it in my study, when an intelligent official, named Hsii-chung-hu, noticed some of the engravings and asked me to explain them to him. He became so deeply interested in the subject of Acoustics that nothing would satisfy him but to make a translation. Since, however, engineering and other works were then considered to be of more practical importance by the higher authorities, we agreed to translate your work during our leisure time every evening, and publish it separately ourselves. Our translation, however, when completed, and shown to the higher officials, so much interested them, and pleased them, that they at once ordered it to be published at the expense of the Government, and sold at cost price. The price is four hundred and eighty copper cash per copy, or about one shilling and eightpence. This will give you an idea of the cheapness of native printing.”

Mr. Fryer adds that his Chinese friend had no difficulty in grasping every idea in the book.

The new matter of greatest importance which has been introduced into this edition is an account of an investigation which, during the past two years, I have had the honor of conducting in connection with the Elder Brethren of the Trinity House. Under the title “Researches on the Acoustic Transparency of the Atmosphere, in Relation to the Question of Fog-signalling,” the subject is treated in Chapter VII. of this volume. It was only by Governmental appliances that such an investigation could have been made; and it gives me pleasure to believe that not only have the practical objects of the inquiry been secured, but that a crowd of scientific errors, which for more than a century and a half have surrounded this subject, have been removed, their place being now taken by the sure and certain truth of Nature. In drawing up the account of this laborious inquiry, I aimed at linking the observations so together that they alone should offer a substantial demonstration of the principles involved. Further labors enabled me to bring the whole inquiry within the firm grasp of experiment; and thus to give it a certainty which, without this final guarantee, it could scarcely have enjoyed.

Immediately after the publication of the first brief abstract of the investigation, it was subjected to criticism. To this I did not deem it necessary to reply, believing that the grounds of it would disappear in presence of the full account. The only opinion to which I thought it right to defer was to some extent a private one, communicated to me by Prof. Stokes. He considered that I had, in some cases, ascribed too exclusive an influence to the mixed currents of aqueous vapor and air, to the neglect of differences of temperature. That differences of temperature, when they come into play, are an efficient cause of acoustic opacity, I never doubted. In fact, aërial reflection arising from this cause is, in the present inquiry, for the first time made the subject of experimental demonstration. What the relative potency of differences of temperature and differences due to aqueous vapor, in the cases under consideration, may be, I do not venture to state; but as both are active, I have, in Chapter VII., referred to them jointly as concerned in the production of those “acoustic clouds” to which the stoppage of sound in the atmosphere is for the most part due.

Subsequently, however, to the publication of the full investigation another criticism appeared, to which, in consideration of its source, I would willingly pay all respect and attention. In this criticism, which reached me first through the columns of an American newspaper, differences in the amounts of aqueous vapor, and differences of temperature, are alike denied efficiency as causes of acoustic opacity. At a meeting of the Philosophical Society of Washington the emphatic opinion had, it was stated, been expressed that I was wrong in ascribing the opacity of the atmosphere to its flocculence, the really efficient cause being refraction. This view appeared to me so obviously mistaken that I assumed, for a time, the incorrectness of the newspaper account.

Recently, however, I have been favored with the “Report of the United States Lighthouse Board for 1874,” in which the account just referred to is corroborated. A brief reference to the Report will here suffice. Major Elliott, the accomplished officer and gentleman referred to at page 261, had published a record of his visit of inspection to this country, in which he spoke, with a perfectly enlightened appreciation of the facts, of the differences between our system of lighthouse illumination and that of the United States. He also embodied in his Report some account of the investigation on fog-signals, the initiation of which he had witnessed, and indeed aided, at the South Foreland.

On this able Report of their own officer the Lighthouse Board at Washington make the following remark: “Although this account is interesting in itself and to the public generally, yet, being addressed to the Lighthouse Board of the United States, it would tend to convey the idea that the facts which it states were new to the Board, and that the latter had obtained no results of a similar kind; while a reference to the appendix to this Report[1] will show that the researches of our Lighthouse Board have been much more extensive on this subject than those of the Trinity House, and that the latter has established no facts of practical importance which had not been previously observed and used by the former.”

The “appendix” here referred to is from the pen of the venerable Prof. Joseph Henry, chairman of the Lighthouse Board at Washington. To his credit be it recorded that at a very early period in the history of fog-signalling Prof. Henry reported in favor of Daboll’s trumpet, though he was opposed by one of his colleagues on the ground that “fog-signals were of little importance, since the mariner should know his place by the character of his soundings.” In the appendix, he records the various efforts made in the United States with a view to the establishment of fog-signals. He describes experiments on bells, and on the employment of reflectors to reinforce their sound. These, though effectual close at hand, were found to be of no use at a distance. He corrects current errors regarding steam-whistles, which by some inventors were thought to act like ringing bells. He cites the opinion of the Rev. Peter Ferguson, that sound is better heard in fog than in clear air. This opinion is founded on observations of the noise of locomotives; in reference to which it may be said that others have drawn from similar experiments diametrically opposite conclusions. On the authority of Captain Keeney he cites an occurrence, “in the first part of which the captain was led to suppose that fog had a marked influence in deadening sound, though in a subsequent part he came to an opposite conclusion.” Prof. Henry also describes an experiment made during a fog at Washington, in which he employed “a small bell rung by clock-work, the apparatus being the part of a moderator lamp, intended to give warning to the keepers when the supply of oil ceased. The result of the experiment was, he affirms, contrary to the supposition of absorption of the sound by the fog.” This conclusion is not founded on comparative experiments, but on observations made in the fog alone; for, adds Prof. Henry, “the change in the condition of the atmosphere, as to temperature and the motion of the air, before the experiment could be repeated in clear weather, rendered the result not entirely satisfactory.”

This, I may say, is the only experiment on fog which I have found recorded in the appendix.

In 1867 the steam-siren was mounted at Sandy Hook, and examined by Prof. Henry. He compared its action with that of a Daboll trumpet, employing for this purpose a stretched membrane covered with sand, and placed at the small end of a tapering tube which concentrated the sonorous motion upon the membrane. The siren proved most powerful. “At a distance of 50, the trumpet produced a decided motion of the sand, while the siren gave a similar result at a distance of 58.” Prof. Henry also varied the pitch of the siren, and found that in association with its trumpet 400 impulses per second yielded the maximum sound; while the best result with the unaided siren was obtained when the impulses were 360 a second. Experiments were also made on the influence of pressure; from which it appeared that when the pressure varied from 100 lbs. to 20 lbs., the distance reached by the sound (as determined by the vibrating membrane) varied only in the ratio of 61 to 51. Prof. Henry also showed the sound of the fog-trumpet to be independent of the material employed in its construction; and he furthermore observed the decay of the sound when the angular distance from the axis of the instrument was increased. Further observations were made by Prof. Henry and his colleagues in August, 1873, and in August, and September, 1874. In the brief but interesting account of these experiments a hypothetical element appears, which is absent from the record of the earlier observations.

It is quite evident from the foregoing that, in regard to the question of fog-signalling, the Lighthouse Board of Washington have not been idle. Add to this the fact that their eminent chairman gives his services gratuitously, conducting without fee or reward experiments and observations of the character here revealed, and I think it will be conceded that he not only deserves well of his own country, but also sets his younger scientific contemporaries, both in his country and ours, an example of high-minded devotion.

I was quite aware, in a general way, that labors like those now for the first time made public had been conducted in the United States, and this knowledge was not without influence upon my conduct. The first instruments mounted at the South Foreland were of English manufacture; and I, on various accounts, entertained a strong sympathy for their able constructor, Mr. Holmes. From the outset, however, I resolved to suppress such feelings, as well as all other extraneous considerations, individual or national; and to aim at obtaining the best instruments, irrespective of the country which produced them. In reporting, accordingly, on the observations of May 19 and 20, 1873 (our first two days at the South Foreland), these were my words to the Elder Brethren of the Trinity House:

“In view of the reported performance of horns and whistles in other places, the question arises whether those mounted at the South Foreland, and to which the foregoing remarks refer, are of the best possible description.... I think our first duty is to make ourselves acquainted with the best instruments hitherto made, no matter where made; and then, if home genius can transcend them, to give it all encouragement. Great and unnecessary expense may be incurred, through our not availing ourselves of the results of existing experience.

“I have always sympathized, and I shall always sympathize, with the desire of the Elder Brethren to encourage the inventor who first made the magneto-electric light available for lighthouse purposes. I regard his aid and counsel as, in many respects, invaluable to the corporation. But, however original he may be, our duty is to demand that his genius shall be expended in making advances on that which has been already achieved elsewhere. If the whistles and horns that we heard on the 19th and 20th be the very best hitherto constructed, my views have been already complied with; but if they be not—and I am strongly inclined to think that they are not—then I would submit that it behooves us to have the best, and to aim at making the South Foreland, both as regards light and sound, a station not excelled by any other in the world.”

On this score it gives me pleasure to say that I never had a difficulty with the Elder Brethren. They agreed with me; and two powerful steam-whistles, the one from Canada, the other from the United States, together with a steam-siren—also an American instrument—were in due time mounted at the South Foreland. It will be seen in Chapter VII. that my strongest recommendation applies to an instrument for which we are indebted to the United States.

In presence of these facts, it will hardly be assumed that I wish to withhold from the Lighthouse Board of Washington any credit that they may fairly claim. My desire is to be strictly just; and this desire compels me to express the opinion that their Report fails to establish the inordinate claim made in its first paragraph. It contains observations, but contradictory observations; while as regards the establishment of any principle which should reconcile the conflicting results, it leaves our condition unimproved.

But I willingly turn aside from the discussion of “claims” to the discussion of science. Inserted, as a kind of intrusive element, into the Report of Prof. Henry, is a second Report by General Duane, founded on an extensive series of observations made by him in 1870 and 1871. After stating with distinctness the points requiring decision, the General makes the following remarks:

“Before giving the results of these experiments, some facts will be stated which will explain the difficulties of determining the power of a fog-signal.

“There are six steam fog-whistles on the coast of Maine: these have been frequently heard at a distance of twenty miles, and as frequently cannot be heard at the distance of two miles, and this with no perceptible difference in the state of the atmosphere.

“The signal is often heard at a great distance in one direction, while in another it will be scarcely audible at the distance of a mile. This is not the effect of wind, as the signal is frequently heard much further against the wind than with it.[2] For example, the whistle on Cape Elizabeth can always be distinctly heard in Portland, a distance of nine miles, during a heavy northeast snowstorm, the wind blowing a gale directly from Portland toward the whistle.[3]

“The most perplexing difficulties, however, arise from the fact that the signal often appears to be surrounded by a belt, varying in radius from one mile to one mile and a half, from which the sound appears to be entirely absent. Thus, in moving directly from a station the sound is audible for the distance of a mile, is then lost for about the same distance, after which it is again distinctly heard for a long time. This action is common to all ear-signals, and has been at times observed at all the stations, at one of which the signal is situated on a bare rock twenty miles from the mainland, with no surrounding objects to affect the sound.”

It is not necessary to assume here the existence of a “belt,” at some distance from the station. The passage of an acoustic cloud over the station itself would produce the observed phenomenon.

