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DIAGRAM a. THE THREE WAYS OF
INCREASING HUMAN ENERGY.
Let, then, in diagram a, M
represent the mass of man. This mass is impelled in one direction by a
force f, which is resisted by another partly frictional and
partly negative force R, acting in a direction exactly
opposite, and retarding the movement of the mass. Such an antagonistic
force is present in every movement and must be taken into consideration.
The difference between these two forces is the effective force which
imparts a velocity V to the mass M in the direction of
the arrow on the line representing the force f. In accordance
with the preceding, the human energy will then be given by the product
½ MV2 = ½ MV x V, in which M
is the total mass of man in the ordinary interpretation of the term
"mass," and V is a certain hypothetical velocity,
which, in the present state of science, we are unable exactly to define
and determine. To increase the human energy is, therefore, equivalent to
increasing this product, and there are, as will readily be seen, only
three ways possible to attain this result, which are illustrated in the
above diagram. The first way shown in the top figure, is to increase the
mass (as indicated by the dotted circle), leaving the two opposing
forces the same. The second way is to reduce the retarding force R
to a smaller value r, leaving the mass and the impelling force
the same, as diagrammatically shown in the middle figure. The third way,
which is illustrated in the last figure, is to increase the impelling
force f to a higher value F, while the mass and the
retarding force R remain unaltered. Evidently fixed limits
exist as regards increase of mass and reduction of retarding force, but
the impelling force can be increased indefinitely. Each of these three
possible solutions presents a different aspect of the main problem of
increasing human energy, which is thus divided into three distinct
problems, to be successively considered.
THE FIRST PROBLEM: HOW TO INCREASE THE
HUMAN MASS—THE BURNING OF ATMOSPHERIC NITROGEN.
Viewed generally, there are obviously two ways of increasing the mass of
mankind: first, by aiding and maintaining those forces and conditions
which tend to increase it; and, second, by opposing and reducing those
which tend to diminish it. The mass will be increased by careful
attention to health, by substantial food, by moderation, by regularity
of habits, by promotion of marriage, by conscientious attention to
children, and, generally stated, by the observance of all the many
precepts and laws of religion and hygiene. But in adding new mass to the
old, three cases again present themselves. Either the mass added is of
the same velocity as the old, or it is of a smaller or of a higher
velocity. To gain an idea of the relative importance of these cases,
imagine a train composed of, say, one hundred locomotives running on a
track, and suppose that, to increase the energy of the moving mass, four
more locomotives are added to the train. If these four move at the same
velocity at which the train is going, the total energy will be increased
four per cent.; if they are moving at only one half of that velocity,
the increase will amount to only one per cent.; if they are moving at
twice that velocity, the increase of energy will be sixteen per cent.
This simple illustration shows that it is of greatest importance to add
mass of a higher velocity. Stated more to the point, if, for example,
the children be of the same degree of enlightenment as the parents,—that is, mass of the "same velocity,"—the energy
will simply increase proportionately to the number added. If they are
less intelligent or advanced, or mass of "smaller velocity,"
there will be a very slight gain in the energy; but if they are further
advanced, or mass of "higher velocity," then the new
generation will add very considerably to the sum total of human energy.
any addition of mass of "smaller velocity," beyond that
indispensable amount required by the law expressed in the proverb,
"Mens sana in corpore sano," should be strenuously opposed.
For instance, the mere development of muscle, as aimed at in some of our
colleges, I consider equivalent to adding mass of "smaller
velocity," and I would not commend it, although my views were
different when I was a student myself. Moderate exercise, insuring the
right balance between mind and body, and the highest efficiency of
performance, is, of course, a prime requirement. The above example shows
that the most important result to be attained is the education, or the
increase of the "velocity," of the mass newly added.
Conversely, it scarcely need be stated
that everything that is against the teachings of religion and the laws
of hygiene is tending to decrease the mass. Whisky, wine, tea coffee,
tobacco, and other such stimulants are responsible for the shortening of
the lives of many, and ought to be used with moderation. But I do not
think that rigorous measures of suppression of habits followed through
many generations are commendable. It is wiser to preach moderation than
abstinence. We have become accustomed to these stimulants, and if such
reforms are to be effected, they must be slow and gradual. Those who are
devoting their energies to such ends could make themselves far more
useful by turning their efforts in other directions, as, for instance,
toward providing pure water.
For every person who perishes from the
effects of a stimulant, at least a thousand die from the consequences of
drinking impure water. This precious fluid, which daily infuses new life
into us, is likewise the chief vehicle through which disease and death
enter our bodies. The germs of destruction it conveys are enemies all
the more terrible as they perform their fatal work unperceived. They
seal our doom while we live and enjoy. The majority of people are so
ignorant or careless in drinking water, and the consequences of this are
so disastrous, that a philanthropist can scarcely use his efforts better
than by endeavoring to enlighten those who are thus injuring themselves.
By systematic purification and sterilization of the drinking water the
human mass would be very considerably increased. It should be made a
rigid rule—which might be enforced by law—to boil or to sterilize
otherwise the drinking water in every household and public place. The
mere filtering does not afford sufficient security against infection.
All ice for internal uses should be artificially prepared from water
thoroughly sterilized. The importance of eliminating germs of disease
from the city water is generally recognized, but little is being done to
improve the existing conditions, as no satisfactory method of
sterilizing great quantities of water has yet been brought forward. By
improved electrical appliances we are now enabled to produce ozone
cheaply and in large amounts, and this ideal disinfectant seems to offer
a happy solution of the important question.
Gambling, business rush, and excitement,
particularly on the exchanges, are causes of much mass reduction, all
the more so because the individuals concerned represent units of higher
value. Incapacity of observing the first symptoms of an illness, and
careless neglect of the same, are important factors of mortality. In
noting carefully every new sign of approaching danger, and making
conscientiously every possible effort to avert it, we are not only
following wise laws of hygiene in the interest of our well-being and the
success of our labors, but we are also complying with a higher moral
duty. Everyone should consider his body as a priceless gift from one
whom he loves above all, as a marvelous work of art, of indescribable beauty and mastery beyond human conception, and so delicate and frail
that a word, a breath, a look, nay, a thought, may injure it.
Uncleanliness, which breeds disease and death, is not only a self
destructive but highly immoral habit. In keeping our bodies free from
infection, healthful, and pure, we are expressing our reverence for the
high principle with which they are endowed. He who follows the precepts
of hygiene in this spirit is proving himself, so far, truly religious.
Laxity of morals is a terrible evil, which poisons both mind and body,
and which is responsible for a great reduction of the human mass in some
countries. Many of the present customs and tendencies are productive of
similar hurtful results. For example, the society life, modern education
and pursuits of women, tending to draw them away from their household
duties and make men out of them, must needs detract from the elevating
ideal they represent, diminish the artistic creative power, and cause
sterility and a general weakening of the race. A thousand other evils
might be mentioned, but all put together, in their bearing upon the
problem under discussion, they could not equal a single one, the want of
food, brought on by poverty, destitution, and famine. Millions of
individuals die yearly for want of food, thus keeping down the mass.
Even in our enlightened communities, and not withstanding the many
charitable efforts, this is still, in all probability, the chief evil. I
do not mean here absolute want of food, but want of healthful nutriment.
How to provide good and plentiful food
is, therefore, a most important question of the day. On the general
principles the raising of cattle as a means of providing food is
objectionable, because, in the sense interpreted above, it must
undoubtedly tend to the addition of mass of a "smaller
velocity." It is certainly preferable to raise vegetables, and I
think, therefore, that vegetarianism is a commendable departure from the
established barbarous habit. That we can subsist on plant food and
perform our work even to advantage is not a theory, but a
well-demonstrated fact. Many races living almost exclusively on
vegetables are of superior physique and strength. There is no doubt that
some plant food, such as oatmeal, is more economical than meat, and
superior to it in regard to both mechanical and mental performance. Such
food, moreover, taxes our digestive organs decidedly less, and, in
making us more contented and sociable, produces an amount of good
difficult to estimate. In view of these facts every effort should be
made to stop the wanton and cruel slaughter of animals, which must be
destructive to our morals. To free ourselves from animal instincts and
appetites, which keep us down, we should begin at the very root from
which we spring: we should effect a radical reform in the character of
the food.
There seems to be no philosophical
necessity for food. We can conceive of organized beings living without
nourishment, and deriving all the energy they need for the performance
of their life functions from the ambient medium. In a crystal we have the
clear evidence of the existence of a formative life-principle, and
though we cannot understand the life of a crystal, it is none the less a
living being. There may be, besides crystals, other such individualized,
material systems of beings, perhaps of gaseous constitution, or composed
of substance still more tenuous. In view of this possibility,—nay,
probability, we cannot apodictically deny the existence of organized
beings on a planet merely because the conditions on the same are
unsuitable for the existence of life as we conceive it. We cannot even,
with positive assurance, assert that some of them might not be present
here, in this our world, in the very midst of us, for their constitution
and life-manifestation may be such that we are unable to perceive them.
The production of artificial food as a
means for causing an increase of the human mass naturally suggests
itself, but a direct attempt of this kind to provide nourishment does
not appear to me rational, at least not for the present. Whether we
could thrive on such food is very doubtful. We are the result of ages of
continuous adaptation, and we cannot radically change without unforeseen
and, in all probability, disastrous consequences. So uncertain an
experiment should not be tried. By far the best way, it seems to me, to
meet the ravages of the evil, would be to find ways of increasing the
productivity of the soil. With this object the preservation of forests
is of an importance which cannot be overestimated, and in this
connection, also, the utilization of water-power for purposes of
electrical transmission, dispensing in many ways with the necessity of
burning wood, and tending thereby to forest preservation, is to be
strongly advocated. But there are limits in the improvement to be
effected in this and similar ways.
