Chapter 1
My Early Life
The
progressive development of man is vitally dependent on invention.
It
is the most important product of his creative brain.
Its
ultimate purpose is the complete mastery of mind over the material world, the
harnessing of the forces of nature to human needs.
This
is the difficult task of the inventor who is often misunderstood and
unrewarded.
But
he finds ample compensation in the pleasing exercises of his powers and in the
knowledge of being one of that exceptionally privileged class without whom the
race would have long ago perished in the bitter struggle against pitiless
elements.
Speaking
for myself, I have already had more than my full measure of this exquisite
enjoyment; so much, that for many years my life was little short of continuous
rapture.
I
am credited with being one of the hardest workers and perhaps I am, if thought
is the equivalent of labour, for I have devoted to it almost all of my waking
hours.
But
if work is interpreted to be a definite performance in a specified time
according to a rigid rule, then I may be the worst of idlers.
Every
effort under compulsion demands a sacrifice of life-energy.
I
never paid such a price.
On
the contrary, I have thrived on my thoughts.
In
attempting to give a connected and faithful account of my activities in this
story of my life, I must dwell, however reluctantly, on the impressions of my
youth and the circumstances and events which have been instrumental in
determining my career.
Our
first endeavours are purely
instinctive
promptings of an imagination vivid and undisciplined.
As
we grow older reason asserts itself and we become more and more systematic and
designing.
But
those early impulses, though not immediately productive, are of the greatest
moment and may shape our very destinies.
Indeed,
I feel now that had I understood and cultivated instead of suppressing them, I
would have added substantial value to my bequest to the world.
But
not until I had attained manhood did I realise that I was an inventor.
This
was due to a number of causes.
In
the first place I had a brother who was gifted to an extraordinary degree; one
of those rare phenomena of mentality which biological investigation has failed
to explain.
His
premature death left my earth parents disconsolate. (I will explain my remark
about my “earth parents” later.)
We
owned a horse which had been presented to us by a dear friend.
It
was a magnificent animal of Arabian breed, possessed of almost human
intelligence, and was cared for and petted by the whole family, having on one
occasion saved my dear father’s life under remarkable circumstances.
My
father had been called one winter night to perform an urgent duty and while
crossing the mountains, infested by wolves, the horse became frightened and ran
away, throwing him violently to the ground. It arrived home bleeding and
exhausted, but after the alarm was sounded, immediately dashed off again,
returning to the spot, and before the searching party were far on the way they
were met by my father, who had recovered consciousness and remounted, not
realising that he had been lying in the snow for several hours.
This
horse was responsible for my brother’s injuries from which he died.
I
witnessed the tragic scene and although so many years have elapsed since, my
visual impression of it has lost none of its force.
The
recollection of his attainments made every effort of mine seem dull in
comparison.
Anything
I did that was creditable merely caused my parents to feel their loss more
keenly.
So
I grew up with little confidence in myself.
But
I was far from being considered a stupid boy, if I am to judge from an
incident
of which I have still a strong remembrance.
One
day the Aldermen were passing through a street where I was playing with other boys.
The
oldest of these venerable gentlemen, a wealthy citizen, paused to give a silver
piece to each of us.
Coming
to me, he suddenly stopped and commanded, “Look in my eyes.”
I
met his gaze, my hand outstretched to receive the much valued coin, when to my
dismay, he said, “No, not much; you can get nothing from me. You are too
smart.”
They
used to tell a funny story about me.
I
had two old aunts with wrinkled faces, one of them having two teeth protruding
like the tusks of an elephant, which she buried in my cheek every time she
kissed me.
Nothing
would scare me more then the prospects of being by these affectionate,
unattractive relatives.
It
happened that while being carried in my mother’s arms, they asked who was the
prettier of the two.
After
examining their faces intently, I answered thoughtfully, pointing to one of
them, “This here is not as ugly as the other.”
Then
again, I was intended from my very birth, for the clerical profession and this
thought constantly oppressed me.
I
longed to be an engineer, but my father was inflexible.
He
was the son of an officer who served in the army of the Great Napoleon and in
common with his brother, professor of mathematics in a prominent institution,
had received a military education;
but,
singularly enough, later embraced the clergy in which vocation he
achieved
eminence.
He
was a very erudite man, a veritable natural philosopher, poet and writer and
his sermons were said to be as eloquent as those of Abraham a-Sancta-Clara.
He
had a prodigious memory and frequently recited at length from works in several
languages.
He
often remarked playfully that if some of the classics were lost he could
restore them.
His
style of writing was much admired. He penned sentences short and terse and full
of wit and satire.
The
humorous remarks he made were always peculiar and characteristic. Just to
illustrate, I may mention one or two instances.
