The year 1801, the first of the nineteenth century, was annus mirabilis in the industrial history of mankind. It was in that year that the railway locomotive was invented by Richard Trevithick, who had studied the steam engine under a friend and assistant of James Watt. His patent, which was secured during the ensuing year, makes distinct mention of the use of his locomotive driven by steam upon tramways; and in 1803 he actually had an engine running on the Pen-y-Darran mining tramway in Cornwall. From that small beginning has grown a system of railway communication which has brought the farthest inland regions of mighty continents within easy reach of the seaboard and of the world's great markets; which has made social and friendly intercourse possible in millions of homes which otherwise would have been almost destitute of it; which has been the means of spreading a knowledge of literature, science and religion over the face of the civilised world; and which, at the present moment, constitutes the outward and visible sign of the difference between Western civilisation and that of the Asiatic, as seen in China.

In another corner of the globe, during the year 1801, Volta was constructing his first apparatus demonstrating the material and physical nature of those mysterious electric currents which his friend Professor Galvani of Bologna, who died just two years earlier, had at first ascribed to a physiological source. The researches of the latter, it will be remembered, were begun in an observation of the way in which the legs of a dead frog twitched under certain conditions. The voltaic pile was the first electric battery, and, therefore, the parent of the existing marvellous telegraphic and telephonic systems, while less immediately it led to the development of the dynamo and its work in electric lighting and traction. It brought into harmony much fragmentary knowledge which had lain disjointed in the armoury of the physicist since Dufay in France and Franklin in America had investigated their theories of positive and negative frictional electricities, and had connected them with the flash of lightning as seen in Nature. Thus it became a fresh starting point both for industry and for science.

At the Exposition of National Industry, held in Paris during the year 1801, a working model of the Jacquard loom was exhibited—the prototype of those remarkable pieces of mechanism by which the most elaborately figured designs are worked upon fabrics during the process of weaving by means of sets of perforated cardboards. This was the crowning achievement of the inventions relating to textile fabrics, which had rendered the latter half of the eighteenth century so noteworthy in an industrial sense. It brought artistic designs in articles of common use within the reach of even poor people, and has been the means of unconsciously improving the public taste, in matters of applied art, more rapidly than could have been accomplished by an army of trained artists. The riots in which the mob nearly drowned Jacquard at Lyons for attempting to set up some of his looms were very nearly a counterpart of those which had occurred in England in connection with the introduction of spinning, weaving and knitting machinery.

In Paris, during the first year of the nineteenth century, Robert Fulton, an American, and friend of the United States representative in France, was making trials on the Seine with his first steam-boat—a little vessel imitated by him later on in the first successful steamers which plied on the river Hudson, carrying passengers from New York. At the same time, William Symongton launched the Charlotte Dundas, the steam tug-boat which, on the Scottish canals, did the first actually useful work in the conveyance of goods by steam power on the water. These small experiments have initiated a movement in maritime transport which is fully comparable to that brought about on land by the invention of the railway locomotive.

Again, in 1801, Sir Humphry Davy gave his first lecture at the Royal Institution in London, where he had just been installed as a professor, and began that long series of investigations into the chemistry of common things which, taken up by his successor Faraday, gave to the United Kingdom the first start in some of those industries depending upon a knowledge of organic chemistry and the use of certain essential oils.

Public attention at the beginning of the nineteenth century, however, was directed anywhere but towards these small commencements of mighty forces which were to revolutionise the industrial world, and through it also the social and political. If in those days Cornwall was ever referred to, it was not by any means in connection with Trevithick and his steam-engine which would run on rails, but by way of reference to the relations of the Prince of Wales to the Duchy, and the proportion of its revenues which belonged to him from birth.

Glancing over the pages of any history compiled in the early half of the century, the eye will trace hardly the barest allusions to forces, the discoveries in which were, in the year 1801, still in the incipient stage. Canon Hughes, for instance, in his continuation of the histories of Hume and Smollett, devoted some forty pages to the record of that year. The space which he could spare from the demands made upon his attention by the wars in Spain and Egypt, and the naval conflict with France, was mainly occupied with such matters as the election of the Rev. Horne Tooke for Old Sarum, and the burning question as to whether that gentleman had not rendered himself permanently ineligible for Parliamentary honours through taking Holy Orders, and with a miscellaneous mass of topics relating to the merely evanescent politics of the day.

The whole of the effects of invention and discovery in making history during the first year of the century were dismissed by this writer with a casual reference to the augmentation of the productive power of the labouring population through the use of machinery, and a footnote stating that "this was more particularly the case in the cotton manufacture".