To increase materially the productivity
of the soil, it must be more effectively fertilized by artificial means.
The question of food-production resolves itself, then, into the question
how best to fertilize the soil. What it is that made the soil is still a
mystery. To explain its origin is probably equivalent to explaining the
origin of life itself. The rocks, disintegrated by moisture and heat and
wind and weather, were in themselves not capable of maintaining life.
Some unexplained condition arose, and some new principle came into
effect, and the first layer capable of sustaining low organisms, like
mosses was formed. These, by their life and death, added more of the
life sustaining quality to the soil, and higher organisms could then
subsist, and so on and on, until at last highly developed plant and
animal life could flourish. But though the theories are, even now, not
in agreement as to how fertilization is effected, it is a fact, only too
well ascertained, that the soil cannot indefinitely sustain life, and
some way must be found to supply it with the substances which have been
abstracted from it by the plants. The chief and most valuable among
these substances are compounds of nitrogen, and the cheap production of
these is, therefore, the key for the solution of the all-important food
problem. Our atmosphere contains an inexhaustible amount of nitrogen,
and could we but oxidize it and produce these compounds, an incalculable
benefit for mankind would follow.
Long ago this idea took a powerful hold
on the imagination of scientific men, but an efficient means for
accomplishing this result could not be devised. The problem was rendered
extremely difficult by the extraordinary inertness of the nitrogen,
which refuses to combine even with oxygen. But here electricity comes to
our aid: the dormant affinities of the element are awakened by an
electric current of the proper quality. As a lump of coal which has been
in contact with oxygen for centuries without burning will combine with
it when once ignited, so nitrogen, excited by electricity, will burn. I
did not succeed, however, in producing electrical discharges exciting
very effectively the atmospheric nitrogen until a comparatively recent
date, although I showed, in May, 1891, in a scientific lecture, a novel
form of discharge or electrical flame named "St. Elmo's
hotfire," which, besides being capable of generating ozone in
abundance, also possessed, as I pointed out on that occasion, distinctly
the quality of exciting chemical affinities. This discharge or flame was
then only three or four inches long, its chemical action was likewise
very feeble, and consequently the process of oxidation of nitrogen was
wasteful. How to intensify this action was the question. Evidently
electric currents of a peculiar kind had to be produced in order to
render the process of nitrogen combustion more efficient.
The first advance was made in
ascertaining that the chemical activity of the discharge was very
considerably increased by using currents of extremely high frequency or
rate of vibration. This was an important improvement, but practical
considerations soon set a definite limit to the progress in this
direction. Next, the effects of the electrical pressure of the current
impulses, of their wave-form and other characteristic features, were
investigated. Then the influence of the atmospheric pressure and
temperature and of the presence of water and other bodies was studied,
and thus the best conditions for causing the most intense chemical
action of the discharge and securing the highest efficiency of the
process were gradually ascertained. Naturally, the improvements were not
quick in coming; still, little by little, I advanced. The flame grew
larger and larger, and its oxidizing action grew more intense. From an
insignificant brush-discharge a few inches long it developed into a
marvelous electrical phenomenon, a roaring blaze, devouring the nitrogen
of the atmosphere and measuring sixty or seventy feet across. Thus
slowly, almost imperceptibly, possibility became accomplishment. All is
not yet done, by any means, but to what a degree my efforts have been
rewarded an idea may be gained from an inspection of Fig. 1 (p. 176),
which, with its title, is self explanatory. The flame-like discharge
visible is produced by the intanse electrical oscillations which pass
through the coil shown, and violently agitate the electrified molecules
of the air. By this means a strong affinity is created between the two
normally indifferent constituents of the atmosphere, and they combine
readily, even if no further provision is made for intensifying the
chemical action of the discharge. In the manufacture of nitrogen
compounds by this method, of course, every possible means bearing upon
the intensity of this action and the efficiency of the process will be
taken advantage of, and, besides, special arrangements will be provided
for the fixation of the compounds formed, as they are generally
unstable, the nitrogen becoming again inert after a little lapse of
time. Steam is a simple and effective means for fixing permanently the
compounds. The result illustrated makes it practicable to oxidize the
atmospheric nitrogen in unlimited quantities, merely by the use of cheap
mechanical power and simple electrical apparatus. In this manner many
compounds of nitrogen may be manufactured all over the world, at a small
cost, and in any desired amount, and by means of these compounds the
soil can be fertilized and its productiveness indefinitely increased. An
abundance of cheap and healthful food, not artificial, but such as we
are accustomed to, may thus be obtained. This new and inexhaustible
source of food-supply will be of incalculable benefit to mankind, for it
will enormously contribute to the increase of the human mass, and thus
add immensely to human energy. Soon, I hope, the world will see the
beginning of an industry which, in time to come, will, I believe, be in
importance next to that if iron.
THE SECOND PROBLEM: HOW TO REDUCE THE FORCE RETARDING THE HUMAN MASS—THE ART OF TELAUTOMATICS.
As before stated, the force which retards the onward movement of man is
partly frictional and partly negative. To illustrate this distinction I
may name, for example, ignorance, stupidity, and imbecility as some of
the purely frictional forces, or resistances devoid of any directive
tendency. On the other hand, visionariness, insanity, self-destructive
tendency, religious fanaticism, and the like, are all forces of a
negative character, acting in definite directions. To reduce or entirely
overcome these dissimilar retarding forces, radically different methods
must be employed. One knows, for instance, what a fanatic may do, and
one can take preventive measures, can enlighten, convince, and, possibly
direct him, turn his vice into virtue; but one does not know, and never
can know, what a brute or an imbecile may do, and one must deal with him
as with a mass, inert, without mind, let loose by the mad elements. A
negative force always implies some quality, not infrequently a high one,
though badly directed, which it is possible to turn to good advantage;
but a directionless, frictional force involves unavoidable loss.
Evidently, then, the first and general answer to the above question is:
turn all negative force in the right direction and reduce all frictional
force.
There can be no doubt that, of all the
frictional resistances, the one that most retards human movement is
ignorance. Not without reason said that man of wisdom, Buddha:
"Ignorance is the greatest evil in the world." The friction
which results from ignorance, and which is greatly increased owing to
the numerous languages and nationalities, can be reduced only by the
spread of knowledge and the unification of the heterogeneous elements of
humanity. No effort could be better spent. But however ignorance may
have retarded the onward movement of man in times past, it is certain
that, nowadays, negative forces have become of greater importance. Among
these there is one of far greater moment than any other. It is called
organized warfare. When we consider the millions of individuals, often
the ablest in mind and body, the flower of humanity, who are compelled
to a life of inactivity and unproductiveness, the immense sums of money
daily required for the maintenance of armies and war apparatus,
representing ever so much of human energy, all the effort uselessly
spent in the production of arms and implements of destruction, the loss
of life and the fostering of a barbarous spirit, we are appalled at the
inestimable loss to mankind which the existence of these deplorable
conditions must involve. What can we do to combat best this great evil?
Law and order absolutely require the
maintenance of organized force. No community can exist and prosper
without rigid discipline. Every country must be able to defend itself,
should the necessity arise. The conditions of to-day are not the result
of yesterday, and a radical change cannot be effected to-morrow. If the
nations would at once disarm, it is more than likely that a state of
things worse than war itself would follow. Universal peace is a
beautiful dream, but not at once realizable. We have seen recently that
even the nobel effort of the man invested with the greatest worldly
power has been virtually without effect. And no wonder, for the
establishment of universal peace is, for the time being, a physical
impossibility. War is a negative force, and cannot be turned in a
positive direction without passing through, the intermediate phases. It
is a problem of making a wheel, rotating one way, turn in the opposite
direction without slowing it down, stopping it, and speeding it up again
the other way.
It has been argued that the perfection of
guns of great destructive power will stop warfare. So I myself thought
for a long time, but now I believe this to be a profound mistake. Such
developments will greatly modify, but not arrest it. On the contrary, I
think that every new arm that is invented, every new departure that is
made in this direction, merely invites new talent and skill, engages new
effort, offers new incentive, and so only gives a fresh impetus to
further development. Think of the discovery of gun-powder. Can we
conceive of any more radical departure than was effected by this
innovation? Let us imagine ourselves living in that period: would we not
have thought then that warfare was at an end, when the armor of the
knight became an object of ridicule, when bodily strength and skill,
meaning so much before, became of comparatively little value? Yet
gunpowder did not stop warfare: quite the opposite—it acted as a most
powerful incentive. Nor do I believe that warfare can ever be arrested
by any scientific or ideal development, so long as similar conditions to
those prevailing now exist, because war has itself become a science, and
because war involves some of the most sacred sentiments of which man is
capable. In fact, it is doubtful whether men who would not be ready to
fight for a high principle would be good for anything at all. It is not
the mind which makes man, nor is it the body; it is mind and body. Our
virtues and our failings are inseparable, like force and matter. When
they separate, man is no more.
