THE STRANGE LIFE OF NIKOLA TESLA.

The Strange Life of Nikola Tesla

Editors Note, August 28, 1995

This text has been entered by John R.H. Penner from a small booklet found in a
used bookstore for $2.50. The only form of date identification is the name of the
original purchaser, Arthua Daine (?), dated April 29, 1978.
The book appears to be considerably older, made with typewriters, and then
photocopied and stapled. The only other significant features of the booklet is that it
contains four photocopied photographs of Tesla, and was originally forty pages
long. I must apologise for the qualitty of the scans, but the originals were of very
poor quality, and this is the best that could be obtained after touching-up in
Photoshop.

The book has no Copyright identification, nor any means of contacting the
publishers. As far as I am aware, this autobiography is no longer available in printed
form anywhere.

In the interest of making this important text available to the wider public, I have
retyped the entire text word-for-word as it originally appears into this electronic
format. The only words which appear in this file, that are not in the original book
are this Editors Note, and the Introduction. I have exactly maintained page numbers
as they appear in the original – including the somewhat odd artifact of Chapter 1
starting on page two.

If anyone knows how to reach the original publisher, please contact me at the below
address, so proper credit may be given where it is due.

John Roland Hans Penner
464 Scott Street
St. Catharines, Ontario
L2M 3W7, Canada
Phone: 905.646.3551
eMail: J.Penner@GEnie.GEIS.com

This file may be freely redistributed as long as it’s content is not modified in any
way. It may not be sold or published for profit unless specifically authorised prior to
publication by the express permission of Kolmogorov- Smirnov Publishing, or John
R.H. Penner. Unless otherwise notified, this work is Copyright ©1995 by John R.H.
Penner

Introduction

Nikola Tesla was born in Croatia (then part of Austria-Hungary) on July 9, 1856,
and died January 7, 1943. He was the electrical engineer who invented the AC
(alternating current) induction motor, which made the universal transmission and
distribution of electricity possible. Tesla began his studies in physics and
mathematics at Graz Polytechnic, and then took philosophy at the University of
Prague. He worked as an electrical engineer in Budapest, Hungary, and
subsequently in France and Germany. In 1888 his discovery that a magnetic field
could be made to rotate if two coils at right angles are supplied with AC current
90° out of phase made possible the invention of the AC induction motor. The major
advantage of this motor being its brushless operation, which many at the time
believed impossible.

Tesla moved to the United States in 1884, where he worked for Thomas Edison
who quickly became a rival – Edison being an advocate of the inferior DC power
transmission system. During this time, Tesla was commissioned with the design of
the AC generators installed at Niagara Falls. George Westinghouse purchased the
patents to his induction motor, and made it the basis of the Westinghouse power
system which still underlies the modern electrical power industry today.
He also did notable research on high-voltage electricity and wireless
communication; at one point creating an earthquake which shook the ground for
several miles around his New York laboratory. He also devised a system which
anticipated world-wide wireless communications, fax machines, radar, radio-guided
missiles and aircraft.

NIKOLA TESLA IS THE TRUE UNSUNG
PROPHET OF THE ELECTRIC AGE!;
without whom our radio, auto ignition,
hone, alternating current power
generation and transmission, radio and
television would all have been impossible.
Yet his life and times have vanished largely
from public access.

This AUTOBIOGRAPHY is released to remedy this
situation, and to fill this “BLACK HOLE”
in information space.

©Kolmogorov- Smirnov Publishing. v vi
October 13, 1933 1
Chapter 1

My Early Life

By Nikola Tesla

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 odd 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 multifold
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
radially 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 immaterial 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 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...

Chapter 2

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 Firth 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 keep my 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 despairing 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 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.

Chapter 3

How Tesla Conceived

The Rotary Magnetic Field

At the age of ten I entered the Real gymnasium which was a new and fairly well
equipped institution. In the department of physics were various models of classical
scientific apparatus, electrical and mechanical. The demonstrations and experiments
performed from time to time by the instructors fascinated me and were undoubtedly
a powerful incentive to invention. I was also passionately fond of mathematical
studies and often won the professor’s praise for rapid calculation. This was due to
my acquired facility of visualising the figures and performing the operation, not in
the usual intuitive manner, but as in actual life. Up to a certain degree of complexity
it was absolutely the same to me whether I wrote the symbols on the board or
conjured them before my mental vision. But freehand drawing, to which many
hours of the course were devoted, was an annoyance I could not endure. This was
rather remarkable as most of the members of the family excelled in it. Perhaps my
aversion was simply due to the predilection I found in undisturbed thought. Had it
not been for a few exceptionally stupid boys, who could not do anything at all, my
record would have been the worst.

It was a serious handicap as under the then existing educational regime drawing
being obligatory, this deficiency threatened to spoil my whole career and my father
had considerable trouble in rail-roading me from one class to another.
In the second year at that institution I became obsessed with the idea of producing
continuous motion through steady air pressure. The pump incident, of which I have
been told, had set afire my youthful imagination and impressed me with the
boundless possibilities of a vacuum. I grew frantic in my desire to harness this
inexhaustible energy but for a long time I was groping in the dark. Finally,
however, my endeavours crystallised in an invention which was to enable me to
achieve what no other mortal ever attempted. Imagine a cylinder freely rotatable on
two bearings and partly surrounded by a rectangular trough which fits it perfectly.
The open side of the trough is enclosed by a partition so that the cylindrical segment
within the enclosure divides the latter into two compartments entirely separated
from each other by air-tight sliding joints. One of these compartments being sealed
and once for all exhausted, the other remaining open, a perpetual rotation of the
cylinder would result. At least, so I thought.

A wooden model was constructed and fitted with infinite care and when I applied
the pump on one side and actual observed that there was a tendency to turning, I
was delirious with joy. Mechanical flight was the one thing I wanted to accomplish
although still under the discouraging recollection of a bad fall I sustained by
jumping with an umbrella from the top of a building. Every day I used to transport
myself through the air to distant regions but could not understand just how I
managed to do it. Now I had something concrete, a flying machine with nothing
more than a rotating shaft, flapping wings, and; - a vacuum of unlimited power!
From that time on I made my daily aerial excursions in a vehicle of comfort and
luxury as might have befitted King Solomon. It took years before I understood that
the atmospheric pressure acted at right angles to the surface of the cylinder and that
the slight rotary effort I observed was due to a leak! Though this knowledge came
gradually it gave me a painful shock.

I had hardly completed my course at the Real Gymnasium when I was prostrated
with a dangerous illness or rather, a score of them, and my condition became so
desperate that I was given up by physicians. During this period I was permitted to
read constantly, obtaining books from the Public Library which had been neglected
and entrusted to me for classification of the works and preparation of catalogues.
One day I was handed a few volumes of new literature unlike anything I had ever
read before and so captivating as to make me utterly forget me hopeless state. They
were the earlier works of Mark Twain and to them might have been due the
miraculous recovery which followed. Twenty-five years later, when I met Mr.
Clements and we formed a friendship between us, I told him of the experience and
was amazed to see that great man of laughter burst into tears...

My studies were continued at the higher Real Gymnasium in Carlstadt, Croatia,
where one of my aunts resided. She was a distinguished lady, the wife of a Colonel
who was an old war-horse having participated in many battles, I can never forget
the three years I passed at their home. No fortress in time of war was under a more
rigid discipline. I was fed like a canary bird. All the meals were of the highest
quality and deliciously prepared, but short in quantity by a thousand percent. The
slices of ham cut by my aunt were like tissue paper. When the Colonel would put
something substantial on my plate she would snatch it away and say excitedly to
him; “Be careful. Niko is very delicate.”

I had a voracious appetite and suffered like Tantalus.

But I lived in an atmosphere of refinement and artistic taste quite unusual for those
times and conditions. The land was low and marshy and malaria fever never left me
while there despite the enormous amounts of qunine I consumed. Occasionally the
river would rise and drive an army of rats into the buildings, devouring everything,
even to the bundles of fierce paprika. These pests were to me a welcome diversion. I
thinned their ranks by all sorts of means, which won me the unenviable distinction
of rat-catcher in the community. At last, however, my course was completed, the
misery ended, and I obtained the certificate of maturity which brought me to the
cross-roads.

During all those years my parents never wavered in their resolve to make me
embrace the clergy, the mere thought of which filled me with dread. I had become
intensely interested in electricity under the stimulating influence of my Professor of
Physics, who was an ingenious man and often demonstrated the principles by
apparatus of his own invention. Among these I recall a device in the shape of a
freely rotatable bulb, with tinfoil coating, which was made to spin rapidly when
connected to a static machine. It is impossible for me to convey an adequate idea of
the intensity of feeling I experienced in witnessing his exhibitions of these
mysterious phenomena. Every impression produced a thousand echoes in my mind.
I wanted to know more of this wonderful force; I longed for experiment and
investigation and resigned myself to the inevitable with aching heart. Just as I was
making ready for the long journey home I received word that my father wished me
to go on a shooting expedition. It was a strange request as he had been always
strenuously opposed to this kind of sport. But a few days later I learned that the
cholera was raging in that district and, taking advantage of an opportunity, I
returned to Gospic in disregard to my parent’s wishes. It is incredible how
absolutely ignorant people were as to the causes of this scourge which visited the
country in intervals of fifteen to twenty years. They thought that the deadly agents
were transmitted through the air and filled it with pungent odours and smoke. In the
meantime they drank infested water and died in heaps. I contracted the dreadful

disease on the very day of my arrival and although surviving the crisis, I was
confined to bed for nine months with scarcely any ability to move. My energy was
completely exhausted and for the second time I found myself at Death’s door.
In one of the sinking spells which was thought to be the last, my father rushed into
the room. I still see his pallid face as he tried to cheer me in tones belying his
assurance. “Perhaps,” I said, “I may get well if you will let me study engineering.”
“You will go to the best technical institution in the world,” he solemnly replied, and
I knew that he meant it. A heavy weight was lifted from my mind but the relief
would have come too late had it not been for a marvellous cure brought through a
bitter decoction of a peculiar bean. I came to life like Lazarus to the utter
amazement of everybody.