Passing over the record of many other valuable observations in the Report of General Duane, I come to a few very important remarks which have a direct bearing upon the present question:

“From an attentive observation,” writes the General, “during three years, of the fog-signals on this coast, and from the reports received from the captains and pilots of coasting vessels, I am convinced that, in some conditions of the atmosphere, the most powerful signals will be at times unreliable.[4]

“Now it frequently occurs that a signal which, under ordinary circumstances, would be audible at the distance of fifteen miles, cannot be heard from a vessel at the distance of a single mile. This is probably due to the reflection mentioned by Humboldt.

“The temperature of the air over the land where the fog-signal is located being very different from that over the sea, the sound, in passing from the former to the latter, undergoes reflection at their surface of contact. The correctness of this view is rendered more probable by the fact that, when the sound is thus impeded in the direction of the sea, it has been observed to be much stronger inland.

“Experiments and observation lead to the conclusion that these anomalies in the penetration and direction of sound from fog-signals are to be attributed mainly to the want of uniformity in the surrounding atmosphere, and that snow, rain, and fog, and the direction of the wind, have much less influence than has been generally supposed.”

The Report of General Duane is marked throughout by fidelity to facts, rare sagacity, and soberness of speculation. The last three of the paragraphs just quoted exhibit, in my opinion, the only approach to a true explanation of the phenomena which the Washington Report reveals. At this point, however, the eminent Chairman of the Lighthouse Board strikes in with the following criticism:

“In the foregoing I differ entirely in opinion from General Duane as to the cause of extinction of powerful sounds being due to the unequal density of the atmosphere. The velocity of sound is not at all affected by barometric pressure; but if the difference in pressure is caused by a difference in heat, or by the expansive power of vapor mingled with the air, a slight degree of obstruction of sound may be observed. But this effect we think is entirely too minute to produce the results noted by General Duane and Dr. Tyndall, while we shall find in the action of currents above and below a true and efficient cause.”

I have already cited the remarkable observation of General Duane, that with a snowstorm from the northeast blowing against the sound, the signal at Cape Elizabeth is always heard at Portland, a distance of nine miles. The observations at the South Foreland, where the sound has-been proved to reach a distance of more than twelve miles against the wind, backed by decisive experiments, reduce to certainty the surmises of General Duane. It has, for example, been proved that a couple of gas-flames placed in a chamber can, in a minute or two, render its air so non-homogeneous as to cut a sound practically off; while the same sound passes without sensible impediment through showers of paper-scraps, seeds, bran, raindrops, and through fumes and fogs of the densest description. The sound also passes through thick layers of calico, silk, serge, flannel, baize, close felt, and through pads of cotton-net impervious to the strongest light.

As long, indeed, as the air on which snow, hail, rain or fog is suspended is homogeneous, so long will sound pass through the air, sensibly heedless of the suspended matter.[5] This point is illustrated upon a large scale by my own observations on the Mer de Glace, and by those of General Duane, at Portland, which prove the snow-laden air from the northeast to be a highly homogeneous medium. Prof. Henry thus accounts for the fact that the northeast snow-wind renders the sound of Cape Elizabeth audible at Portland: In the higher regions of the atmosphere he places an ideal wind, blowing in a direction opposed to the real one, which always accompanies the latter, and which more than neutralizes its action. In speculating thus he bases himself on the reasoning of Prof. Stokes, according to which a sound-wave moving against the wind is tilted upward. The upper, and opposing wind, is invented for the purpose of tilting again the already lifted sound-wave downward. Prof. Henry does not explain how the sound-wave recrosses the hostile lower current, nor does he give any definite notion of the conditions under which it can be shown that it will reach the observer.

This, so far as I know, is the only theoretic gleam cast by the Washington Report on the conflicting results which have hitherto rendered experiments on fog-signals so bewildering. I fear it is an ignis fatuus, instead of a safe guiding light. Prof. Henry, however, boldly applies the hypothesis in a variety of instances. But he dwells with particular emphasis upon a case of non-reciprocity which he considers absolutely fatal to my views regarding the flocculence of the atmosphere. The observation was made on board the steamer “City of Richmond,” during a thick fog in a night of 1872. “The vessel was approaching Whitehead from the southwestward, when, at a distance of about six miles from the station, the fog-signal, which is a 10-inch steam-whistle, was distinctly perceived, and continued to be heard with increasing intensity of sound until within about three miles, when the sound suddenly ceased to be heard, and was not perceived again until the vessel approached within a quarter of a mile of the station, although from conclusive evidence, furnished by the keeper, it was shown that the signal had been sounding during the whole time.”

But while the 10-inch shore-signal thus failed to make itself heard at sea, a 6-inch whistle on board the steamer made itself heard on shore. Prof. Henry thus turns this fact against me. “It is evident,” he writes, “that this result could not be due to any mottled condition or want of acoustic transparency in the atmosphere, since this would absorb the sound equally in both directions.” Had the observation been made in a still atmosphere, this argument would, at one time, have had great force. But the atmosphere was not still, and a sufficient reason for the observed non-reciprocity is to be found in the recorded fact that the wind was blowing against the shore-signal, and in favor of the ship-signal.

But the argument of Prof. Henry, on which he places his main reliance, would be untenable, even had the air been still. By the very aërial reflection which he practically ignores, reciprocity may be destroyed in a calm atmosphere. In proof of this assertion I would refer him to a short paper on “Acoustic Reversibility,” printed at the end of this volume.[6] The most remarkable case of non-reciprocity on record, and which, prior to the demonstration of the existence and power of acoustic clouds, remained an insoluble enigma, is there shown to be capable of satisfactory solution. These clouds explain perfectly the “abnormal phenomena” of Prof. Henry. Aware of their existence, the falling off and subsequent recovery of a signal-sound, as noticed by him and General Duane, is no more a mystery than the interception of the solar light by a common cloud, and its restoration after the cloud has moved or melted away.

The clew to all the difficulties and anomalies of this question is to be found in the aërial echoes, the significance of which has been overlooked by General Duane, and misinterpreted by Prof. Henry. And here a word might be said with regard to the injurious influence still exercised by authority in science. The affirmations of the highest authorities, that from clear air no sensible echo ever comes, were so distinct that my mind for a time refused to entertain the idea. Authority caused me for weeks to depart from the truth, and to seek counsel among delusions. On the day our observations at the South Foreland began I heard the echoes. They perplexed me. I heard them again and again, and listened to the explanations offered by some ingenious persons at the Foreland. They were an “ocean-echo”: this is the very phraseology now used by Prof. Henry. They were echoes “from the crests and slopes of the waves”: these are the words of the hypothesis which he now espouses. Through a portion of the month of May, through the whole of June, and through nearly the whole of July, 1873, I was occupied with these echoes; one of the phases of thought then passed through, one of the solutions then weighed in the balance and found wanting, being identical with that which Prof. Henry now offers for acceptation.

But though it thus deflected me from the proper track, shall I say that authority in science is injurious? Not without some qualification. It is not only injurious, but deadly, when it cows the intellect into fear of questioning it. But the authority which so merits our respect as to compel us to test and overthrow all its supports, before accepting a conclusion opposed to it, is not wholly noxious. On the contrary, the disciplines it imposes may be in the highest degree salutary, though they may end, as in the present case, in the ruin of authority. The truth thus established is rendered firmer by our struggles to reach it. I groped day after day, carrying this problem of aërial echoes in my mind; to the weariness, I fear, of some of my colleagues who did not know my object. The ships and boats afloat, the “slopes and crests of the waves,” the visible clouds, the cliffs, the adjacent lighthouses, the objects landward, were all in turn taken into account, and all in turn rejected.

With regard to the particular notion which now finds favor with Prof. Henry, it suggests the thought that his observations, notwithstanding their apparent variety and extent, were really limited as regards the weather. For did they, like ours, embrace weather of all kinds, it is not likely that he would have ascribed to the sea-waves an action which often reaches its maximum intensity when waves are entirely absent. I will not multiply instances, but confine myself to the definite statement that the echoes have often manifested an astonishing strength when the sea was of glassy smoothness. On days when the echoes were powerful, I have seen the southern cumuli mirrored in the waveless ocean, in forms almost as definite as the clouds themselves. By no possible application of the law of incidence and reflection could the echoes from such a sea return to the shore; and if we accept for a moment a statement which Prof. Henry seems to indorse, that sound-waves of great intensity, when they impinge upon a solid or liquid surface, do not obey the law of incidence and reflection, but “roll along the surface like a cloud of smoke,” it only increases the difficulty. Such a “cloud,” instead of returning to the coast of England, would, in our case, have rolled toward the coast of France. Nothing that I could say in addition could strengthen the case here presented. I will only add one further remark. When the sun shines uniformly on a smooth sea, thus producing a practically uniform distribution of the aërial currents to which the echoes are due, the direction in which the trumpet-echoes reach the shore is always that in which the axis of the instrument is pointed. At Dungeness this was proved to be the case throughout an arc of 210°—an impossible result, if the direction of reflection were determined by that of the ocean waves.

Rightly interpreted and followed out, these aërial echoes lead to a solution which penetrates and reconciles the phenomena from beginning to end. On this point I would stake the issue of the whole inquiry, and to this point I would, with special earnestness, direct the attention of the Lighthouse Board of Washington. Let them prolong their observations into calm weather: if their atmosphere resembles ours—which I cannot doubt—then I affirm that they will infallibly find the echoes strong on days when all thought of reflection “from the crests and slopes of the waves” must be discarded. The echoes afford the easiest access to the core of this question, and it is for this reason that I dwell upon them thus emphatically. It requires no refined skill or profound knowledge to master the conditions of their production; and these once mastered, the Lighthouse Board of Washington will find themselves in the real current of the phenomena, outside of which—I say it with respect—they are now vainly speculating. The acoustic deportment of the atmosphere in haze, fog, sleet, snow, rain, and hail will be no longer a mystery; even those “abnormal phenomena” which are now referred to an imaginary cause, or reserved for future investigation, will be found to fall naturally into place, as illustrations of a principle as simple as it is universal.

“With the instruments now at our disposal wisely established along our coasts, I venture to think that the saving of property, in ten years, will be an exceedingly large multiple of the outlay necessary for the establishment of such signals. The saving of life appeals to the higher motives of humanity.” Such were the words with which I wound up my Report on Fog-Signals.[7] One year after their utterance, the “Schiller” goes to pieces on the Scilly rocks. A single calamity covers the predicted multiple, while the sea receives three hundred and thirty-three victims. As regards the establishment of fog-signals, energy has been hitherto paralyzed by their reputed uncertainty. We now know both the reason and the range of their variations; and such knowledge places it within our power to prevent disasters like the recent one. The inefficiency of bells, which caused their exclusion from our inquiry, was sadly illustrated in the case of the “Schiller.”

JOHN TYNDALL.

Royal institution, June, 1875.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

In the following pages I have tried to render the science of Acoustics interesting to all intelligent persons, including those who do not possess any special scientific culture.

The subject is treated experimentally throughout, and I have endeavored so to place each experiment before the reader that he should realize it as an actual operation. My desire, indeed, has been to give distinct images of the various phenomena of acoustics, and to cause them to be seen mentally in their true relations.

I have been indebted to the kindness of some of my English friends for a more or less complete examination of the proof-sheets of this work. To my celebrated German friend Clausius, who has given himself the trouble of reading the proofs from beginning to end, my especial thanks are due and tendered.