Another argument, which carries
considerable force, is frequently made, namely, that war must soon
become impossible be cause the means of defense are outstripping the
means of attack. This is only in accordance with a fundamental law which
may be expressed by the statement that it is easier to destroy than to
build. This law defines human capacities and human conditions. Were
these such that it would be easier build than to destroy, man would go
on unresisted, creating and accumulating without limit. Such conditions
are not of this earth. A being which could do this would not be a man:
it might be a god. Defense will always have the advantage over attack,
but this alone, it seems to me, can never stop war. By the use of new
principles of defense we can render harbors impregnable against attack,
but we cannot by such means prevent two warships meeting in battle on
the high sea. And then, if we follow this idea to its ultimate
development, we are led to the conclusion that it would be better for
mankind if attack and defense were just oppositely related; for if every
country, even the smallest, could surround itself with a wall absolutely
impenetrable, and could defy the rest of the world, a state of things
would surely be brought on which would be extremely unfavorable to human
progress. It is by abolishing all the barriers which separate nations
and countries that civilization is best furthered.
Again, it is contended by some that the
advent of the flying-machine must bring on universal peace. This, too, I
believe to be an entirely erroneous view. The flying-machine is
certainly coming, and very soon, but the conditions will remain the same
as before. In fact, I see no reason why a ruling power, like Great
Britain, might not govern the air as well as the sea. Without wishing to
put myself on record as a prophet, I do not hesitate to say that the
next years will see the establishment of an "air-power," and
its center may be not far from New York. But, for all that, men will
fight on merrily.
The ideal development of the war
principle would ultimately lead to the transformation of the whole
energy of war into purely potential, explosive energy, like that of an
electrical condenser. In this form the war-energy could be maintained
without effort; it would need to be much smaller in amount, while
incomparably more effective.
As regards the security of a country
against foreign invasion, it is interesting to note that it depends only
on the relative, and not the absolute, number of the individuals or
magnitude of the forces, and that, if every country should reduce the
war-force in the same ratio, the security would remain unaltered. An
international agreement with the object of reducing to a minimum the
war-force which, in view of the present still imperfect education of the
masses, is absolutely indispensable, would, therefore, seem to be the
first rational step to take toward diminishing the force retarding human
movement.
Fortunately, the existing conditions
cannot continue indefinitely, for a new element is beginning to assert
itself. A change for the better is eminent, and I shall now endeavor to
show what, according to my ideas, will be the first advance toward the
establishment of peaceful relations between nations, and by what means
it will eventually be accomplished.
Let us go back to the early beginning,
when the law of the stronger was the only law. The light of reason was
not yet kindled, and the weak was entirely at the mercy of the strong.
The weak individual then began to learn how to defend himself. He made
use of a club, stone, spear, sling, or bow and arrow, and in the course
of time, instead of physical strength, intelligence became the chief
deciding factor in the battle. The wild character was gradually softened
by the awakening of noble sentiments, and so, imperceptibly, after ages
of continued progress, we have come from the brutal fight of the
unreasoning animal to what we call the "civilized warfare" of
to-day, in which the combatants shake hands, talk in a friendly way, and
smoke cigars in the entr'actes, ready to engage again in deadly conflict
at a signal. Let pessimists say what they like, here is an absolute
evidence of great and gratifying advance.
But now, what is the next phase in this
evolution? Not peace as yet, by any means. The next change which should
naturally follow from modern developments should be the continuous
diminution of the number of individuals engaged in battle. The apparatus
will be one of specifically great power, but only a few individuals will
be required to operate it. This evolution will bring more and more into
prominence a machine or mechanism with the fewest individuals as an
element of warfare, and the absolutely unavoidable consequence of this
will be the abandonment of large, clumsy, slowly moving, and
unmanageable units. Greatest possible speed and maximum rate of
energy-delivery by the war apparatus will be the main object. The loss
of life will become smaller and smaller, and finally, the number of the
individuals continuously diminishing, merely machines will meet in a
contest without blood-shed, the nations being simply interested,
ambitious spectators. When this happy condition is realized, peace will
be assured. But, no matter to what degree of perfection rapid-fire guns,
high-power cannon, explosive projectiles, torpedo-boats, or other
implements of war may be brought, no matter how destructive they may be
made, that condition can never be reached through any such development.
All such implements require men for their operation; men are
indispensable parts of the machinery. Their object is to kill and to
destroy. Their power resides in their capacity for doing evil. So long
as men meet in battle, there will be bloodshed. Bloodshed will ever keep
up barbarous passion. To break this fierce spirit, a radical departure
must be made, an entirely new principle must be introduced, something
that never existed before in warfare—a principle which will forcibly,
unavoidably, turn the battle into a mere spectacle, a play, a contest
without loss of blood. To bring on this result men must be dispensed
with: machine must fight machine. But how accomplish that which seems
impossible? The answer is simple enough: produce a machine capable of
acting as though it were part of a human being—no mere mechanical
contrivance, comprising levers, screws, wheels, clutches, and nothing
more, but a machine embodying a higher principle, which will enable it
to per form its duties as though it had intelligence, experience,
judgment, a mind! This conclusion is the result of my thoughts and
observations which have extended through virtually my whole life, and I
shall now briefly describe how I came to accomplish that which at first
seemed an unrealizable dream.
A long time ago, when I was a boy, I was
afflicted with a singular trouble, which seems to have been due to an
extraordinary excitability of the retina. It was the appearance of
images which, by their persistence, marred the vision of real objects
and interfered with thought. When a word was said to me, the image of
the object which it designated would appear vividly before my eyes, and
many times it was impossible for me to tell whether the object I saw was
real or not. This caused me great discomfort and anxiety, and I tried
hard to free myself of the spell. But for a long time I tried in vain,
and it was not, as I clearly recollect, until I was about twelve years
old that I succeeded for the first time, by an effort of the will, in
banishing an image which presented itself. My happiness will never be as
complete as it was then, but, unfortunately (as I thought at that time),
the old trouble returned, and with it my anxiety. Here it was that the
observations to which I refer began. I noted, namely, that whenever the
image of an object appeared before my eyes I had seen something that
reminded me of it. In the first instances I thought this to be purely
accidental, but soon I convinced myself that it was not so. A visual
impression, consciously or unconsciously received, invariably preceded
the appearance of the image. Gradually the desire arose in me to find
out, every time, what caused the images to appear, and the satisfaction
of this desire soon became a necessity. The next observation I made was
that, just as these images followed as a result of something I had seen,
so also the thoughts which I conceived were suggested in like manner.
Again, I experienced the same desire to locate the image which caused
the thought, and this search for the original visual impression soon
grew to be a second nature. Mt mind became automatic, as it were, and in
the course of years of continued, almost unconscious performance, I
acquired the ability of locating every time and, as a rule, instantly
the visual impression which started the thought. Nor is this all. It was
not long before I was aware that also all my movements were prompted in
the same way, and so, searching, observing, and verifying continuously,
year by year, I have, by every thought and every act of mine,
demonstrated, and do so daily, to my absolute satisfaction, that I am an
automaton endowed with power of movement, which merely responds to
external stimuli beating upon my sense organs, and thinks and acts and
moves accordingly. I remember only one or two cases in all my life in
which I was unable to locate the first impression which prompted a
movement or a thought, or even a dream.
FIG. 2. THE FIRST PRACTICAL TELAUTOMATON.
A machine having all the bodily or
translatory movements and the operations of the interior mechanism
controlled from a distance without wires. The crewless boat shown in the
photograph contains its own motive power, propelling and steering
machinery, and numerous other accessories, all of which are controlled
by transmitting from a distance, without wires, electrical oscillations
to a circuit carried by the boat and adjusted to respond only to these
oscillations.
With these experiences it was only
natural that, long ago, I conceived the idea of constructing an
automaton which would mechanically represent me, and which would
respond, as I do myself, but, of course, in a much more primitive
manner, to external influences. Such an automaton evidently had to have
motive power, organs for locomotion, directive organs, and one or more
sensitive organs so adapted as to be excited by external stimuli. This
machine would, I reasoned, perform its movements in the manner of a
living being, for it would have all the chief mechanical characteristics
or elements of the same. There was still the capacity for growth,
propagation, and, above all, the mind which would be wanting to make the
model complete. But growth was not necessary in this case, since a
machine could be manufactured full grown, so to speak. As to the capacity
for propagation, it could likewise be left out of consideration, for in
the mechanical model it merely signified a process of manufacture.
Whether the automation be of flesh and bone, or of wood and steel, it
mattered little, provided it could perform all the duties required of it
like an intelligent being. To do so, it had to have an element
corresponding to the mind, which would effect the control of all its
movements and operations, and cause it to act, in any unforeseen case
that might present itself, with knowledge, reason, judgment, and
experience. But this element I could easily embody in it by conveying to
it my own intelligence, my own understanding. So this invention was
evolved, and so a new art came into existence, for which the name
"telautomatics" has been suggested, which means the art of
controlling the movements and operations of distant automatons. This
principle evidently was applicable to any kind of machine that moves on
land or in the water or in the air. In applying it practically for the
first time, I selected a boat (see Fig. 2). A storage battery placed
within it furnished the motive power. The propeller, driven by a motor,
represented the locomotive organs. The rudder, controlled by another
motor likewise driven by the battery, took the place of the directive
organs. As to the sensitive organ, obviously the first thought was to
utilize a device responsive to rays of light, like a selenium cell, to
represent the human eye. But upon closer inquiry I found that, owing to
experimental and other difficulties, no thoroughly satisfactory control
of the automaton could be effected by light, radiant heat, hertzian
radiations, or by rays in general, that is, disturbances which pass in
straight lines through space. One of the reasons was that any obstacle
coming between the operator and the distant automaton would place it
beyond his control. Another reason was that the sensitive device
representing the eye would have to be in a definite position with
respect to the distant controlling apparatus, and this necessity would
impose great limitations in the control. Still another and very
important reason was that, in using rays, it would be difficult, if not
impossible, to give to the automaton individual features or
characteristics distinguishing it from other machines of this kind.