My father insisted that I spend a year in healthful physical outdoor exercise to
which I reluctantly consented. For most of this term I roamed in the mountains,
loaded with a hunter’s outfit and a bundle of books, and this contact with nature
made me stronger in body as well as in mind. I thought and planned, and conceived
many ideas almost as a rule delusive. The vision was clear enough but the
knowledge of principles was very limited.

In one of my invention I proposed to convey letters and packages across the seas,
through a submarine tube, in spherical containers of sufficient strength to resist the
hydraulic pressure. The pumping plant, intended to force the water through the tube,
was accurately figured and designed and all other particulars carefully worked out.
Only one trifling detail, of no consequence, was lightly dismissed. I assumed an
arbitrary velocity of the water and, what is more, took pleasure in making it high,
thus arriving at a stupendous performance supported by faultless calculations.
Subsequent reflections, however, on the resistance of pipes to fluid flow induced me
to make this invention public property.

Another one of my projects was to construct a ring around the equator which would,
of course, float freely and could be arrested in its spinning motion by reactionary
forces, thus enabling travel at a rate of about one thousand miles an hour,
impracticable by rail. The reader will smile. The plan was difficult of execution, I
will admit, but not nearly so bad as that of a well known New York professor, who
wanted to pump the air from the torrid to temperate zones, entirely forgetful of the
fact that the Lord had provided a gigantic machine for this purpose.

Still another scheme, far more important and attractive, was to derive power from
the rotational energy of terrestrial bodies. I had discovered that objects on the
earth’s surface owing to the diurnal rotation of the globe, are carried by the same
alternately in and against the direction of translatory movement. From this results a
great change in momentum which could be utilised in the simplest imaginable
manner to furnish motive effort in any habitable region of the world. I cannot find
words to describe my disappointment when later I realised that I was in the
predicament of Archimedes, who vainly sought for a fixed point in the universe.
At the termination of my vacation I was sent to the Poly-Technic School in Gratz,
Styria (Austria), which my father had chosen as one of the oldest and best reputed
institutions. That was the moment I had eagerly awaited and I began my studies
under good auspices and firmly resolved to succeed. My previous training was
above average, due to my father’s teaching and opportunities afforded. I had
acquired the knowledge of a number of languages and waded through the books of
several libraries, picking up information more or

less useful. Then again, for the first time, I could choose my subjects as I liked, and
free-hand drawing was to bother me no more.

I had made up my mind to give my parents a surprise, and during the whole first
year I regularly started my work at three o’clock in the morning and continued until
eleven at night, no Sundays or holidays excepted. As most of my fellow-students
took things easily, naturally I eclipsed all records. In the course of the year I passed
through nine exams and the professors thought I deserved more than the highest
qualifications. Armed with their flattering certificated, I went home for a short rest,
expecting triumph, and was mortified when my father made light of these hard-won
honours.

That almost killed my ambition; but later, after he had died, I was pained to find a
package of letters which the professors had written to him to the effect that unless
he took me away from the Institution I would be killed through overwork.
Thereafter I devoted myself chiefly to physics, mechanics and mathematical studies,
spending the hours of leisure in the libraries.

I had a veritable mania for finishing whatever I began, which often got me into
difficulties. On one occasion I started to read the works of Voltaire, when I learned,
to my dismay that there were close to one hundred large volumes in small print
which that monster had written while drinking seventy-two cups of black coffee per
diem. It had to be done, but when I laid aside that last book I was very glad, and
said, “Never more!”

My first year’s showing had won me the appreciation and friendship of several
professors. Among these, Professor Rogner, who was teaching arithmetical subjects
and geometry; Professor Poeschl, who held the chair of theoretical and experimental
physics, and Dr. Alle, who taught integral calculus and specialised in differential
equations. This scientist was the most brilliant lecturer to whom I ever listened. He
took a special interest in my progress and would frequently remain for an hour or
two in the lecture room, giving me problems to solve, in which I delighted. To him I
explained a flying machine I had conceived, not an illusory invention, but one based
on sound, scientific principles, which has become realisable through my turbine and
will soon be given to the world. Both Professors Rogner and Poeschl were curious
men. The former had peculiar ways of expressing himself and whenever he did so,
there was a riot, followed by a long embarrassing pause. Professor Poeschl was a
methodical and thoroughly grounded German. He had enormous feet, and hands
like the paws of a bear, but all of his experiments were skilfully performed with
clock-like precision and without a miss. It was in the second year of my studies that
we received a Gramoe Dyname from Paris, having the horseshoe form of a
laminated field magnet, and a wire wound armature with a commutator. It was
connected up and various effects of the currents were shown. While Professor
Poeschl was making demonstrations, running the machine was a motor, the brushes
gave trouble, sparking badly, and I observed that it might be possible to operate a
motor without these appliances. But he declared that it could not be done and did
me the honour of delivering a lecture on the subject, at the conclusion he remarked,
“Mr. Tesla may accomplish great things, but he certainly will never do this. It
would be equivalent to converting a steadily pulling force, like that of gravity into a
rotary effort. It is a perpetual motion scheme, an impossible idea.” But instinct is
something which transcends knowledge. We have, undoubtedly, certain finer fibres
that enable us to perceive truths when logical deduction, or any other wilful effort
of the brain, is futile.

For a time I wavered, impressed by the professor’s authority, but soon

became convinced I was right and undertook the task with all the fire and boundless
confidence of my youth. I started by first picturing in my mind a direct-current
machine, running it and following the changing flow of the currents in the armature.
Then I would imagine an alternator and investigate the progresses taking place in a
similar manner. Next I would visualise systems comprising motors and generators
and operate them in various ways.

The images I saw were to me perfectly real and tangible. All my remaining term in
Gratz was passed in intense but fruitless efforts of this kind, and I almost came to
the conclusion that the problem was insolvable.

In 1880 I went to Prague, Bohemia, carrying out my father’s wish to complete my
education at the University there. It was in that city that I made a decided advance,
which consisted in detaching the commutator from the machine and studying the
phenomena in this new aspect, but still without result. In the year following there
was a sudden change in my views of life.

I realised that my parents had been making too great sacrifices on my account and
resolved to relieve them of the burden. The wave of the American telephone had
just reached the European continent and the system was to be installed in Budapest,
Hungary. It appeared an ideal opportunity, all the more as a friend of our family
was at the head of the enterprise.

It was here that I suffered the complete breakdown of the nerves to which I have
referred. What I experienced during the period of the illness surpasses all belief. My
sight and hearing were always extraordinary. I could clearly discern objects in the
distance when others saw no trace of them. Several times in my boyhood I saved the
houses of our neighbours from fire by hearing the faint crackling sounds which did
not disturb their sleep, and calling for help. In 1899, when I was past forty and
carrying on my experiments in Colorado, I could hear very distinctly thunderclaps
at a distance of 550 miles. My ear was thus over thirteen times more sensitive, yet at
that time I was, so to speak, stone deaf in comparison with the acuteness of my
hearing while under the nervous strain.

In Budapest I could hear the ticking of a watch with three rooms between me and
the time-piece. A fly alighting on a table in the room would cause a dull thud in my
ear. A carriage passing at a distance of a few miles fairly shook my whole body.
The whistle of a locomotive twenty or thirty miles away made the bench or chair on
which I sat, vibrate so strongly that the pain was unbearable. The ground under my
feet trembled continuously. I had to support my bed on rubber cushions to get any
rest at all. The roaring noises from near and far often produced the effect of spoken
words which would have frightened me had I not been able to resolve them into
their accumulated components. The sun rays, when periodically intercepted, would
cause blows of such force on my brain that they would stun me. I had to summon all
my will power to pass under a bridge or other structure, as I experienced the
crushing pressure on the skull. In the dark I had the sense of a bat, and could detect
the presence of an object at a distance of twelve feet by a peculiar creepy sensation
on the forehead. My pulse varied from a few to two hundred and sixty beats and all
the tissues of my body with twitchings and tremors, which was perhaps hardest to
bear. A renowned physician who have me daily large doses of Bromide of
Potassium, pronounced my malady unique and incurable.

It is my eternal regret that I was not under the observation of experts in physiology
and psychology at that time. I clung desperately to life, but

never expected to recover. Can anyone believe that so hopeless a physical wreck
could ever be transformed into a man of astonishing strength and tenacity; able to
work thirty-eight years almost without a day’s interruption, and find himself still
strong and fresh in body and mind? Such is my case. A powerful desire to live and
to continue the work and the assistance of a devoted friend, an athlete,
accomplished the wonder. My health returned and with it the vigour of mind.
In attacking the problem again, I almost regretted that the struggle was soon to end.
I had so much energy to spare. When I understood the task, it was not with a resolve
such as men often make. With me it was a sacred vow, a question of life and death.
I knew that I would perish if I failed. Now I felt that the battle was won. Back in the
deep recesses of the brain was the solution, but I could net yet give it outward
expression.

One afternoon, which is ever present in my recollection, I was enjoying a walk with
my friend in the City Park and reciting poetry. At that age, I knew entire books by
heart, word for word. One of these was Goethe’s “Faust.” The sun was just setting
and reminded me of the glorious passage, “Sie ruckt und weicht, der Tag ist
uberlebt, Dort eilt sie hin und fordert neues Leben. Oh, daß kein Flugel mich vom
Boden hebt Ihr nach und immer nach zu streben! Ein schöner Traum indessen sie
entweicht, Ach, au des Geistes Flügein wird so leicht Kein korperlicher Flugel sich
gesellen!” As I uttered these inspiring words the idea came like a flash of lightening
and in an instant the truth was revealed. I drew with a stick on the sand, the diagram
shown six years later in my address before the American Institute of Electrical
Engineers, and my companion understood them perfectly. The images I saw were
wonderfully sharp and clear and had the solidity of metal and stone, so much so that
I told him, “See my motor here; watch me reverse it.” I cannot begin to describe my
emotions. Pygmalion seeing his statue come to life could not have been more
deeply moved. A thousand secrets of nature which I might have stumbled upon
accidentally, I would have given for that one which I had wrested from her against
all odds and at the peril of my existence...