There is a growing desire for scientific culture throughout the civilized world. The feeling is natural, and, under the circumstances, inevitable. For a power which influences so mightily the intellectual and material action of the age could not fail to arrest attention and challenge examination. In our schools and universities a movement in favor of science has begun which, no doubt, will end in the recognition of its claims, both as a source of knowledge and as a means of discipline. If by showing, however inadequately, the methods and results of physical science to men of influence, who derive their culture from another source, this book should indirectly aid in promoting the movement referred to, it will not have been written in vain.

SOUND

CHAPTER I

The Nerves and Sensation—Production and Propagation of Sonorous Motion—Experiments on Sounding Bodies placed in Vacuo—Deadening of Sound by Hydrogen—Action of Hydrogen on the Voice—Propagation of Sound through Air of Varying Density—Reflection of Sound—Echoes—Refraction of Sound—Diffraction of Sound; Case of Erith Village and Church—Influence of Temperature on Velocity—Influence of Density on Elasticity—Newton’s Calculation of Velocity—Thermal Changes Produced by the Sonorous Wave—Laplace’s Correction of Newton’s Formula—Ratio of Specific Heats at Constant Pressure and at Constant Volume deduced from Velocities of Sound—Mechanical Equivalent of Heat deduced from this Ratio—Inference that Atmospheric Air Possesses no Sensible Power to Radiate Heat—Velocity of Sound in Different Gases—Velocity in Liquids and Solids—Influence of Molecular Structure on the Velocity of Sound

§ 1. Introduction: Character of Sonorous Motion. Experimental Illustrations

THE various nerves of the human body have their origin in the brain, which is the seat of sensation. When the finger is wounded, the sensor nerves convey to the brain intelligence of the injury, and if these nerves be severed, however serious the hurt may be, no pain is experienced. We have the strongest reason for believing that what the nerves convey to the brain is in all cases motion. The motion here meant is not, however, that of the nerve as a whole, but of its molecules or smallest particles.[8]

Different nerves are appropriated to the transmission of different kinds of molecular motion. The nerves of taste, for example, are not competent to transmit the tremors of light, nor is the optic nerve competent to transmit sonorous vibrations. For these a special nerve is necessary, which passes from the brain into one of the cavities of the ear, and there divides into a multitude of filaments. It is the motion imparted to this, the auditory nerve, which, in the brain, is translated into sound.

Applying a flame to a small collodion balloon which contains a mixture of oxygen and hydrogen, the gases explode, and every ear in this room is conscious of a shock, which we name a sound. How was this shock transmitted from the balloon to our organs of hearing? Have the exploding gases shot the air-particles against the auditory nerve as a gun shoots a ball against a target? No doubt, in the neighborhood of the balloon, there is to some extent a propulsion of particles; but no particle of air from the vicinity of the balloon reached the ear of any person here present. The process was this: When the flame touched the mixed gases they combined chemically, and their union was accompanied by the development of intense heat. The heated air expanded suddenly, forcing the surrounding air violently away on all sides. This motion of the air close to the balloon was rapidly imparted to that a little further off, the air first set in motion coming at the same time to rest. The air, at a little distance, passed its motion on to the air at a greater distance, and came also in its turn to rest. Thus each shell of air, if I may use the term, surrounding the balloon took up the motion of the shell next preceding, and transmitted it to the next succeeding shell, the motion being thus propagated as a pulse or wave through the air.

The motion of the pulse must not be confounded with the motion of the particles which at any moment constitute the pulse. For while the wave moves forward through considerable distances, each particular particle of air makes only a small excursion to and fro.

Fig. 1.

The process may be rudely represented by the propagation of motion through a row of glass balls, such as are employed in the game of solitaire. Placing the balls along a groove thus, Fig. 1, each of them touching its neighbor, and urging one of them against the end of the row: the motion thus imparted to the first ball is delivered up to the second, the motion of the second is delivered up to the third, the motion of the third is imparted to the fourth; each ball, after having given up its motion, returning itself to rest. The last ball only of the row flies away. In a similar way is sound conveyed from particle to particle through the air. The particles which fill the cavity of the ear are finally driven against the tympanic membrane, which is stretched across the passage leading from the external ear toward the brain. This membrane, which closes outwardly the “drum” of the ear, is thrown into vibration, its motion is transmitted to the ends of the auditory nerve, and afterward along that nerve to the brain, where the vibrations are translated into sound. How it is that the motion of the nervous matter can thus excite the consciousness of sound is a mystery which the human mind cannot fathom.

Fig. 2.

The propagation of sound may be illustrated by another homely but useful illustration. I have here five young assistants, A, B, C, D, and E, Fig. 2, placed in a row, one behind the other, each boy’s hands resting against the back of the boy in front of him. E is now foremost, and A finishes the row behind. I suddenly push A, A pushes B, and regains his upright position; B pushes C; C pushes D; D pushes E; each boy, after the transmission of the push, becoming himself erect. E, having nobody in front, is thrown forward. Had he been standing on the edge of a precipice, he would have fallen over; had he stood in contact with a window, he would have broken the glass; had he been close to a drumhead, he would have shaken the drum. “We could thus transmit a push through a row of a hundred boys, each particular boy, however, only swaying to and fro. Thus, also, we send sound through the air, and shake the drum of a distant ear, while each particular particle of the air concerned in the transmission of the pulse makes only a small oscillation.

But we have not yet extracted from our row of boys all that they can teach us. When A is pushed he may yield languidly, and thus tardily deliver up the motion to his neighbor B. B may do the same to C, C to D, and D to E. In this way the motion might be transmitted with comparative slowness along the line. But A, when pushed, may, by a sharp muscular effort and sudden recoil, deliver up promptly his motion to B, and come himself to rest; B may do the same to C, C to D, and D to E, the motion being thus transmitted rapidly along the line. Now this sharp muscular effort and sudden recoil is analogous to the elasticity of the air in the case of sound. In a wave of sound, a lamina of air, when urged against its neighbor lamina, delivers up its motion and recoils, in virtue of the elastic force exerted between them; and the more rapid this delivery and recoil, or in other words the greater the elasticity of the air, the greater is the velocity of the sound.

Fig. 3.

A very instructive mode of illustrating the transmission of a sound-pulse is furnished by the apparatus represented in Fig. 3, devised by my assistant, Mr. Cottrell. It consists of a series of wooden balls separated from each other by spiral springs. On striking the knob A, a rod attached to it impinges upon the first ball B, which transmits its motion to C, thence it passes to E, and so on through the entire series. The arrival at D is announced by the shock of the terminal ball against the wood, or, if we wish, by the ringing of a bell. Here the elasticity of the air is represented by that of the springs. The pulse may be rendered slow enough to be followed by the eye.

Scientific education ought to teach us to see the invisible as well as the visible in nature, to picture with the vision of the mind those operations which entirely elude bodily vision; to look at the very atoms of matter in motion and at rest, and to follow them forth, without ever once losing sight of them, into the world of the senses, and see them there integrating themselves in natural phenomena. With regard to the point now under consideration, we must endeavor to form a definite image of a wave of sound. We ought to see mentally the air-particles, when urged outward by the explosion of our balloon, crowding closely together; but immediately behind this condensation we ought to see the particles separated more widely apart. We must, in short, to be able to seize the conception that a sonorous wave consists of two portions, in the one of which the air is more dense, and in the other of which it is less dense than usual. A condensation and a rarefaction, then, are the two constituents of a wave of sound. This conception shall be rendered more complete in our next lecture.

§ 2. Experiments in Vacuo, in Hydrogen, and on Mountains

That air is thus necessary to the propagation of sound was proved by a celebrated experiment made before the Royal Society, by a philosopher named Hawksbee, in 1705.[9] He so fixed a bell within the receiver of an air-pump that he could ring the bell when the receiver was exhausted. Before the air was withdrawn the sound of the bell was heard within the receiver; after the air was withdrawn the sound became so faint as to be hardly perceptible. An arrangement is before you which enables us to repeat in a very perfect manner the experiment of Hawksbee. Within this jar, G G′, Fig. 4, resting on the plate of an air-pump is a

Fig. 4. bell, B, associated with cloc-kwork.[10] After the jar has been exhausted as perfectly as possible, I release, by means of a rod, r r′, which passes air-tight through the top of the vessel, the detent which holds the hammer. It strikes, and you see it striking, but only those close to the bell can hear the sound. Hydrogen gas, which you know is fourteen times lighter than air, is now allowed to enter the vessel. The sound of the bell is not augmented by the presence of this attenuated gas, though the receiver is now full of it. By working the pump, the atmosphere round the bell is rendered still more attenuated. In this way we obtain a vacuum more perfect than that of Hawksbee, and this is important, for it is the last traces of air that are chiefly effective in this experiment. You now see the hammer pounding the bell, but you hear no sound. Even when the ear is placed against the exhausted receiver not the faintest tinkle is heard. Observe also that the bell is suspended by strings, for if it were allowed to rest upon the plate of the air-pump the vibrations would be communicated to the plate, and thence transmitted to the air outside. Permitting the air to enter the jar with as little noise as possible, you immediately hear a feeble sound, which grows louder as the air becomes more dense, until finally every person in this large assembly distinctly hears the ringing of the bell.[11]

Sir John Leslie found hydrogen singularly incompetent to act as the vehicle of the sound of a bell rung in the gas. More than this, he emptied a receiver like that before you of half its air, and plainly heard the ringing of the bell. On permitting hydrogen to enter the half-filled receiver until it was wholly filled, the sound sank until it was scarcely audible. This result remained an enigma until it received a simple and satisfactory explanation at the hands of Prof. Stokes. When a common pendulum oscillates it tends to form a condensation in front and a rarefaction behind. But it is only a tendency; the motion is so slow, and the air is so elastic, that it moves away in front before it is sensibly condensed, and fills the space behind before it can become sensibly dilated. Hence waves or pulses are not generated by the pendulum. It requires a certain sharpness of shock to produce the condensation and rarefaction which constitute a wave of sound in air.

The more elastic and mobile the gas, the more able will it be to move away in front and to fill the space behind, and thus to oppose the formation of rarefactions and condensations by a vibrating body. Now hydrogen is much more mobile than air; and hence the production of sonorous waves in it is attended with greater difficulty than in air. A rate of vibration quite competent to produce sound-waves in the one may be wholly incompetent to produce them in the other. Both calculation and observation prove the correctness of this explanation, to which we shall again refer.

At great elevations in the atmosphere sound is sensibly diminished in loudness. De Saussure thought the explosion of a pistol at the summit of Mont Blanc to be about equal to that of a common cracker below. I have several times repeated this experiment; first, in default of anything better, with a little tin cannon, the torn remnants of which are now before you, and afterward with pistols. What struck me was the absence of that density and sharpness in the sound which characterize it at lower elevations. The pistol-shot resembled the explosion of a champagne bottle, but it was still loud. The withdrawal of half an atmosphere does not very materially affect our ringing bell, and air of the density found at the top of Mont Blanc is still capable of powerfully affecting the auditory nerve. That highly attenuated air is able to convey sound of great intensity is forcibly illustrated by the explosion of meteorites at elevations where the tenuity of the atmosphere must be almost infinite. Here, however, the initial disturbance must be exceedingly great.