Evidently the automaton should respond only to an individual call, as a
person responds to a name. Such considerations led me to conclude that
the sensitive device of the machine should correspond to the ear rather
than the eye of a human being, for in this case its actions could be
controlled irrespective of intervening obstacles, regardless of its
position relative to the distant controlling apparatus, and, last, but
not least, it would remain deaf and unresponsive, like a faithful
servant, to all calls but that of its master. These requirements made it
imperative to use, in the control of the automaton, instead of light or
other rays, waves or disturbances which propagate in all directions
through space, like sound, or which follow a path of least resistance,
however curved. I attained the result aimed at by means of an electric
circuit placed within the boat, and adjusted, or "tuned,"
exactly to electrical vibrations of the proper kind transmitted to it
from a distant "electrical oscillator." This circuit, in
responding, however feebly, to the transmitted vibrations, affected
magnets and other contrivances, through the medium of which were
controlled the movements of the propeller and rudder, and also the
operations of numerous other appliances.
By the simple means described the
knowledge, experience, judgment—the mind, so to speak—of the distant
operator were embodied in that machine, which was thus enabled to move
and to perform all its operations with reason and intelligence. It
behaved just like a blindfolded person obeying directions received
through the ear.
The automatons so far constructed had
"borrowed minds," so to speak, as each merely formed part of
the distant operator who conveyed to it his intelligent orders; but this
art is only in the beginning. I purpose to show that, however impossible
it may now seem, an automaton may be contrived which will have its
"own mind," and by this I mean that it will be able,
independent of any operator, left entirely to itself, to perform, in
response to external influences affecting its sensitive organs, a great
variety of acts and operations as if it had intelligence. It will be
able to follow a course laid out or to obey orders given far in advance;
it will be capable of distinguishing between what it ought and what it
ought not to do, and of making experiences or, otherwise stated, of
recording impressions which will definitely affect its subsequent
actions. In fact, I have already conceived such a plan.
Although I evolved this invention many
years ago and explained it to my visitors very frequently in my
laboratory demonstrations, it was not until much later, long after I had
perfected it, that it became known, when, naturally enough, it gave rise
to much discussion and to sensational reports. But the true significance
of this new art was not grasped by the majority, nor was the great force
of the underlying principle recognized. As nearly as I could judge from
the numerous comments which appeared, the results I had obtained were
considered as entirely impossible. Even the few who were disposed to
admit the practicability of the invention saw in it merely an automobile
torpedo, which was to be used for the purpose of blowing up battleships,
with doubtful success. The general impression was that I contemplated
simply the steering of such a vessel by means of Hertzian or other rays.
There are torpedoes steered electrically by wires, and there are means
of communicating without wires, and the above was, of course an obvious
inference. Had I accomplished nothing more than this, I should have made
a small advance indeed. But the art I have evolved does not contemplate
merely the change of direction of a moving vessel; it affords means of
absolutely controlling, in every respect, all the innumerable
translatory movements, as well as the operations of all the internal
organs, no matter how many, of an individualized automaton. Criticisms
to the effect that the control of the automaton could be interfered with
were made by people who do not even dream of the wonderful results which
can be accomplished by use of electrical vibrations. The world moves
slowly, and new truths are difficult to see. Certainly, by the use of
this principle, an arm for attack as well as defense may be provided, of
a destructiveness all the greater as the principle is applicable to
submarine and aerial vessels. There is virtually no restriction as to
the amount of explosive it can carry, or as to the distance at which it
can strike, and failure is almost impossible. But the force of this new
principle does not wholly reside in its destructiveness. Its advent
introduces into warfare an element which never existed before—a
fighting-machine without men as a means of attack and defense. The
continuous development in this direction must ultimately make war a mere
contest of machines without men and without loss of life—a condition
which would have been impossible without this new departure, and which,
in my opinion, must be reached as preliminary to permanent peace. The
future will either bear out or disprove these views. My ideas on this
subject have been put forth with deep conviction, but in a humble
spirit.
The establishment of permanent peaceful
relations between nations would most effectively reduce the force
retarding the human mass, and would be the best solution of this great
human problem. But will the dream of universal peace ever be realized?
Let us hope that it will. When all darkness shall be dissipated by the
light of science, when all nations shall be merged into one, and
patriotism shall be identical with religion, when there shall be one
language, one country, one end, then the dream will have become reality.
THE THIRD PROBLEM: HOW TO INCREASE THE FORCE ACCELERATING THE HUMAN MASS—THE HARNESSING OF THE SUN'S ENERGY.
Of the three possible solutions of the main problem of increasing human
energy, this is by far the most important to consider, not only because
of its intrinsic significance, but also because of its intimate bearing
on all the many elements and conditions which determine the movement of
humanity. In order to proceed systematically, it would be necessary for
me to dwell on all those considerations which have guided me from the
outset in my efforts to arrive at a solution, and which have led me,
step by step, to the results I shall now describe. As a preliminary
study of the problem an analytical investigation, such as I have made,
of the chief forces which determine the onward movement, would be of
advantage, particularly in conveying an idea of that hypothetical
"velocity" which, as explained in the beginning, is a measure
of human energy; but to deal with this specifically here, as I would
desire, would lead me far beyond the scope of the present subject.
Suffice it to state that the resultant of all these forces is always in
the direction of reason, which therefore, determines, at any time, the
direction of human movement. This is to say that every effort which is
scientifically applied, rational, useful, or practical, must be in the
direction in which the mass is moving. The practical, rational man, the
observer, the man of business, he who reasons, calculates, or determines
in advance, carefully applies his effort so that when coming into effect
it will be in the direction of the movement, making it thus most
efficient, and in this knowledge and ability lies the secret of his
success. Every new fact discovered, every new experience or new element
added to our knowledge and entering into the domain of reason, affects
the same and, therefore, changes the direction of movement, which,
however, must always take place along the resultant of all those efforts
which, at that time, we designate as reasonable, that is,
self-preserving, useful, profitable, or practical. These efforts concern
our daily life, our necessities and comforts, our work and business, and
it is these which drive man onward.
But looking at all this busy world about
us, on all this complex mass as it daily throbs and moves, what is it
but an immense clock-work driven by a spring? In the morning, when we
rise, we cannot fail to note that all the objects about us are
manufactured by machinery: the water we use is lifted by steam-power;
the trains bring our breakfast from distant localities; the elevators in
our dwelling and our office building, the cars that carry us there, are
all driven by power; in all our daily errands, and in our very
life-pursuit, we depend upon it; all the objects we see tell us of it;
and when we return to our machine-made dwelling at night, lest we should
forget it, all the material comforts of our home, our cheering stove and
lamp, remind us of how much we depend on power. And when there is an
accidental stoppage of the machinery, when the city is snowbound, or the
life sustaining movement otherwise temporarily arrested, we are
affrighted to realize how impossible it would be for us to live the life
we live without motive power. Motive power means work. To increase the
force accelerating human movement means, therefore, to perform more
work.
So we find that the three possible
solutions of the great problem of increasing human energy are answered
by the three words: food, peace, work. Many a year I have
thought and pondered, lost myself in speculations and theories,
considering man as a mass moved by a force, viewing his inexplicable
movement in the light of a mechanical one, and applying the simple
principles of mechanics to the analysis of the same until I arrived at
these solutions, only to realize that they were taught to me in my early
childhood. These three words sound the key-notes of the Christian
religion. Their scientific meaning and purpose now clear to me: food to
increase the mass, peace to diminish the retarding force, and work to
increase the force accelerating human movement. These are the only three
solutions which are possible of that great problem, and all of them have
one object, one end, namely, to increase human energy. When we recognize
this, we cannot help wondering how profoundly wise and scientific and
how immensely practical the Christian religion is, and in what a marked
contrast it stands in this respect to other religions. It is
unmistakably the result of practical experiment and scientific
observation which have extended through the ages, while other religions
seem to be the outcome of merely abstract reasoning. Work, untiring
effort, useful and accumulative, with periods of rest and recuperation
aiming at higher efficiency, is its chief and ever-recurring command.
Thus we are inspired both by Christianity and Science to do our utmost
toward increasing the performance of mankind. This most important of
human problems I shall now specifically consider.
THE SOURCE OF HUMAN ENERGY—THE THREE WAYS OF DRAWING ENERGY FROM THE
SUN.
First let us ask: Whence comes all the motive power? What is the spring
that drives all? We see the ocean rise and fall, the rivers flow, the
wind, rain, hail, and snow beat on our windows, the trains and steamers
come and go; we here the rattling noise of carriages, the voices from
the street; we feel, smell, and taste; and we think of all this. And all
this movement, from the surging of the mighty ocean to that subtle
movement concerned in our thought, has but one common cause. All this
energy emanates from one single center, one single source—the sun. The
sun is the spring that drives all. The sun maintains all human life and
supplies all human energy. Another answer we have now found to the above
great question: To increase the force accelerating human movement means
to turn to the uses of man more of the sun's energy. We honor and revere
those great men of bygone times whose names are linked with immortal
achievements, who have proved themselves benefactors of humanity—the
religious reformer with his wise maxims of life, the philosopher with
his deep truths, the mathematician with his formulæ, the physicist with
his laws, the discover with his principles and secrets wrested from
nature, the artist with his forms of the beautiful; but who honors him,
the greatest of all,—who can tell the name of him,—who first turned to
use the sun's energy to save the effort of a weak fellow-creature? That
was man's first act of scientific philanthropy, and its consequences
have been incalculable.
