The Glass Armonica

The Glass Armonica

“The glass harmonica, also known as the glass armonica, glass harmonium, bowl organ, hydrocrystalophone, or simply the armonic or harmonica is a type of musical instrument that used a series of glass bowls or goblets graduated in size to produce musical tones by means of friction (instruments of this type are known as friction idiophones). It was invented in 1761 by Benjamin Franklin and produces sound similar to the glockenspiel.” [1]

Richmond, Virginia, June 1820

Anne slipped the glass instrument into the bottom of her basket that was already inundated by a violet medley. There was no clear delineation between strawberries and blueberries. There were so many in her basket that they had melded into one. It was a humid, June day and the haze was overwhelming. Looking as far as she could towards the horizon, it was hard to tell where the land stopped, and the sky began. The colors of the summer countryside seemed to blend into one another, with no definite edges or boundaries, as if it were a beautiful pastel scene.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Anne reminded her best friend, Louise.

“I know. She’ll be gone in a week.” Louise didn’t have to say her mother-in-law’s name. Anne knew. This wasn’t the first time that Louise had smuggled her miniature glass armonica to Anne for safety. Anne hoped it would be the last.

Anne knew how important this trinket of an instrument was to Louise. It was the final gift from her favorite aunt. Tension was high and glass was fragile.

Anne changed the subject. “Did you see the Pains and Penalties Bill?”

“Ha! Yes! What an arrogant man! King George thinks that he can dissolve his marriage as he pleases?! Who does he think he is, Henry VIII?” As Louise raged, Anne nodded, agreeing enthusiastically. “Good for Caroline! Good for her! He thought he would take away her title of Queen, look who’s laughing now!”

Anne agreed, “Yes, a fool. Did you see Caroline’s portrait by Gainsborough Dupont?” Anne demonstrated as she spoke, “Her hair is pulled up, held by a simple British tiara. Her neck is adorned with two strings of diamonds. Floor length gown, obviously, with a square neckline and puffed sleeves. The material is a type of trellised brocade with a beautiful fur cape. The color is that of silver moonlight, with just the faintest hint of gold.”

Both women sighed.

Louise arranging her son, Benjamin, on the quilt in the garden next to Anne’s daughter, Sarah, snapped back to reality. “Even my mother has a problem with it.”

“What!?” Anne was stunned. She had known Louise since they were as young as their own children and Louise’s mother was, for all intents and purposes, a second mother to Anne. The quilt their children were sitting on was the very same quilt that Anne and Louise had sat on as children.

“After Joseph returned from Vienna, Mother never could shake the feeling that something was amiss with the instrument.” Louise explained.

“What did he say?” Anne had never been a friend of Louise’s older brother. Joseph seemed to thrive in the land of chaos and lies. She hadn’t meant for her question to sound so accusatory, though.

“People had a lot of opinions about the instrument in Europe. But mostly, there was a list of those who should never listen to this instrument: those that suffer from nerves, those that are ill, those that are prone to melancholy, those…well, maybe that was the whole list. It seemed rather vague to me, but of course, I’m not a doctor.”

“Neither is he.” How sad for Louise that something she loved so much was both feared and disliked by her family.

“No…” Louise started and then her mind seemed to fade off.

“Have you been listening to this haunted, glass armonica?” Anne teased.

“Take care of it.”

Richmond, Virginia, August 1848

“You’ve outdone yourself again, Sarah.” Benjamin helped his wife clear the table. “You said that you wanted to discuss Elizabeth after dinner.”

Sarah and Benjamin had been married for several years and Elizabeth, their only child, was the center of their universe. The couple had struck out on their own. Benjamin found work at a paper mill. It was something that neither of their families had any experience in but that was the appeal. It was exciting to try something new with the comfort of family just down the road.

“Well,” Sarah began, “Do you remember the old piano at my parents’ home?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Elizabeth can play it.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Sarah, Elizabeth is ten years old.”

“I know…”

“Elizabeth has never had piano lessons.”

“I know…”

“You’re going to have to explain this to me.”

Sarah could hardly make sense of it herself. She had to start at the beginning. “The other day, Elizabeth was helping me unpack some of our boxes and organize.” Sarah and Benjamin had recently acquired a larger home, not out of necessity but out of want. Benjamin had earned a promotion at the paper mill, and he was quickly climbing the ladder of success. “And…well…Do you remember the little glass armonica that your mother gave to my mother?”

“I don’t know that it was given, so much as to keep safe, but yes.” Benjamin answered.

“You know that was a bit smaller than a full-size glass armonica? Well, Elizabeth pulls it out of a trunk, examines it and then starts playing! As if she has played it her entire life! As if it’s not an entirely unique, forgettable instrument! It was the most hauntingly beautiful music that I’ve ever heard.”

Benjamin could find no words, so Sarah continued.