Among
the help, there was a cross-eyed man called Mane, employed to do work around
the farm.
He
was chopping wood one day.
As
he swung the axe, my father, who stood nearby and felt very uncomfortable,
cautioned him, “For God’s sake, Mane, do not strike at what you are looking but
at what you intend to hit.”
On
another occasion he was taking out for a drive, a friend who carelessly
permitted
his costly fur coat to rub on the carriage wheel. My father reminded
him
of it saying, “Pull in your coat; you are ruining my tire.”
He
had the habit of talking to himself and would often carry on an animated
conversation
and indulge in heated argument, changing the tone of his voice.
A
casual listener might have sworn that several people were in the room.
Although
I must trace to my mother’s influence whatever inventiveness I possess, the
training he gave me must have been helpful.
It
comprised all sorts of exercises - as, guessing one another’s thoughts,
discovering the defects of some form of expression, repeating long sentences or
performing mental calculations.
These
daily lessons were intended to strengthen memory and reason, and especially to
develop the critical sense, and were undoubtedly very beneficial.
My
mother descended from one of the oldest families in the country and a line
of inventors.
Both
her father and grandfather originated numerous implements for household,
agricultural and other uses.
She
was a truly great woman, of rare skill, courage and fortitude, who had braved
the storms of life and passed through many a trying experience.
When
she was sixteen, a virulent pestilence swept the country.
Her
father was called away to administer the last sacraments to the dying and
during his absence she went alone to the assistance of a neighbouring family
who were stricken by the dread disease.
She
bathed, clothed and laid out the bodies, decorating them with flowers according
to the custom of the country and when
her father returned he found everything ready for a Christian burial.
My
mother was an inventor of the first order and would, I believe, have achieved
great things had she not been so remote from modern life and its molteplici
opportunities.
She
invented and constructed all kinds of tools and devices and wove the finest
designs from thread which was spun by her.
She
even planted seeds, raised the plants
and separated the fibres herself. She worked
indefatigably, from break of day till late at night, and most of the
wearing apparel and furnishings of the
home were the product of her hands.
When
she was past sixty, her fingers were still nimble enough to tie three knots in
an eyelash.
There
was another and still more important reason for my late awakening. In my
boyhood I suffered from a peculiar affliction due to the appearance of images,
often accompanied by strong flashes of light, which marred the sight of real
objects and interfered with my thoughts and action.
They
were pictures of things and scenes which i had really seen, never of those
imagined. When a word was spoken to me the image of the object it designated
would present itself vividly to my vision and sometimes I was quite unable to
distinguish weather what I saw was
tangible or not.
This
caused me great discomfort and anxiety.
None
of the students of psychology or physiology whom i have consulted, could ever
explain satisfactorily these phenomenon.
They
seem to have been unique although I was probably predisposed as I know that my
brother experienced a similar trouble.
The
theory I have formulated is that the images were the result of a reflex action
from the brain on the retina under great excitation.
They
certainly were not hallucinations such as are produced in diseased and
anguished minds, for in other respects i was normal and composed.
To
give an idea of my distress, suppose that I had witnessed a funeral or some
such nerve-wracking spectacle.
The,
inevitably, in the stillness of night, a vivid picture of the scene would
thrust itself before my eyes and persist despite all my efforts to banish it.
If
my explanation is correct, it should be possible to project on a screen the
image
of any object one conceives and make it visible.
Such
an advance would revolutionise all human relations.
I
am convinced that this wonder can and will be accomplished in time to come.
I
may add that I have devoted much thought to the solution of the problem.
I
have managed to reflect such a picture, which i have seen in my mind, to the
mind of another person, in another room.
To
free myself of these tormenting appearances, I tried to concentrate my mind on
something else I had seen, and in this way I would often obtain temporary
relief; but in order to get it I had to conjure continuously new images.
It
was not long before I found that I had exhausted all of those at my command; my
‘reel’ had run out as it were, because I had seen little of the world—only
objects in my home and the immediate surroundings.
As
I performed these mental operations for the second or third time, in order to
chase the appearances from my vision, the remedy gradually lost all its force.
Then
I instinctively commenced to make excursions beyond the
limits
of the small world of which I had knowledge, and I saw new scenes.
These
were at first very blurred and indistinct, and would flit away when I tried to
concentrate my attention upon them.
They
gained in strength and distinctness and finally assumed the concreteness of
real things.
I
soon discovered that my best comfort was attained if I simply went on in my
vision further and further, getting new impressions all the time, and so I
began to travel; of course, in my mind. Every night, (and sometimes during the
day), when alone, I would start on my journeys—see new places, cities and
countries; live there, meet people and make friendships and acquaintances and,
however unbelievable, it is a fact that they were just as dear to me as those
in actual life, and not a bit less intense in their manifestations.