The motion of sound, like all other motion, is enfeebled by its transference from a light body to a heavy one. When the receiver which has hitherto covered our bell is removed you hear how much more loudly it rings in the open air. When the bell was covered the aërial vibrations were first communicated to the heavy glass jar, and afterward by the jar to the air outside; a great diminution of intensity being the consequence. The action of hydrogen gas upon the voice is an illustration of the same kind. The voice is formed by urging air from the lungs through an organ called the larynx, where it is thrown into vibration by the vocal chords which thus generate sound. But when the lungs are filled with hydrogen, the vocal chords on speaking produce a vibratory motion in the hydrogen, which then transfers the motion to the outer air. By this transference from a light gas to a heavy one the voice is so weakened as to become a mere squeak.[12]

The intensity of a sound depends on the density of the air in which the sound is generated, and not on that of the air in which it is heard.[13] Supposing the summit of Mont Blanc to be equally distant from the top of the Aiguille Verte and the bridge at Chamouni; and supposing two observers stationed, the one upon the bridge and the other upon the Aiguille: the report of a cannon fired on Mont Blanc would reach both observers with the same intensity, though in the one case the sound would pursue its way through the rare air above, while in the other it would descend though the denser air below. Again, let a straight line equal to that from the bridge at Chamouni to the summit of Mont Blanc be measured along the earth’s surface in the valley of Chamouni, and let two observers be stationed, the one on the summit and the other at the end of the line: the report of a cannon fired on the bridge would reach both observers with the same intensity, though in the one case the sound would be propagated through the dense air of the valley, and in the other case would ascend through the rarer air of the mountain. Finally, charge two cannon equally, and fire one of them at Chamouni and the other at the top of Mont Blanc: the one fired in the heavy air below may be heard above, while the one fired in the light air above is unheard below.

§ 3. Intensity of Sound. Law of Inverse Squares

In the case of our exploding balloon the wave of sound expands on all sides, the motion produced by the explosion being thus diffused over a continually augmenting mass of air. It is perfectly manifest that this cannot occur without an enfeeblement of the motion. Take the case of a thin shell of air with a radius of one foot, reckoned from the centre of explosion. A shell of air of the same thickness, but of two feet radius, will contain four times the quantity of matter; if its radius be three feet, it will contain nine times the quantity of matter; if four feet, it will contain sixteen times the quantity of matter, and so on. Thus the quantity of matter set in motion augments as the square of the distance from the centre of explosion. The intensity or loudness of sound diminishes in the same proportion. We express this law by saying that the intensity of the sound varies inversely as the square of the distance.

Let us look at the matter in another light. The mechanical effect of a ball striking a target depends on two things—the weight of the ball, and the velocity with which it moves. The effect is proportional to the weight simply; but it is proportional to the square of the velocity. The proof of this is easy, but it belongs to ordinary mechanics rather than to our present subject. Now what is true of the cannon-ball striking a target is also true of an air-particle striking the tympanum of the ear. Fix your attention upon a particle of air as the sound-wave passes over it; it is urged from its position of rest toward a neighbor particle, first with an accelerated motion, and then with a retarded one. The force which first urges it is opposed by the resistance of the air, which finally stops the particle and causes it to recoil. At a certain point of its excursion the velocity of the particle is its maximum. The intensity of the sound is proportional to the square of this maximum velocity.

The distance through which the air-particle moves to and fro, when the sound-wave passes it, is called the amplitude of the vibration. The intensity of the sound is proportional to the square of the amplitude.

§ 4. Confinement of Sound-waves in Tubes

This weakening of the sound, according to the law of inverse squares, would not take place if the sound-wave were so confined as to prevent its lateral diffusion. By sending it through a tube with a smooth interior surface we accomplish this, and the wave thus confined may be transmitted to great distances with very little diminution of intensity. Into one end of this tin tube, fifteen feet long, I whisper in a manner quite inaudible to the people nearest to me, but a listener at the other end hears me distinctly. If a watch be placed at one end of the tube, a person at the other end hears the ticks, though nobody else does. At the distant end of the tube is now placed a lighted candle, c, [Fig. 5.] When the hands are clapped at this end, the flame instantly ducks down at the other. It is not quite extinguished, but it is forcibly depressed. When two books, B B′, Fig. 5, are clapped together, the candle is blown out.[14] You may here observe, in a rough way, the speed with which the sound-wave is propagated. The instant the clap is heard the flame is extinguished. I do not say that the time required by the sound to travel this tube is immeasurably short, but simply that the interval is too short for your senses to appreciate it.

Fig. 5.

That it is a pulse and not a puff of air is proved by filling one end of the tube with the smoke of brown paper. On clapping the books together no trace of this smoke is ejected from the other end. The pulse has passed through both smoke and air without carrying either of them along with it.

An effective mode of throwing the propagation of a pulse through air has been devised by my assistant. The two ends of a tin tube fifteen feet long are stopped by sheet India-rubber stretched across them. At one end, e, a hammer with a spring handle rests against the India-rubber; at the other end is an arrangement for the striking of a bell, c. Drawing back the hammer e to a distance measured on the graduated circle and liberating it, the generated pulse is propagated through the tube, strikes the other end, drives away the cork termination a of the lever a b, and causes the hammer b to strike the bell. The rapidity of propagation is well illustrated here. When hydrogen (sent through the India-rubber tube H) is substituted for air the bell does not ring.

Fig. 6.

The celebrated French philosopher, Biot, observed the transmission of sound through the empty water-pipes of Paris, and found that he could hold a conversation in a low voice through an iron tube 3,120 feet in length. The lowest possible whisper, indeed, could be heard at this distance, while the firing of a pistol into one end of the tube quenched a lighted candle at the other.

§ 5. The Reflection of Sound. Resemblances to Light

The action of sound thus illustrated is exactly the same as that of light and radiant heat. They, like sound, are wave-motions. Like sound they diffuse themselves in space, diminishing in intensity according to the same law. Like sound also, light and radiant heat, when sent through a tube with a reflecting interior surface, may be conveyed to great distances with comparatively little loss. In fact, every experiment on the reflection of light has its analogy in the reflection of sound. On yonder gallery stands an electric lamp, placed close to the clock of this lecture-room. An assistant in the gallery ignites the lamp, and directs its powerful beam upon a mirror placed here behind the lecture-table. By the act of reflection the divergent beam is converted into this splendid luminous cone traced out upon the dust of the room. The point of convergence being marked and the lamp extinguished, I place my ear at that point. Here every sound-wave sent forth by the clock and reflected by the mirror is gathered up, and the ticks are heard as if they came, not from the clock, but from the mirror. Let us stop the clock, and place a watch w, [Fig. 7], at the place occupied a moment ago by the electric light. At this great distance the ticking of the watch is distinctly heard. The hearing is much aided by introducing the end f of a glass funnel into the ear, the funnel here acting the part of an ear-trumpet. We know, moreover, that in optics the positions of a body and of its image are reversible. When a candle is placed at this lower focus, you see its image on the gallery above, and I have only to turn the mirror on its stand to make the image of the flame fall upon any one of the row of persons who occupy the front seat in the gallery. Removing the candle, and putting the watch, w, Fig. 8, in its place, the person on whom the light falls distinctly hears the sound. When the ear is assisted by the glass funnel, the reflected ticks of the clock in our first experiment are so powerful as to suggest the idea of something pounding against the tympanum, while the direct ticks are scarcely if at all, heard.

Fig. 7.

Fig. 8.

One of these two parabolic mirrors, n n′, Fig. 9, is placed upon the table, the other, m m′, being drawn up to the ceiling of this theatre; they are five-and-twenty feet apart. When the carbon-points of the electric light are placed in the focus a of the lower mirror and ignited, a fine luminous cylinder rises like a pillar to the upper

Fig. 9. mirror, which brings the parallel beam to a focus. At that focus is seen a spot of sunlike brilliancy, due to the reflection of the light from the surface of a watch, w, there suspended. The watch is ticking, but in my present position I do not hear it. At this lower focus, a, however, we have the energy of every sonorous wave converged. Placing the ear at a, the ticking is as audible as if the watch were at hand; the sound, as in the former case, appearing to proceed, not from the watch itself, but from the lower mirror.[15]

Curved roofs and ceilings and bellying sails act as mirrors upon sound. In our old laboratory, for example, the singing of a kettle seemed, in certain positions, to come, not from the fire on which it was placed, but from the ceiling. Inconvenient secrets have been thus revealed, an instance of which has been cited by Sir John Herschel.[16] In one of the cathedrals in Sicily the confessional was so placed that the whispers of the penitents were reflected by the curved roof, and brought to a focus at a distant part of the edifice. The focus was discovered by accident, and for some time the person who discovered it took pleasure in hearing, and in bringing his friends to hear, utterances intended for the priest alone. One day, it is said, his own wife occupied the penitential stool, and both he and his friends were thus made acquainted with secrets which were the reverse of amusing to one of the party.

When a sufficient interval exists between a direct and a reflected sound, we hear the latter as an echo.

Sound, like light, may be reflected several times in succession, and, as the reflected light under these circumstances becomes gradually feebler to the eye, so the successive echoes become gradually feebler to the ear. In mountain regions this repetition and decay of sound produce wonderful and pleasing effects. Visitors to Killarney will remember the fine echo in the Gap of Dunloe. When a trumpet is sounded in the proper place in the Gap, the sonorous waves reach the ear in succession after one, two, three, or more reflections from the adjacent cliffs, and thus die away in the sweetest cadences. There is a deep cul-de-sac, called the Ochsenthal, formed by the great cliffs of the Engelhörner, near Rosenlaui, in Switzerland, where the echoes warble in a wonderful manner.

The sound of the Alpine horn, echoed from the rocks of the Wetterhorn or the Jungfrau, is in the first instance heard roughly. But by successive reflections the notes are rendered more soft and flute-like, the gradual diminution of intensity giving the impression that the source of sound is retreating further and further into the solitudes of ice and snow. The repetition of echoes is also in part due to the fact that the reflecting surfaces are at different distances from the hearer.

In large, unfurnished rooms the mixture of direct and reflected sound sometimes produces very curious effects. Standing, for example, in the gallery of the Bourse at Paris, you hear the confused vociferation of the excited multitude below. You see all the motions—of their lips as well as of their hands and arms. You know they are speaking—often, indeed, with vehemence—but what they say you know not. The voices mix with their echoes into a chaos of noise, out of which no intelligible utterance can emerge. The echoes of a room are materially damped by its furniture. The presence of an audience may also render intelligible speech possible where, without an audience, the definition of the direct voice is destroyed by its echoes. On the 16th of May, 1865, having to lecture in the Senate House of the University of Cambridge, I first made some experiments as to the loudness of voice necessary to fill the room, and was dismayed to find that a friend, placed at a distant part of the hall, could not follow me because of the echoes. The assembled audience, however, so quenched the sonorous waves that the echoes were practically absent, and my voice was plainly heard in all parts of the Senate House.

Sounds are also said to be reflected from the clouds. Arago reports that, when the sky is clear, the report of a cannon on an open plain is short and sharp, while a cloud is sufficient to produce an echo like the rolling of distant thunder. The subject of aërial echoes will be subsequently treated at length, when it will be shown that Arago’s conclusion requires correction.

Sir John Herschel, in his excellent article “Sound,” In the “Encyclopædia Metropolitana,” has collected with others the following instances of echoes. An echo in Woodstock Park repeats seventeen syllables by day and twenty by night; one, on the banks of the Lago del Lupo, above the fall of Terni, repeats fifteen. The tick of a watch may be heard from one end of the abbey church of St. Albans to the other. In Gloucester Cathedral, a gallery of an octagonal form conveys a whisper seventy-five feet across the nave. In the whispering-gallery of St. Paul’s, the faintest sound is conveyed from one side to the other of the dome, but is not heard at any intermediate point. At Carisbrook Castle, in the Isle of Wight, is a well two hundred and ten feet deep and twelve wide. The interior is lined by smooth masonry; when a pin is dropped into the well it is distinctly heard to strike the water. Shouting or coughing into this well produces a resonant ring of some duration.[17]

§ 6. Refraction of Sound

Fig. 10.