Chapter 4

The Discovery of the

Tesla Coil and Transformer

(The Basic Part of Every Radio and T.V.)

For a while I gave myself up entirely to the intense enjoyment of picturing
machines and devising new forms. It was a mental state of happiness about as
complete as I have ever known in life. Ideas came in an uninterrupted stream and
the only difficulty I had was to hold them fast. The pieces of apparatus I conceived
were to me absolutely real and tangible in every detail, even to the minutest marks
and signs of wear. I delighted in imagining the motors constantly running, for in this
way they presented to the mind’s eye a fascinating sight. When natural inclination
develops into a passionate desire, one advances towards his goal in seven-league
boots. In less than two months I evolved virtually all the types of motors and
modifications of the system which are now identified with my name, and which are
used under many other names all over the world. It was, perhaps, providential that
the necessities of existence commanded a temporary halt to this consuming activity
of the mind.

I came to Budapest prompted by a premature report concerning the telephone
enterprise and, as irony of fate willed it, I had to accept a position as draughtsman in
the Central Telegraph Office of the Hungarian Government at a salary which I deem
it my privilege not to disclose. Fortunately, I soon won the interest of the Inspector-in-
Chief and was thereafter employed on calculations, designs and estimates in
connection with new installations, until the Telephone exchange started, when I
took charge of the same. The knowledge and practical experience I gained in the
course of this work, was most valuable and the employment gave me ample
opportunities for the exercise of my inventive faculties. I made several
improvements in the Central Station apparatus and perfected a telephone repeater or
amplifier which was never patented or publicly described but would be creditable to
me even today. In recognition of my efficient assistance the organiser of the
undertaking, Mr. Puskas, upon disposing of his business in Budapest, offered me a
position in Paris which I gladly accepted.

I never can forget the deep impression that magic city produced on my mind. For
several days after my arrival, I roamed through the streets in utter bewilderment of
the new spectacle. The attractions were many and irresistible, but, alas, the income
was spent as soon as received. When Mr. Puskas asked me how I was getting along
in the new sphere, I described the situation accurately in the statement that “The last
twenty-nine days of the month are the toughest.” I led a rather strenuous life in what
would now be termed “Rooseveltian fashion.” Every morning, regardless of the
weather, I would go from the Boulevard St. Marcel, where I resided, to a bathing
house on the Seine; plunge into the water, loop the circuit twenty-seven times and
then walk an hour to reach Ivry, where the Company’s factory was located. There I
would have a wood-chopper’s breakfast at half-past seven o’clock and then eagerly
await the lunch hour, in the meanwhile cracking hard nuts for the Manager of the
Works, Mr. Charles Batchellor, who was an intimate friend and assistant of Edison.
Here I was thrown in contact with a few Americans who fairly fell in love with my
because of my proficiency in Billiards! To these men I explained my invention and
one of them, Mr. D. Cunningham, foreman of

the Mechanical Department, offered to form a stock company. The proposal seemed
to me comical in the extreme. I did not have the faintest conception of what he
meant, except that it was an American way of doing things. Nothing came of it,
however, and during the next few months I had to travel from one place to another
in France and Germany to cure the ills of the power plants.

On my return to Paris, I submitted to one of the administrators of the Company, Mr.
Rau, a plan for improving their dynamos and was given an opportunity. My success
was complete and the delighted directors accorded me the privilege of developing
automatic regulators which were much desired. Shortly after, there was some
trouble with the lighting plant which had been installed at the new railroad station in
Straßburg, Alsace. The wiring was defective and on the occasion of the opening
ceremonies, a large part of a wall was blown out through a short-circiut, right in the
presence of old Emperor William I. The German Government refused to take the
plant and the French Company was facing a serious loss. On account of my
knowledge of the German language and past experience, I was entrusted with the
difficult task of straightening out matters and early in 1883, I went to Straßburg on
that mission.

Some of the incidents in that city have left an indelible record on my memory. By a
curious coincidence, a number of the men who subsequently achieve fame, lived
there about that time. In later life I used to say, “There were bacteria of greatness in
that old town.” Others caught the disease, but I escaped!” The practical work,
correspondence, and conferences with officials kept me preoccupied day and night,
but as soon as I was able to manage, I undertook the construction of a simple motor
in a mechanical shop opposite the rail-road station, having brought with me from
Paris some material for that purpose. The consummation of the experiment was,
however, delayed until the summer of that year, when I finally had the satisfaction
of seeing the rotation effected by alternating currents of different phase, and without
sliding contacts or commutator, as I had conceived a year before. It was an exquisite
pleasure but not to compare with the delirium of joy following the first revelation.
Among my new friends was the former Mayor of the city, Mr. Sauzin, whom I had
already, in a measure, acquainted with this and other inventions of mine and whose
support I endeavoured to enlist. He was sincerely devoted to me and put my project
before several wealthy persons, but to my mortification, found no response. He
wanted to help me in every possible way and the approach of the first of July, 1917,
happens to remind me of a form of “assistance” I received from that charming man,
which was not financial, but none the less appreciated. In 1870, when the Germans
invaded the country, Mr. Sauzin had buried a good sized allotment of St. Estephe of
1801 and he came to the conclusion that he knew no worthier person than myself, to
consume that precious beverage. This, I may say, is one of the unforgettable
incidents to which I have referred. My friend urged me to return to Paris as soon as
possible and seek support there. This I was anxious to do, but my work and
negotiations were protracted, owing to all sorts of petty obstacles I encountered, so
that at times the situation seemed hopeless. Just to give an idea of German
thoroughness and “efficiency,” I may mention here a rather funny experience.
An incandescent lamp of 16 c.p. was to be placed in a hallway, and upon selected
the proper location, I ordered the “monteur” to run the wires. After working for a
while, he concluded that the engineer had to be consulted and this was done. The
latter made several objections but ultimately agreed that the lamp should be placed
two inches from the spot I had assigned, whereupon the work proceeded. Then the
engineer became worried and told me that Inspector Averdeck should be notified.
That important person was called,

he investigated, debated, and decided that the lamp should be shifted back two
inches, which was the placed I had marked! It was not long, however, before
Averdeck got cold feet himself and advised me that he had informed Ober-Inspector
Hieronimus of the matter and that I should await his decision. It was several days
before the Ober-Inspector was able to free himself of other pressing duties, but at
last he arrived and a two hour debate followed, when he decided to move the lamp
two inches further. My hopes that this was the final act, were shattered when the
Ober-Inspector returned and said to me, “Regierungsrath Funke is particular that I
would not dare to give an order for placing this lamp without his explicit approval.”
Accordingly, arrangements for a visit from that great man were made. We started
cleaning up and polishing early in the morning, and when Funke came with his
retinue he was ceremoniously received. After two hours of deliberation, he
suddenly exclaimed, “I must be going!,” and pointing to a place on the ceiling, he
ordered me to put the lamp there. It was the exact spot which I had originally
chosen! So it went day after day with variations, but I was determined to achieve, at
whatever cost, and in the end my efforts were rewarded.

By the spring of 1884, all the differences were adjusted, the plant formally
accepted, and I returned to Paris with pleasing anticipation. One of the
administrators had promised me a liberal compensation in case I succeeded, as well
as a fair consideration of the improvements I had made to their dynamos and I
hoped to realise a substantial sum. There were three administrators, whom I shall
designate as A, B, and C for convenience. When I called on A, he told me that B
had the say. This gentleman thought that only C could decide, and the latter was
quite sure that A alone had the power to act. After several laps of this circulus
viciousus, it dawned upon me that my reward was a castle in Spain.

The utter failure of my attempts to raise capital for development was another
disappointment, and when Mr. Bachelor pressed me to go to America with a view
of redesigning the Edison machines, I determined to try my fortunes in the Land of
Golden Promise. But the chance was nearly missed. I liquefied my modest assets,
secured accommodations and found myself at the railroad station as the train was
pulling out. At that moment, I discovered that my money and tickets were gone.
What to do was the question. Hercules had plenty of time to deliberate, but I had to
decide while running alongside the train with opposite feeling surging in my brain
like condenser oscillations. Resolve, helped by dexterity, won out in the nick of
time and upon passing through the usual experience, as trivial and unpleasant, I
managed to embark for New York with the remnants of my belongings, some
poems and articles I had written, and a package of calculations relating to solutions
of an unsolvable integral and my flying machine. During the voyage I sat most of
the time at the stern of the ship watching for an opportunity to save somebody from
a watery grave, without the slightest thought of danger. Later, when I had absorbed
some of the practical American sense, I shivered at the recollection and marvelled at
my former folly. The meeting with Edison was a memorable event in my life. I was
amazed at this wonderful man who, without early advantages and scientific training,
had accomplished so much. I had studied a dozen languages, delved in literature
and art, and had spent my best years in libraries reading all sorts of stuff that fell
into my hands, from Newton’s “Principia” to the novels of Paul de Kock, and felt
that most of my life had been squandered. But it did not take long before I
recognised that it was the best thing I could have done. Within a few weeks I had
won Edison’s confidence, and it came about in this way.

