The recorded history of human beings begins with the art of writing.
In general, historic times are said to cover the last 6,000 years.
But the history of glass manufacture is known to have begun at least 12,000 years ago.
It may well be the first substance ever manufactured by men.
Glass is so common today, and so much a part of our civilization,
In spite of the everyday nature of glass windows and glass bottles and other items made from glass, there is a possibility that a few ancient people knew more about its manufacture than we do, and conceivably could have developed a better type of glass than anything available now.
This is a story about one such discovery which, as early as two thousand years ago, produced
a non-breakable glass that responded to pressure by bending rather than shattering.
The setting is the island of Capri, just off the coast of Italy.
The year is 34 A.D.
The emperor of Rome is the great aristocrat and patrician Nero Claudius Tiberius Caesar,
ruler of all the known civilized world.
Forward with life in the capital city, Tiberius had ordered the construction of a dozen pleasure
palaces, one of them on the Isle of Capri. When affairs of state wearied him, Tiberius
and a number of young men, whose company he seemed to favor above that of young women,
would journey to Capri for what today would be known as a bash. His parties can only
be described as lavish. The actual nature of the entertainments is perhaps best left
to the imagination.
On one such evening, a keen eye might have noticed a small skiff being rowed from the
Italian shore toward the island where a party was in progress.
This was a long and perilous trip for so small a vessel, and the lone occupant of the boat
was readily observed by the centurion whose task was to stand guard at the quay to prevent
any uninvited guest from intruding.
The landing on the island, with its marble steps going down into the water, was centred
by a half-dozen soldiers and by twice the number of statues. In an economy move, Tiberius
had reduced the size of his military force and had ordered statues to be made, which
were painted in lifelike colours and which stood guard in company with living troops.
Roman discipline made the statues and the men indistinguishable, creating the impression
of extensive police power, where actually a handful of troops was all that was necessary.
As the rowboat bumped the bottom step, the centurion sprang into action.
His short sword drawn, he collared the oarsman.
Who was he?
Why the intrusion?
The old man, clad in the poorest of workers' robes, trembled in great fear.
O mighty captain, he whined, I am a harmless Venetian, a glass-blower by trade.
I have come because I have a wonderful gift for Caesar.
I must present it to him.
The centurion demanded a glimpse of the gift, and the frightened man complied.
From the folds of his rough garment, he produced a sparkling goblet that caught and reflected
the rays of the moon.
It is this, great captain, it is very special.
I have made it with my own hands.
In all of Rome, there is no goblet to equal it.
A command and one of the nearby statues brings to life.
The intruder is searched for possible weapons, nothing is found.
Apparently his request to see the Emperor is both simple and sincere.
Another order is given.
The old man is propelled up the hill with the soldier behind him, sword gleaming in
readiness.
Inside the rotunda, Tiberius is reclining in state.
His friends are about him in similar indolent postures, dining as servants bustle about
with trays and flagons, intent on anticipating every wish.
The guard turns the old man over to another legionnaire and approaches the royal couch
raised upon a platform.
His clenched fist thuds against his chest in a Roman salute.
Mighty Caesar, we have captured an intruder, an old man, who says he is a Phoenician glassblower.
He has a gift for you.
Is it your pleasure to see this man, or is it your august will that we run him through
and drop his body in the bay?
Tiberius has had more wine than is good for him, but the haze swims away and he focuses
on the questioning trooper. The room grows still. Attention goes from Caesar to the ragged
workman in the archway. The night is young, and Caesar is quite mellow.
Let the workman come forward. Instantly the old man is pushed into the centre of the room.
In abject humility he kneels at Caesar's feet. Hastily he fumbles in his garments and produces the goblet in his unlovely hand. Then, still shaking, he holds it out in offering.
It is a delicate bit of glass of exquisite design. Tiberius smiles and reaches for it.
Then, and the onlookers were never quite certain, the Venetian appeared to deliberately let the glass slip from his fingers.
It dropped to the stones of the paved rotunda, and it bounced, and rang like a bit of silver.
There's a gasp in the room, and all eyes are now welded to the glassblower to watch his every move.
He retrieves the goblet. There is a dent on the rim.
With a tool which he had contrived to conceal in spite of the search, he hammers the bent edge back into its original shape,
and now, dropping again to his knees, he hands the goblet to Tiberius.