From the very beginning three ways of drawing energy from the sun
were open to man. The savage, when he warmed his frozen limbs at a fire
kindled in some way, availed himself of the energy of the sun stored in
the burning material. When he carried a bundle of branches to his cave
and burned them there, he made use of the sun's stored energy
transported from one to another locality. When he set sail to his canoe,
he utilized the energy of the sun applied to the atmosphere or the
ambient medium. There can be no doubt that the first is the oldest way.
A fire, found accidentally, taught the savage to appreciate its
beneficial heat. He then very likely conceived of the idea of carrying
the glowing members to his abode. Finally he learned to use the force of
a swift current of water or air. It is characteristic of modern
development that progress has been effected in the same order. The
utilization of the energy stored in wood or coal, or, generally
speaking, fuel, led to the steam-engine. Next a great stride in advance
was made in energy-transportation by the use of electricity, which
permitted the transfer of energy from one locality to another without
transporting the material. But as to the utilization of the energy of
the ambient medium, no radical step forward has as yet been made known.
The ultimate results of development in these three directions are:
first, the burning of coal by a cold process in a battery; second, the
efficient utilization of the energy of the ambient medium; and, third
the transmission without wires of electrical energy to any distance. In
whatever way these results may be arrived at, their practical
application will necessarily involve an extensive use of iron, and this
invaluable metal will undoubtedly be an essential element in the further
development along these three lines. If we succeed in burning coal by a
cold process and thus obtain electrical energy in an efficient and
inexpensive manner, we shall require in many practical uses of this
energy electric motors—that is, iron. If we are successful in deriving
energy from the ambient medium, we shall need, both in the obtainment
and utilization of the energy, machinery—again, iron. If we realize the
transmission of electrical energy without wires on an industrial scale,
we shall be compelled to use extensively electric generators—once more,
iron. Whatever we may do, iron will probably be the chief means of
accomplishment in the near future, possibly more so than in the past.
How long its reign will last is difficult to tell, for even now
aluminium is looming up as a threatening competitor. But for the time
being, next to providing new resources of energy, it is of the greatest
importance to making improvements in the manufacture and utilization of
iron. Great advances are possible in these latter directions, which, if
brought about, would enormously increase the useful performance of
mankind.
GREAT POSSIBILITIES OFFERED BY IRON FOR INCREASING HUMAN PERFORMANCE—ENORMOUS WASTE IN IRON MANUFACTURE.
Iron is by far the most important factor in modern progress. It
contributes more than any other industrial product to the force
accelerating human movement. So general is the use of this metal, and so
intimately is it connected with all that concerns our life, that it has
become as indispensable to us as the very air we breathe. Its name is
synonymous with usefulness. But, however great the influence of iron may
be on the present human development, it does not add to the force urging
man onward nearly as much as it might. First of all, its manufacture as
now carried on is connected with an appalling waste of fuel—that is,
waste of energy. Then, again, only a part of all the iron produced is
applied for useful purposes. A good part of it goes to create frictional
resistances, while still another large part is the means of developing
negative forces greatly retarding human movement. Thus the negative
force of war is almost wholly represented in iron. It is impossible to
estimate with any degree of accuracy the magnitude of this greatest of
all retarding forces, but it is certainly very considerable. If the
present positive impelling force due to all useful applications of iron
be represented by ten, for instance, I should not think it exaggeration
to estimate the negative force of war, with due consideration of all its
retarding influences and results, at, say, six. On the basis of this
estimate the effective impelling force of iron in the positive direction
would be measured by the difference of these two numbers, which is four.
But if, through the establishment of universal peace, the manufacture of
war machinery should cease, and all struggle for supremacy between
nations should be turned into healthful, ever active and productive
commercial competition, then the positive impelling force due to iron
would be measured by the sum of those two, numbers, which is sixteen—that is, this force would have four times its present value.
This example is, of course, merely intended to give an idea of the
immense increase in the useful performance of mankind which would result
from a radical reform of the iron industries supplying the implements of
warfare.
A similar inestimable advantage in the saving of energy available to
man would be secured by obviating the great waste of coal which is
inseparably connected with the present methods of manufacturing iron. In
some countries, such as Great Britain, the hurtful effects of this
squandering of fuel are beginning to be felt. The price of coal is
constantly rising, and the poor are made to suffer more and more. Though
we are still far from the dreaded "exhaustion of the
coal-fields," philanthropy commands us to invent novel methods of
manufacturing iron, which will not involve such barbarous waste of this
valuable material from which we derive at present most of our energy. It
is our duty to coming generations to leave this store of energy intact
for them, or at least not to touch it until we shall have perfected
processes for burning coal more efficiently. Those who are coming after
us will need fuel more than we do. We should be able to manufacture the
iron we require by using the sun's energy, without wasting any coal at
all. As an effort to this end the idea of smelting iron ores by electric
currents obtained from the energy of falling water has naturally
suggested itself to many. I have myself spent much time in endeavoring
to evolve such a practical process, which would enable iron to be
manufactured at small cost. After a prolonged investigation of the
subject, finding that it was unprofitable to use the currents generated
directly for smelting the ore, I devised a method which is far more
economical.
ECONOMICAL PRODUCTION OF IRON BY A NEW PROCESS.
The industrial project, as I worked it out six years ago, contemplated
the employment of the electric currents derived from the energy of a
waterfall, not directly for smelting the ore, but for decomposing water
for a preliminary step. To lessen the cost of the plant, I proposed to
generate the currents in exceptionally cheap and simple dynamos, which I
designed for this sole purpose. The hydrogen liberated in the
electrolytic decomposition was to be burned or recombined with oxygen,
not with that from which it was separated, but with that of the
atmosphere. Thus very nearly the total electrical energy used up in the
decomposition of the water would be recovered in the form of heat
resulting from the recombination of the hydrogen. This heat was to be
applied to the smelting of ore. The oxygen gained as a by-product of the
decomposition of the water I intended to use for certain other
industrial purposes, which would probably yield good financial returns,
inasmuch as this is the cheapest way of obtaining this gas in large
quantities. In any event, it could be employed to burn all kinds of
refuse, cheap hydrocarbon, or coal of the most inferior quality which
could not be burned in air or be otherwise utilized to advantage, and
thus again a considerable amount of heat would be made available for the
smelting of the ore. To increase the economy of the process I
contemplated, furthermore, using an arrangement such that the hot metal
and the products of combustion, coming out of the furnace, would give up
their heat upon the cold ore going into the furnace, so that
comparatively little of the heat energy would be lost in the smelting. I
calculated that probably forty thousand pounds of iron could be produced
per horse-power per annum by this method. Liberal allowances were made
for those losses which are unavoidable, the above quantity being about
half of that theoretically obtainable. Relying on this estimate and on
practical data with reference to a certain kind of sand ore existing in
abundance in the region of the Great Lakes, including cost of
transportation and labor, I found that in some localities iron could be
manufactured in this manner cheaper than by any of the adopted methods.
This result would be obtained all the more surely if the oxygen obtained
from the water, instead of being used for smelting of ore, as assumed,
should be more profitably employed. Any new demand for this gas would
secure a higher revenue from the plant, thus cheapening the iron. This
project was advanced merely in the interest of industry. Some day, I
hope, a beautiful industrial butterfly will come out of the dusty and
shriveled chrysalis.
The production of iron from sand ores by a process of magnetic
separation is highly commendable in principle, since it involves no
waste of coal; but the usefulness of this method is largely reduced by
the necessity of melting the iron afterward. As to the crushing of iron
ore, I would consider it rational only if done by water-power, or by
energy otherwise obtained without consumption of fuel. An electrolytic
cold process, which would make it possible to extract iron cheaply, and
also to mold it into the required forms without any fuel consumption,
would, in my opinion, be a very great advance in iron manufacture. In
common with some other metals, iron has so far resisted electrolytic
treatment, but there can be no doubt that such a cold process will
ultimately replace in metallurgy the present crude method of casting,
and thus obviating the enormous waste of fuel necessitated by the
repeated heating of metal in the foundries.
Up to a few decades ago the usefulness of iron was based almost
wholly on its remarkable mechanical properties, but since the advent of
the commercial dynamo and electric motor its value to mankind has been
greatly increased by its unique magnetic qualities. As regards the
latter, iron has been greatly improved of late. The signal progress
began about thirteen years ago, when I discovered that in using soft
Bessemer steel instead of wrought iron, as then customary, in an
alternating motor, the performance of the machine was doubled. I brought
this fact to the attention of Mr. Albert Schmid, to whose untiring
efforts and ability is largely due the supremacy of American electrical
machinery, and who was then superintendent of an industrial corporation
engaged in this field. Following my suggestion, he constructed
transformers of steel, and they showed the same marked improvement. The
investigation was then systematically continued under Mr. Schmid's
guidance, the impurities being gradually eliminated from the
"steel" (which was only such in name, for in reality it was
pure soft iron), and soon a product resulted which admitted of little
further improvement.