The S.S. Oregon, the fastest passenger steamer at that time, had both of

its lighting machines disabled and its sailing was delayed. As the super-structure
had been built after their installation, it was impossible to remove them from the
hold. The predicament was a serious one and Edison was much annoyed. In the
evening I took the necessary instruments with me and went aboard the vessel where
I stayed for the night. The dynamos were in bad condition, having several short-circuits
and breaks, but with the assistance of the crew, I succeeded in putting them
in good shape. At five o’clock in the morning, when passing along Fifth Avenue on
my way to the shop, I met Edison with Bachelor and a few others, as they were
returning home to retire. “Here is our Parisian running around at night,” he said.
When I told him that I was coming from the Oregon and had repaired both
machines, he looked at me in silence and walked away without another word. But
when he had gone some distance I heard him remark, “Bachelor, this is a good
man.” And from that time on I had full freedom in directing the work. For nearly a
year my regular hours were from 10:30 A.M. until 5 o’clock the next morning
without a day’s exception. Edison said to me, “I have had many hard working
assistants, but you take the cake.” During this period I designed twenty-four
different types of standard machines with short cores and uniform pattern, which
replaced the old ones. The Manager had promised me fifty thousand dollars on the
completion of this task, but it turned out to be a practical joke. This gave me a
painful shock and I resigned my position.

Immediately thereafter, some people approached me with the proposal of forming
an arc light company under my name, to which I agreed. Here finally, was an
opportunity to develop the motor, but when I broached the subject to my new
associates they said, “No, we want the arc lamp. We don’t care for this alternating
current of yours.” In 1886 my system of arc lighting was perfected and adopted for
factory and municipal lighting, and I was free, but with no other possession than a
beautifully engraved certificate of stock of hypothetical value. Then followed a
period of struggle in the new medium for which I was not fitted, but the reward
came in the end, and in April, 1887, the TESLA Electric Co. was organised,
providing a laboratory and facilities. The motors I built there were exactly as I had
imagined them. I made no attempt to improve the design, but merely reproduced the
pictures as they appeared to my vision and the operation was always as I expected.
In the early part of 1888, an arrangement was made with the Westinghouse
Company for the manufacture of the motors on a large scale. But great difficulties
had still to be overcome. My system was based on the use of low frequency currents
and the Westinghouse experts had adopted 133 cycles with the objects of securing
advantages in transformation. They did not want to depart with their standard forms
of apparatus and my efforts had to be concentrated upon adapting the motor to these
conditions. Another necessity was to produce a motor capable of running efficiently
at this frequency on two wire, which was not an easy accomplishment.

At the close of 1889, however, my services in Pittsburgh being no longer essential, I
returned to New York and resumed experimental work in a Laboratory on Grand
Street, where I began immediately the design of high-frequency machines. The
problems of construction in this unexplored field were novel and quite peculiar, and
I encountered many difficulties. I rejected the inductor type, fearing that it might not
yield perfect sine waves, which were so important to resonant action. Had it not
been for this, I could have saved myself a great deal of labour. Another
discouraging feature of the high-frequency alternator seemed to be the inconstancy
of speed which threatened to impose serious limitations to its use. I had already
noted in my demonstrations before the American Institution of Electrical Engineers,
that several times

the tune was lost, necessitating readjustment, and did not yet foresee what I
discovered long afterwards, – a means of operating a machine of this kind at a speed
constant to such a degree as not to vary more than a small fraction of one revolution
between the extremes of load. From many other considerations, it appeared
desirable to invent a simpler device for the production of electric oscillations.
In 1856, Lord Kelvin had exposed the theory of the condenser discharge, but no
practical application of that important knowledge was made. I saw the possibilities
and undertook the development of induction apparatus on this principle. My
progress was so rapid as to enable me to exhibit at my lecture in 1891, a coil giving
sparks of five inches. On that occasion I frankly told the engineers of a defect
involved in the transformation by the new method, namely, the loss in the spark
gap. Subsequent investigation showed that no matter what medium is employed,
–be it air, hydrogen, mercury vapour, oil, or a stream of electrons, the efficiency is
the same. It is a law very much like the governing of the conversion of mechanical
energy. We may drop a weight from a certain height vertically down, or carry it to
the lower level along any devious path; it is immaterial insofar as the amount of
work is concerned. Fortunately however, this drawback is not fatal, as by proper
proportioning of the resonant, circuits of an efficiency of 85 percent is attainable.
Since my early announcement of the invention, it has come into universal use and
wrought a revolution in many departments, but a still greater future awaits it.
When in 1900 I obtained powerful discharges of 1,000 feet and flashed a current
around the globe, I was reminded of the first tiny spark I observed in my Grand
Street laboratory and was thrilled by sensations akin to those I felt when I
discovered the rotating magnetic field.

Chapter 5

As I review the events of my past life I realise how subtle are the influences that
shape our destinies. An incident of my youth may serve to illustrate. One winter’s
day I managed to climb a steep mountain, in company with other boys. The snow
was quite deep and a warm southerly wind made it just suitable for our purpose. We
amused ourselves by throwing balls which would roll down a certain distance,
gathering more or less snow, and we tried to out-do one another in this sport.
Suddenly a ball was seen to go beyond the limit, swelling to enormous proportions
until it became as big as a house and plunged thundering into the valley below with
a force that made the ground tremble. I looked on spell-bound incapable of
understanding what had happened. For weeks afterward the picture of the avalanche
was before my eyes and I wondered how anything so small could grow to such an
immense size.

Ever since that time the magnification of feeble actions fascinated me, and when,
years later, I took up the experimental study of mechanical and electrical resonance,
I was keenly interested from the very start. Possibly, had it not been for that early
powerful impression I might not have followed up the little spark I obtained with
my coil and never developed my best invention, the true history of which I will tell.
Many technical men, very able in their special departments, but dominated by a
pedantic spirit and near-sighted, have asserted that excepting the induction motor, I
have given the world little of practical use. This is a grievous mistake. A new idea
must not be judged by its immediate results. My alternating system of power
transmission came at a psychological moment, as a long sought answer to pressing
industrial questions, and although considerable resistance had to be overcome and
opposing interests reconciled, as usual, the commercial introduction could not be
long delayed. Now, compare this situation with that confronting my turbines, for
example. One should think that so simple and beautiful an invention, possessing
many features of an ideal motor, should be adopted at once and, undoubtedly, it
would under similar conditions. But the prospective effect of the rotating field was
not to render worthless existing machinery; on the contrary, it was to give it
additional value. The system lent itself to new enterprise as well as to improvement
of the old. My turbine is an advance of a character entirely different. It is a radical
departure in the sense that its success would mean the abandonment of the
antiquated types of prime movers on which billions of dollars have been spent.
Under such circumstances, the progress must needs be slow and perhaps the
greatest impediment is encountered in the prejudicial opinions created in the minds
of experts by organised opposition.

Only the other day, I had a disheartening experience when I met my friend and
former assistant, Charles F. Scott, now professor of Electric Engineering at Yale. I
had not seen him for a long time and was glad to have an opportunity for a little
chat at my office. Our conversation, naturally enough, drifted on my turbine and I
became heated to a high degree. “Scott,” I exclaimed, carried away by the vision of
a glorious future, “My turbine will scrap all the heat engines in the world.” Scott
stroked his chin and looked away thoughtfully, as though making a mental
calculation. “That will make quite a pile of scrap,” he said, and left without another
word!

These and other inventions of mine, however, were nothing more than steps

forward in a certain directions. In evolving them, I simply followed the inborn
instinct to improve the present devices without any special thought of our far more
imperative necessities. The “Magnifying Transmitter” was the product of labours
extending through years, having for their chief object, the solution of problems
which are infinitely more important to mankind than mere industrial development.
If my memory serves me right, it was in November, 1890, that I performed a
laboratory experiment which was one of the most extraordinary and spectacular
ever recorded in the annal of Science. In investigating the behaviour of high
frequency currents, I had satisfied myself that an electric field of sufficient intensity
could be produced in a room to light up electrodeless vacuum tubes. Accordingly, a
transformer was built to test the theory and the first trial proved a marvellous
success. It is difficult to appreciate what those strange phenomena meant at the
time. We crave for new sensations, but soon become indifferent to them. The
wonders of yesterday are today common occurrences. When my tubes were first
publicly exhibited, they were viewed with amazement impossible to describe. From
all parts of the world, I received urgent invitations and numerous honours and other
flattering inducements were offered to me, which I declined. But in 1892 the
demand became irresistible and I went to London where I delivered a lecture before
the institution of Electrical Engineers.

It has been my intention to leave immediately for Paris in compliance with a similar
obligation, but Sir James Dewar insisted on my appearing before the Royal
Institution. I was a man of firm resolve, but succumbed easily to the forceful
arguments of the great Scotchman. He pushed me into a chair and poured out half a
glass of a wonderful brown fluid which sparkled in all sorts of iridescent colours
and tasted like nectar. “Now,” said he, “you are sitting in Faraday’s chair and you
are enjoying whiskey he used to drink.” (Which did not interest me very much, as I
had altered my opinion concerning strong drink). The next evening I have a
demonstration before the Royal Institution, at the termination of which, Lord
Rayleigh addressed the audience and his generous words gave me the first start in
these endeavours. I fled from London and later from Paris, to escape favours
showered upon me, and journeyed to my home, where I passed through a most
painful ordeal and illness.

Upon regaining my health, I began to formulate plans for the resumption of work in
America. Up to that time I never realised that I possessed any particular gift of
discovery, but Lord Rayleigh, whom I always considered as an ideal man of
science, had said so and if that was the case, I felt that I should concentrate on some
big idea.

At this time, as at many other times in the past, my thoughts turned towards my
Mother’s teaching. The gift of mental power comes from God, Divine Being, and if
we concentrate our minds on that truth, we become in tune with this great power.
My Mother had taught me to seek all truth in the Bible; therefore I devoted the next
few months to the study of this work.