Time corrects the historical perspective of the past, but it does not very materially alter the power of the historical vision to adjust itself to an examination of the present day forces which are likely to grow to importance in the making of future history. When we ask what are the inventions and discoveries which are really destined to grow from seeds of the nineteenth into trees of the twentieth century, we are at once confronted with the same kind of difficulty which would present itself to one who, standing in the midst of an ancient forest, should be requested to indicate in what spots the wide-spreading giants of the next generation of trees might be expected to grow. The company promoter labels those inventions in which he is commercially interested as the affairs which will grow to huge dimensions in the future; while the man of scientific or mechanical bent is very apt to predict a mighty future only for achievements which strike him as being peculiarly brilliant.

Patent experts, on the other hand, when asked by their clients to state candidly what class of inventions may be relied upon to bring the most certain returns, generally reply that "big money usually comes from small patents". In other words, an invention embodying some comparatively trivial, but yet really serviceable, improvement on a very widely used type of machine; or a little bit of apparatus which in some small degree facilitates some well known process; or a fashionable toy or puzzle likely to have a good run for a season or two, and then a moderate sale for a few years longer; these are the things to be recommended to an inventor whose main object is to make money. Thus the most qualified experts in patent law and practice do not fail to disclose this fact to those who seek their professional advice in a money-making spirit, as the great majority of inventors do.

The full term of fourteen years in the United Kingdom, or seventeen in the United States, may be a ridiculously long period for which to grant a monopoly to the inventor of some ephemeral toy, although absolutely inadequate to secure the just reward for one who labours for many years to perfect an epoch-making invention, and then to introduce it to the public in the face of all the opposition from vested interests which such inventions almost invariably meet.

Thus the fact that a man has made money out of one class of patents may not be any safe guide at all to arriving at a due estimate of his ideas on industrial improvements of greater "pith and moment," but, on the contrary, it is generally exactly the reverse. The law offers an immense premium for such inventions as are readily introduced, and the inventor who has made it his business to take advantage of this fact is usually one of the last men from whom to get a trustworthy opinion on patents of a different class.

Of the patents taken out during the latter portion of the nineteenth century, many undoubtedly contain the germs of great ideas, and, nevertheless, have excited comparatively little attention from business men or from the general public. It was so in the latter part of the eighteenth century, and history is only repeating itself when the seeds of twentieth century industrial movements are permitted to germinate unseen.

For all practical purposes each invention must be referred to the age in which it actually does useful work in the service of mankind. Thus, Hero of Alexandria, in the third century B.C., devised a water fountain worked by the expansive power of steam. From time to time during the succeeding twenty centuries similar pieces of apparatus excited the curiosity of the inquisitive and the interest of the learned. The clever and eccentric Marquis of Worcester, in his little book published in 1663, A Century of the Names and Scantlings of Inventions, generally known as the Century of Inventions, gave an account of one application of the power of steam to lift water which he had worked out, probably on a scale large enough to have become of practical service. Thomas Savery and Denis Papin, both of them men of high attainments and great ingenuity, made important improvements before the end of the seventeenth century.

Yet, if we refer to the question as to the proper age to which the steam-engine as a useful invention is to be assigned, we shall unhesitatingly speak of it as an eighteenth century invention, and this notwithstanding the fact that Savery's patent for the first pumping engine which came into practical use was dated 1698. The real introduction of steam as a factor in man's daily work was effected later on, partly by Savery himself and partly by Newcomen, and above all by James Watt. The expiration of Watt's vital patent occurred in 1800, and he himself then retired from the active supervision of his engineering business, having virtually finished his great life's work on the last year of the century which he had marked for all time by the efforts of his genius.

Similarly we may confidently characterise the locomotive engine as an invention belonging to the first half of the nineteenth century, although tramways on the one hand, and steam-engines on the other hand, were ready for the application of steam transport, and the only work that remained to be accomplished in the half century indicated was the bringing of the two things together. The dynamo, as a factor in human life—or, in other words, the electric current as a form of energy producing power and light—is an invention of the second half of the nineteenth century, although the main principles upon which it was built were worked out prior to the year 1851.

It will be seen, in the course of the subsequent pages, that portable electric power has as yet won its way only into very up-to-date workshops and mines, and that the means by which it will be applied to numerous useful purposes in the field, the road, and the house will be distinctly inventions of the twentieth century. Similarly the steam-engine has not really been placed upon the ordinary road, although efforts have been made for more than a century to put it there, the conception of a road locomotive being, in fact, an earlier one than that of an engine running on rails. Steam automobiles and traction engines are still confined to special purposes, the natures of which prove that certain elements of adaptability are still lacking in order to render them universally useful as are the locomotive and the steam-ship.

