is by no means unfaithful to its obligations. Then look above you. Had
the distribution been insufficient, we should still see the glass
roof over our heads covered with this morning's snow."
I looked up, and saw that the street was vaulted over with glass
plates of considerable length and width, joined together by thin bars,
with here and there an aperture as the means of ventilation.
"I apprehend, then, that we are in a so-called arcade?"
"Well, yes; if you mean to apply that name to the greater part of
our city. That which in the nineteenth century was only to be found
occasionally in the great towns of Europe, has become a regular
institution in the twenty-first, owing to the manufacture of our
inexpensive
Verre sans Fin,
or 'Endless Glass,' as our people generally call it."
"I have no doubt that this must be a considerable improvement on
your town-life throughout winter; but in summer-time I should say
this must be intolerably hot."
"Not at all; the same society which undertakes the supply of warm
air in winter also provides for us during the summer months a cooling
draught. Nothing can be easier than that. You are doubtless aware of
ice having been manufactured in the middle of summer for at least a
couple of centuries. During the warm season the air is made to pass
over the glass vault above us before it reaches the pavement through
the sieve-like plate, and if the warm-air inspectors properly attend
to their duties, there is scarcely any difference in our temperature
throughout the year."
"Then probably you warm your houses by a similar process, and you
never use any stoves or fireplaces now?"
Neither of my companions could help smiling at these words, betraying
again, as they did, my very old-fashioned notions. Bacon, however,
gave me a kindly nod of assent as he proceeded to explain: "Just as
a cold-water bath may be heated at pleasure by opening the hot-water
tap, we can warm the air in our apartments by means of a valve,
which when opened, not only affords a supply of warm air, but has
the additional advantage of producing a most delightful refreshing
of the atmosphere without any idea of draught."
"I really cannot understand," Miss Phantasia here remarked, "how the
people in those barbarous times managed to live amid the smoke and
ashes and dust of their horrible fireplaces."
"And then their chimneys on fire," added Bacon; "thank Fate, we have
done with that too. Poor insurance offices, they don't pay half the
premium now of what they used to do."
"One more question," said I, "before we leave this subject. What do
you call the metal used for those elegant little bars which connect
and support the roof of glass above us? Surely they are not of iron,
as they would have been in my time?"
"No," answered my guide; "iron, on account of its greater specific
weight, would have been less suitable here than aluminium; the latter
not only corresponds in weight with the glass which it supports,
but it also withstands the effects of the atmosphere far better than
iron. You will very soon perceive in how many instances the new metal
has superseded the old one, in additional proof of which I would
just mention the fact that the modern antiquarians do not exclusively
now speak of the ages of stone, bronze, and iron, but that they have
formally recognised the
Age of Aluminium.
The latter commenced or dates from the second half of the twentieth
century, when it was first discovered how to produce aluminium in
large quantities from common clay, old tiles, potsherds, china,
and earthenware."
"Ah!" said I, "here, then, we have another striking example to teach
us that discoveries simply arrived at by purely scientific processes
searched after from the pure motive of increase of knowledge, may
often be ultimately productive of the greatest practical use. The
same metal which for years after Wöhler's discovery continued to be
a curiosity--so much so that a few grains of it were preserved among
the collections of chemical preparations--has now become universally
beneficial, nay, a perfect godsend to those districts where clay,
i.e. aluminium ore, is the only underground wealth."
Following up this idea, at the risk of being ridiculed or, perhaps,
reprimanded for my impertinent garrulousness, I continued in the
following strain:
"Think of the phosphorus discovered by Brandt and Künckel as early as
1669, yet never getting into common use until the lucifers, fusees,
and 'flamers' made their appearance some two hundred years afterwards;
and of chloroform, now the greatest alleviation of suffering humanity,
although Dumas, when he first compounded it, did but little dream
of its application. Then, again, when Sir Humphry Davy's remarkable
experiments taught him the refrigerating power of metal gas, did this
not ultimately lead to the invention of the safety lamp? and not only
has the latter already preserved thousands of human lives, but, more
than that, the principle of Davy's invention has actually become the
basis upon which all steam-engines are constructed, as well as those by
which ice can be made at any time. With regard to the invention of the
art of photography, how could it have become a reality, a possibility,
without the number of purely scientific discoveries that preceded
it; aye, purely scientific discoveries, such as Porta's so-called
camera obscura [3] (sixteenth century); Scheele's discovery of the
discoloration of chloride of silver by light, at which he did not
arrive until two hundred years afterwards; Courtois's finding of the
iodine, 1811; or the invention of gun cotton, from which Schönbein
learned to make collodion; nor would it be difficult to name several
other materials, all found by regular chemical processes, to fix the
photographic images, and to make them permanent."
