Chapter 2
The
childhood of Nikola Tesla
I
shall dwell briefly on these extraordinary experiences, on account of their
possible interest to students of psychology and physiology and also because
this period of agony was of the greatest consequence on my mental development
and subsequent labours.
But
it is indispensable to first relate the circumstances and conditions which
preceded them and in which might be found their partial explanation.
From
childhood I was compelled to concentrate attention upon myself.
This
caused me much suffering, but to my present view, it was a blessing in disguise
for it has taught me to appreciate the inestimable value of introspection in
the preservation of life, as well as a means of achievement.
The
pressure of occupation and the incessant stream of impressions pouring into our
consciousness through all the gateways of knowledge make modern existence
hazardous in many ways.
Most
persons are so absorbed in the contemplation of the outside world that they are
wholly oblivious to what is passing on within themselves.
The
premature death of millions is primarily traceable to this cause.
Even
among those who exercise care, it is a common mistake to avoid imaginary, and
ignore the real dangers. And what is true of an individual also applies, more
or less, to a people as a whole.
Abstinence
was not always to my liking, but I find ample reward in the agreeable
experiences
I am now making.
Just
in the hope of converting some to my precepts and convictions I will recall one
or two.
A
short time ago I was returning to my hotel.
It
was a bitter cold night, the
ground
slippery, and no taxi to be had.
Half
a block behind me followed another
man,
evidently as anxious as myself to get under cover.
Suddenly
my legs went up in the air.
At
the same instant there was a flash in my brain.
The
nerves responded, the muscles contracted.
I
swung 180 degrees and landed on my hands.
I
resumed my walk as though nothing had happened when the stranger caught up with
me.
“How
old are you?” he asked, surveying me critically.
“Oh,
about fifty-nine,” I replied, “What of it?”
“Well,”
said he, “I have seen a cat do this but never a man.”
About
a month ago I wanted to order new eye glasses and went to an oculist who put me
through the usual tests.
He
looked at me incredulously as I read off with ease the smallest print at
considerable distance.
But
when I told him I was past sixty he gasped in astonishment.
Friends
of mine often remark that my suits fit me like gloves but they do not know that
all my clothing is made to measurements which were taken nearly fifteen years
ago and never changed.
During
this same period my weight has not varied one pound.
In
this connection I may tell a funny story.
One
evening, in the winter of 1885, Mr. Edison, Edward H. Johnson, the President of
the Edison Illuminating Company, Mr. Batchellor, Manager of the works, and
myself, entered a little place opposite 65 Fifth Avenue, where the offices of
the company were located.
Someone
suggested guessing weights and I was induced to step on a scale.
Edison
felt me all over and said: “Tesla weighs 152 lbs. to an ounce,” and he guessed
it exactly.
Stripped
I weighed 142 pounds, and that is still my weight.
I
whispered to Mr. Johnson; “How is it possible that Edison could guess my weight
so closely?”
“Well,”
he said, lowering his voice. “I will tell you confidentially, but you must not
say anything.
He
was employed for a long time in a Chicago slaughter-house where he weighed
thousands of hogs every day. That’s why.”
My
friend, the Hon. Chauncey M. Dupew, tells of an Englishman on whom he sprung
one of his original anecdotes and who listened with a puzzled expression, but a
year later, laughed out loud.
I
will frankly confess it took me longer than that to appreciate Johnson’s joke.
Now,
my well-being is simply the result of a careful and measured mode of living and
perhaps the most astonishing thing is that three times in my youth I was
rendered by illness a hopeless physical wreck and given up by physicians.
MORE
than this, through ignorance and lightheartedness, I got into all sorts of
difficulties, dangers and scrapes from which I extricated myself as by
enchantment.
I
was almost drowned, entombed, lost and frozen.
I
had hair-breadth escapes from mad dogs, hogs, and other wild animals.
I
passed through dreadful diseases and met with all kinds of odd mishaps and that
I am whole and hearty today seems like a miracle.
But
as I recall these incidents to my mind I feel convinced that my preservation was
not altogether accidental, but was indeed the work of divine power.
An
inventor’s endeavour is essentially life saving.
Whether
he harnesses forces, improves devices, or provides new comforts and
conveniences, he is adding to the safety of our existence. He is also better
qualified than the average individual to protect himself in peril, for he is
observant and resourceful.