“While unpacking, I thought ‘I wonder if Elizabeth can play the piano?’ I took her over to Mother and Father’s house. I guess I was curious if this musical talent extended to other instruments. She sat down on the piano bench and before you knew it, she was playing the piano as if she had played her entire life. She’s got a gift, Benjamin.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Benjamin looked at his wife inquisitively.

“We should encourage this gift.”

Two years later

Elizabeth plays the final note of Sonata in A Major by Mozart. Her fingers linger on the mother of pearl keys and rosewood flats of her Henry Hawkey piano. The piano is her most prized possession and the key to her future. The past two years have been a whirlwind of reorganizing Elizabeth’s education, or lack thereof, in order to accommodate her musical talent. The windows to the parlor are open and her mother is embroidering in the chair next to the piano. The last few rays of twilight sunset linger, and the fireflies slowly begin their parade.

“Mother,” Elizabeth began, “I came across a piece by Mozart. I’d like to play it.”

“Of course, Elizabeth.” Sarah continued embroidering without looking up.

“But…. it’s just that. I don’t know…it’s a bit…complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, looking up.

“Do you remember when we found the glass harmonica? I remember being able to play it, just like the piano. This piece is written for the glass harmonica.”

“Are they spelling it with an “h” now? Franklin referred to as an “armonic” without the “h.” Sarah mused, lost in her thoughts. For a moment, it was as if she was back in the garden with her mother, picking berries in the haze of a humid, Virginia summer day. Sarah’s mother never told her why the instrument was so important to Louise. When things become forbidden, they inherently become more valuable.

“I want to play the armonica again.” Elizabeth was insistent. There was an urgency to Elizabeth’s voice, something that Sarah was not used to hearing. “I found it in the study and tinkered with it; I think that I could create something with it. Something meaningful.”

“Don’t confuse destiny with desire.” Sarah looked thoughtful. After a moment she said, “You should play the armonica, if it’s that important to you. Never deny what is important to your heart.”

Later that evening, when Elizabeth was tucked safely in bed, Sarah sat knitting while Benjamin was reading by candlelight. The stone house cooled off quickly from the hot August day. It was a welcome relief.

Benjamin suddenly spoke. “I thought we’d be at war by now. Seems like the men in Washington finally decided to accomplish something. Did you get a chance to hear about the bills that passed? I’m not particularly happy about the Fugitive Slave Act but we ended the slave trade in DC… but that’s how you know it’s a good deal for all: each person is a little bit unsatisfied.”

Sarah paused, gathered her thoughts, then spoke. “I don’t think war will be prevented.”

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, October 1880

No matter how many years she lived in Philadelphia, Elizabeth never seemed to be able to adapt to autumn. The constant drizzle of rain and temperatures that hovered in the 50s created a perpetual feeling of dampness. Meanwhile, the fire danced in the fireplace.

Elizabeth and John had moved to Philadelphia with the expansion of her parents’ paper mill. Philadelphia was a prime location, away from the flailing economy of the South and bubbling with water sources to aid in the mill production. Leaving Richmond, Virginia and settling in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania was no small feat. It was made easier by the fact that Richmond had been decimated to ruins. The Richmond that Elizabeth had spent her childhood was gone.

The one constant that had remained in Elizabeth’s life had been music. She continued to play the piano daily, determined to always improve upon her skills. Hours upon hours of playing the same song to perfection, over and over. As much as she loved the piano, joy also came from her beautiful glass armonica. Elizabeth had perfected her art by playing the armonica almost as often as she played the piano.

Elizabeth’s eyes gazed around her sitting room, settling on the glass armonica…that should have been sitting on top of the piano, but it was missing. The glass armonica had come to be a very prized possession for her, one of the few objects that both she and her grandmother had held. Where was it?

A flood of memories deluged Elizabeth’s mind. She recalled a memory of her mother, when Elizabeth was eight years old, discussing the glass armonica with her father.

“Half your family thought the armonica was cursed.” Sarah and Benjamin both laughed at Sarah recalling this memory. Neither viewed the instrument as anything remotely gloomy, melancholic or possessed. Elizabeth’s parents viewed the glass armonica as Cinderella viewed the glass slipper: hopeful, lovely and a chance to change destiny.

That’s when Elizabeth heard the noise. Her daughter, Ruth, had two friends visiting. The door to Ruth’s room was closed. Elizabeth could hear muffled laughter, then an achingly beautiful note and a scream. Startled, Elizabeth flung open the door to find the three girls cross legged, on the floor, with the glass armonica in the center of their circle. The girls were attempting to conduct a séance.

Anger bubbled up. Disappointment accompanied it. The instrument was an object that she deeply treasured and now it had been defiled in a séance. Elizabeth cherished the armonica for the potential it held as well as the connection to the past. She had hoped that it would be a bridge between herself and her daughter, a connection. Her daughter knew how much the armonica meant to Elizabeth. In fact, the two had spent many rainy afternoons playing the instrument between pots of tea and cards. This felt like a betrayal.