Encouraged by my companion's "line of non-intervention," I ventured
to continue to speak my thoughts aloud.
"If any art more than another," said I, "is calculated to illustrate
the fact that the most important discoveries--such as have been
most universally brought to bear upon the joint social condition of
mankind--have simply resulted from the inventions of scientific men
who never dreamt of the practical application of their discoveries;
if any such thing exists, surely it is the telegraph. Could these
magic wires have lurked in the mind of Thales when he found out,
now twenty-five centuries ago, that a piece of amber, when rubbed,
attracts light bodies, even although it led him to discover the very
first of those phenomena, the cause of which must be sought in that
mysterious power which now we call electricity? Did Galvani think
of the telegraphic art when he noticed how the muscles of his frogs
contracted under the influence of electricity? [4] or Volta, when,
following up Galvani's experiments, he produced the pile that bears
his name? And yet that was, so to speak, the embryo of those modern
batteries of ours whence proceeds the marvellous action along the
wire. Nor is it in any way presumable that Oerstedt ever thought of the
application of his discovery to telegraphy, when he first noticed that
the magnetic needle is deflected under the influence of electricity;
[5] no more than Arago, who found that iron becomes magnetic when an
electric current runs along it through a metal wire.
"No, no!" cried I; "none of those men could ever have foreseen
the ultimate beneficial results of these discoveries of natural
truths." [6]
"You are perfectly right in your remarks," said Bacon, as I
paused. "From my own personal knowledge of what has come to pass in
the field of industry during the last two centuries, I could adduce a
good many more examples to show that many of your nineteenth-century
discoveries, which for a long time afterwards merely bore a purely
scientific significance or character, have now become prolific sources
of material benefit to society at large. Nor does any one now-a-days
doubt the importance of pure science; all governments look upon it
as an urgent duty on their part to promote the same wherever they
can; nor is it too anxiously asked whether it does bear, in every
instance, immediate results to benefit the material condition of
society. Moreover, it should not be here forgotten that every man
of judgment and discrimination has long since learned to see that
the furtherance of material advantages as the aim and end of human
endeavours is an idea as narrow in itself as it is unworthy of rational
beings. Surely there exists another and infinitely higher mainspring of
happiness in the enjoyment of gathering such knowledge as will enable
us to perceive the causal connection between the phenomena of nature,
or teach us the history of man and all his surroundings. The pursuit
of material gratification is essentially a thing which man shares
with the brute; but our desire to ennoble that which is spiritual or
immaterial in us--that is exclusively human; the gratification of such
desire is the genuine 'trade-mark' of real civilization. So much is
the bulk of modern society already convinced of these truths, that
no government could now-a-days afford to neglect the encouragement
of scientific pursuit, although the utmost discretion be left to the
men of science themselves with regard to the other question: how and
in what direction the extension of knowledge ought to take place."
"Then you hear nothing more now of what was once termed 'official
science'?"
"I really do not know," said Bacon, "what you are alluding to; but
if you use the word 'official' in its usual acceptation--meaning that
which can no longer be doubted, since it emanated from a responsible
government--then, my dear sir, you will pardon me the remark that the
expression is anything but felicitous, nay, very shallow indeed. A
government may protect, support, and promote science, but it can
never stamp it with the seal of genuineness. Such seal is held by
truth alone!"
Somewhat ashamed of my apparently antiquated notions and childish
observations, I walked on in silence until Miss Phantasia all of a
sudden exclaimed: "Here we have actually got to the exhibition of
Heliochromes;
oh, do let us go in. I should very much like to know whether they come
at all up to those enormous golden placards outside, and whether the
highest of the fine arts is here equalled by reality."