THE COMING OF AGE OF ALUMINIUM—DOOM OF THE COPPER INDUSTRY—THE GREAT
CIVILIZING POTENCY OF THE NEW METAL.
With the advances made in iron of late years we have arrived virtually
at the limits of improvement. We cannot hope to increase very materially
its tensile strength, elasticity, hardness, or malleability, nor can we
expect to make it much better as regards its magnetic qualities. More
recently a notable gain was secured by the mixture of a small percentage
of nickel with the iron, but there is not much room for further advance
in this direction. New discoveries may be expected, but they cannot
greatly add to the valuable properties of the metal, though they may
considerably reduce the cost of manufacture. The immediate future of
iron is assured by its cheapness and its unrivaled mechanical and
magnetic qualities. These are such that no other product can compete
with it now. But there can be no doubt that, at a time not very distant,
iron, in many of its now uncontested domains, will have to pass the
scepter to another: the coming age will be the age of aluminium. It is
only seventy years since this wonderful metal was discovered by Woehler,
and the aluminium industry, scarcely forty years old, commands already
the attention of the entire world. Such rapid growth has not been
recorded in the history of civilization before. Not long ago aluminium
was sold at the fanciful price of thirty or forty dollars per pound;
to-day it can be had in any desired amount for as many cents. What is
more, the time is not far off when this price, too, will be considered
fanciful, for great improvements are possible in the methods of its
manufacture. Most of the metal is now produced in the electric furnace
by a process combining fusion and electrolysis, which offers a number of
advantageous features, but involves naturally a great waste of the
electrical energy of the current. My estimates show that the price of
aluminium could be considerably reduced by adopting in its manufacture a
method similar to that proposed by me for the production of iron. A
pound of aluminium requires for fusion only about seventy per cent. of
the heat needed for melting a pound of iron, and inasmuch as its weight
is only about one third of that of the latter, a volume of aluminium
four times that of iron could be obtained from a given amount of
heat-energy. But a cold electrolytic process of manufacture is the ideal
solution, and on this I have placed my hope.
The absolutely unavoidable consequence of the advancement of the
aluminium industry will be the annihilation of the copper industry. They
cannot exist and prosper together, and the latter is doomed beyond any
hope of recovery. Even now it is cheaper to convey an electric current
through aluminium wires than through copper wires; aluminium castings
cost less, and in many domestic and other uses copper has no chance of
successfully competing. A further material reduction of the price of
aluminium cannot but be fatal to copper. But the progress of the former
will not go on unchecked, for, as it ever happens in such cases, the
larger industry will absorb the smaller one: the giant copper interests
will control the pygmy aluminium interests, and the slow-pacing copper
will reduce the lively gait of aluminium. This will only delay, not
avoid the impending catastrophe.
Aluminium, however, will not stop at downing copper. Before many
years have passed it will be engaged in a fierce struggle with iron, and
in the latter it will find an adversary not easy to conquer. The issue
of the contest will largely depend on whether iron shall be
indispensable in electric machinery. This the future alone can decide.
The magnetism as exhibited in iron is an isolated phenomenon in nature.
What it is that makes this metal behave so radically different from all
other materials in this respect has not yet been ascertained, though
many theories have been suggested. As regards magnetism, the molecules
of the various bodies behave like hollow beams partly filled with a
heavy fluid and balanced in the middle in the manner of a see-saw.
Evidently some disturbing influence exists in nature which causes each
molecule, like such a beam, to tilt either one or the other way. If the
molecules are tilted one way, the body is magnetic; if they are tilted
the other way, the body is non-magnetic; but both positions are stable,
as they would be in the case of the hollow beam, owing to the rush of
the fluid to the lower end. Now, the wonderful thing is that the
molecules of all known bodies went one way, while those of iron went the
other way. This metal, it would seem, has an origin entirely different
from that of the rest of the globe. It is highly improbable that we
shall discover some other and cheaper material which will equal or
surpass iron in magnetic qualities.
Unless we should make a radical departure in the character of the
electric currents employed, iron will be indispensable. Yet the
advantages it offers are only apparent. So long as we use feeble
magnetic forces it is by far superior to any other material; but if we
find ways of producing great magnetic forces, than better results will
be obtainable without it. In fact, I have already produced electric
transformers in which no iron is employed, and which are capable of
performing ten times as much work per pound of weight as those of iron.
This result is attained by using electric currents of a very high rate
of vibration, produced in novel ways, instead of the ordinary currents
now employed in the industries. I have also succeeded in operating
electric motors without iron by such rapidly vibrating currents, but the
results, so far, have been inferior to those obtained with ordinary
motors constructed of iron, although theoretically the former should be
capable of performing incomparably more work per unit of weight than the
latter. But the seemingly insuperable difficulties which are now in the
way may be overcome in the end, and then iron will be done away with,
and all electric machinery will be manufactured of aluminium, in all
probability, at prices ridiculously low. This would be a severe, if not
fatal, blow to iron. In many other branches of industry, as
ship-building, or wherever lightness of structure is required, the
progress of the new metal will be much quicker. For such uses it is
eminently suitable, and is sure to supersede iron sooner or later. It is
highly probable that in the course of time we shall be able to give it
many of those qualities which make iron so valuable.
While it is impossible to tell when this industrial revolution will
be consummated, there can be no doubt that the future belongs to
aluminium, and that in times to come it will be the chief means of
increasing human performance. It has in this respect capacities greater
by far than those of any other metal. I should estimate its civilizing
potency at fully one hundred times that of iron. This estimate, though
it may astonish, is not at all exaggerated. First of all, we must
remember that there is thirty times as much aluminium as iron in bulk,
available for the uses of man. This in itself offers great
possibilities. Then, again, the new metal is much more easily workable,
which adds to its value. In many of its properties it partakes of the
character of a precious metal, which gives it additional worth. Its
electric conductivity, which, for a given weight, is greater than that
of any other metal, would be alone sufficient to make it one of the most
important factors in future human progress. Its extreme lightness makes
it far more easy to transport the objects manufactured. By virtue of
this property it will revolutionize naval construction, and in
facilitating transport and travel it will add enormously to the useful
performance of mankind. But its greatest civilizing property will be, I
believe, in aërial travel, which is sure to be brought about by means
of it. Telegraphic instruments will slowly enlighten the barbarian.
Electric motors and lamps will do it more quickly, but quicker than
anything else the flying-machine will do it. By rendering travel ideally
easy it will be the best means for unifying the heterogeneous elements
of humanity. As the first step toward this realization we should produce
a lighter storage-battery or get more energy from coal.
EFFORTS TOWARD OBTAINING MORE ENERGY FROM COAL—THE ELECTRIC
TRANSMISSION—THE GAS-ENGINE—THE COLD-COAL BATTERY.
I remember that at one time I considered the production of electricity
by burning coal in a battery as the greatest achievement toward the
advancing civilization, and I am surprised to find how much the
continuous study of these subjects has modified my views. It now seems
to me that to burn coal, however efficiently, in a battery would be a
mere makeshift, a phase in the evolution toward something much more
perfect. After all, in generating electricity in this manner, we should
be destroying material, and this would be a barbarous process. We ought
to be able to obtain the energy we need without consumption of material.
But I am far from underrating the value of such an efficient method of
burning fuel. At the present time most motive power comes from coal,
and, either directly or by its products, it adds vastly to human energy.
Unfortunately, in all the process now adopted, the larger portion of the
energy of the coal is uselessly dissipated. The best steam-engines
utilize only a small part of the total energy. Even in gas-engines, in
which, particularly of late, better results are obtainable, there is
still a barbarous waste going on. In our electric-lighting systems we
scarcely utilize one third of one per cent., and in lighting by gas a
much smaller fraction, of the total energy of the coal. Considering the
various uses of coal throughout the world, we certainly do not utilize
more than two per cent. of its energy theoretically available. The man
who should stop this senseless waste would be a great benefactor of
humanity, though the solution he would offer could not be a permanent
one, since it would ultimately lead to the exhaustion of the store of
material. Efforts toward obtaining more energy from coal are now being
made chiefly in two directions—by generating electricity and by
producing gas for motive-power purposes. In both of these lines notable
success has already been achieved.
The advent of the alternating-current
system of electric power-transmission marks an epoch in the economy of
energy available to man from coal. Evidently all electrical energy
obtained from a waterfall, saving so much fuel, is a net gain to
mankind, which is all the more effective as it is secured with little
expenditure of human effort, and as this most perfect of all known
methods of deriving energy from the sun contributes in many ways to the
advancement of civilization. But electricity enables us also to get from
coal much more energy than was practicable in the old ways. Instead of
transporting the coal to distant places of consumption, we burn it near
the mine, develop electricity in the dynamos, and transmit the current
to remote localities, thus effecting a considerable saving. Instead of
driving the machinery in a factory in the old wasteful way of belts and
shafting, we generate electricity by steam-power and operate electric
motors. In this manner it is not uncommon to obtain two or three times
as much effective motive power from the fuel, besides securing many
other important advantages. It is in this field as much as in the
transmission of energy to great distance that the alternating system,
with its ideally simple machinery, is bringing about an industrial
revolution. But in many lines this progress has not been yet fully felt.
For example, steamers and trains are still being propelled by the direct
application of steam-power to shafts or axles. A much greater percentage
of the heat-energy of the fuel could be transformed into motive energy
by using, in place of the adopted marine engines and locomotives,
dynamos driven by specially designed high-pressure steam- or gas-engines
and by utilizing the electricity generated for the propulsion. A gain of
fifty to one hundred per cent. in the effective energy derived from the
coal could be secured in this manner. It is difficulty to understand why
a fact so plain and obvious is not receiving more attention from
engineers. In ocean steamers such an improvement would be particularly
desirable, as it would do away with noise and increase materially the
speed and the carrying capacity of the liners.