Another important analogy between sound and light has been established by M. Sondhauss.[18] When a large lens is placed in front of our lamp, the lens compels the rays of light that fall upon it to deviate from their direct and divergent course, and to form a convergent cone behind it. This refraction of the luminous beam is a consequence of the retardation suffered by the light in passing through the glass. Sound may be similarly refracted by causing it to pass through a lens which retards its motion. Such a lens is formed when we fill a thin balloon with some gas heavier than air. A collodion balloon, B, [Fig. 10], filled with carbonic-acid gas, the envelope being so thin as to yield readily to the pulses which strike against it, answers the purpose.[19] A watch, w, is hung up close to the lens, beyond which, and at a distance of four or five feet from the lens, is placed the ear, assisted by the glass funnel f f′. By moving the head about, a position is soon discovered in which the ticking is particularly loud. This, in fact, is the focus of the lens. If the ear be moved from this focus the intensity of the sound falls; if, when the ear is at the focus, the balloon be removed, the ticks are enfeebled; on replacing the balloon their force is restored. The lens, in fact, enables us to hear the ticks distinctly when they are perfectly inaudible to the unaided ear.

How a sound-wave is thus converged may be comprehended by reference to Fig. 11. Let m o n o″ be a section of the sound-lens, and a b a portion of a sonorous wave approaching it from a distance. The middle point, o, of the wave first touches the lens, and is first retarded

Fig. 11. by it. By the time the ends a and b, still moving through air, reach the balloon, the middle point o, pursuing its way through the heavier gas within, will have only reached o′. The wave is therefore broken at o; and the direction of motion being at right angles to the face of the wave, the two halves will encroach upon each other. This convergence of the two halves of the wave is augmented on quitting the lens. For when o′ has reached o″, the two ends a and b will have pushed forward to a greater distance, say to a′ and b′. Soon afterward the two halves of the wave will cross each other, or in other words come to a focus, the air at the focus being agitated by the sum of the motions of the two waves.[20]

§ 7. Diffraction of Sound: illustrations offered by great Explosions

When a long sea-roller meets an isolated rock in its passage, it rises against the rock and embraces it all round. Facts of this nature caused Newton to reject the undulatory theory of light. He contended that if light were a product of wave-motion we could have no shadows, because the waves of light would propagate themselves round opaque bodies as a wave of water round a rock. It has been proved since his time that the waves of light do bend round opaque bodies; but with that we have nothing now to do. A sound-wave certainly bends thus round an obstacle, though as it diffuses itself in the air at the back of the obstacle it is enfeebled in power, the obstacle thus producing a partial shadow of the sound. A railway train passing through cuttings and long embankments exhibits great variations in the intensity of the sound. The interposition of a hill in the Alps suffices to diminish materially the sound of a cataract; it is able sensibly to extinguish the tinkle of the cowbells. Still the sound-shadow is but partial, and the marker at the rifle-butts never fails to hear the explosion, though he is well protected from the ball. A striking example of this diffraction of a sonorous wave was exhibited at Erith after the tremendous explosion of a powder magazine which occurred there in 1864. The village of Erith was some miles distant from the magazine, but in nearly all cases the windows were shattered; and it was noticeable that the windows turned away from the origin of the explosion suffered almost as much as those which faced it. Lead sashes were employed in Erith Church, and these, being in some degree flexible, enabled the windows to yield to pressure without much fracture of the glass. As the sound-wave reached the church it separated right and left, and, for a moment, the edifice was clasped by a girdle of intensely compressed air, every window in the church, front and back, being bent inward. After compression, the air within the church no doubt dilated, tending to restore the windows to their first condition. The bending in of the windows, however, produced but a small condensation of the whole mass of air within the church; the recoil was therefore feeble in comparison with the pressure, and insufficient to undo what the latter had accomplished.

§ 8. Velocity of Sound: relation to Density and Elasticity of Air

Two conditions determine the velocity of propagation of a sonorous wave; namely, the elasticity and the density of the medium through which the wave passes. The elasticity of air is measured by the pressure which it sustains or can hold in equilibrium. At the sea-level this pressure is equal to that of a stratum of mercury about thirty inches high. At the summit of Mont Blanc the barometric column is not much more than half this height; and, consequently, the elasticity of the air upon the summit of the mountain is not much more than half what it is at the sea-level.

If we could augment the elasticity of air, without at the same time augmenting its density, we should augment the velocity of sound. Or, if allowing the elasticity to remain constant we could diminish the density, we should augment the velocity. Now, air in a closed vessel, where it cannot expand, has its elasticity augmented by heat, while its density remains unchanged. Through such heated air sound travels more rapidly than through cold air. Again, air free to expand has its density lessened by warming, its elasticity remaining the same, and through such air sound travels more rapidly than through cold air. This is the case with our atmosphere when heated by the sun.

The velocity of sound in air, at the freezing temperature, is 1,090 feet a second.

At all lower temperatures the velocity is less than this, and at all higher temperatures it is greater. The late M. Wertheim has determined the velocity of sound in air of different temperatures, and here are some of his results:

At a temperature of half a degree above the freezing-point of water the velocity is 1,089 feet a second; at a temperature of 26·6 degrees, it is 1,140 feet a second, or a difference of 51 feet for 26 degrees; that is to say, an augmentation of velocity of nearly two feet for every single degree centigrade.

With the same elasticity the density of hydrogen gas is much less than that of air, and the consequence is that the velocity of sound in hydrogen far exceeds its velocity in air. The reverse holds good for heavy carbonic-acid gas. If density and elasticity vary in the same proportion, as the law of Boyle and Mariotte proves them to do in air when the temperature is preserved constant, they neutralize each other’s effects; hence, if the temperature were the same, the velocity of sound upon the summits of the highest Alps would be the same as that at the mouth of the Thames. But, inasmuch as the air above is colder than that below, the actual velocity on the summits of the mountains is less than that at the sea-level. To express this result in stricter language, the velocity is directly proportional to the square root of the elasticity of the air; it is also inversely proportional to the square root of the density of the air. Consequently, as in air of a constant temperature elasticity and density vary in the same proportion, and act oppositely, the velocity of sound is not affected by a change of density, if unaccompanied by a change of temperature.

There is no mistake more common than to suppose the velocity of sound to be augmented by density. The mistake has arisen from a misconception of the fact that in solids and liquids the velocity is greater than in gases. But it is the higher elasticity of those bodies, in relation to their density, that causes sound to pass rapidly through them. Other things remaining the same, an augmentation of density always produces a diminution of velocity. Were the elasticity of water, which is measured by its compressibility, only equal to that of air, the velocity of sound in water, instead of being more than quadruple the velocity in air, would be only a small fraction of that velocity. Both density and elasticity, then, must be always borne in mind; the velocity of sound being determined by neither taken separately, but by the relation of the one to the other. The effect of small density and high elasticity is exemplified in an astonishing manner by the luminiferous ether, which transmits the vibrations of light—not at the rate of so many feet, but at the rate of nearly two hundred thousand miles a second.

Those who are unacquainted with the details of scientific investigation have no idea of the amount of labor expended in the determination of those numbers on which important calculations or inferences depend. They have no idea of the patience shown by a Berzelius in determining atomic weights; by a Regnault in determining coefficients of expansion; or by a Joule in determining the mechanical equivalent of heat. There is a morality brought to bear upon such matters which, in point of severity, is probably without a parallel in any other domain of intellectual action. Thus, as regards the determination of the velocity of sound in air, hours might be filled with a simple statement of the efforts made to establish it with precision. The question has occupied the attention of experimenters in England, France, Germany, Italy, and Holland. But to the French and Dutch philosophers we owe the application of the last refinements of experimental skill to the solution of the problem. They neutralized effectually the influence of the wind; they took into account barometric pressure, temperature, and hygrometric condition. Sounds were started at the same moment from two distant stations, and thus caused to travel from station to station through the self-same air. The distance between the stations was determined by exact trigonometrical observations, and means were devised for measuring with the utmost accuracy the time required by the sound to pass from the one station to the other. This time, expressed in seconds, divided into the distance expressed in feet, gave 1,090 feet per second as the velocity of sound through air at the temperature of 0° centigrade.

The time required by light to travel over all terrestrial distances is practically zero; and in the experiments just referred to the moment of explosion was marked by the flash of a gun, the time occupied by the sound in passing from station to station being the interval observed between the appearance of the flash and the arrival of the sound. The velocity of sound in air once established, it is plain that we can apply it to the determination of distances. By observing, for example, the interval between the appearance of a flash of lightning and the arrival of the accompanying thunder-peal, we at once determine the distance of the place of discharge. It is only when the interval between the flash and peal is short that danger from lightning is to be apprehended.

§ 9. Theoretic Velocity calculated by Newton Laplace’s Correction

We now come to one of the most delicate points in the whole theory of sound. The velocity through air has been determined by direct experiment; but knowing the elasticity and density of the air, it is possible, without any experiment at all, to calculate the velocity with which a sound-wave is transmitted through it. Sir Isaac Newton made this calculation, and found the velocity at the freezing temperature to be 916 feet a second. This is about one-sixth less than actual observation had proved the velocity to be, and the most curious suppositions were made to account for the discrepancy. Newton himself threw out the conjecture that it was only in passing from particle to particle of the air that sound required time for its transmission; that it moved instantaneously through the particles themselves. He then supposed the line along which sound passes to be occupied by air-particles for one-sixth of its extent, and thus he sought to make good the missing velocity. The very art and ingenuity of this assumption were sufficient to throw doubt on it; other theories were therefore advanced, but the great French mathematician Laplace was the first

Fig. 12. to completely solve the enigma. I shall now endeavor to make you thoroughly acquainted with his solution.

Into this strong cylinder of glass, T U, Fig. 12, which is accurately bored, and quite smooth within, fits an air-tight piston. By pushing the piston down, I condense the air beneath it, heat being at the same time developed. A scrap of amadou attached to the bottom of the piston is ignited by the heat generated by compression. If a bit of cotton wool dipped into bisulphide of carbon be attached to the piston, when the latter is forced down, a flash of light, due to the ignition of the bisulphide of carbon vapor, is observed within the tube. It is thus proved that when air is compressed heat is generated. By another experiment it may be shown that when air is rarefied cold is developed. This brass box contains a quantity of condensed air. I open the cock, and permit the air to discharge itself against a suitable thermometer; the sinking of the instrument immediately declares the chilling of the air.

All that you have heard regarding the transmission of a sonorous pulse through air is, I trust, still fresh in your minds. As the pulse advances it squeezes the particles of air together, and two results follow from this compression. First, its elasticity is augmented through the mere augmentation of its density. Secondly, its elasticity is augmented by the heat of compression. It was the change of elasticity which resulted from a change of density that Newton took into account, and he entirely overlooked the augmentation of elasticity due to the second cause just mentioned. Over and above, then, the elasticity involved in Newton’s calculation, we have an additional elasticity due to changes of temperature produced by the sound-wave itself. When both are taken into account, the calculated and the observed velocities agree perfectly.