In nearly every other important line of human needs and desires it will be found that merely tentative efforts have been made by ingenious minds resulting in inventions of greater or less promise. Many of the finest conceptions which have necessarily been set down as failures have missed fulfilling their intended missions, not so much by reason of inherent weakness, as through the want of accessory circumstances to assist them. As in biology, so in industrial progress the definition of fitness appended to the law of the survival of the fittest must have reference to the environment.

A foolish law or public prejudice results in the temporary failure of a great invention, and the inventor's patent succumbs to the inexorable operation of the struggle for existence. Yet, fortunately for mankind, if not for the individual inventor, an idea does not suffer extinction as the penalty for non-success in the struggle. "The beginning of creation," says Carlyle, "is light," and the kind of light which inventors throw upon the dark problems involving man's industrial progress is providentially indestructible.

Twentieth century inventions—as the term is used in this book—are, therefore, those which are destined to fulfil their missions during the ensuing hundred years. They are those whose light will not only exist in hidden places, but will also shine abroad to help and to bless mankind. Or, if we may revert to the former figure, they are those which have not only been planted in the seed and have germinated in the leaf, but which have grown to goodly proportions, so that none may dare to assert that they have been planted for nought. A man's age is the age in which he does his work rather than that in which he struggles to years of maturity. Moore and Byron were poets of the nineteenth century, although the one had attained to manhood and the other had grown from poverty to inherit a peerage before the new century dawned.

The prophetic rÔle—although proverbially an unsafe one—is nevertheless one which every business man must play almost every day of his life. The merchant, the manufacturer, the publisher, the director, the manager, and even the artist, must perforce stake some portion of his success in life upon the chance of his forecast as to the success of a particular speculation, article of manufacture, or artistic conception, and its prospects of proving as attractive or remunerative as he has expected it to be. The successful business man no doubt makes his plans, as far as may be practicable, upon the system indicated by the humorist, who advises people never to prophesy unless they happen to know, but the nature of his knowledge is almost always to some extent removed from certainty. He may spend much time in laborious searching; make many inquiries from persons whom he believes to be competent to advise him; diligently study the conditions upon which the problem before him depends—in short, he may take every reasonable precaution against the chances of failure, yet, in spite of all, he must necessarily incur risks. And so it is with regard to the task of forecasting the trend of industrial improvement. All who are called upon to lay their plans for a number of years beforehand must necessarily be deeply interested in the problems relating to the various directions which the course of that improvement may possibly take. Meanwhile their estimates of the future, although based upon an intimate knowledge of the past and aided by naturally clear powers of insight, must be hypothetical and conditional. Unfortunately for the vast majority of manufacturing experts, the thoroughness with which they have mastered the details of one particular branch of industry too often blinds them to the chances of change arising from localities beyond their own restricted fields of vision.

The merriment occasioned by the first proposals for affixing pneumatic tyres to bicycles may be cited as a striking instance of the lack of forecasting insight displayed by very many of those who are best entitled to pronounce opinions on the minutiae of their particular avocations. In almost every "bike" shop and factory throughout the United Kingdom and America, the suggestion of putting an air-filled hosepipe around each wheel of the machine to act as a tyre was received with shouts of ridicule!

Railway men, who understood the wonderful elasticity imparted by air to pieces of mechanism, such as the pneumatic brake, were not by any means so much inclined to laughter; but naturally, for the most part, they deferred to the rule which enjoins every man to stick to his trade. The rule in question—when applied to the task of estimating the worth of inventions claiming to produce revolutionary effects in any industry—is necessarily, in the majority of cases, more or less irrelevant, because such an invention should be regarded not so much as a proposed innovation in an old trade as the creation of a new one.

George Stephenson's ideas on the transport of passengers and goods were almost unanimously condemned by the experts of his day who were engaged in that line of business. On points relating to wheels of waggons and the harness of horses, the opinions of these men were probably worth something; but in relation to steam locomotives, carriages and trucks running upon rails, their judgment was not merely worthless, but a good deal worse; it was indeed actually misleading, because based on a pretence of knowledge of a trade which was to be called into existence to compete with their own. "Great is Diana of the Ephesians" said the artificers of old; and on the strength of their expert knowledge in the making of idols they set themselves up as judges of systems of theology and morality. The argument, although based on self-interest subjectively, was nevertheless intended to carry weight even among persons who wished to judge the questions in dispute according to their merits, and most of the latter were only too ready to accept the implied dictum that men who work about a temple must be experts in theology! The principles upon which Royal Commissions and Select Committees are sometimes appointed and entrusted with the onerous duty of deciding upon far-reaching industrial problems, affecting the progress of trade and manufactures in the present day, involve exactly the same kind of fallacy. Men are selected to pronounce judgment upon the proposals of their rivals in trade, and narrow-minded specialists to give their opinions upon projects which essentially belong to the border lands between two or more branches of industry, and cannot be understood by persons not possessing a knowledge of both.