There was something spiteful in the remarks of the young lady;
and at my question of what was meant by heliochromes, she again
sarcastically replied, "Oh! nothing but photographs in the natural
colours of the objects as pencilled by the sun himself; so, at least,
in her extravagant style, says my friend Realia." [7]
"Ha!" exclaimed I, "the ultimate triumph of the life-long endeavours
of that plucky Frenchman, De Saint-Victor! final fruits of the prix
Trémont awarded him by the French Academy!"
Bacon looked at me with a smile clearly indicative of his contempt
for my helpless ignorance. But all he said was this: "Come inside,
please, and you will have something else to see than those rude and
perishable experiments of Victor of the nineteenth century."
We entered, and I could not trust my eyes. The walls of the building
were covered with innumerable pictures, landscapes, portraits, and
genre-pieces, some of the figures life-size; and all these pictures
were mere photographs, yet photographs differing as much from those
that I was familiar with as an oil painting does from a crayon drawing.
"Unhappy artists! poor arts!" I exclaimed; "what have you come to
at last?"
But Miss Phantasia appeared to share my delight no more than my
sympathy. "Unhappy artists, indeed," was her reply, "if by such
honourable name you designate those knights of the brush whose sole
aim and end is the faithful imitation of reality; but do not say
poor arts! They have by no means died out, the worthy successors
of Raphael and Corregio, of Rubens and Rembrandt, of those whose
calling was not to imitate nature, but to idealise it. And that is
the vocation of art. Simple imitation is mere handicraft. And although
the monuments and statues of living persons are now mechanically taken
from photographs, aye, by a common workman who has no notion of art;
yet have we sculptors who are genuine artists, creators of the ideal."
I quietly accepted the rebuff, and rejoiced to think that all those
treasures of art of which my country is so proud had not then, after
all, deteriorated in worth; on the other hand, it was to me a matter
of little moment that mediocre talents, incapable of rising above
the imitation of reality, had been compelled to exchange the brush
for the camera obscura; and I had no doubt that their productions
would thereby gain--in faithfulness.
As we left the exhibition building, I saw a huge waggon without any
horses, but simply governed by one man, in spite of which it seemed
to roll on as easily as possible, and to pull up at pleasure. The
waggon was loaded with all sizes of black-coloured cylinders,
resembling casks or barrels. I was perfectly aware of the numerous
successful experiments made long ago in England and elsewhere with the
construction of steam-engines destined to run, not along iron rails,
but along the ordinary roads. I could not, however, help noticing that
this waggon differed totally from those old locomobiles, inasmuch as
there were no signs of steam about the novelty.
Once more I turned to my amiable guide for an explanation; but
although he immediately prepared to comply with my request, still I
am obliged to confess that not everything was quite clear to me. I
imagine this was partly owing to Bacon's making use of the names of
engines and materials with which I was unfamiliar; but this is about
what I understood him to say:
"So long as we had abundance of coal, the use of steam was found to be
amply sufficient for the locomotion of all kinds of engines, waggons,
or carriages; but about the beginning of this century the quantity
of coal in the different countries of Europe had decreased to such
an extent that the price of the article became by far too high for
daily and ordinary use. True, the supply of North America was far from
being exhausted; but, of course, the exportation from thence could
not but influence the cost. The same inconvenience further presented
itself with such engines where the locomotive power was produced by
continually recurring explosions of a mixture of light-gas and common
atmospheric air, since the cost of light-gas naturally increased with
the decrease of coal, from which it was principally made. Under these
circumstances, recourse was had to the electro-magnetic machines,
which could not be used to advantage so long as coals were inexpensive;
now, however, these were not only able to compete with the different
kinds of steam-engines, but they had this advantage over the latter,
that they were entirely free from the danger of explosive boilers.
"Nevertheless the electro-magnetic power, with all its improvements,
was, and remained, a more expensive one than that formerly produced
through coal, and the consequence of this was a decrease in the
produce of a great many things which had not only grown into matters
of daily necessity, but even into a sine quâ non of a progressive
and lasting civilization.
Then it was, since necessity is the mother of invention, that every
one contrived to devise a new means of locomotion, until, after
innumerable unsuccessful experiments, a power was finally arrived at
in every way practical and satisfactory, whilst inexhaustible in its
sources. It was, namely, this.