But here, without due caution, we may fall into the gravest error. In fact, in dealing with Nature, the mind must be on the alert to seize all her conditions; otherwise we soon learn that our thoughts are not in accordance with her facts. It is to be particularly noted that the augmentation of velocity due to the changes of temperature produced by the sonorous wave itself is totally different from the augmentation arising from the heating of the general mass of the air. The average temperature of the air is unchanged by the waves of sound. We cannot have a condensed pulse without having a rarefied one associated with it. But in the rarefaction, the temperature of the air is as much lowered as it is raised in the condensation. Supposing, then, the atmosphere parcelled out into such condensations and rarefactions, with their respective temperatures, an extraneous sound passing through such an atmosphere would be as much retarded in the latter as accelerated in the former, and no variation of the average velocity could result from such a distribution of temperature.

Fig. 13.

Whence, then, does the augmentation pointed out by Laplace arise? I would ask your best attention while I endeavor to make this knotty point clear to you. If air be compressed it becomes smaller in volume; if the pressure be diminished, the volume expands. The force which resists compression, and which produces expansion, is the elastic force of the air. Thus an external pressure squeezes the air-particles together; their own elastic force holds them asunder, and the particles are in equilibrium when these two forces are in equilibrium. Hence it is that the external pressure is a measure of the elastic force. Let the middle row of dots, [Fig. 13], represent a series of air-particles in a state of quiescence between the points a and x. Then, because of the elastic force exerted between the particles, if any one of them be moved from its position of rest, the motion will be transmitted through the entire series. Supposing the particle a to be driven by the prong of a tuning-fork, or some other vibrating body, toward x, so as to be caused finally to occupy the position a′ in the lowest row of particles: at the instant the excursion of a commences, its motion begins to be transmitted to b. In the next following moments b transmits the motion to c, c to d, d to e, and so on. So that by the time a has reached the position a′, the motion will have been propagated to some point o′ of the line of particles more or less distant from a′. The entire series of particles between a′ and o′ is then in a state of condensation. The distance a′ o′, over which the motion has travelled during the excursion of a to a′, will depend upon the elastic force exerted between the particles. Fix your attention on any two of the particles, say a and b. The elastic force between them may be figured as a spiral spring, and it is plain that the more flaccid this spring the more sluggish would be the communication of the motion from a to b; while the stiffer the spring the more prompt would be the communication of the motion. What is true of a and b is true for every other pair of particles between a and o. Now the spring between every pair of these particles is suddenly stiffened by the heat developed along the line of condensation, and hence the velocity of propagation is augmented by this heat. Reverting to our old experiment with the row of boys, it is as if, by the very act of pushing his neighbor, the muscular rigidity of each boy’s arm was increased, thus enabling him to deliver his push more promptly than he would have done without this increase of rigidity. The condensed portion of a sonorous wave is propagated in the manner here described, and it is plain that the velocity of propagation is augmented by the heat developed in the condensation.

Let us now turn our thoughts for a moment to the propagation of the rarefaction. Supposing, as before, the middle row a x to represent the particles of air in equilibrium under the pressure of the atmosphere, and suppose the particle a to be suddenly drawn to the right, so as to occupy the position a″ in the highest line of dots: a″ is immediately followed by b″, b″ by c″, c″ by d″, d″ by e″; and thus the rarefaction is propagated backward toward x″, reaching a point o″ in the line of particles by the time a has completed its motion to the right. Now, why does b″ follow a″ when a″ is drawn away from it? Manifestly because the elastic force exerted between b″ and a″ is less than that between b″ and c″. In fact, b″ will be driven after a″ by a force equal to the difference of the two elasticities between a″ and b″ and between b″ and c″. The same remark applies to the motion of c″ after b″, to that of d″ after c″, in fact, to the motion of each succeeding particle when it follows its predecessor. The greater the difference of elasticity on the two sides of any particle the more promptly will it follow its predecessor. And here observe what the cold of rarefaction accomplishes. In addition to the diminution of the elastic force between a″ and b″ by the withdrawal of a″ to a greater distance, there is a further diminution due to the lowering of the temperature. The cold developed augments the difference of elastic force on which the propagation of the rarefaction depends. Thus we see that because the heat developed in the condensation augments the rapidity of the condensation, and because the cold developed in the rarefaction augments the rapidity of the rarefaction, the sonorous wave, which consists of a condensation and a rarefaction, must have its velocity augmented by the heat and the cold which it develops during its own progress.

It is worth while fixing your attention here upon the fact that the distance a′ o′, to which the motion has been propagated while a is moving to the position a′, may be vastly greater than that passed over in the same time by the particle itself. The excursion of a′ may not be more than a small fraction of an inch, while the distance to which the motion is transferred during the time required by a′ to perform this small excursion may be many feet, or even many yards. If this point should not appear altogether plain to you now, it will appear so by and by.

§ 10. Ratio of Specific Heats of Air deduced from Velocity of Sound

Having grasped this, even partially, I will ask you to accompany me to a remote corner of the domain of physics, with the view, however, of showing that remoteness does not imply discontinuity. Let a certain quantity of air at a temperature of 0°, contained in a perfectly inexpansible vessel, have its temperature raised 1°. Let the same quantity of air, placed in a vessel which permits the air to expand when it is heated—the pressure on the air being kept constant during its expansion—also have its temperature raised 1°. The quantities of heat employed in the two cases are different. The one quantity expresses what is called the specific heat of air at constant volume; the other the specific heat of air at constant pressure.[21] It is an instance of the manner in which apparently unrelated natural phenomena are bound together, that from the calculated and observed velocities of sound in air we can deduce the ratio of these two specific heats. Squaring Newton’s theoretic velocity and the observed velocity, and dividing the greater square by the less, we obtain the ratio referred to. Calling the specific heat at constant volume C^v, and that at constant pressure C^p; calling, moreover, Newton’s calculated velocity V, and the observed velocity V′, Laplace proved that—

Inserting the values of V and V′ in this equation, and making the calculation, we find—

Thus, without knowing either the specific heat at constant volume or at constant pressure, Laplace found the ratio of the greater of them to the less to be 1·42. It is evident from the foregoing formulæ that the calculated velocity of sound, multiplied by the square root of this ratio, gives the observed velocity.

But there is one assumption connected with the determination of this ratio, which must be here brought clearly forth. It is assumed that the heat developed by compression remains in the condensed portion of the wave, and applies itself there to augment the elasticity; that no portion of it is lost by radiation. If air were a powerful radiator, this assumption could not stand. The heat developed in the condensation could not then remain in the condensation. It would radiate all round, lodging itself for the most part in the chilled and rarefied portion of the wave, which would be gifted with a proportionate power of absorption. Hence the direct tendency of radiation would be to equalize the temperatures of the different parts of the wave, and thus to abolish the increase of velocity which called forth Laplace’s correction.[22]

§ 11. Mechanical Equivalent of Heat deduced from Velocity of Sound

The question, then, of the correctness of this ratio involves the other and apparently incongruous question, whether atmospheric air possesses any sensible radiative power. If the ratio be correct, the practical absence of radiative power on the part of air is demonstrated. How then are we to ascertain whether the ratio is correct or not? By a process of reasoning which illustrates still further how natural agencies are intertwined. It was this ratio, looked at by a man of genius, named Mayer, which helped him to a clearer and a grander conception of the relation and interaction of the forces of inorganic and organic nature than any philosopher up to his time had attained. Mayer was the first to see that the excess 0·42 of the specific heat at constant pressure over that at constant volume was the quantity of heat consumed in the work performed by the expanding gas. Assuming the air to be confined laterally and to expand in a vertical direction, in which direction it would simply have to lift the weight of the atmosphere, he attempted to calculate the precise amount of heat consumed in the raising of this or any other weight. He thus sought to determine the “mechanical equivalent” of heat. In the combination of his data his mind was clear, but for the numerical correctness of these data he was obliged to rely upon the experimenters of his age. Their results, though approximately correct, were not so correct as the transcendent experimental ability of Regnault, aided by the last refinements of constructive skill, afterward made them. Without changing in the slightest degree the method of his thought or the structure of his calculation, the simple introduction of the exact numerical data into the formula of Mayer brings out the true mechanical equivalent of heat.

But how are we able to speak thus confidently of the accuracy of this equivalent? We are enabled to do so by the labors of an Englishman, who worked at this subject contemporaneously with Mayer; and who, while animated by the creative genius of his celebrated German brother, enjoyed also the opportunity of bringing the inspirations of that genius to the test of experiment. By the immortal experiments of Mr. Joule, the mutual convertibility of mechanical work and heat was first conclusively established. And “Joule’s equivalent,” as it is rightly called, considering the amount of resolute labor and skill expended in its determination, is almost identical with that derived from the formula of Mayer.

§ 12. Absence of Radiative Power of Air deduced from Velocity of Sound

Consider now the ground we have trodden, the curious labyrinth of reasoning and experiment through which we have passed. We started with the observed and calculated velocities of sound in atmospheric air. We found Laplace, by a special assumption, deducing from these velocities the ratio of the specific heat of air at constant pressure to its specific heat at constant volume. We found Mayer calculating from this ratio the mechanical equivalent of heat; finally, we found Joule determining the same equivalent by direct experiments on the friction of solids and liquids. And what is the result? Mr. Joule’s experiments prove the result of Mayer to be the true one; they therefore prove the ratio determined by Laplace to be the true ratio; and, because they do this, they prove at the same time the practical absence of radiative power in atmospheric air. It seems a long step from the stirring of water, or the rubbing together of iron plates in Joule’s experiments, to the radiation of the atoms of our atmosphere; both questions are, however, connected by the line of reasoning here followed out.

But the true physical philosopher never rests content with an inference when an experiment to verify or contravene it is possible. The foregoing argument is clinched by bringing the radiative power of atmospheric air to a direct test. When this is done, experiment and reasoning are found to agree; air being proved to be a body sensibly devoid of radiative and absorptive power.[23]

But here the experimenter on the transmission of sound through gases needs a word of warning. In Laplace’s day, and long subsequently, it was thought that gases of all kinds possessed only an infinitesimal power of radiation; but that this is not the case is now well established. It would be rash to assume that, in the case of such bodies as ammonia, aqueous vapor, sulphurous acid, and olefiant gas, their enormous radiative powers do not interfere with the application of the formula of Laplace. It behooves us to inquire whether the ratio of the two specific heats deduced from the velocity of sound in these bodies is the true ratio; and whether, if the true ratio could be found by other methods, its square root, multiplied into the calculated velocity, would give the observed velocity. From the moment heat first appears in the condensation and cold in the rarefaction of a sonorous wave in any of those gases, the radiative power comes into play to abolish the difference of temperature. The condensed part of the wave is on this account rendered more flaccid and the rarefied part less flaccid than it would otherwise be, and with a sufficiently high radiative power the velocity of sound, instead of coinciding with that derived from the formula of Laplace, must approximate to that derived from the more simple formula of Newton.

§ 13. Velocity of Sound through Gases, Liquids, and Solids

To complete our knowledge of the transmission of sound through gases, a table is here added from the excellent researches of Dulong, who employed in his experiments a method which shall be subsequently explained:

Velocity of Sound in Gases at the Temperature of 0° C.

According to theory, the velocities of sound in oxygen and hydrogen are inversely proportional to the square roots of the densities of the two gases. We here find this theoretic deduction verified by experiment. Oxygen being sixteen times heavier than hydrogen, the velocity of sound in the latter gas ought, according to the above law, to be four times its velocity in the former; hence, the velocity in oxygen being 1,040, in hydrogen calculation would make it 4,160. Experiment, we see, makes it 4,164.