If
I had no other evidence that I was, in a measure, possessed of such qualities,
I would find it in these personal experiences.
The
reader will be able to judge for himself if I mention one or two instances.
On
one occasion, when about fourteen years old, I wanted to scare some friends who
were bathing with me.
My
plan was to dive under a long floating structure and slip out quietly at the
other end.
Swimming
and diving came to me as naturally as to a duck and I was confident that I
could perform the feat.
Accordingly
I plunged into the water and, when out of view, turned around and proceeded
rapidly towards the opposite side.
Thinking
that I was safely beyond the structure, I rose to the surface but to my dismay
struck a beam.
Of
course, I quickly dived and forged ahead with rapid strokes until my breath was
beginning to give out.
Rising
for the second time, my head came again in contact with a beam.
Now
I was becoming desperate.
However,
summoning all my energy, I made a third frantic attempt but the result was the
same.
The
torture of suppressed breathing was getting unendurable, my brain was reeling
and I felt myself sinking.
At
that moment, when my situation seemed absolutely hopeless, I experienced one of
those flashes of light and the structure above me appeared before my vision.
I
either discerned or guessed that there was a little space between the surface
of the water and the boards resting on the beams and, with consciousness nearly
gone, I floated up, pressed my mouth close to the planks and managed to inhale
a little air, unfortunately mingled with a spray of water which nearly choked
me.
Several
times I repeated this procedure as in a dream until my heart, which was racing
at a terrible rate, quieted down, and I gained composure.
After
that I made a number of unsuccessful dives, having completely lost the sense of
direction, but finally succeeded in getting out of the trap when my friends had
already given me up and were fishing for my body.
That
bathing season was spoiled for me through recklessness but I soon forgot the
lesson and only two years later I fell into a worse predicament.
There
was a large flour mill with a dam across the river near the city where I was
studying at the time.
As
a rule the height of the water was only two or three inches above the dam and
to swim to it was a sport not very dangerous in which I often indulged.
One
day I went alone to the river to enjoy myself as usual.
When
I was a short distance from the masonry, however, I was horrified to observe
that the water had risen and was carrying me along swiftly.
I
tried to get away but it was too late.
Luckily,
though, I saved myself from being swept over by taking hold of the wall with
both hands.
The
pressure against my chest was great and I was barely able to keepmy head above
the surface.
Not
a soul was in sight and my voice was lost in the roar of the fall.
Slowly
and gradually I became exhausted and unable to withstand the strain longer.
Just
as I was about to let go, to be dashed against the rocks below, I saw in a
flash of light a familiar diagram illustrating the hydraulic principle that the
pressure of a fluid in motion is proportionate to the area exposed and
automatically I turned on my left side.
As
if by magic, the pressure was reduced and I found it comparatively easy in that
position to resist the force of the stream.
But
the danger still confronted me.
I
knew that sooner or later I would be carried down, as it was not possible for
any help to reach me in time, even if I had attracted attention.
I
am ambidextrous now, but then I was left-handed and had comparatively little
strength in my right arm.
For
this reason I did not dare to turn on the other side to rest and nothing
remained but to slowly push my body along the dam.
I
had to get away from the mill towards which my face was turned, as the current
there was much swifter and deeper.
It
was a long and painful ordeal and I came near to failing at its very end, for I
was confronted with a depression in the masonry.
I
managed to get over with the last ounce of my strength and fell in a swoon when
I reached the bank, where I was found.
I had torn virtually all the skin from my
left side and it took several weeks before the fever had subsided and I was
well.
These
are only two of many instanced, but they may be sufficient to show that had it
not been for the inventor’s instinct, I would not have lived to tell the tale.
Interested
people have often asked me how and when I began to invent.
This
I can only answer from my present recollection in the light of which, the first
attempt I recall was rather ambitious for it involved the invention of an
apparatus and a method.
In
the former I was anticipated, but the later was original.
It
happened in this way.
One
of my playmates had come into the possession of a hook and fishing tackle which
created quite an excitement in the village, and the next morning all started
out to catch frogs.
I
was left alone and deserted owing to a quarrel with this boy.
