Tagged ‘Moxon’

The 5th Beetle

September 27th, 2012 by Rick McKee

The humble beetle.

It looks like a mallet on steroids. It’s associated with pitching circus tents and feats of strength at the local fair. Derisive terms like beetle-headed make light of its utilitarian nature. It has a cousin by the same name which is used to pound filthy laundry. It strikes iron wedges with great violence and its head can be easily shattered. Sometimes, iron rings are heated to an ominous shade of red and beaten onto its ends. Can’t a tool get any respect up in here??

But in spite of its homespun, misunderstood provenance, the beetle is an essential addition to any carpenter or joiner’s tool kit in the 17th-century. There isn’t any riving of clapboard, lathe, panel or shingle without a beetle. After the ax but before the froe, the beetle drives the wedge into oak and cedar and ash to divide the timber into manageable sizes, often for building materials, sometimes for firewood. It can be augmented with iron rings at each end of its head to keep it from splitting from the force of the blow.

Between 1633 and 1663, there are 11 references to beetles and beetle rings in Plymouth Colony wills and inventories alone. They are almost always listed alongside wedges.

I got yer aluminum siding right here...

In 1668, the Widow Silvester, in addition to her “Grindstone and Cranke” (didn’t they tour with Hope and Crosby?) leaves behind “2 beetle ringes”. In the mid-1660s, Robert Abell and John Joyce have listed among their worldly possessions “betleringes”. Such disembodied rings imply a couple of things: First, though the iron rings are separated from the beetle, yet they have their own intrinsic value–perhaps greater than the wooden beetle itself–and are worth keeping. Also, it’s a royal pain in the tuckus to keep those bad boys on the beetle-head.

The elm of this beetle was saved from the chipper.We give American Elm a B- for beetle-heads.

Our blacksmiths will take a heat on the rings in order to expand their circumference. Then the rings are driven onto the head from either end in a process called sweating. As they are cooled, the rings contract, leaving a tight fit. With a hammer, we’ll sometimes break the very edge of the beetle over the iron rings to further secure them.

We’ve studied examples of beetles with wooden wedges struck into the end grain of the beetle-head. We’ve tried this on a piece of elm recently and we’ll let you know how long this works for us.

The wedging is fine. The elm stock? Meh.

Sometimes, a beetle is made from a single piece of a tree. The image below seems to record this in figure 8:

I'm gonna run to the maul.

We’ve made beetles from a single piece of wood before with mixed results. If the grain at its head is particularly gnarly and hard, say from a tree root, the beetle may have a good many blows in it. But such a beetle is impractical to ring and is likely to check along its handle over time. For the ex-Little-Leaguers out there, remember those stinging foul balls on a cold day? It’s like that.

Moxon weighs in on the subject, but his beetle is called a “commander”:

There may be a qualitative difference between a beetle and a commander. Moxon’s commander has no rings. Might a commander be somewhat heavier for knocking house parts together? A beetle too-heavy is unwieldy for repetitive work like driving wedges into an oak log. A commander too-light doesn’t have the ooooomph to marry the tenon into the mortice. We’ve used heavy, commander-type beetles to drive pointed studs into the ground in a few of our houses.

John Evelyn’s Silva speaks of Horn-beam as serving for the “heads of beetles…for which purposes its extream toughness commends it…”  ( chapt 12) . We lack an abundant source of horn-beam locally, but we do use oak, elm, and hickory for beetle-head stock. White oak and ash make suitable handles.

From an elementary school visit to Plimoth Plantation’s Education Department:

Hit it square and you’ll be all-right, kid!

 

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

It's fitting that he's next to RINGo.

 

Getting the Lead Out or: How to Stop Worrying and Love the Plumb

April 24th, 2012 by Rick McKee

Here is the video accompaniment to “Getting the Lead Out”, last week’s post about fishing weights, sunken treasures, and plumb bobs.

It’s a little long, but I hope you can find the time to watch–Mark is a great storyteller.

