Meet a Rather Fiery Character
By Awake! correspondent in Italy
SOMETIMES I think that I am a truly unusual character—thin, dry, and so excitable that I make sparks fly. I’m such a hothead that it takes only a moment to make me fiery. Others know these things and take advantage of me. My tendency to become heated, though, is part of my nature. In fact, people tend to get annoyed if I fail to get fired up. But then there is a reason—I’m a match.
Is it not true that you perhaps sometimes take me for granted and notice me only when I fail to flare up or when the matchbox is empty? However, I would like to see you try to light a fire as they did in ancient times, rubbing together two sticks to light a heap of dry leaves or striking flint against steel, with the risk of bruising your fingers! In either case you would thank the humble match.
Inventing a Match to Light
My family history is full of experiments to find some practical way to light a fire. Even in the 17th century, after the German chemist Hennig Brand had discovered phosphorus, thought was given to the possibility of inventing a device that would make it easy to light fires. It took longer than the scientists expected.
At the beginning of the 19th century, Frenchman Jean Chancel invented an inflammable paste made out of potassium chlorate, sugar, and gum arabic. To light it, a small quantity was placed on the end of a stick impregnated with sulfur, and contact was made with asbestos soaked in sulfuric acid. It was not exactly the kind of thing to carry around in your pocket!
What appears to be the first friction match, or “friction light,” was invented in 1826 by John Walker, an English druggist. This match later became known as a Lucifer-match, or Lucifer. Why “Lucifer”? Because it is the Latin translation of the Greek word for “light-bringer”—phosphorus! And that same Greek word is used for “light bearer,” or “daystar,” at 2 Peter 1:19! Why, in some languages, such as Spanish and Portuguese, I am still called a fósforo!
About the same time as Walker invented his match, “Prometheans” (from Prometheus in Greek mythology, a Titan who stole fire from Olympus and gave it to man) appeared on the scene. They were halfway between Chancel’s invention and the modern match. Potassium chlorate, sugar, and gum were mixed and wrapped in a roll of fine paper. At one end there was a small capsule of glass filled with sulfuric acid. When the glass is broken, the acid and the inflammable paste combine, causing ignition. During his travels on the Beagle through South America, Charles Darwin caused quite a sensation in Uruguay by biting through the glass capsule of a Promethean, causing ignition. These were not friction matches but were chemical reaction matches.
At about the same time, an Italian chemist, Domenico Ghigliano, was also interested in my family. After several experiments, he prepared an inflammable paste based on antimony sulfide and other elements that were made to solidify on the ends of small sticks. When struck on a rough surface, the paste ignited immediately.
The potassium chlorate and white phosphorus, which in the meantime had become the main components of the paste, were both dangerous and poisonous. Eventually, they were replaced by lead dioxide (or red lead together with manganese dioxide) and by red phosphorus. This also helped to eliminate difficulties in their manufacture and use.
From Tree Trunk to Match
What am I made of today? My short, slender, dry body may be made of fir, pine, or white poplar. My head is mainly phosphorus sulfide, chlorate, iron or zinc oxide, powdered glass, and rubber or glue.
Of course, we matches are quite a varied family, and the boxes we come in are even more so. I am the common kitchen match, but there is also the cerino, or wax match (a typical Italian product with the matchstick made of rolled waxed paper). Then there is the Swedish match (made without phosphorus in his head and so sophisticated that he ignites only when struck on the phosphorus strip of his box).
Simply put, our production is divided into three stages: First of all, there is the preparation of my body, the matchstick; then there is the mixing of the inflammable paste; and, lastly, the union of the two elements.
For the first stage, tree trunks have their bark stripped off and are reduced to millions of fine matchsticks with a square or rectangular cross section. On the other hand, to make the wax matches, a long thread of twisted waxed paper is drawn out through a die. Then it is reduced into one-inch [2.5 cm] lengths by a cutter.
The paste is made from different chemicals, and the heads can vary from one kind of match to another. The final stage is the union of the two parts. We matches are placed head down in a frame, and our heads are skimmed by a roller covered with paste. We are then allowed to dry, and finally we are boxed. The rough surface by which you light us is a layer of glue mixed with glass powder applied to the side of the matchbox. At one time the whole production process was by hand; now, of course, it is mechanized. They turn us out by the millions.
Just a word of caution—don’t leave us where children can reach us. They are very curious and like to imitate grown-ups—the next thing you know they are scratching my head on the side of the box, and with my fiery character, a tiny flame can cause a big fire. So please be careful with me!