One day, as I was roaming the mountains, I sought shelter from an approaching
storm. The sky became overhung with heavy clouds, but somehow the rain was
delayed until, all of a sudden, there was a lightening flash and a few moments after,
a deluge. This observation set me thinking. It was manifest that the two phenomena
were closely related, as cause and effect, and a little reflection led me to the
conclusion that the electrical energy involved in the precipitation of the water was
inconsiderable, the function of the lightening being much like that of a sensitive
trigger. Here was a stupendous possibility of

achievement. If we could produce electric effects of the required quality, this whole
planet and the conditions of existence on it could be transformed. The sun raises the
water of the oceans and winds drive it to distant regions where it remains in a state
of most delicate balance. If it were in our power to upset it when and wherever
desired, this might life sustaining stream could be at will controlled. We could
irrigate arid deserts, create lakes and rivers, and provide motive power in unlimited
amounts. This would be the most efficient way of harnessing the sun to the uses of
man. The consummation depended on our ability to develop electric forces of the
order of those in nature.

It seemed a hopeless undertaking, but I made up my mind to try it and immediately
on my return to the United States in the summer of 1892, after a short visit to my
friends in Watford, England; work was begun which was to me all the more
attractive, because a means of the same kind was necessary for the successful
transmission of energy without wires.

At this time I made a further careful study of the Bible, and discovered the key in
Revelation. The first gratifying result was obtained in the spring of the succeeding
year, when I reaching a tension of about 100,000,000 volts — one hundred million
volts — with my conical coil, which I figured was the voltage of a flash of
lightening. Steady progress was made until the destruction of my laboratory by fire,
in 1895, as may be judged from an article by T.C. Martin which appeared in the
April number of the Century Magazine. This calamity set me back in many ways
and most of that year had to be devoted to planning and reconstruction. However, as
soon as circumstances permitted, I returned to the task.

Although I knew that higher electric-motive forces were attainable with apparatus
of larger dimensions, I had an instinctive perception that the object could be
accomplished by the proper design of a comparatively small and compact
transformer. In carrying on tests with a secondary in the form of flat spiral, as
illustrated in my patents, the absence of streamers surprised me, and it was not long
before I discovered that this was due to the position of the turns and their mutual
action. Profiting from this observation, I resorted to the use of a high tension
conductor with turns of considerable diameter, sufficiently separated to keep down
the distributed capacity, while at the same time preventing undue accumulation of
the charge at any point. The application of this principle enabled me to produce
pressures of over 100,000,000 volts, which was about the limit obtainable without
risk of accident. A photograph of my transmitter built in my laboratory at Houston
Street, was published in the Electrical Review of November, 1898.

In order to advance further along this line, I had to go into the open, and in the
spring of 1899, having completed preparations for the erection of a wireless plant, I
went to Colorado where I remained for more than one year. Here I introduced other
improvements and refinements which made it possible to generate currents of any
tension that may be desired. Those who are interested will find some information in
regard to the experiments I conducted there in my article, “The Problem of
Increasing Human Energy,” in the Century Magazine of June 1900, to which I have
referred on a previous occasion.

I will be quite explicit on the subject of my magnifying transformer so that it will be
clearly understood. In the first place, it is a resonant transformer, with a secondary
in which the parts, charged to a high potential, are of considerable area and arranged
in space along ideal enveloping surfaces of very large radii of curvature, and at
proper distances from one another, thereby

insuring a small electric surface density everywhere, so that no leak can occur even
if the conductor is bare. It is suitable for any frequency, from a few to many
thousands of cycles per second, and can be used in the production of currents of
tremendous volume and moderate pressure, or of smaller amperage and immense
electromotive force. The maximum electric tension is merely dependent on the
curvature of the surfaces on which the charged elements are situated and the area of
the latter. Judging from my past experience there is no limit to the possible voltage
developed; any amount is practicable. On the other hand, currents of many
thousands of amperes may be obtained in the antenna. A plant of but very moderate
dimensions is required for such performances. Theoretically, a terminal of less than
90 feet in diameter is sufficient to develop an electromotive force of that magnitude,
while for antenna currents of from 2,000-4,000 amperes at the usual frequencies, it
need not be larger than 30 feet in diameter. In a more restricted meaning, this
wireless transmitter is one in which the Hertzwave radiation is an entirely negligible
quantity as compared with the whole energy, under which condition the damping
factor is extremely small and an enormous charge is stored in the elevated capacity.
Such a circuit may then be excited with impulses of any kind, even of low
frequency and it will yield sinusoidal and continuous oscillations like those of an
alternator. Taken in the narrowest significance of the term, however, it is a resonant
transformer which, besides possessing these qualities, is accurately proportioned to
fit the globe and its electrical constants and properties, by virtue of which design it
becomes highly efficient and effective in the wireless transmission of energy.
Distance is then ABSOLUTELY ELIMINATED, THERE BEING NO

DIMINUATION IN THE INTENSITY of the transmitted impulses. It is even

possible to make the actions increase with the distance from the plane, according to
an exact mathematical law. This invention was one of a number comprised in my
“World System” of wireless transmission which I undertook to commercialise on
my return to New York in 1900.

As to the immediate purposes of my enterprise, they were clearly outlined in a
technical statement of that period from which I quote, “The world system has
resulted from a combination of several original discoveries made by the inventor in
the course of long continued research and experimentation. It makes possible not
only the instantaneous and precise wireless transmission of any kind of signals,
messages or characters, to all parts of the world, but also the inter-connection of the
existing telegraph, telephone, and other signal stations without any change in their
present equipment. By its means, for instance, a telephone subscriber here may call
up and talk to any other subscriber on the Earth. An inexpensive receiver, not bigger
than a watch, will enable him to listen anywhere, on land or sea, to a speech
delivered or music played in some other place, however distant.”

These examples are cited merely to give an idea of the possibilities of this great
scientific advance, which annihilates distance and makes that perfect natural
conductor, the Earth, available for all the innumerable purposes which human
ingenuity has found for a line-wire. One far-reaching result of this is that any device
capable of being operated through one or more wires (at a distance obviously
restricted) can likewise be actuated, without artificial conductors and with the same
facility and accuracy, at distances to which there are no limits other than those
imposed by the physical dimensions of the earth. Thus, not only will entirely new
fields for commercial exploitation be opened up by this ideal method of
transmission, but the old ones vastly extended. The World System is based on the
application of the following import and inventions and discoveries:

1) The Tesla Transformer: This apparatus is in the production of elec-28
trical vibrations as revolutionary as gunpowder was in warfare. Currents many
times stronger than any ever generated in the usual ways and sparks over one
hundred feet long, have been produced by the inventor with an instrument of this
kind.

2) The Magnifying Transmitter: This is Tesla’s best invention, a peculiar
transformer specially adapted to excite the earth, which is in the transmission of
electrical energy when the telescope is in astronomical observation. By the use of
this marvellous device, he has already set up electrical movements of greater
intensity than those of lightening and passed a current, sufficient to light more than
two hundred incandescent lamps, around the Earth.

3) The Tesla Wireless System: This system comprises a number of improvements
and is the only means known for transmitting economically electrical energy to a
distance without wires. Careful tests and measurements in connection with an
experimental station of great activity, erected by the inventor in Colorado, have
demonstrated that power in any desired amount can be conveyed, clear across the
Globe if necessary, with a loss not exceeding a few per cent.

4) The Art of Individualisation: This invention of Tesla is to primitive Tuning, what
refined language is to unarticulated expression. It makes possible the transmission
of signals or messages absolutely secret and exclusive both in the active and passive
aspect, that is, non-interfering as well as non-interferable. Each signal is like an
individual of unmistakable identity and there is virtually no limit to the number of
stations or instruments which can be simultaneously operated without the slightest
mutual disturbance.

5) The Terrestrial Stationary Waves: This wonderful discovery, popularly
explained, means that the Earth is responsive to electrical vibrations of definite
pitch, just as a tuning fork to certain waves of sound. These particular electrical
vibrations, capable of powerfully exciting the Globe, lend themselves to
innumerable uses of great importance commercially and in many other respects.
The “first World System” power plant can be put in operation in nine months. With
this power plant, it will be practicable to attain electrical activities up to ten million
horse-power and it is designed to serve for as many technical achievements as are
possible without due expense. Among these are the following:

1) The inter-connection of existing telegraph exchanges or offices all over the
world;

2) The establishment of a secret and non-interferable government telegraph service;
3) The inter-connection of all present telephone exchanges or offices around the
Globe;

4) The universal distribution of general news by telegraph or telephone, in
conjunction with the Press;

5) The establishment of such a “World System” of intelligence transmission for
exclusive private use;

6) The inter-connection and operation of all stock tickers of the world;
7) The establishment of a World system — of musical distribution, etc.;
8) The universal registration of time by cheap clocks indicating the hour with
astronomical precision and requiring no attention whatever;

9) The world transmission of typed or hand-written characters, letters, checks, etc.;
10) The establishment of a universal marine service enabling the navigators of all
ships to steer perfectly without compass, to determine the exact location, hour and
speak; to prevent collisions and disasters, etc.;

11) The inauguration of a system of world printing on land and sea;

12) The world reproduction of photographic pictures and all kinds of drawings or
records...”

I also proposed to make demonstration in the wireless transmission of power on a
small scale, but sufficient to carry conviction. Besides these, I referred to other and
incomparably more important applications of my discoveries which will be
disclosed at some future date. A plant was built on Long Island with a tower 187
feet high, having a spherical terminal about 68 feet in diameter. These dimensions
were adequate for the transmission of virtually any amount of energy. Originally,
only from 200 to 300 K.W. were provided, but I intended to employ later several
thousand horsepower. The transmitter was to emit a wave-complex of special
characteristics and I had devised a unique method of telephonic control of any
amount of energy. The tower was destroyed two years ago (1917) but my projects
are being developed and another one, improved in some features will be
constructed.