Ruth sensed her mother’s emotions and quickly popped up off the floor, apologizing and shoo’ing her friends downstairs and through the front door. By the time Ruth returned to her room, the glass armonica was gone. She never saw it again.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, April 1910

Helen greeted the doorman and made her way to the Crystal Tea Room. She was ten minutes late but hopefully her mother wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t intentional. Helen had recently moved to Bryn Mawr with her husband, Arthur. He was a professor at the college and Helen was still adjusting to the train schedule.

The brass doors, shiny marble that held plush rugs and bold, yet ambient, lighting created a luxurious environment that encouraged indulgence and opulence. The lobby was crowded, people were bustling, and Helen had to nudge her way through the doors.

“Mother!” Helen spotted her mother as soon as she walked into Wanamaker’s department store. Ruth was admiring the diamonds and baubles in the jewelry cases. “Helen! You look wonderful! I’m starving, let’s eat!” Ruth whisked them upstairs to the Crystal Tea Room. The mother-daughter duo had dined here often enough that their Saint-Galmier waters and French rolls were patiently waiting at their usual spot.

Any time that the mother and daughter were together, time seemed to fly. When two people are very similar, they will either be thick as thieves or abhor one another. These two were thick as thieves. No subject was off limits in their discussions: gardening, the suffrage movement, horses and real estate were all fair topics for conversation. As lunch winded down, two hours had passed.

“Before I forget” Helen began, “Do you remember Grandmother’s glass trinket?”

Ruth thought. And thought. And thought some more.

“I’m sorry, dear, I don’t.”

“I thought it was an instrument? Grandmother showed it to me one time. I had talked to Arthur about it and he was fascinated. He thought that perhaps it was an instrument that Benjamin Franklin invented!”

“It was an instrument? That’s not ringing a bell with me.”

Miami, Florida, February 1940

“How was the hotel today?”

“It’s always something. Painting, electrical, plumbing, and then some random thing will break and need to be fixed. But it’s a job! I can’t complain! The guests have been great this week, no problem. This weather definitely makes it worth it. There’s probably a foot of snow in Philadelphia and here we are, enjoying drinks on our Miami lanai.”

“The weather definitely makes the transition easier. Another reason why I don’t want to see Barbara move to Philadelphia.” Helen explained as she folded geometric cloth napkins and neatly put them in the tropical, outdoor cabinet.

“It’s not about the weather, Helen. It’s about the opportunities that Barbara could attain going to Curtis.”

“Why not Juilliard? I think it’s just as prestigious and will afford her just as many opportunities.”

“I cannot stand the thought of our daughter living in New York City.”

“Don’t think about it!” Helen joked as Barbara walked onto the lanai.

“They’re on strike again, the railroads are shut down in New York.” Barbara offhandedly commented as she picked out an apple from the fruit bowl.

“Exactly! Another reason to avoid Juilliard.”

“I think the piano needs to be tuned. When I played this morning, the keys are a tad off. Dad, could you get the tuner out here soon, please?”

“Of course. I’m assuming he can tune that piano, it’s almost a hundred years old.” James thought for a moment. “Helen, do you know where that piano came from?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Savannah, Georgia, September 1970

Barbara didn’t go to the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia. Barbara didn’t go to Juilliard in New York City. Barbara moved to Savannah, Georgia and began playing professionally in various clubs. The idea of perfecting her art in real life, without the stuffiness of a conservatory, appealed to her.

Barbara found that her love of music extended into the realm of education. She taught piano. She enjoyed the children and their fun-loving devotion to the instrument. Teaching allowed her to have a schedule that was flexible enough to accommodate the odd hours of a musician. What began as a side job turned into her full-time gig.

When her family had moved from Philadelphia to Miami, it had been on a whim. Her father was offered a manager position in a luxury hotel on Miami Beach from an old college friend. The family packed and headed to Florida.

Helen and Barbara had meticulously unpacked and decorated the new home. As Barbara and Helen sifted through box after box, a prism caught Barbara’s eye. It was a bowl. No, several bowls. All lined up as if they were Russian nesting dolls. A crank on one end allowed the bowls to be rotated on a pole. Touching, or rather playing, the bowls created a nostalgic, eerie and somewhat comforting sound.

Barbara asked her mother what the object was, and Helen had no idea.

“Take it, it doesn’t mean anything to me.” Helen said.

After Barbara moved to Savannah, she placed the glass armonica on top of her piano.

Savannah, Georgia, April 2026

After the last student had left, Barbara dusted off the piano, re-arranged some photos and shut the door to the piano room.

“Mom, what’s this?” Samantha held up the glass armonica.

“I honestly don’t know.” Barbara replied. “I don’t have any idea what it is or where it came from.”

“Can I have it?” Samantha asked.

“Take care of it.”

[1] Wikipedia Contributors. (2019, October 23). Glass harmonica. Wikipedia; Wikimedia Foundation. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glass_harmonica