Still more energy is now being obtained from coal by the latest
improved gas-engine, the economy of which is, on the average, probably
twice that of the best steam-engine. The introduction of the gas-engine
is very much facilitated by the importance of the gas industry. With the
increasing use of the electric light more and more of the gas is
utilized for heating and motive-power purposes. In many instances gas is
manufactured close to the coal-mine and conveyed to distant places of
consumption, a considerable saving both in cost of transportation and in
utilization of the energy of the fuel being thus effected. In the
present state of the mechanical and electrical arts the most rational
way of deriving energy from coal is evidently to manufacture gas close
to the coal store, and to utilize it, either on the spot or elsewhere,
to generate electricity for industrial uses in dynamos driven by gas
engines. The commercial success of such a plant is largely dependent
upon the production of gas-engines of great nominal horse-power, which,
judging from the keen activity in this field will soon be forthcoming.
Instead of consuming coal directly, as usual, gas should be manufactured
from it and burned to economize energy.
But all such improvements cannot be more than passing phases in the
evolution toward something far more perfect, for ultimately we must
succeed in obtaining electricity from coal in a more direct way,
involving no great loss of heat-energy. Whether coal can be oxidized by
a cold process is still a question. Its combination with oxygen always
involves heat, and whether the energy of the combination of the carbon
with another element can be turned directly into electrical energy has
not yet been determined. Under certain conditions nitric acid will burn
the carbon, generating an electric current, but the solution does not
remain cold. Other means of oxidizing coal have been proposed, but they
have offered no promise of leading to an efficient process. My own lack
of success has been complete, though perhaps not quite so complete as
that of some who have "perfected" the cold-coal battery. This
problem is essentially one for the chemist to solve. It is not for the
physicist, who determines all his results in advance, so that, when the
experiment is tried, it cannot fail. Chemistry, though a positive
science, does not yet admit of a solution by such positive methods as
those which are available in the treatment of many physical problems.
The result, if possible, will be arrived at through patent trying rather
than through deduction or calculation. The time will soon come, however,
when the chemist will be able to follow a course clearly mapped out
beforehand, and when the process of his arriving at a desired result
will be purely constructive. The cold-coal battery would give a great
impetus to electrical development; it would lead very shortly to a
practical flying-machine, and would enormously enhance the introduction
of the automobile. But these and many other problems will be better
solved, and in a more scientific manner, by a light storage battery.
ENERGY FROM THE MEDIUM—THE WINDMILL AND THE SOLAR ENGINE,—MOTIVE POWER
FROM TERRESTRIAL HEAT—ELECTRICITY FROM NATURAL SOURCES.
Besides fuel, there is abundant material from which we might eventually
derive power. An immense amount of energy is locked up in limestone, for
instance, and machines can be driven by liberating the carbonic acid
through sulphuric acid or otherwise. I once constructed such an engine,
and it operated satisfactorily.
But, whatever our resources of primary energy may be in the future,
we must, to be rational, obtain it without consumption of any material.
Long ago I came to this conclusion, and to arrive at this result only
two ways, as before indicated, appeared possible—either to turn to
use the energy of the sun stored in the ambient medium, or to transmit,
through the medium, the sun's energy to distant places from some
locality where it was obtainable without consumption of material. At
that time I at once rejected the latter method as entirely
impracticable, and turned to examine the possibilities of the former.
It is difficult to believe, but it is, nevertheless, a fact, that
since time immemorial man has had at his disposal a fairly good machine
which has enabled him to utilize the energy of the ambient medium. This
machine is the windmill. Contrary to popular belief, the power
obtainable from wind is very considerable. Many a deluded inventor has
spent years of his life in endeavoring to "harness the tides,"
and some have even proposed to compress air by tide- or wave-power for
supplying energy, never understanding the signs of the old windmill on
the hill, as it sorrowfully waved its arms about and bade them stop. The
fact is that a wave- or tide-motor would have, as a rule, but a small
chance of competing commercially with the windmill, which is by far the
better machine, allowing a much greater amount of energy to be obtained
in a simpler way. Wind-power has been, in old times, of inestimable
value to man, if for nothing else but for enabling him, to cross the
seas, and it is even now a very important factor in travel and
transportation. But there are great limitations in this ideally simple
method of utilizing the sun's energy. The machines are large for a given
output, and the power is intermittent, thus necessitating the storage of
energy and increasing the cost of the plant.
A far better way, however, to obtain power would be to avail
ourselves of the sun's rays, which beat the earth incessantly and supply
energy at a maximum rate of over four million horsepower per square
mile. Although the average energy received per square mile in any
locality during the year is only a small fraction of that amount, yet an
inexhaustible source of power would be opened up by the discovery of
some efficient method of utilizing the energy of the rays. The only
rational way known to me at the time when I began the study of this
subject was to employ some kind of heat- or thermodynamic-engine, driven
by a volatile fluid evaporate in a boiler by the heat of the rays. But
closer investigation of this method, and calculation, showed that,
notwithstanding the apparently vast amount of energy received from the
sun's rays, only a small fraction of that energy could be actually
utilized in this manner. Furthermore, the energy supplied through the
sun's radiations is periodical, and the same limitations as in the use
of the windmill I found to exist here also. After a long study of this
mode of obtaining motive power from the sun, taking into account the
necessarily large bulk of the boiler, the low efficiency of the
heat-engine, the additional cost of storing the energy and other
drawbacks, I came to the conclusion that the "solar engine," a
few instances excepted, could not be industrially exploited with
success.
Another way of getting motive power from the medium without consuming
any material would be to utilize the heat contained in the earth, the
water, or the air for driving an engine. It is a well-known fact that
the interior portions of the globe are very hot, the temperature rising,
as observations show, with the approach to the center at the rate of
approximately 1 degree C. for every hundred feet of depth. The
difficulties of sinking shafts and placing boilers at depths of, say,
twelve thousand feet, corresponding to an increase in temperature of
about 120 degrees C., are not insuperable, and we could certainly avail
ourselves in this way of the internal heat of the globe. In fact, it
would not be necessary to go to any depth at all in order to derive
energy from the stored terrestrial heat. The superficial layers of the
earth and the air strata close to the same are at a temperature
sufficiently high to evaporate some extremely volatile substances, which
we might use in our boilers instead of water. There is no doubt that a
vessel might be propelled on the ocean by an engine driven by such a
volatile fluid, no other energy being used but the heat abstracted from
the water. But the amount of power which could be obtained in this
manner would be, without further provision, very small.
Electricity produced by natural causes is another source of energy
which might be rendered available. Lightning discharges involve great
amounts of electrical energy, which we could utilize by transforming and
storing it. Some years ago I made known a method of electrical
transformation which renders the first part of this task easy, but the
storing of the energy of lightning discharges will be difficult to
accomplish. It is well known, furthermore, that electric currents
circulate constantly through the earth, and that there exists between
the earth and any air stratum a difference of electrical pressure, which
varies in proportion to the height.
In recent experiments I have discovered two novel facts of importance
in this connection. One of these facts is that an electric current is
generated in a wire extending from the ground to a great height by the
axial, and probably also by the translatory, movement of the earth. No
appreciable current, however, will flow continuously in the wire unless
the electricity is allowed to leak out into the air. Its escape is
greatly facilitated by providing at the elevated end of the wire a
conducting terminal of great surface, with many sharp edges or points.
We are thus enabled to get a continuous supply of electrical energy by
merely supporting a wire at a height, but, unfortunately, the amount of
electricity which can be so obtained is small.
The second fact which I have ascertained is that the upper air strata
are permanently charged with electricity opposite to that of the earth.
So, at least, I have interpreted my observations, from which it appears
that the earth, with its adjacent insulating and outer conducting
envelope, constitutes a highly charged electrical condenser containing,
in all probability, a great amount of electrical energy which might be
turned to the uses of man, if it were possible to reach with a wire to
great altitudes.
It is possible, and even probable, that there will be, in time, other
resources of energy opened up, of which we have no knowledge now. We may
even find ways of applying forces such as magnetism or gravity for
driving machinery without using any other means. Such realizations,
though highly improbable, are not impossible. An example will best
convey an idea of what we can hope to attain and what we can never
attain. Imagine a disk of some homogeneous material turned perfectly
true and arranged to turn in frictionless bearings on a horizontal shaft
above the ground. This disk, being under the above conditions perfectly
balanced, would rest in any position. Now, it is possible that we may
learn how to make such a disk rotate continuously and perform work by
the force of gravity without any further effort on our part; but it is
perfectly impossible for the disk to turn and to do work without any
force from the outside. If it could do so, it would be what is
designated scientifically as a "perpetuum mobile," a machine
creating its own motive power. To make the disk rotate by the force of
gravity we have only to invent a screen against this force. By such a
screen we could prevent this force from acting on one half of the disk,
and the rotation of the latter would follow. At least, we cannot deny
such a possibility until we know exactly the nature of the force of
gravity. Suppose that this force were due to a movement comparable to
that of a stream of air passing from above toward the center of the
earth. The effect of such a stream upon both halves of the disk would be
equal, and the latter would not rotate ordinarily; but if one half
should be guarded by a plate arresting the movement, then it would turn.
