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