The velocity of sound in liquids may be determined theoretically, as Newton determined its velocity in air; for the density of a liquid is easily determined, and its elasticity can be measured by subjecting it to compression. In the case of water, the calculated and the observed velocities agree so closely as to prove that the changes of temperature produced by a sound-wave in water have no sensible influence upon the velocity. In a series of memorable experiments in the Lake of Geneva, MM. Colladon and Sturm determined the velocity of sound through water, and made it 4,708 feet a second. By a mode of experiment which you will subsequently be able to comprehend, the late M. Wertheim determined the velocity through various liquids, and in the following table I have collected his results:

Transmission of Sound through Liquids

We learn from this table that sound travels with different velocities through different liquids; that a salt dissolved in water augments the velocity, and that the salt which produces the greatest augmentation is chloride of calcium. The experiments also teach us that in water, as in air, the velocity augments with the temperature. At a temperature of 15° C., for example, the velocity in Seine water is 4,714 feet, at 30° it is 5,013 feet, and at 60° 5,657 feet a second.

I have said that from the compressibility of a liquid, determined by proper measurements, the velocity of sound through the liquid may be deduced. Conversely, from the velocity of sound in a liquid, the compressibility of the liquid may be deduced. Wertheim compared a series of compressibilities deduced from his experiments on sound with a similar series obtained directly by M. Grassi. The agreement of both, exhibited in the following table, is a strong confirmation of the accuracy of the method pursued by Wertheim:

The greater the resistance which a liquid offers to compression, the more promptly and forcibly will it return to its original volume after it has been compressed. The less the compressibility, therefore, the greater is the elasticity, and consequently, other things being equal, the greater the velocity of sound through the liquid.

We have now to examine the transmission of sound through solids. Here, as a general rule, the elasticity, as compared with the density, is greater than in liquids, and consequently the propagation of sound is more rapid.

In the following table the velocity of sound through various metals, as determined by Wertheim, is recorded:

Velocity of Sound through Metals

As a general rule, the velocity of sound through metals is diminished by augmented temperature; iron is, however, a striking exception to this rule, but it is only within certain limits an exception. While, for example, a rise of temperature from 20° to 100° C. in the case of copper causes the velocity to fall from 11,666 to 10,802, the same rise produces in the case of iron an increase of velocity from 16,822 to 17,386. Between 100° and 200°, however, we see that iron falls from the last figure to 15,483. In iron, therefore, up to a certain point, the elasticity is augmented by heat; beyond that point it is lowered. Silver is also an example of the same kind.

The difference of velocity in iron and in air may be illustrated by the following instructive experiment: Choose one of the longest horizontal bars employed for fencing in Hyde Park; and let an assistant strike the bar at one end while the ear of the observer is held close to the bar at a considerable distance from the point struck. Two sounds will reach the ear in succession; the first being transmitted through the iron and the second through the air. This effect was obtained by M. Biot, in his experiments on the iron water-pipes of Paris.

The transmission of sound through a solid depends on the manner in which the molecules of the solid are arranged. If the body be homogeneous and without structure, sound is transmitted through it equally well in all directions. But this is not the case when the body, whether inorganic like a crystal or organic like a tree, possesses a definite structure. This is also true of other things than sound. Subjecting, for example, a sphere of wood to the action of a magnet, it is not equally affected in all directions. It is repelled by the pole of the magnet, but it is most strongly repelled when the force acts along the fibre. Heat also is conducted with different facilities in different directions through wood. It is most freely conducted along the fibre, and it passes more freely across the ligneous layers than along them. Wood, therefore, possesses three unequal axes of calorific conduction. These, established by myself, coincide with the axes of elasticity discovered by Savart. MM. Wertheim and Chevandier have determined the velocity of sound along these three axes and obtained the following results:

Velocity of Sound in Wood

Separating a cube from the bark-wood of a good-sized tree, where the rings for a short distance may be regarded as straight: then, if A R, Fig. 14, be the section

Fig. 14. of the tree, the velocity of the sound in the direction m n, through such a cube, is greater than in the direction a b.

The foregoing table strikingly illustrates the influence of molecular structure. The great majority of crystals show differences of the same kind. Such bodies, for the most part, have their molecules arranged in different degrees of proximity in different directions, and where this occurs there are sure to be differences in the transmission and manifestation of heat, light, electricity, magnetism, and sound.

§ 14. Hooke’s Anticipation of the Stethoscope

I will conclude this lecture on the transmission of sound through gases, liquids, and solids, by a quaint and beautiful extract from the writings of that admirable thinker, Dr. Robert Hooke. It will be noticed that the philosophy of the stethoscope is enunciated in the following passage, and another could hardly be found which illustrates so well that action of the scientific imagination which, in all great investigators, is the precursor and associate of experiment:

“There may also be a possibility,” writes Hooke, “of discovering the internal motions and actions of bodies by the sound they make. Who knows but that, as in a watch, we may hear the beating of the balance, and the running of the wheels, and the striking of the hammers, and the grating of the teeth, and multitudes of other noises; who knows, I say, but that it may be possible to discover the motions of the internal parts of bodies, whether animal, vegetable, or mineral, by the sound they make; that one may discover the works performed in the several offices and shops of a man’s body, and thereby discover what instrument or engine is out of order, what works are going on at several times, and lie still at others, and the like; that in plants and vegetables one might discover by the noise the pumps for raising the juice, the valves for stopping it, and the rushing of it out of one passage into another, and the like? I could proceed further, but methinks I can hardly forbear to blush when I consider how the most part of men will look upon this: but, yet again, I have this encouragement, not to think all these things utterly impossible, though never so much derided by the generality of men, and never so seemingly mad, foolish, and fantastic, that as the thinking them impossible cannot much improve my knowledge, so the believing them possible may, perhaps, be an occasion of taking notice of such things as another would pass by without regard as useless. And somewhat more of encouragement I have also from experience, that I have been able to hear very plainly the beating of a man’s heart, and it is common to hear the motion of wind to and fro in the guts, and other small vessels; the stopping of the lungs is easily discovered by the wheezing, the stopping of the head by the humming and whistling noises, the slipping to and fro of the joints, in many cases, by crackling, and the like, as to the working or motion of the parts one among another; methinks I could receive encouragement from hearing the hissing noise made by a corrosive menstruum in its operation, the noise of fire in dissolving, of water in boiling, of the parts of a bell after that its motion is grown quite invisible as to the eye, for to me these motions and the other seem only to differ secundum magis minus, and so to their becoming sensible they require either that their motions be increased, or that the organ be made more nice and powerful to sensate and distinguish them.”

NOTE ON THE DIFFRACTION OF SOUND

The recent explosion of a powder-laden barge in the Regent’s Park produced effects similar to those mentioned in § 7. The sound-wave bent round houses and broke the windows at the back, the coalescence of different portions of the wave at special points being marked by intensified local action. Close to the place where the explosion occurred the unconsumed gunpowder was in the wave, and, as a consequence, the dismantled gatekeeper’s lodge was girdled all round by a black belt of carbon.

SUMMARY OF CHAPTER I

The sound of an explosion is propagated as a wave or pulse through the air.

This wave impinging upon the tympanic membrane causes it to shiver, its tremors are transmitted to the auditory nerve, and along the auditory nerve to the brain, where it announces itself as sound.

A sonorous wave consists of two parts, in one of which the air is condensed, and in the other rarefied.

The motion of the sonorous wave must not be confounded with the motion of the particles which at any moment form the wave. During the passage of the wave every particle concerned in its transmission makes only a small excursion to and fro.

The length of this excursion is called the amplitude of the vibration.

Sound cannot pass through a vacuum.

A certain sharpness of shock, or rapidity of vibration, is needed for the production of sonorous waves in air. It is still more necessary in hydrogen, because the greater mobility of this light gas tends to prevent the formation of condensations and rarefactions.

Sound is in all respects reflected like light; it is also refracted like light; and it may, like light, be condensed by suitable lenses.

Sound is also diffracted, the sonorous wave bending round obstacles; such obstacles, however, in part shade off the sound.

Echoes are produced by the reflected waves of sound.

In regard to sound and the medium through which it passes, four distinct things are to be borne in mind—intensity, velocity, elasticity, and density.

The intensity is proportional to the square of the amplitude as above defined.

It is also proportional to the square of the maximum velocity of the vibrating air-particles.

When sound issues from a small body in free air, the intensity diminishes as the square of the distance from the body increases.

If the wave of sound be confined in a tube with a smooth interior surface, it may be conveyed to great distances without sensible loss of intensity.

The velocity of sound in air depends on the elasticity of the air in relation to its density. The greater the elasticity the swifter is the propagation; the greater the density the slower is the propagation.

The velocity is directly proportional to the square root of the elasticity; it is inversely proportional to the square root of the density.

Hence, if elasticity and density vary in the same proportion, the one will neutralize the other as regards the velocity of sound.

That they do vary in the same proportion is proved by the law of Boyle and Mariotte; hence the velocity of sound in air is independent of the density of the air.

But that this law shall hold good, it is necessary that the dense air and the rare air should have the same temperature.

The intensity of a sound depends upon the density of the air in which it is generated, but not on that of the air in which it is heard.

The velocity of sound in air of the temperature 0° C. is 1,090 feet a second; it augments nearly 2 feet for every degree Centigrade added to its temperature.

Hence, given the velocity of sound in air, the temperature of the air may be readily calculated.

The distance of a fired cannon or of a discharge of lightning may be determined by observing the interval which elapses between the flash and the sound.

From the foregoing, it is easy to see that if a row of soldiers form a circle, and discharge their pieces all at the same time, the sound will be heard as a single discharge by a person occupying the centre of the circle.

But if the men form a straight row, and if the observer stand at one end of the row, the simultaneous discharge of the men’s pieces will be prolonged to a kind of roar.

A discharge of lightning along a lengthy cloud may in this way produce the prolonged roll of thunder. The roll of thunder, however, must in part at least be due to echoes from the clouds.

The pupil will find no difficulty in referring many common occurrences to the fact that sound requires a sensible time to pass through any considerable length of air. For example, the fall of the axe of a distant wood-cutter is not simultaneous with the sound of the stroke. A company of soldiers marching to music along a road cannot march in time, for the notes do not reach those in front and those behind simultaneously.

In the condensed portion of a sonorous wave the air is above, in the rarefied portion of the wave it is below, its average temperature.

This change of temperature, produced by the passage of the sound-wave itself, virtually augments the elasticity of the air, and makes the velocity of sound about one-sixth greater than it would be if there were no change of temperature.

The velocity found by Newton, who did not take this change of temperature into account, was 916 feet a second.

Laplace proved that by multiplying Newton’s velocity by the square root of the ratio of the specific heat of air at constant pressure to its specific heat at constant volume, the actual or observed velocity is obtained.

Conversely, from a comparison of the calculated and observed velocities, the ratio of the two specific heats may be inferred.

The mechanical equivalent of heat may be deduced from this ratio; it is found to be the same as that established by direct experiment.

This coincidence leads to the conclusion that atmospheric air is devoid of any sensible power to radiate heat. Direct experiments on the radiative power of air establish the same result.

The velocity of sound in water is more than four times its velocity in air.

The velocity of sound in iron is seventeen times its velocity in air.