 

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

Plimoth Plantation shows our support for Eva Lipton, daughter of our Chief Financial and Administrative Officer, Ivan Lipton. Eva was severely injured in a car accident on 3/30 on her way to school and remains in critical condition. For information on making a donation to the Eva Lipton fund at TD Bank, the Team Eva bracelet, or other ways you can help, please contact us at plimoth@plimoth.org. Thank you.

Getting the Lead Out

April 18th, 2012 by Rick McKee

Mark using the back of a block template to tamp the ground before pouring lead.

This is a little story about guys who poke sticks into the ground. And fishing weights. And sunken ships and maritime colonies whose treasures only a history geek could love. And lead. Lots of lead.

And this story is also about our master blacksmith Mark, whose relentless curiosity leads him to many small and fascinating discoveries and connections.

It began with a group of petulant carpenters who needed historically appropriate plumb bobs for hewing, laying out joinery, and standing posts upright. We had been using old fishing weights, rocks, the petrified remains of woolly mammoths, and various other objects tied to the ends of strings to suit our needs. Can’t you just make us a lead plumb bob? Isn’t that a classic shape which has come down through the centuries? Our whining for something both functional and plausible for our 17th century site crescendo-ed to a fever pitch until Mark could no longer suffer us. So he did something about it, as only Mark can do. He began by examining several artifacts.

The first thing to do was consider the obvious. Below is what appears to be a classic plumb bob shape salvaged from the 1545 wreck of the Mary Rose, King Henry’s flagship, an incredible treasure of artifacts preserved in the briny deep until being raised and conserved in 1982:

From, Before The Mast, Life and Death Aboard the Mary Rose, 2005

This may have been a plumb bob. But, as Mark pointed out, it was found with “the remains of a leather thong” through the hole at the top. (insert jokes here). It’s possible that leather could function roughly as a string for dropping a plumb line, but the strip would not be nearly as accurate as a thinner, longer, finer length of string. Its use remains as murky as the waters from whence it came.

Allrighty then–what about the level drawn in Moxon’s, Mechanick Exercises or the Doctrine of Handy-Works?

Who made the first level?

Surely this is some sort of lead plumb bob attached to the string. (In the middle of the wooden level, there is a line scribed at a right angle to the bottom of the level; when the string of the bob hangs directly over the line, whatever the level is sitting on is…level!). And indeed there is. The “plumbet”, as Moxon calls it, is what’s hanging from the line. It is very likely made of lead–”plumbum” is Latin for lead. But is this plumbet a functional plum bob for plumbing much longer posts and rafter pairs and other uses separate from the level? Is it heavy enough? Mark presses on. What other lead weights might possibly serve as plumb bobs? Well, Plimoth started out as a fishing colony…

Newly found Newfoundland fishing weight. The top is hammered flat and the hole likely pierced with an awl.

A couple years ago Mark attended a conference up in Newfoundland. There he was able to see many artifacts, among them various fishing weights. An aside: You should know two things about Mark–First: He sees things that the rest of us do not. When he holds an artifact in his hands, his synapses start firing as he thoughtfully, deliberately, authoritavely begins to place the object in its context. Second: He uses copy machines in very creative and unorthodox ways. I have seen them quake and tremble as he walks past. You know that clip of Jimi Hendrix lighting his guitar on fire? It’s like that.

Back to the fishing weights: The blacksmith-detective made his observations, took notes, and wore out a copy machine or two. Then came some connections.

This remote English fishing colony founded in 1621 Newfoundland yielded lead fishing weights remarkably similar to those found on the Mary Rose, about 80 years earlier and across the pond.

Mary Rose fishing weights. From, Before The Mast, Life and Death Aboard the Mary Rose, 2005

Diverse forms of lead weights were found on the Mary Rose, including these block shaped weights. These bear a slight resemblance to Moxon’s level plumbets (above). Hmmm…

More square-ish fishing weights from Mary Rose. Note the bubble on top of bottom image.

Additionally, weights of this type were found in Virginia sites from the period, as well as along The Thames River in London.