From time immemorial people knew the two motive forces of flowing water
and of streaming air, or wind. When the steam-engines came into use,
the latter had gradually superseded the former, partly because rapidly
flowing or falling water is not always procurable, partly also because
the supply of water, as well as its power, depends on the quantities
of rain falling in the higher districts. The latter inconvenience,
the variability of power, made itself still more strongly felt in the
application of the wind. The most absolute quietness in the air may
be followed by tempests so dangerous that the skipper is obliged to
furl his sails, and the miller finds it necessary to stop his mill,
in order to avoid the most disastrous consequences. Now, when the mill
stops, it becomes a useless machine; for then the work of the men
is stopped, and ultimately their wages. Much valuable time is lost,
and time is known to be money. Add to this that a steam-engine may be
worked unremittingly, so that the manufacturer can be sure to finish
any given work in any stipulated time, and it must be clear enough
why the powers of water and wind got to be superseded by steam-power,
on account of the latter's superior regularity.
"Meanwhile it is impossible to overlook the double fact that water and
wind may be had for nothing, and that steam involves expense. Moreover,
so immense is the quantity of vital or working power of the water
falling down on the surface of our earth, and also of the atmospheric
currents, that the locomotive power of all existing steam-engines is
comparatively trifling by the side of them. One single great cataract
has more working power than all the steam-engines of Europe together,
and one single thunder-storm may produce such frightful destruction
that it would be ridiculous to measure them by horse-power.
"As, therefore, steam became more and more expensive, one naturally
looked for means by which, without losing the regularity and stability
of steam-power, one might turn to account the forces of wind and
falling water. The question had really come to this--how to regularly
distribute over a certain period of time a force or power so intensely
variable. It seemed as if the working-power of water and wind had
to be collected and saved up, so as to have a regular provision
of such forces in case of need. In like manner Nature had saved
her working-power when she caused the forests to grow, from whence
resulted the coal layers. Art had already done the same in preparing
gunpowder and other explosive matters. Why, then, could the experiment
not be tried in analogous form, namely, by temporary imprisonment or
detention of that vital power which appeared to be so inexhaustible?"
That was the problem. With regard to its solution I could not well
follow the details. All I could learn from Bacon was this, that the
black cylinders on the waggon already referred to bore the name of
Energeiathecs,
force-holders, or energy-preservers; that one of these set the waggon
in motion, whilst the others were to be delivered either at private
houses for domestic purposes of hoisting, raising, or carrying;
or to blacksmiths, turners, and other artisans, who wanted motive
powers not so extensive as regular. Large manufactories used similar
energeiathecs, only of greater power and dimensions. Some of these
(in mountainous districts) collected the power of falling water;
others (situated in the lower districts) utilised the wind.
With regard to the construction, etc., of those cylinders, I could do
nothing more than to form a faint idea. Thus I thought of compressed
air, or some other gas, which, by some strong pressure or other
might have been turned into a liquid or hard substance retaining
the capability of rendering again its deposit of force on subsequent
explosion. But I merely give this hypothesis for what it is worth.
While Bacon had thus been endeavouring to enlighten me on a subject
which after all I did not profess to understand, we had reached
the aluminium railings of an elegant and lofty edifice, bearing
the inscription,
National Library.
Naturally enough, I evinced a strong desire to enter, but Bacon
remarked that a visit to such a place would take up a good deal
of valuable time, that might be turned to a much more pleasurable
and profitable account; to which Miss Phantasia added that if the
gentlemen chose to enter that labyrinth of learning, she, for her
part, preferred a walk in the square; the latter, crossed in all
directions by parks and avenues and flower-beds, was moreover crowded
with the most exquisite works of ancient and modern sculptors, living
illustrations of her former assertion that genuine works of art had
not quite died out.
As soon as we had arrived at the opposite side of the square, I fully
understood the wisdom of Bacon's remarks. So far as my eyes reached,
I could see a dense cluster of buildings, more resembling a moderately
sized town than a depository of literature. "You see, my friend,"
Bacon said, "it is imperative here to make up your mind what to see,
or else our lady friend will be tired of waiting. Which branch of
human knowledge do you give the preference to?"