On this occasion I would contradict the widely circulated report that the structure
was demolished by the Government, which owing to war conditions, might have
created prejudice in the minds of those who may not know that the papers, which
thirty years ago conferred upon me the honour of American citizenship, are always
kept in a safe, while my orders, diplomas, degrees, gold medals and other
distinctions are packed away in old trunks. If this report had a foundation, I would
have been refunded a large sum of money which I expended in the construction of
the tower. On the contrary, it was in the interest of the Government to preserver it,
particularly as it would have made possible, to mention just one valuable result, the
location of a submarine in any part of the world. My plant, services, and all my
improvements have always been at the disposal of the officials and ever since the
outbreak of the European conflict, I have been working at a sacrifice on several
inventions of mine relating to aerial navigation, ship propulsion and wireless
transmission, which are of the greatest importance to the country. Those who are
well informed know that my ideas have revolutionised the industries of the United
States and I am not aware that there lives an inventor who has been, in this respect,
as fortunate as myself, — especially as regards the use of his improvements in the
war.

I have refrained from publicly expressing myself on this subject before, as it seemed
improper to dwell on personal matters while all the world was in dire trouble. I
would add further, in view of various rumours which have reached me, that Mr. J.
Pierpont Morgan did not interest himself with me in a business way, but in the same
large spirit in which he has assisted many other pioneers. He carried out his
generous promise to the letter and it would have been most unreasonable to expect
from him anything more. He had the highest regard for my attainments and gave me
every evidence of his complete faith in my ability to ultimately achieve what I had
set out to do. I am unwilling to accord to some small-minded and jealous
individuals the satisfaction of having thwarted my efforts. These men are to me
nothing more than microbes of a nasty disease. My project was retarded by laws of
nature. The world was not prepared for it. It was too far ahead of time, but the same
laws will prevail in the end and make it a triumphal success.

Chapter 6

No subject to which I have ever devoted myself has called for such concentration of
mind, and strained to so dangerous a degree the finest fibres of my brain, as the
systems of which the Magnifying transmitter is the foundation. I put all the intensity
and vigour of youth in the development of the rotating field discoveries, but those
early labours were of a different character. Although strenuous in the extreme, they
did not involve that keen and exhausting discernment which had to be exercised in
attacking the many problems of the wireless.

Despite my rare physical endurance at that period, the abused nerves finally rebelled
and I suffered a complete collapse, just as the consummation of the long and
difficult task was almost in sight. Without doubt I would have paid a greater penalty
later, and very likely my career would have been prematurely terminated, had not
providence equipped me with a safety device, which seemed to improve with
advancing years and unfailingly comes to play when my forces are at an end. So
long as it operates I am safe from danger, due to overwork, which threatens other
inventors, and incidentally, I need no vacations which are indispensable to most
people. When I am all but used up, I simply do as the darkies who “naturally fall
asleep while white folks worry.”

To venture a theory out of my sphere, the body probably accumulates little by little
a definite quantity of some toxic agent and I sink into a nearly lethargic state which
lasts half an hour to the minute. Upon awakening I have the sensation as though the
events immediately preceding had occurred very long ago, and if I attempt to
continue the interrupted train of thought I feel veritable nausea. Involuntarily, I then
turn to other and am surprised at the freshness of the mind and ease with which I
overcome obstacles that had baffled me before. After weeks or months, my passion
for the temporarily abandoned invention returns and I invariably find answers to all
the vexing questions, with scarcely any effort. In this connection, I will tell of an
extraordinary experience which may be of interest to students of psychology.
I had produced a striking phenomenon with my grounded transmitter and was
endeavouring to ascertain its true significance in relation to the currents propagated
through the earth. It seemed a hopeless undertaking, and for more than a year I
worked unremittingly, but in vain. This profound study so entirely absorbed me,
that I became forgetful of everything else, even of my undermined health. At last, as
I was at the point of breaking down, nature applied the preservative inducing lethal
sleep. Regaining my senses, I realised with consternation that I was unable to
visualise scenes from my life except those of infancy, the very first ones that had
entered my consciousness. Curiously enough, these appeared before my vision with
startling distinctness and afforded me welcome relief. Night after night, when
retiring, I would think of them and more and more of my previous existence was
revealed. The image of my mother was always the principal figure in the spectacle
that slowly unfolded, and a consuming desire to see her again gradually took
possession of me. This feeling grew so strong that I resolved to drop all work and
satisfy my longing, but I found it too hard to break away from the laboratory, and
several months elapsed during which I had succeeded in reviving all the
impressions of my past life, up to the spring of 1892. In the next picture that came
out of the mist of oblivion, I saw myself at the Hotel de la Paix in Paris, just coming
to from one of my peculiar sleeping spells, which had

been caused by prolonged exertion of the brain. Imagine the pain and distress I felt,
when it flashed upon my mind that a dispatch was handed to me at that very
moment, bearing the sad news that my mother was dying. I remembered how I
made the long journey home without an hour of rest and how she passed away after
weeks of agony.

It was especially remarkable that during all this period of partially obliterated
memory, I was fully alive to everything touching on the subject of my research. I
could recall the smallest detail and the least insignificant observations in my
experiments and even recite pages of text and complex mathematical formulae.
My belief is firm in a law of compensation. The true rewards are ever in proportion
to the labour and sacrifices made. This is one of the reasons why I feel certain that
of all my inventions, the magnifying Transmitter will prove most important and
valuable to future generations. I am prompted to this prediction, not so much by
thoughts of the commercial and industrial revolution which it will surely bring
about, but of the humanitation consequences of the many achievements it makes
possible. Considerations of mere utility weigh little in the balance against the higher
benefits of civilisation. We are confronted with portentous problems which can not
be solved just by providing for our material existence, however abundantly. On the
contrary, progress in this direction is fraught with hazards and perils not less
menacing than those born from want and suffering. If we were to release the energy
of atoms or discover some other way of developing cheap and unlimited power at
any point on the globe, this accomplishment, instead of being a blessing, might
bring disaster to mankind in giving rise to dissension and anarchy, which would
ultimately result in the enthronement of the hated regime of force. The greatest
good will come from technical improvements tending to unification and harmony,
and my wireless transmitter is preeminently such. By its means, the human voice
and likeness will be reproduced everywhere and factories driven thousands of miles
from waterfalls furnishing power. Aerial machines will be propelled around the
earth without a stop and the sun’s energy controlled to create lakes and rivers for
motive purposes and transformation of arid deserts into fertile land. Its introduction
for telegraphic, telephonic and similar uses, will automatically cut out the statics
and all other interferences which at present, impose narrow limits to the application
of the wireless. This is a timely topic on which a few words might not be amiss.
During the past decade a number of people have arrogantly claimed that they had
succeeded in doing away with this impediment. I have carefully examined all of the
arrangements described and tested most of them long before they were publicly
disclosed, but the finding was uniformly negative. Recent official statement from
the U.S. Navy may, perhaps, have taught some beguilable news editors how to
appraise these announcements at their real worth. As a rule, the attempts are based
on theories so fallacious, that whenever they come to my notice, I can not help
thinking in a light vein. Quite recently a new discovery was heralded, with a
deafening flourish of trumpets, but it proved another case of a mountain bringing
forth a mouse. This reminds me of an exciting incident which took place a year ago,
when I was conducting my experiments with currents of high frequency.
Steve Brodie had just jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge. The feat has been vulgarised
since by imitators, but the first report electrified New York. I was very
impressionable then and frequently spoke of the daring printer. On a hot afternoon I
felt the necessity of refreshing myself and stepped into

one of the popular thirty thousand institutions of this great city, where a delicious
twelve per cent beverage was served, which can now be had only by making a trip
to the poor and devastated countries of Europe. The attendance was large and not
over-distinguished and a matter was discussed which gave me an admirable opening
for the careless remark, “This is what I said when I jumped off the bridge.” No
sooner had I uttered these words, than I felt like the companion of Timothens, in the
poem of Schiller. In an instant there was pandemonium and a dozen voices cried, “It
is Brodie!” I threw a quarter on the counter and bolted for the door, but the crowd
was at my heels with yells, – “Stop, Steeve!”, which must have been

misunderstood, for many persons tried to hold me up as I ran frantically for my
haven of refuge. By darting around corners I fortunately managed, through the
medium of a fire escape, to reach the laboratory, where I threw off my coat,
camouflaged myself as a hard-working blacksmith and started the forge. But these
precautions proved unnecessary, as I had eluded my pursuers. For many years
afterward, at night, when imagination turns into spectres the trifling troubles of the
day, I often thought, as I tossed on the bed, what my fate would have been, had the
mob caught me and found out that I was not Steve Brodie!

Now the engineer who lately gave an account before a technical body of a novel
remedy against statics based on a “heretofore unknown law of nature,” seems to
have been as reckless as myself when he contended that these disturbances
propagate up and down, while those of a transmitter proceed along the earth. It
would mean that a condenser as this globe, with its gaseous envelope, could be
charged and discharged in a manner quite contrary to the fundamental teachings
propounded in every elemental text book of physics. Such a supposition would have
been condemned as erroneous, even in Franklin’s time, for the facts bearing on this
were then well known and the identity between atmospheric electricity and that
developed by machines was fully established. Obviously, natural and artificial
disturbances propagate through the earth and the air in exactly the same way, and
both set up electromotive forces in the horizontal, as well as vertical sense.
Interference can not be overcome by any such methods as were proposed. The truth
is this: In the air the potential increases at the rate of about fifty volts per foot of
elevation, owing to which there may be a difference of pressure amounting to
twenty, or even forty thousand volts between the upper and lower ends of the
antenna. The masses of the charged atmosphere are constantly in motion and give
up electricity to the conductor, not continuously, but rather disruptively, this
producing a grinding noise in a sensitive telephonic receiver. The higher the
terminal and the greater the space encompast by the wires, the more pronounced is
the effect, but it must be understood that it is purely local and has little to do with
the real trouble.