There is a look of pride on the Phoenician's face, but he bows so that the gleam in his eye will be unnoticed in the event Caesar is disturbed.
But the emperor of all the Romans is on his feet. He is examining the glass with great care, turning it in his fingers, gazing through it at his guests and at the flaring torches which cast a ruddy glow over the assembly.
Where did you get this, he demands?
Have you stolen it from the villa of some senator?
Oh, I am no thief, great Caesar, Stammers the glassmaker.
I am a poor, though honest workman, a Phoenician and a glassblower.
My father was a glassblower, and before him his father.
Always we have tried to make better glass, and hopefully we have tried to make a glass
that will not break but will respond flexibly to ill usage.
This goblet I have made by my own hands, and it will do this.
Tiberius is impressed.
It is a remarkable piece of work.
He gazes about the room again, looking through the goblet.
And it shows no sign that it has been dropped.
But perhaps this fine workmanship is nothing but a lucky accident.
Fortune smiled upon you, but it would be impossible to make a second one.
The glassblower's face shines in excitement.
Surely his fortune has now been made.
I am an untutored man and I cannot read, the workman admits.
But insofar as glass is concerned, I have more knowledge than any living man.
I can duplicate this goblet over and over.
Oh, you have a formula.
Yes, great Caesar, I know the secret and it can be reproduced.
But surely you are not the only man who knows this thing.
You work with others.
Others too are privy to this knowledge so that they too can produce goblets like it.
Ah, it is true that others know something of it. I have two helpers who understand something
of what I know, but they cannot do this. Only I can make flexible glass. The secret is locked
in my head. You have not reduced it to writing? The workman bows in humility. I have no skill
at letters. I am untutored. But locked in your head is the knowledge so that you can
And make this goblet again and again.
That is true, mighty Caesar.
Quite so.
I simply wanted to make certain.
Tiberius makes an almost imperceptible motion to the legionnaire, who had been standing
by at attention.
The Roman short sword flashes in the ruddy glow of torches, and the old man falls to
the floor, blood gushing from a dreadful mortal wound.
The faces of the guests turn pale, and here and there one turns away.
they dare not show displeasure.
Finally the favorite of the emperor lisps what the others feel.
O mighty Caesar, it is not for us to question your divine judgment.
We are mute and marvel at the decision, which we know was rightfully deduced.
But if Caesar wills it, could he explain to us poor and ignorant mortals why such ultimate
punishment was visited upon a man who appears to be but an honest workman?
Was he a spy, a thief, or some other villain? If you didn't like the goblet, you could have
flogged him for our pleasure. But Tiberius is still examining the goblet. Finally he
gives a short laugh and turns to his guests.
Apparently none of you has seen the danger implicit in this sparkling bauble. Know, then,
that I have just saved the Roman economy. To the looks of incredulity, he continues,
This pretty piece of glass is, perhaps, the most valuable item in Rome, as of this moment.
It is far more valuable than gold or jewels. It has no price. Had I permitted this workman
to make more of them, it is entirely likely that merchants and common people would have
valued goblets such as this above the value they place on gold. And what then? Do you
not realize that the Roman economy is based on gold? Shall we stand by and let glass replace
Today, modern glass-making is now approaching the point where it may ultimately make its
make a glass as flexible and as lasting as that purported to have been made in 34 A.D.
But we may quite properly reflect upon this incident to marvel at the ways government
extends itself to serve what it calls the common good.
Once a government, any government, obtains centralized control over a population and the
Those in government begin to decide which businesses should be conducted, which goods sold, and which services offered.
There are some who contend that government has invariably acted in restraint of business and trade, that, in fact, it is the only chore to which it is totally dedicated.
This practice is carried on under the term pro bono publico, or for the good of the public.
and how often such government programming and control has been wrong.
Whenever a people begin to believe in the divinity of their particular Caesar,
and imagine that his judgments are always good,
they will find themselves reduced to mere puppets carrying out his will,
and scenes like the one described will take place.
Such has been the tragic fate of many, and such will be the fate of more.
Certainly, any man, whether private businessman or politician, can be wrong.
Anyone can and will make mistakes. All of us do.
One of the great merits of a private enterprise system is that when mistakes are made, the persons suffering are those who made the error.
When government takes control of the economy, the results of error are visited upon those who have not committed them.
Perhaps one day we will recognize the great advantage of private management of private affairs.