A DEPARTURE FROM KNOWN METHODS—POSSIBILITY
OF A "SELF-ACTING" ENGINE OR MACHINE, INANIMATE, YET CAPABLE,
LIKE A LIVING BEING, OF DERIVING ENERGY FROM THE MEDIUM—THE IDEAL WAY
OF OBTAINING MOTIVE POWER.
When I began the investigation of the subject under consideration, and
when the preceding or similar ideas presented themselves to me for the
first time, though I was then unacquainted with a number of the facts
mentioned, a survey of the various ways of utilizing the energy of the
medium convinced me, nevertheless, that to arrive at a thoroughly
satisfactory practical solution a radical departure from the methods
then known had to be made. The windmill, the solar engine, the engine
driven by terrestrial heat, had their limitations in the amount of power
obtainable. Some new way had to be discovered which would enable us to
get more energy. There was enough heat-energy in the medium, but only a
small part of it was available for the operation of an engine in the
ways then known. Besides, the energy was obtainable only at a very slow
rate. Clearly, then, the problem was to discover some new method which
would make it possible both to utilize more of the heat-energy of the
medium and also to draw it away from the same at a more rapid rate.
I was vainly endeavoring to form an idea of how this might be
accomplished, when I read some statements from Carnot and Lord Kelvin
(then Sir William Thomson) which meant virtually that it is impossible
for an inanimate mechanism or self-acting machine to cool a portion of
the medium below the temperature of the surrounding, and operate by the
heat abstracted. These statements interested me intensely. Evidently a
living being could do this very thing, and since the experiences of my
early life which I have related had convinced me that a living being is
only an automaton, or, otherwise stated, a
"self-acting-engine," I came to the conclusion that it was
possible to construct a machine which would do the same. As the first
step toward this realization I conceived the following mechanism.
Imagine a thermopile consisting of a number of bars of metal extending
from the earth to the outer space beyond the atmosphere. The heat from
below, conducted upward along these metal bars, would cool the earth or
the sea or the air, according to the location of the lower parts of the
bars, and the result, as is well known, would be an electric current
circulating in these bars. The two terminals of the thermopile could now
be joined through an electric motor, and, theoretically, this motor
would run on and on, until the media below would be cooled down to the
temperature of the outer space. This would be an inanimate engine which,
to all evidence, would be cooling a portion of the medium below the
temperature of the surrounding, and operating by the heat abstracted.
DIAGRAM b. OBTAINING ENERGY FROM THE AMBIENT MEDIUM
A, medium with little energy; B,
B, ambient medium with much energy; O, path of the energy.
But was it not possible to realize a similar condition without
necessarily going to a height? Conceive, for the sake of illustration,
[a cylindrical] enclosure T, as illustrated in diagram b, such that
energy could not be transferred across it except through a channel or
path O, and that, by some means or other, in this enclosure a medium
were maintained which would have little energy, and that on the outer
side of the same there would be the ordinary ambient medium with much
energy. Under these assumptions the energy would flow through the path
O, as indicated by the arrow, and might then be converted on its passage
into some other form of energy. The question was, Could such a condition
be attained? Could we produce artificially such a "sink" for
the energy of the ambient medium to flow in? Suppose that an extremely
low temperature could be maintained by some process in a given space;
the surrounding medium would then be compelled to give off heat, which
could be converted into mechanical or other form of energy, and
utilized. By realizing such a plan, we should be enabled to get at any
point of the globe a continuous supply of energy, day and night. More
than this, reasoning in the abstract, it would seem possible to cause a
quick circulation of the medium, and thus draw the energy at a very
rapid rate.
Here, then, was an idea which, if realizable, afforded a happy
solution of the problem of getting energy from the medium. But was it
realizable? I convinced myself that it was so in a number of ways, of
which one is the following. As regards heat, we are at a high level,
which may be represented by the surface of a mountain lake considerably
above the sea, the level of which may mark the absolute zero of
temperature existing in the interstellar space. Heat, like water, flows
from high to low level, and, consequently, just as we can let the water
of the lake run down to the sea, so we are able to let heat from the
earth's surface travel up into the cold region above. Heat, like water,
can perform work in flowing down, and if we had any doubt as to whether
we could derive energy from the medium by means of a thermopile, as
before described, it would be dispelled by this analogue. But can we
produce cold in a given portion of the space and cause the heat to flow
in continually? To create such a "sink," or "cold
hole," as we might say, in the medium, would be equivalent to
producing in the lake a space either empty or filled with something much
lighter than water. This we could do by placing in the lake a tank, and
pumping all the water out of the latter. We know, then, that the water,
if allowed to flow back into the tank, would, theoretically, be able to
perform exactly the same amount of work which was used in pumping it
out, but not a bit more. Consequently nothing could be gained in this
double operation of first raising the water and then letting it fall
down. This would mean that it is impossible to create such a sink in the
medium. But let us reflect a moment. Heat, though following certain
general laws of mechanics, like a fluid, is not such; it is energy which
may be converted into other forms of energy as it passes from a high to
a low level. To make our mechanical analogy complete and true, we must,
therefore, assume that the water, in its passage into the tank, is
converted into something else, which may be taken out of it without
using any, or by using very little, power. For example, if heat be
represented in this analogue by the water of the lake, the oxygen and
hydrogen composing the water may illustrate other forms of energy into
which the heat is transformed in passing from hot to cold. If the
process of heat transformation were absolutely perfect, no heat at all
would arrive at the low level, since all of it would be converted into
other forms of energy. Corresponding to this ideal case, all the water
flowing into the tank would be decomposed into oxygen and hydrogen
before reaching the bottom, and the result would be that water would
continually flow in, and yet the tank would remain entirely empty, the
gases formed escaping. We would thus produce, by expending initially a
certain amount of work to create a sink for the heat or, respectively,
the water to flow in, a condition enabling us to get any amount of
energy without further effort. This would be an ideal way of obtaining
motive power. We do not know of any such absolutely perfect process of
heat-conversion, and consequently some heat will generally reach the low
level, which means to say, in our mechanical analogue, that some water
will arrive at the bottom of the tank, and a gradual and slow filling of
the latter will take place, necessitating continuous pumping out. But
evidently there will be less to pump out than flows in, or, in other
words, less energy will be needed to maintain the initial condition than
is developed by the fall, and this is to say that some energy will be
gained from the medium. What is not converted in flowing down can just
be raised up with its own energy, and what is converted is clear gain.
Thus the virtue of the principle I have discovered resides wholly in the
conversion of the energy on the downward flow.
FIRST EFFORTS TO PRODUCE THE SELF-ACTING ENGINE—THE MECHANICAL
OSCILLATOR—WORK OF DEWAR AND LINDE—LIQUID AIR.
Having recognized this truth, I began to devise means for carrying out
my idea, and, after long thought, I finally conceived a combination of
apparatus which should make possible the obtaining of power from the
medium by a process of continuous cooling of atmospheric air. This
apparatus, by continually transforming heat into mechanical work, tended
to become colder and colder, and if it only were practicable to reach a
very low temperature in this manner, then a sink for the heat could be
produced, and energy could be derived from the medium. This seemed to be
contrary to the statements of Carnot and Lord Kelvin before referred to,
but I concluded from the theory of the process that such a result could
be attained. This conclusion I reached, I think, in the latter part of
1883, when I was in Paris, and it was at a time when my mind was being
more and more dominated by an invention which I had evolved during the
preceding year, and which has since become known under the name of the
"rotating magnetic field." During the few years which followed
I elaborated further the plan I had imagined, and studied the working
conditions, but made little headway. The commercial introduction in this
country of the invention before referred to required most of my energies
until 1889, when I again took up the idea of the self-acting machine. A
closer investigation of the principles involved, and calculation, now
showed that the result I aimed at could not be reached in a practical
manner by ordinary machinery, as I had in the beginning expected. This
led me, as a next step, to the study of a type of engine generally
designated as "turbine," which at first seemed to offer better
chances for a realization of the idea. Soon I found, however, that the
turbine, too, was unsuitable. But my conclusions showed that if an
engine of a peculiar kind could be brought to a high degree of
perfection, the plan I had conceived was realizable, and I resolved to
proceed with the development of such an engine, the primary object of
which was to secure the greatest economy of transformation of heat into
mechanical energy. A characteristic feature of the engine was that the
work-performing piston was not connected with anything else, but was
perfectly free to vibrate at an enormous rate. The mechanical
difficulties encountered in the construction of this engine were greater
than I had anticipated, and I made slow progress. This work was
continued until early in 1892, when I went to London, where I saw
Professor Dewar's admirable experiments with liquefied gases. Others had
liquefied gases before, and notably Ozlewski and Pictet had performed
creditable early experiments in this line, but there was such a vigor
about the work of Dewar that even the old appeared new. His experiments
showed, though in a way different from that I had imagined, that it was
possible to reach a very low temperature by transforming heat into
mechanical work, and I returned, deeply impressed with what I had seen,
and more than ever convinced that my plan was practicable. The work
temporarily interrupted was taken up anew, and soon I had in a fair
state of perfection the engine which I have named "the mechanical
oscillator." In this machine I succeeded in doing away with all
packings, valves, and lubrication, and in producing so rapid a vibration
of the piston that shafts of tough steel, fastened to the same and
vibrated longitudinally, were torn asunder. By combining this engine
with a dynamo of special design I produced a highly efficient electrical
generator, invaluable in measurements and deter
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