In 1900, while perfecting my wireless system, one form of apparatus compressed
four antennae. These were carefully calibrated in the same frequency and connected
in multiple with the object of magnifying the action in receiving from any direction.
When I desired to ascertain the origin of the transmitted impulse, each diagonally
situated pair was put in series with a primary coil energising the detector circuit. In
the former case, the sound was loud in the telephone; in the latter it ceased, as
expected, – the two antennae neutralising each other, but the true statics manifested
themselves in both instances and I had to devise special preventives embodying
different principles. By employing receivers connected to two points of the ground,
as suggested by me long ago, this trouble caused by the charged air, which is very
serious in the structures as now built, is nullified and besides, the liability of all
kinds of interference is reduced to about one-half because of the directional
character of the circuit. This was perfectly self-evident, but

came as a revelation to some simple-minded wireless folks whose experience was
confined to forms of apparatus that could have been improved with an axe, and they
have been disposing of the bear’s skin before killing him. If it were true that strays
performed such antics, it would be easy to get rid of them by receiving without
aerials. But, as a matter of fact, a wire buried in the ground which, conforming to
this view, should be be absolutely immune, is more susceptible to certain
extraneous impulses than one placed vertically in the air. To state it fairly, a slight
progress has been made, but not by virtue of any particular method or device. It was
achieved simply by discerning the enormous structures, which are bad enough for
transmission but wholly unsuitable for reception and adopting a more appropriate
type of receiver. As I have said before, to dispose of this difficulty for good, a
radical change must be made in the system and the sooner this is done the better.
It would be calamitous, indeed, if at this time when the art is in its infancy and the
vast majority, not excepting even experts, have no conception of its ultimate
possibilities, a measure would be rushed through the legislature making it a
government monopoly. This was proposed a few weeks ago by Secretary Daniels
and no doubt that distinguished official has made his appeal to the Senate and
House of Representatives with sincere conviction. But universal evidence
unmistakably shows that the best results are always obtained in healthful
commercial competition. there are, however, exceptional reasons why wireless
should be given the fullest freedom of development. In the first place, it offers
prospects immeasurably greater and more vital to betterment of human life than any
other invention or discovery in the history of man. Then again, it must be
understood that this wonderful art has been, in its entirety, evolved here and can be
called “American” with more right and propriety than the telephone, the
incandescent lamp or the aeroplane.

Enterprising press agents and stock jobbers have been so successful in spreading
misinformation, that even so excellent a periodical as the *Scientific American*,
accords the chief credit to a foreign country. The Germans, of course, gave us the
Hertz waves and the Russian, English, French and Italian experts were quick in
using them for signalling purposes. It was an obvious application of the new agent
and accomplished with the old classical and unimproved induction coil, scarcely
anything more than another kind of heliography. The radius of transmission was
very limited, the result attained of little value, and the Hertz oscillations, as a means
for conveying intelligence, could have been advantageously replaced by sound
waves, which I advocated in 1891. Moreover, all of these attempts were made three
years after the basic principles of the wireless system, which is universally
employed today, and its potent instrumentalities had been clearly described and
developed in America.

No trace of those Hertzian appliances and methods remains today. We have
proceeded in the very opposite direction and what has been done is the product of
the brains and efforts of citizens of this country. The fundamental patents have
expired and the opportunities are open to all. The chief argument of the Secretary is
based on interference. According to his statement, reported in the New York Herald
of July 29th, signals from a powerful station can be intercepted in every village in
the world. In view of this fact, which was demonstrated in my experiments in 1900,
it would be of little use to impose restrictions in the United States.
As throwing light on this point, I may mention that only recently an odd looking
gentleman called on me with the object of enlisting my services in the construction
of world transmitters in some distant land. “We have no money,”

he said, “but carloads of solid gold, and we will give you a liberal amount.” I told
him that I wanted to see first what will be done with my inventions in America, and
this ended the interview. But I am satisfied that some dark forces are at work, and as
time goes on the maintenance of continuous communication will be rendered more
difficult. The only remedy is a system immune against interruption. It has been
perfected, it exists, and all that is necessary is to put it in operation.
The terrible conflict is still uppermost in the minds and perhaps the greatest
importance will be attached to the magnifying Transmitter as a machine for attack
and defence, more particularly in connection with TELAUTAMATICS. This
invention is a logical outcome of observations begun in my boyhood and continued
throughout my life. When the first results were published, the Electrical Review
stated editorially that it would become one of the “most potent factors in the
advance of civilisation of mankind.” The time is not distant when this prediction
will be fulfilled. In 1898 and 1900, it was offered by me to the Government and
might have been adopted, were I one of those who would go to Alexander’s
shepherd when they want a favour from Alexander!

At that time I really thought that it would abolish war, because of its unlimited
destructiveness and exclusion of the personal element of combat. But while I have
not lost faith in its potentialities, my views have changed since. War can not be
avoided until the physical cause for its recurrence is removed and this, in the last
analysis, is the vast extent of the planet on which we live. Only though annihilation
of distance in every respect, as the conveyance of intelligence, transport of
passengers and supplies and transmission of energy will conditions be brought
about some day, insuring permanency of friendly relations. What we now want
most is closer contact and better understanding between individuals and
communities all over the earth and the elimination of that fanatic devotion to
exalted ideals of national egoism and pride, which is always prone to plunge the
world into primeval barbarism and strife. No league or parliamentary act of any
kind will ever prevent such a calamity. These are only new devices for putting the
weak at the mercy of the strong.

I have expressed myself in this regard fourteen years ago, when a combination of a
few leading governments, a sort of Holy alliance, was advocated by the late Andrew
Carnegie, who may be fairly considered as the father of this idea, having given to it
more publicity and impetus than anybody else prior to the efforts of the President.
While it can not be denied that such aspects might be of material advantage to some
less fortunate peoples, it can not attain the chief objective sought. Peace can only
come as a natural consequence of universal enlightenment and merging of races,
and we are still far from this blissful realisation, because few indeed, will admit the
reality – that God made man in His image – in which case all earth men are alike.
There is in fact but one race, of many colours. Christ is but one person, yet he is of
all people, so why do some people think themselves better than some other people?
As I view the world of today, in the light of the gigantic struggle we have
witnessed, I am filled with conviction that the interests of humanity would be best
served if the United States remained true to its traditions, true to God whom it
pretends to believe, and kept out of “entangling alliances.” Situated as it is,
geographically remote from the theatres of impending conflicts, without incentive to
territorial aggrandisement, with inexhaustible resources and immense population
thoroughly imbued with the spirit of liberty and right, this country is placed in a
unique and privileged position. It is

thus able to exert, independently, its colossal strength and moral force to the benefit
of all, more judiciously and effectively, than as a member of a league.
I have dwelt on the circumstances of my early life and told of an affliction which
compelled me to unremitting exercise of imagination and self-observation. This
mental activity, at first involuntary under the pressure of illness and suffering,
gradually became second nature and led me finally to recognise that I was but an
automaton devoid of free will in thought and action and merely responsible to the
forces of the environment. Our bodies are of such complexity of structure, the
motions we perform are so numerous and involved and the external impressions on
our sense organs to such a degree delicate and elusive, that it is hard for the average
person to grasp this fact. Yet nothing is more convincing to the trained investigator
than the mechanistic theory of life which had been, in a measure, understood and
propounded by Descartes three hundred years ago. In his time many important
functions of our organisms were unknown and especially with respect to the nature
of light and the construction and operation of the eye, philosophers were in the dark.
In recent years the progress of scientific research in these fields has been such as to
leave no room for a doubt in regard to this view on which many works have been
published. One of its ablest and most eloquent exponents is, perhaps, Felix le
Dantec, formerly assistant of Pasteur. Professor Jacques Loeb has performed
remarkable experiments in heliotropism, clearly establishing the controlling power
of light in lower forms of organisms and his latest book, “Forced Movements,” is
revelatory. But while men of science accept this theory simply as any other that is
recognised, to me it is a truth which I hourly demonstrate by every act and thought
of mine. The consciousness of the external impression prompting me to any kind of
exertion, – physical or mental, is ever present in my mind. Only on very rare
occasions, when I was in a state of exceptional concentration, have I found
difficulty in locating the original impulse. The by far greater number of human
beings are never aware of what is passing around and within them and millions fall
victims of disease and die prematurely just on this account. The commonest, every-day
occurrences appear to them mysterious and inexplicable. One may feel a
sudden wave of sadness and rack his brain for an explanation, when he might have
noticed that it was caused by a cloud cutting off the rays of the sun. He may see the
image of a friend dear to him under conditions which he construes as very peculiar,
when only shortly before he has passed him in the street or seen his photograph
somewhere. When he loses a collar button, he fusses and swears for an hour, being
unable to visualise his previous actions and locate the object directly. Deficient
observation is merely a form of ignorance and responsible for the many morbid
notions and foolish ideas prevailing. There is not more than one out of every ten
persons who does not believe in telepathy and other psychic manifestations,
spiritualism and communion with the dead, and who would refuse to listen to
willing or unwilling deceivers?

Just to illustrate how deeply rooted this tendency has become even among the clear-headed
American population, I may mention a comical incident. Shortly before the
war, when the exhibition of my turbines in this city elicited widespread comment in
the technical papers, I anticipated that there would be a scramble among
manufacturers to get hold of the invention and I had particular designs on that man
from Detroit who has an uncanny faculty for accumulating millions. So confident
was I, that he would turn up some day, that I declared this as certain to my secretary
and assistants. Sure enough, one fine morning a body of engineers from the Ford
Motor Company presented them-36

selves with the request of discussing with me an important project. “Didn’t I tell
you?,” I remarked triumphantly to my employees, and one of them said, “You are
amazing, Mr. Tesla. Everything comes out exactly as you predict.”

As soon as these hard-headed men were seated, I of course, immediately began to
extol the wonderful features of my turbine, when the spokesman interrupted me and
said, “We know all about this, but we are on a special errand. We have formed a
psychological society for the investigation of psychic phenomena and we want you
to join us in this undertaking.” I suppose these engineers never knew how near they
came to being fired out of my office.