I
had never seen a real hook and pictured it as something wonderful, endowed with
peculiar qualities, and was espairing not to be one of the party.
Urged
by necessity, I somehow got hold of a piece of soft iron wire, hammered the end
to a sharp point between two stones, bent it into shape, and fastened it to a
strong string.
I
then cut a rod, gathered some bait, and went down to the brook where there were
frogs in abundance.
But
I could not catch any and was almost discouraged when it occurred to me dangle
the empty hook in front of a frog sitting on a stump.
At
first he collapsed but by and by his eyes bulged out and became bloodshot, he
swelled to twice his normal size and made a vicious snap at the hook.
Immediately
I pulled him up.
I
tried the same thing again and again and the method proved infallible.
When
my comrades, who in spite of their fine outfit had caught nothing, came to me,
they were green with envy.
For
a long time I kept my secret and enjoyed the monopoly but finally yielded to
the spirit of Christmas.
Every
boy could then do the same and the following summer brought disaster to the
frogs.
In
my next attempt, I seem to have acted under the first instinctive impulse which
later dominated me, - to harness the energies of nature to the service of man.
I
did this through the medium of May bugs, or June bugs as they are called in
America, which were a veritable pest in that country and sometimes broke the
branches of trees by the sheer weight of their bodies.
The
bushes were black with them.
I
would attach as many as four of them to a cross-piece, rotably arranged on a
thin spindle, and transmit the motion of the same to a large disc and so derive
considerable ‘power.’
These
creatures were remarkably efficient, for once they were started, they had no
sense to stop and continued whirling for hours and hours and the hotter it was,
the harder they worked.
All
went well until a strange boy came to the place.
He
was the son of a retired officer in the Austrian army.
That
urchin ate May-bugs alive and enjoyed them as though they were the finest
blue-point oysters.
That
disgusting sight terminated my endeavours in this promising field and I have
never since been able to touch a May-bug or any other insect for that matter.
After
that, I believe, I undertook to take apart and assemble the clocks of my
grandfather.
In
the former operation I was always successful, but often failed in the latter.
So
it came that he brought my work to a sudden halt in a manner not too delicate
and it took thirty years before I tackled another clockwork again.
Shortly
thereafter, I went into the manufacture of a kind of pop-gun which comprised a
hollow tube, a piston, and two plugs of hemp.
When
firing the gun, the piston was pressed against the stomach and the tube was
pushed back quickly with both hands.
The
air between the plugs was compressed and raised to a high temperature and one
of them was expelled with a loud report.
The
art consisted in selecting a tube of the proper taper from the hollow stalks
which were found in our garden.
I
did very well with that gun, but my activities interfered with the window panes
in our house and met with painful discouragement.
If
I remember rightly, I then took to carving swords from pieces of furniture
which I could conveniently obtain.
At
that time I was under the sway of the Serbian national poetry and full of
admiration for the feats of the heroes.
I
used to spend hours in mowing down my enemies in the form of corn stalks which
ruined the crops and netted me several spankings from my mother.
Moreover,
these were not of the formal kind but the genuine article.
I
had all this and more behind me before I was six years old and had passed
through one year of elementary school in the village of Smiljan where my family
lived.
At
this juncture we moved to the little city of Gospic nearby.
This
change of residence was like a calamity to me.
It
almost broke my heart to part from our pigeons, chickens and sheep, and our
magnificent flock of geese which used to rise to the clouds in the morning and
return from the feeding grounds at sundown in battle formation, so perfect that
it would have put a squadron of the best aviators of the present day to shame.
In
our new house I was but a prisoner, watching the strange people I saw through
my window blinds.
My
bashfulness was such that I would rather have faced a roaring lion than one of
the city dudes who strolled about.
But
my hardest trial came on Sunday when I had to dress up and attend the service.
There
I met with an accident, the mere thought of which made my blood curdle like
sour milk for years afterwards.
It
was my second adventure in a church.
Not
long before, I was entombed for a night in an old chapel on an inaccessible
mountain which was visited only once a year.
It
was an awful experience, but this one was worse.
There
was a wealthy lady in town, a good but pompous woman, who used to come to the
church gorgeously painted up and attired with an enormous train and attendants.