Yet the world's work goes on apace; and as capital is accumulated and seeks to find new outlets the multiplication of industrial projects must continue in spite of every discouragement. This process will go on at a rate even faster than that which was exhibited at the beginning of the nineteenth century; but in watching the course of advancement, the world must take count of ideas rather than of the names of those who may have claims to rank as the originators of ideas. While for purposes of convenience, history labels certain great inventive movements, each with the name of one pre-eminent individual who has contributed largely to its success, nothing like a due appraisement of the services rendered by other men is ever attempted. It is not even as if the commanding general should by public acclamation receive all the applause for a successful campaign to the exclusion of his lieutenants. The pioneers in each great department of invention have generally acted as forerunners of the men whose names have become the most famous. They have borne much of the heat and burden of the day, while their successors have reaped the fruits of triumph. Mr. Herbert Spencer's strong protest against the part assigned by some writers in the mental and industrial evolution of the human race to the influence of great men is certainly fully justified, if the attribute of greatness is to be ascribed only to those whose names figure in current histories. The parts performed by others, whose fate it may have been to have fallen into comparatively unfavourable environments, may have entitled them even more eminently to the acclamation of greatness.

The world in such a matter asks, reasonably enough under the circumstances, Shall we omit to honour any of the great men who have played important parts in an industrial movement, assigning as our motive the difficulty of enumerating so many names? For the encouragement of those to whom the ambition for fame acts as a great stimulus to self-devotion in the interests of human progress, it is unavoidable that some men should be singled out and made heroes, while the much more numerous class of those who have also done great work, but who have not been quite so successful, must pass out of the ken of all, excepting the few who possess an expert knowledge of the various subjects which they have taken in hand.

Still the distortion to which history has been subjected through its biographical mode of treatment must always be reckoned with as a factor of possible error by any one attempting to read the riddle of the past, and it may offer a still more dangerous snare to one who tries to deduce the future course of events from the evidences of the past, and the promises which they hold out. People are naturally prone to take it for granted that the world's progress during the first part of the twentieth century depends upon the future work of those inventors and industrial promoters whose names have become most famous during the latter half of the nineteenth. But this personal treatment of the subject will be found to be in the last degree unsatisfactory, when judged in the light both of past experience and of some of the utterances of those eminent inventors who have tried to forecast the future in their own particular lines of research.

If, therefore, we look at the whole subject from the entirely impersonal point of view, and face the task of forecasting the progress of industry during the twentieth century, in this aspect we shall find that we have entered upon a chapter in the evolution of the human race—dealing, in fact, with a branch of anthropology. We see certain industrial and inventive forces at work, producing certain initial effects, but plainly, as yet, falling immeasurably short of an entire fulfilment of their possibilities; setting to work a multitude of busy brains, planning and arranging, and gradually preparing the minds of the more apathetic portion of humanity for the reception of new ideas and the adoption of improved methods of life and of work. Whither is it all tending? Will the twentieth century bring about as great a change upon the earth—man's habitat—as the nineteenth did? Or have the possibilities of really great and effective industrial revolutions been practically exhausted? The belief impressed upon the Author's mind, by facts and considerations evoked during the collection of materials for this book, is that the march of industrial progress is only just beginning, and that the twentieth century will witness a far greater development than the nineteenth has seen.

The great majority of mankind still require to be released from the drudgery of irksome, physical exertion, which, when power has been cheapened, will be seen to be to a very large extent avoidable. Pleasurable exercise will be substituted for the monotonous, manual labour which, while it continues, generally precludes the possibility of mental improvement. Hygienic science will insist more strenuously than ever upon the great truth that, in order to be really serviceable in promoting the health of mind and body, physical exertion must be in some degree exhilarating, and the bad old practice of "all work and no play," which was based upon the assumption that a boy can get as much good out of chopping wood for an hour as out of a bicycle ride or a game of cricket, will be relegated to the limbo of exploded fallacies.

The race, as a whole, will be athletic in the same sense in which cultured ladies and gentlemen are at present. It will, a century hence, offer a still more striking contrast to the existing state of the Chinese, who bandage their women's feet in order to show that they are high born and never needed to walk or to exert themselves!—the assumption being that no one would ever move a muscle unless under fear of the lash of poverty or of actual hunger. The farther Western civilisation travels from that effete Eastern ideal, the greater will be the hope for human progress in physical, mental and moral well-being.