This
I did constantly until I was about seventeen, when my thoughts turned seriously
to invention.
Then
I observed to my delight that i could visualise with the greatest facility. I
needed no models, drawings or experiments.
I
could picture them all as real in my mind.
Thus
I have been led unconsciously to evolve
what I consider a new method of materialising inventive concepts and
ideas,
which is radically opposite to the purely experimental and is in my
opinion
ever so much more expeditious and efficient.
The
moment one constructs a device to carry into practice a crude idea, he finds
himself unavoidably engrossed with the details of the apparatus.
As
he goes on improving and reconstructing, his force of concentration diminishes
and he loses sight of the great underlying principle.
Results
may be obtained, but always at the sacrifice of quality.
My
method is different.
I
do not rush into actual work.
When
I get an idea, I start at once building it up in my imagination.
I
change the construction, make improvements and operate the device in my mind.
It
is absolutely to me whether I run my turbine in thought or test it in my shop.
I
even note if it is out of balance.
There
is no difference whatever; the results are the same.
In
this way I am able to rapidly develop and perfect a conception without touching
anything.
When
I have gone so far as to embody in the invention every possible improvement I
can think of and see no fault anywhere, I put into concrete form this final
product of my brain.
Invariably
my device works as I conceived that it should, and the experiment comes out
exactly
as
I planned it.
In
twenty years there has not been a single exception.
Why
should it be otherwise? Engineering, electrical and mechanical, is positive in
results.
There
is scarcely a subject that cannot be examined beforehand, from the available
theoretical and practical data.
The
carrying out into practice of a crude idea as is being generally done, is, I
hold, nothing but a waste of energy, money, and time.
My
early affliction had however, another compensation.
The
incessant mental exertion developed my powers of observation and enabled me to
discover a truth of great importance.
I
had noted that the appearance of images was always preceded by actual vision of
scenes under peculiar and generally very exceptional conditions, and I was
impelled on each occasion to locate the original impulse.
After
a while this effort grew to be almost automatic and I gained great facility in
connecting cause and effect.
Soon
I became aware, to my surprise, that every thought I conceived was suggested by
an external impression.
Not
only this but all my actions were prompted in a similar way.
In
the course of time it became perfectly evident to me that I was merely an
automation endowed with power OF MOVEMENT RESPONDING TO THE STIMULI OF THE
SENSE
ORGANS
AND THINKING AND ACTING ACCORDINGLY.
The
practical result of this was the
art
of teleautomatics which has been so far carried out only in an imperfect
manner.
Its
latent possibilities will, however be eventually shown.
I
have been years planning self-controlled automata and believe that mechanisms
can be produced which will act as if possessed of reason, to a limited degree,
and will create a revolution in many commercial and industrial departments.
I
was about twelve years of age when I first succeeded in banishing an image from
my vision by wilful effort, but I never had any control over the flashes of
light to which I have referred.
They
were, perhaps, my strangest and [most] inexplicable experience.
They
usually occurred when I found myself in a dangerous or distressing situations
or when i was greatly exhilarated.
In
some instances i have seen all the air around me filled with tongues of living
flame.
Their
intensity, instead of diminishing, increased with time and seemingly attained a
maximum when I was about twenty-five years old.
While
in Paris in 1883, a prominent French manufacturer sent me an invitation to a
shooting expedition which I accepted.
I
had been long confined to the factory and the fresh air had a wonderfully
invigorating effect on me.
On
my return to the city that night, I felt a positive sensation that my brain had
caught fire.
I
was a light as though a small sun was located in it and I passed the whole
night applying cold compressions to my tortured head.
Finally
the flashes diminished in frequency and force but it took more than three weeks
before they wholly subsided.
When
a second invitation was extended to me, my answer was an emphatic NO!
These
luminous phenomena still manifest themselves from time to time, as when a new
idea opening up possibilities strikes me, but they are no longer exciting,
being of relatively small intensity.
When
I close my eyes I invariably observe first, a background of very dark and
uniform blue, not unlike the sky on a clear but starless night.
In
a few seconds this field becomes animated with innumerable scintillating flakes
of green, arranged in several layers and advancing towards me.
Then
there appears, to the right, a beautiful pattern of two systems of parallel and
closely spaced lines, at right angles to one another, in all sorts of colours
with yellow, green, and gold predominating.
Immediately
thereafter, the lines grow brighter and the whole is thickly sprinkled with
dots of twinkling light.
This
picture moves slowly across the field of vision and in about ten seconds
vanishes on the left, leaving behind a ground of rather unpleasant and inert
grey until the second phase is reached.
Every
time, before falling asleep, images of persons or objects flit before my view.