I answered that I was especially interested in works of natural
science.
"Impossible to think of visiting the buildings in which all these
are deposited. You will have to restrict yourself considerably."
"Well, then, let us confine ourselves to zoology."
"Too much even for the most cursory glance. It would take us hours
to have a mere walk through. Select a sub-section of zoology."
"Shall we say the literature of entomology?"
"That won't do either; you must keep to one single order of insects."
"Well, then, be good enough to select for yourself," said I; "I'll
follow you."
We entered one of the buildings. How I was surprised to see the crowd
of officers and attendants! some anxious to direct and assist the
still greater mass of visitors; others busily engaged in making out
tickets and extracts for those scholars who had not time enough to do
any such manual work themselves. I felt that this was an admirable
school for young students, who were here able not only to gather
a valuable knowledge of books, but also to form themselves into
independent thinkers and writers.
Nineteenth-Century Books.
As I looked round, I saw one of the junior attendants engaged in
gumming the leaves of a musty book on sheets of collodion, so that one
side of the leaf remained at least legible. I remembered that this was
the way in which the papyrus scrolls of Pompeii and Herculaneum were
preserved from utter destruction; but how great was my astonishment
to see that the title-page of the musty book bore the year mark
1860, Amsterdam. "So it is with most of the nineteenth-century
books," said Bacon. "Owing to the bleaching properties of chlorine,
the paper on which they have been printed got so thin, and mouldy,
and worm-eaten, that we have but few works of those days now left;
and that is really to be regretted, for many writings of that time
were quite worth preserving."
I must confess that I was sorry to hear this little bit of information,
so distressing to an author of that age; but, of course, I was silent,
and kept on following my guide through rows and rows of apartments,
until we arrived at last at a vast hall, literally crammed with books
from top to bottom. There we paused, and Bacon turned round to address
me. "Now we are among the literature of the two-winged insects; what
work do you wish to see?" But staring at those thousands of volumes of
treatises on gnats and flies, I was too much afraid again to betray
my ignorance; I felt sure I would hit upon some title or other to
convince my guide how little I was au courant of the twenty-first
century. I limited myself to expressing my gratification at what I
had already seen, and added that I would not trespass any further
upon the obliging courtesy of my friend.
And thus we left the National Library, an institution which they
might safely have called the bibliopolis, for indeed it was like a
city of books.
As we passed once more through the front gate on our return, we came
across a crowd of men who were about to enter, and whom I judged
by their dress and appearance to belong to the class of artizans. I
asked Bacon what business had those people there?
"These are workmen from a neighbouring factory," answered he;
"they come here in turns for an hour every day, in order to read
in yonder room, especially set apart for them, such books as the
library committee has judged to be adapted to their wants. Such
workmen's libraries exist in all the several quarters of the city,
but they are most numerous in the densely populated districts where
most factories are to be found."
"And are they well frequented? And do employers allow their workmen to
make use of them? And have they reduced their wages in consequence? Are
they not afraid that their men will thus become too clever, too
well educated?"
"With regard to your first two questions--yes; with regard to the
latter two--no. So far as employers are concerned, they have long
been taught by experience that, by allowing their employés one hour's
relaxation daily, they act in their own interest; that is to say,
when such an hour's "holiday" be turned to good account by the
men themselves, by learning something more about their business,
and contributing to their mental development generally. Besides,
what else could have happened, since the continual invention of new
machinery has done away with so much of our manual labour? Naturally
enough, a greater demand has set in among the working classes for
knowledge and intellectual culture, and this has shown itself in the
same proportion as the demand for mere handicraft has subsided."
"Pity, though," said I, "for those who cannot make use of the library."
"Cannot!" exclaimed my guide; "but the doors are open to every one."
"Except to those who are unable to read, I suppose."
"Unable to read!" retorted Bacon; "but we are in Europe, my dear
sir, not among the Hottentots or Bushmen! There is not one man
or woman amongst us but what can read and write, and even do some
arithmetic. Surely these elements of knowledge are the very first
steps on the field of culture, and the sine quâ non of a person's
being a useful member of society."
"Do I then understand from your remarks that you have arrived at last
at a system of