The velocity of sound along the fibre of pine-wood is ten times its velocity in air.

The cause of this great superiority is that the elasticities of the liquid, the metal, and the wood, as compared with their respective densities, are vastly greater than the elasticity of air in relation to its density.

The velocity of sound is dependent to some extent upon molecular structure. In wood, for example, it is conveyed with different degrees of rapidity in different directions.

CHAPTER II

Physical Distinction between Noise and Music—A Musical Tone Produced by Periodic, Noise Produced by Unperiodic, Impulses—Production of Musical Sounds by Taps—Production of Musical Sounds by Puffs—Definition of Pitch in Music—Vibrations of a Tuning-Fork; their Graphic Representation on Smoked Glass—Optical Expression of the Vibrations of a Tuning-Fork—Description of the Siren—Limits of the Ear; Highest and Deepest Tones—Rapidity of Vibration Determined by the Siren—Determination of the Lengths of Sonorous Waves—Wave-Lengths of the Voice in Man and Woman—Transmission of Musical Sounds through Liquids and Solids

IN OUR last chapter we considered the propagation through air of a sound of momentary duration. We have to-day to consider continuous sounds, and to make ourselves in the first place acquainted with the physical distinction between noise and music. As far as sensation goes, everybody knows the difference between these two things. But we have now to inquire into the causes of sensation, and to make ourselves acquainted with the condition of the external air which in one case resolves itself into music and in another into noise.

We have already learned that what is loudness in our sensations is outside of us nothing more than width of swing, or amplitude, of the vibrating air-particles. Every other real sonorous impression of which we are conscious has its correlative without, as a mere form or state of the atmosphere. Were our organs sharp enough to see the motions of the air through which an agreeable voice is passing, we might see stamped upon that air the conditions of motion on which the sweetness of the voice depends. In ordinary conversation, also, the physical precedes and arouses the psychical; the spoken language, which is to give us pleasure or pain, which is to rouse us to anger or soothe us to peace, existing for a time, between us and the speaker, as a purely mechanical condition of the intervening air.

Noise affects us as an irregular succession of shocks. We are conscious while listening to it of a jolting and jarring of the auditory nerve, while a musical sound flows smoothly and without asperity or irregularity. How is this smoothness secured? By rendering the impulses received by the tympanic membrane perfectly periodic. A periodic motion is one that repeats itself. The motion of a common pendulum, for example, is periodic, but its vibrations are far too sluggish to excite sonorous waves. To produce a musical tone we must have a body which vibrates with the unerring regularity of the pendulum, but which can impart much sharper and quicker shocks to the air.

Imagine the first of a series of pulses following each other at regular intervals, impinging upon the tympanic membrane. It is shaken by the shock; and a body once shaken cannot come instantaneously to rest. The human ear, indeed, is so constructed that the sonorous motion vanishes with extreme rapidity, but its disappearance is not instantaneous; and if the motion imparted to the auditory nerve by each individual pulse of our series continues until the arrival of its successor, the sound will not cease at all. The effect of every shock will be renewed before it vanishes, and the recurrent impulses will link themselves together to a continuous musical sound. The pulses, on the contrary, which produce noise, are of irregular strength and recurrence. The action of noise upon the ear has been well compared to that of a flickering light upon the eye, both being painful through the sudden and abrupt changes which they impose upon their respective nerves.

The only condition necessary to the production of a musical sound is that the pulses should succeed each other in the same interval of time. No matter what its origin may be, if this condition be fulfilled the sound becomes musical. If a watch, for example, could be caused to tick with sufficient rapidity—say one hundred times a second—the ticks would lose their individuality and blend to a musical tone. And if the strokes of a pigeon’s wings could be accomplished at the same rate, the progress of the bird through the air would be accompanied by music. In the humming-bird the necessary rapidity is attained; and when we pass on from birds to insects, where the vibrations are more rapid, we have a musical note as the ordinary accompaniment of the insects’ flight.[24] The puffs of a locomotive at starting follow each other slowly at first, but they soon increase so rapidly as to be almost incapable of being counted. If this increase could continue up to fifty or sixty puffs a second, the approach of the engine would be heralded by an organ-peal of tremendous power.

§ 2. Musical Sounds produced by Taps

Galileo produced a musical sound by passing a knife over the edge of a piastre. The minute serration of the coin indicated the periodic character of the motion, which consisted of a succession of taps quick enough to produce sonorous continuity. Every schoolboy knows how to produce a note with his slate-pencil. I will not call it

The production of a musical sound by taps is usually effected by causing the teeth of a rotating wheel to strike in quick succession against a card. This was first illustrated by the celebrated Robert Hooke,[25] and nearer our own day by the eminent French experimenter Savart. We will confine ourselves to homelier modes of illustration. This gyroscope is an instrument consisting mainly of a heavy brass ring, d, Fig. 15, loading the circumference of a disk, through which and at right angles to its surface, passes a steel axis, delicately supported at its two ends. By coiling a string round the axis, and drawing it vigorously out, the ring is caused to spin rapidly; and along with it rotates a small-toothed wheel, w. On touching this wheel with the edge of a card c, a musical sound of exceeding shrillness is produced. I place my thumb for a moment against the ring; the rapidity of its rotation is thereby diminished, and this is instantly announced by a lowering of the pitch of the note. By checking the motion still more, the pitch is lowered still further. We are here made acquainted with the important fact that the pitch of a note depends upon the rapidity of its pulses.[26] At the end of the experiment you hear the separate taps of the teeth against the card, their succession not being quick enough to produce that continuous flow of sound which is the essence of music. A screw with a milled head attached to a whirling table, and caused to rotate, produces by its taps against a card a note almost as clear and pure as that obtained from the toothed wheel of the gyroscope.

The production of a musical sound by taps may also be pleasantly illustrated in the following way: In this vise are fixed vertically two pieces of sheet-lead, with their horizontal edges a quarter of an inch apart. I lay a bar of brass across them, permitting it to rest upon the edges, and, tilting the bar a little, set it in oscillation like a see-saw. After a time, if left to itself, it comes to rest. But suppose the bar on touching the lead to be always tilted upward by a force issuing from the lead itself, it is plain that the vibrations would then be rendered permanent. Now such a force is brought into play when the bar is heated. On its then touching the lead the heat is communicated, a sudden jutting upward of the lead at the point of contact being the result. Hence an incessant tilting of the bar from side to side, so long as it continues sufficiently hot. Substituting for the brass bar the heated fire-shovel shown in Fig. 16, the same effect is produced.

Fig. 16.

In its descent upon the lead the bar taps it gently, the taps being so slow that you may readily count them. But a mass of metal differently shaped may be caused to vibrate more briskly, and the taps to succeed each other more rapidly. When such a heated rocker, [Fig. 17], is placed upon a block of lead, the taps hasten to a loud rattle. When, with the point of a file, the rocker is pressed against the lead, the vibrations are rendered more rapid, and the taps link themselves together to a deep musical tone. A second rocker, which oscillates more quickly than the last, produces music without any other pressure than that due to its own weight. Pressing it, however, with the file, the pitch rises, until a note of singular force and purity fills the room. Relaxing the pressure, the pitch instantly falls; resuming the pressure, it again rises; and thus by the alternation of the pressure we obtain great variations of tone. Nor are such rockers essential. Allowing one face of the clean, square end of a heated poker to rest upon the block of lead, a rattle is heard; causing another face to rest upon the block, a clear musical note is obtained. The two faces have been bevelled differently by a file, so as to secure different rates of vibration.[27] This curious effect was discovered by Schwartz and Trevelyan.

Fig. 17.

§ 3. Musical Sounds produced by Puffs

Prof. Robison was the first to produce a musical sound by a quick succession of puffs of air. His device was the first form of an instrument which will soon be introduced to you under the name of the siren. Robison describes his experiment in the following words: “A stop-cock was so constructed that it opened and shut the passage of a pipe 720 times in a second. The apparatus was fitted to the pipe of a conduit leading from the bellows to the wind-chest of an organ. The air was simply allowed to pass gently along this pipe by the opening of the cock. When this was repeated 720 times in a second, the sound g in alt was most smoothly uttered, equal in sweetness to a clear female voice. When the frequency was reduced to 360, the sound was that of a clear but rather a harsh man’s voice. The cock was now altered in such a manner that it never shut the hole entirely, but left about one-third of it open. When this was repeated 720 times in a second, the sound was uncommonly smooth and sweet. When reduced to 360, the sound was more mellow than any man’s voice of the same pitch.”

Fig. 18.

But the difficulty of obtaining the necessary speed renders another form of the experiment preferable. A disk of Bristol board, B, Fig. 18, twelve inches in diameter, is perforated at equal intervals along a circle near its circumference. The disk, being strengthened by a backing of tin, can be attached to a whirling table, and caused to rotate rapidly. The individual holes then disappear, blending themselves into a continuous shaded circle. Immediately over this circle is placed a bent tube, m, connected with a pair of acoustic bellows. The disk is now motionless, the lower end of the tube being immediately over one of the perforations of the disk. If, therefore, the bellows be worked, the wind will pass from m through the hole underneath. But if the disk be turned a little, an unperforated portion of the disk comes under the tube, the current of air being then intercepted. As the disk is slowly turned, successive perforations are brought under the tube, and whenever this occurs a puff of air gets through. On rendering the rotation rapid, the puffs succeed each other in very quick succession, producing pulses in the air which blend to a continuous musical note, audible to you all. Mark how the note varies. When the whirling table is turned rapidly the sound is shrill; when its motion is slackened the pitch immediately falls. If instead of a single glass tube there were two of them, as far apart as two of our orifices, so that whenever the one tube stood over an orifice, the other should stand over another, it is plain that if both tubes were blown through, we should, on turning the disk, get a puff through two holes at the same time. The intensity of the sound would be thereby augmented, but the pitch would remain unchanged. The two puffs issuing at the same instant would act in concert, and produce a greater effect than one upon the ear. And if instead of two tubes we had ten of them, or better still, if we had a tube for every orifice in the disk, the puffs from the entire series would all issue, and would be all cut off at the same time. These puffs would produce a note of far greater intensity than that obtained by the alternate escape and interruption of the air from a single tube. In the arrangement now before you, Fig. 19, there are nine tubes through which the air is urged—through nine apertures, therefore, puffs escape at once. On turning the whirling table, and alternately increasing and relaxing its speed, the sound rises and falls like the loud wail of a changing wind.

Fig. 19.

§ 4. Musical Sounds produced by a Tuning-fork

Various other means may be employed to throw the air into a state of periodic motion. A stretched string pulled aside and suddenly liberated imparts vibrations to the air which succeed each other in perfectly regular intervals. A tuning-fork does the same. When a bow is drawn across the prongs of this tuning-fork, [Fig. 20], the resin of the bow enables the hairs to grip the prong, which is thus pulled aside. But the resistance of the prong soon becomes too strong, and it starts suddenly back; it is, however, immediately laid hold of again by the bow, to start back once more as soon as its resistance becomes great enough. This rhythmic process, continually repeated during the passage of the bow, finally throws the fork into a state of intense vibration, and the result is a musical note. A person close at hand could see the fork vibrating; a deaf person bringing his hand sufficiently near would feel the shivering of the air. Or causing its vibrating prong to touch a card, taps against the card link themselves, as in the case of the gyroscope, to a musical sound, the fork coming rapidly to rest. What we call silence expresses this absence of motion.