One
Sunday I had just finished ringing the bell in the belfry and rushed
downstairs, when this grand dame was sweeping out and I jumped on her train.
It
tore off with a ripping noise which sounded like a salvo of musketry fired by
raw recruits.
My
father was livid with rage.
He
gave me a gentle slap on the cheek, the only corporal punishment he ever
administered to me, but I almost feel it now.
The
embarrassment and confusion that followed are indescribably.
I
was practically ostracised until something else happened which redeemed me in
the estimation of the community.
An
enterprising young merchant had organised a fire department.
A
new fire engine was purchased, uniforms provided and the men drilled for
service and parade.
The
engine was beautifully painted red and black.
One
afternoon, the official trial was prepared for and the machine was transported
to the river. The entire population turned out to witness the great spectacle.
When
all the speeches and ceremonies were concluded, the command was given to pump,
but not a drop of water came from the nozzle.
The
professors and experts tried in vain to locate the trouble.
The
fizzle was complete when I arrived at the scene.
My
knowledge of the mechanism was nil and
I knew next to nothing of air pressure, but instinctively I felt for the
suction hose in the water and found that it had collapsed.
When
I waded in the river and opened it up, the water rushed forth and not a few
Sunday clothes were spoiled.
Archimedes
running naked through the streets of Syracuse and shouting Eureka at the top of
his voice did not make a greater impression than myself.
I
was carried on the shoulders and was hero of the day.
Upon
settling in the city I began a four years course in the so-called Normal School
preparatory to my studies at the College or Real-Gymnasium.
During
this period my boyish efforts and exploits as well as troubles, continued.
Among
other things, I attained the unique distinction of champion crow catcher in the
country. My method of procedure was extremely simple.
I
would go into the forest, hide in the bushes, and imitate the call of the
birds.
Usually
I would get several answers and in a short while a crow would flutter down into
the shrubbery near me.
After
that, all I needed to do was to throw a piece of cardboard to detract its
attention, jump up and grab it before it could extricate itself from the
undergrowth.
In
this way I would capture as many as I desired. But on one occasion something
occurred which made me respect them.
I
had caught a fine pair of birds and was returning home with a friend.
When
we left the forest, thousands of crows had gathered making a frightful racket.
In
a few minutes they rose in pursuit and soon enveloped us.
The
fun lasted until all of a sudden I received a blow on the back of my head which
knocked me down. Then they attacked me viciously.
I
was compelled to release the two birds and was glad to join my friend who had
taken refuge in a cave.
In
the school room there were a few mechanical models which interested me and
turned my attention to water turbines.
I
constructed many of these and found great pleasure in operating them.
How
extraordinary was my life an incident may illustrate.
My
uncle had no use for this kind of pastime and more than once rebuked me.
I
was fascinated by a description of Niagara Falls I had perused, and pictured in
my imagination a big wheel run by the falls.
I
told my uncle that I would go to America and carry out this scheme.
Thirty
years later I was my ideas carried out at Niagara and marvelled at the
unfathomable mystery of the mind.
I
made all kinds of other contrivances and contraptions but among those, the
arbalests I produced were the best.
My
arrows, when short, disappeared from sight and at close range traversed a plank
of pine one inch thick.
Through
the continuous tightening of the bows I developed a skin on my stomach much
like that of a crocodile and I am often wondering whether it is due to this
exercise that I am able even now to digest cobble-stones!
Nor
can I pass in silence my performances with the sling which would have enabled
me to give a stunning exhibit at the Hippodrome.
And
now I will tell of one of my feats with this unique implement of war which will
strain to the utmost the credulity of the reader.
I
was practising while walking with my uncle along the river.
The
sun was setting, the trout were playful and from time to time one would shoot
up into the air, its glistening body sharply defined against a projecting rock
beyond.
Of
course any boy might have hit a fish under these propitious conditions but I
undertook a much more difficult task and I foretold to my uncle, to the
minutest detail, what I intended doing.
I
was to hurl a stone to meet the fish, press its body against the rock, and cut
it in two.
It was no sooner
said than done.
My uncle looked
at me almost scared out of his wits and exclaimed “Vade retra Satanae!” and it
was a few days before he spoke to me again.
Other records,
however great, will be eclipsed but I feel that I could peacefully rest on my
laurels for a thousand years.