When
I see them I know I am about to lose consciousness.
If
they are absent and refuse to come, it means a sleepless night.
To
what an extent imagination played in my early life, I may illustrate by another
odd experience. Like most children, I was fond of jumping and developed an
intense desire to support myself in the air.
Occasionally
a strong wind richly charged with oxygen blew from the mountains, rendering my
body light as cork and then I would leap and float in space for a long time.
It
was a delightful sensation and my disappointment was keen when later I
undeceived myself.
During
that period I contracted many strange likes, dislikes and habits, some of which
I can trace to external impressions while others are unaccountable.
I
had a violent aversion against the earing of women, but other ornaments, as
bracelets, pleased me more or less according to design.
The
sight of a pearl would almost give me a fit, but I was fascinated with the
glitter of crystals or objects with sharp edges and plane surfaces.
I
would not touch the hair of other people except, perhaps at the point of a
revolver.
I
would get a fever by looking at a peach and if a piece of camphor was anywhere
in the house it caused me the keenest discomfort.
Even
now I am not insensible to some of these upsetting impulses.
When
I drop little squares of paper in a dish filled with liquid, I always sense a
peculiar and awful taste in my mouth.
I
counted the steps in my walks and calculated the cubical contents of soup
plates, coffee cups and pieces of food, otherwise my meal was unenjoyable.
All
repeated acts or operations I performed had to be divisible by three and if I
missed I felt impelled to do it all over again, even if it took hours.
Up
to the age of eight years, my character was weak and vacillating.
I
had neither courage or strength to form a firm resolve.
My
feelings came in waves and surges and variated unceasingly between extremes.
My
wishes were of consuming force and like the heads of the hydra, they
multiplied.
I
was oppressed by thoughts of pain in life and death and religious fear.
I
was swayed by superstitious belief and lived in constant dread of the spirit of
evil, of ghosts and ogres and other unholy monsters of the dark.
Then
all at once, there came a tremendous change which altered the course of my
whole existence.
Of
all things I liked books best.
My
father had a large library and whenever I could manage I tried to satisfy my
passion for reading.
He
did not permit it and would fly in a rage when he caught me in the act.
He
hid the candles when he found that I was reading in secret.
He
did not want me to spoil my eyes.
But
I obtained tallow, made the wicking and cast the sticks into tin forms, and
every night I would bush the keyhole and the cracks and read, often till dawn,
when all others slept and my mother started on her arduous daily task.
On
one occasion I came across a novel entitled ‘Aoafi,’ (the son of Aba), a
Serbian
translation of a well known Hungarian writer, Josika.
This
work somehow awakened my dormant powers of will and I began to practice
self-control.
At
first my resolutions faded like snow in April, but in a little while I
conquered my weakness and felt a pleasure I never knew before that of doing as
I willed.
In
the course of time this vigorous mental exercise became second to nature.
At
the outset my wishes had to be subdued but gradually desire and will grew to be
identical.
After
years of such discipline I gained so complete a mastery over myself that I
toyed with passions which have meant destruction to some of the
strongest
men.
At
a certain age I contracted a mania for gambling which greatly worried my
parents.
To
sit down to a game of cards was for me the quintessence of pleasure.
My
father led an exemplary life and could not excuse the senseless
waste
of my time and money in which I indulged.
I
had a strong resolve, but my
philosophy
was bad.
I
would say to him, ‘I can stop whenever I please, but it worth while to give up
that which I would purchase with the joys of paradise?’
On
frequent occasions he gave vent to his anger and contempt, but my mother was
different.
She
understood the character of men and knew that one’s salvation could only be
brought about through his own efforts.
One
afternoon, I remember, when I had lost all my money and was craving for a game,
she came to me with a roll of bills and said, ‘Go and enjoy yourself. The
sooner you lose all we possess, the better it will be. I know that you will get
over it.’
She
was right.
I
conquered my passion then and there and only regretted that it had not been a
hundred times as strong.
I
not only vanquished but tore it from my heart so as not to leave even a trace
of desire.
Ever
since that time I have been as indifferent to any form of gambling as to
picking teeth.
During
another period I smoked excessively, threatening to ruin my health.
Then
my will asserted itself and I not only stopped but destroyed all inclination.
Long
ago I suffered from heart trouble until I discovered that it was due to the
innocent cup of coffee I consumed every morning.
I
discontinued at once, though I confess it was not an easy task.
In
this way I checked and bridled other habits and passions, and have not only
preserved my life but derived an immense amount of satisfaction from what most
men would consider privation and sacrifice.
After
finishing the studies at the Polytechnic Institute and University, I had a
complete nervous breakdown and while the malady lasted I observed many
phenomena, strange and
unbelievable...