So what’s the dilly, you ask? Well, first of all these are all English sites. This is always a good start when we’re researching our own site. The lead weights found at these several sites are remarkably similar. It shows continuity between English settlements and maritime activities separated by decades and by thousands of miles. Plimoth colony lies along this scale of continuity.

The lead artifacts also gave Mark clues as to how they were made.

He was able to discern two things: The sides of the lead weights bore evidence of the simple carvings of a stick that was used to push into the ground as a template for the hot lead.

Another lead weight from Newfoundland. Note the bubble action on top.

Additionally, the top of the lead weights–the part which poked out of the hole in the ground–had a characteristic “bubble” at the top, which is indicative of differential rates of hardening as the lead cooled. The likely conclusion our forensic blacksmith drew from these two details was that the weights were made by poking carved sticks and blocks into the cool earth, and molten lead was poured into the holes. (Lead doesn’t need a forge to be melted–it can become molten over a hearth or outdoor fire). This shows a simple and efficient way to make lead weights.

One of our greatest joys here at The Riven Word, and I suspect for you also, dear reader, is the joy that comes from learning by doing. So Mark got busy making a few of these weights.

There was stick carving…

Paring away the stick to form lead template.

earth sifting and tamping…

Prep work for impending stick jabbing. The earth was just right.

and lead-in-ladle melting.

Lead is Pb, from the Latin plumbum. Pb is from a jar and good with jelly.

With the steady hand of a surgeon, Mark poured hot lead into the molds.

Marie Pelletier's action shot of molten lead pouring. How does she do it?

Deftly, he pulled out the solidifying lead with a pair of sticks.

Getting the lead out. Swords into plowshares.

and from forth the ground came the effulgent beauty of several lead shapes…

The larger block weights are in the style of those found on Mary Rose. The smaller weights are based on those from Newfoundland.

So this uncommon wealth of evidence-both fortuitous and a little frustrating, still left us carpenters searching for a suitable and historically appropriate plumb for our work. We had close examination of artifacts found on multiple English sites, a couple of sketchy woodcuts, and the action of making almost exact copies using historic methods.

Could we plausibly use fishing weights as plumbs? They’re a perfect size and good shape to drop from a plumb line. Plus they bear a slight resemblance to Moxon’s level plumbet. We looked to Mark for guidance: Sure, he said, why not? Plimoth was, after all, a fishing colony from the get go, probably full of fishing gear like lead weights for both lines and nets. It would only be a small jump to make that connection between fishing weights and plumb bobs. Besides, our experience showed us that these weights were remarkably easy to make…what’s not to love?

Then, like a shadow creeping along our verdant enthusiasm, along came more evidence. Mark, ever faithful to both primary and secondary sources, reminded us that Moxon himself weighed in on the topic of plumb lines elsewhere in his chapter on House Carpentry:

The plumb line…is used to try the upright standing of posts, or other Work that is to stand Perpendicular to the Ground Plot; and then they draw off so much Line as is necessary, and fasten the rest of the Line there, upon the Line-Rowl with a slip knot, that no more Line turn off…etc…etc…

This plum line, rolled up on a wooden “Line Rowl” as Moxon says, looks like this:

Moxon's yo yo.

So there’s that. A lead-free plumb line.

Until Mark’s next discovery, we’ll interpret to our guests using a “line rowl” hanging from a string as a plumb line…at least for trying plumb over a short distance. If, however, it’s a windy day and we’re standing posts and we just HAPPEN to have a fishing weight burning a hole in our pockets, you may just as well see us checking plumb with these handy dandy easy-to-make lead weights. If it smells fishy to you, it’s only because Plimoth started out as a fishing colony.

Next week on The Riven Word, see Mark’s super steady hands in action in the video companion to this post.

 

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

Plimoth Plantation shows our support for Eva Lipton, daughter of our Chief Financial and Administrative Officer, Ivan Lipton. Eva was severely injured in a car accident on 3/30 on her way to school and remains in critical condition. For information on making a donation to the Eva Lipton fund at TD Bank, the Team Eva bracelet, or other ways you can help, please contact us at plimoth@plimoth.org. Thank you.

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