Ever since I was told by some of the greatest men of the time, leaders in science
whose names are immortal, that I am possessed of an unusual mind, I bent all my
thinking faculties on the solution of great problems regardless of sacrifice. For
many years I endeavoured to solve the enigma of death, and watched eagerly for
every kind of spiritual indication. But only once in the course of my existence have
I had an experience which momentarily impressed me as supernatural. It was at the
time of my mother’s death.

I had become completely exhausted by pain and long vigilance, and one night was
carried to a building about two blocks from our home. As I lay helpless there, I
thought that if my mother died while I was away from her bedside, she would surely
give me a sign. Two or three months before, I was in London in company with my
late friend, Sir William Crookes, when spiritualism was discussed and I was under
the full sway of these thoughts. I might not have paid attention to other men, but
was susceptible to his arguments as it was his epochal work on radiant matter,
which I had read as a student, that made me embrace the electrical career. I reflected
that the conditions for a look into the beyond were most favourable, for my mother
was a woman of genius and particularly excelling in the powers of intuition. During
the whole night every fibre in my brain was strained in expectancy, but nothing
happened until early in the morning, when I fell in a sleep, or perhaps a swoon, and
saw a cloud carrying angelic figures of marvellous beauty, one of whom gazed upon
me lovingly and gradually assumed the features of my mother. The appearance
slowly floated across the room and vanished, and I was awakened by an
indescribably sweet song of many voices. In that instant a certitude, which no words
can express, came upon me that my mother had just died. And that was true. I was
unable to understand the tremendous weight of the painful knowledge I received in
advance, and wrote a letter to Sir William Crookes while still under the domination
of these impressions and in poor bodily health. When I recovered, I sought for a
long time the external cause of this strange manifestation and, to my great relief, I
succeeded after many months of fruitless effort.

I had seen the painting of a celebrated artist, representing allegorically one of the
seasons in the form of a cloud with a group of angels which seemed to actually float
in the air, and this had struck me forcefully. It was exactly the same that appeared in
my dream, with the exception of my mother’s likeness. The music came from the
choir in the church nearby at the early mass of Easter morning, explaining
everything satisfactorily in conformity with scientific facts.

This occurred long ago, and I have never had the faintest reason since to change my
views on psychical and spiritual phenomena, for which there is no foundation. The
belief in these is the natural outgrowth of intellectual development. Religious
dogmas are no longer accepted in their orthodox meaning, but every individual
clings to faith in a supreme power of some kind.

We all must have an ideal to govern our conduct and insure contentment, but it is
immaterial whether it be one of creed, art, science, or anything else, so long as it
fulfils the function of a dematerialising force. It is essential to the peaceful existence
of humanity as a whole that one common conception should prevail. While I have
failed to obtain any evidence in support of the contentions of psychologists and
spiritualists, I have proved to my complete satisfaction the automatism of life, not
only through continuous observations of individual actions, but even more
conclusively through certain generalisations. these amount to a discovery which I
consider of the greatest moment to human society, and on which I shall briefly
dwell.

I got the first inkling of this astonishing truth when I was still a very young man, but
for many years I interpreted what I noted simply as coincidences. Namely,
whenever either myself or a person to whom I was attached, or a cause to which I
was devoted, was hurt by others in a particular way, which might be best popularly
characterised as the most unfair imaginable, I experienced a singular and
undefinable pain which, for the want of a better term, I have qualified as “cosmic”
and shortly thereafter, and invariably, those who had inflicted it came to grief. After
many such cases I confided this to a number of friends, who had the opportunity to
convince themselves of the theory of which I have gradually formulated and which
may be stated in the following few words: Our bodies are of similar construction
and exposed to the same external forces. This results in likeness of response and
concordance of the general activities on which all our social and other rules and
laws are based. We are automata entirely controlled by the forces of the medium,
being tossed about like corks on the surface of the water, but mistaking the resultant
of the impulses from the outside for the free will. The movements and other actions
we perform are always life preservative and though seemingly quite independent
from one another, we are connected by invisible links. So long as the organism is in
perfect order, it responds accurately to the agents that prompt it, but the moment
that there is some derangement in any individual, his self-preservative power is
impaired.

Everybody understands, of course, that if one becomes deaf, has his eyes weakened,
or his limbs injured, the chances for his continued existence are lessened. But this is
also true, and perhaps more so, of certain defects in the brain which drive the
automaton, more or less, of that vital quality and cause it to rush into destruction. A
very sensitive and observant being, with his highly developed mechanism all intact,
and acting with precision in obedience to the changing conditions of the
environment, is endowed with a transcending mechanical sense, enabling him to
evade perils too subtle to be directly perceived. When he comes in contact with
others whose controlling organs are radically faulty, that sense asserts itself and he
feels the “cosmic” pain.

The truth of this has been borne out in hundreds of instances and I am inviting other
students of nature to devote attention to this subject, believing that through
combined systematic effort, results of incalculable value to the world will be
attained. The idea of constructing an automaton, to bear out my theory, presented
itself to me early, but I did not begin active work until 1895, when I started my
wireless investigations. During the succeeding two or three years, a number of
automatic mechanisms, to be actuated from a distance, were constructed by me and
exhibited to visitors in my laboratory.

In 1896, however, I designed a complete machine capable of a multitude of
operations, but the consummation of my labours was delayed until late in 1897.

This machine was illustrated and described in my article in the Century Magazine
of June, 1900; and other periodicals of that time and when first shown in the
beginning of 1898, it created a sensation such as no other invention of mine has
ever produced. In November, 1898, a basic patent on the novel art was granted to
me, but only after the Examiner-in-Chief had come to New York and witnessed the
performance, for what I claimed seemed unbelievable. I remember that when later I
called on an official in Washington, with a view of offering the invention to the
Government, he burst out in laughter upon my telling him what I had accomplished.
Nobody thought then that there was the faintest prospect of perfecting such a
device. It is unfortunate that in this patent, following the advice of my attorneys, I
indicated the control as being affected through the medium of a single circuit and a
well-known form of detector, for the reason that I had not yet secured protection on
my methods and apparatus for individualisation. As a matter of fact, my boats were
controlled through the joint action of several circuits and interference of every kind
was excluded.

Most generally, I employed receiving circuits in the form of loops, including
condensers, because the discharges of my high-tension transmitter ionised the air in
the (laboratory) so that even a very small aerial would draw electricity from the
surrounding atmosphere for hours.

Just to give an idea, I found, for instance, that a bulb twelve inches in diameter,
highly exhausted, and with one single terminal to which a short wire was attached,
would deliver well on to one thousand successive flashes before all charge of the air
in the laboratory was neutralised. The loop form of receiver was not sensitive to
such a disturbance and it is curious to note that it is becoming popular at this late
date. In reality, it collects much less energy than the aerials or a long grounded wire,
but it so happens that it does away with a number of defects inherent to the present
wireless devices.

In demonstrating my invention before audiences, the visitors were requested to ask
questions, however involved, and the automaton would answer them by signs. This
was considered magic at the time, but was extremely simple, for it was myself who
gave the replies by means of the device.

At the same period, another larger telautomatic boat was constructed, a photograph
of which was shown in the October 1919 number of the Electrical Experimenter. It
was controlled by loops, having several turns placed in the hull, which was made
entirely water-tight and capable of submergence. The apparatus was similar to that
used in the first with the exception of certain special features I introduced as, for
example, incandescent lamps which afforded a visible evidence of the proper
functioning of the machine. These automata, controlled within the range of vision of
the operator, were, however, the first and rather crude steps in the evolution of the
art of Telautomatics as I had conceived it.

The next logical improvement was its application to automatic mechanisms beyond
the limits of vision and at great distances from the centre of control, and I have ever
since advocated their employment as instruments of warfare in preference to guns.
The importance of this now seems to be recognised, if I am to judge from casual
announcements through the press, of achievements which are said to be
extraordinary but contain no merit of novelty, whatever. In an imperfect manner it
is practicable, with the existing wireless plants, to launch an aeroplane, have it
follow a certain approximate course, and perform some operation at a distance of
many hundreds of miles. A machine of this kind can also be mechanically
controlled in several ways and I have no doubt

that it may prove of some usefulness in war. But there are to my best knowledge, no
instrumentalities in existence today with which such an object could be
accomplished in a precise manner. I have devoted years of study to this matter and
have evolved means, making such and greater wonders easily realisable.
As stated on a previous occasion, when I was a student at college I conceived a
flying machine quite unlike the present ones. The underlying principle was sound,
but could not be carried into practice for want of a prime-mover of sufficiently great
activity. In recent years, I have successfully solved this problem and am now
planning aerial machines *devoid of sustaining planes, ailerons, propellers, and
other external* attachments, which will be capable of immense speeds and are very
likely to furnish powerful arguments for peace in the near future. Such a machine,
sustained and propelled *entirely by reaction*, is shown on one of the pages of my
lectures, and is supposed to be controlled either mechanically, or by wireless
energy. By installing proper plants, it will be practicable to *project a missile of this
kind into the air and drop it* almost on the very spot designated, which may be
thousands of miles away.

But we are not going to stop at this. Telautomats will be ultimately produced,
capable of acting as if possessed of their own intelligence, and their advent will
create a revolution. As early as 1898, I proposed to representatives of a large
manufacturing concern the construction and public exhibition of an automobile
carriage which, left to itself, would perform a great variety of operations involving
something akin to judgment. But my proposal was deemed chimerical at the time
and nothing came of it.

At present, many of the ablest minds are trying to devise expedients for preventing
a repetition of the awful conflict which is only theoretically ended and the duration
and main issues of which I have correctly predicted in an article printed in the SUN
of December 20, 1914. The proposed League is not a remedy but, on the contrary,
in the opinion of a number of competent men, may bring about results just the
opposite.

It is particularly regrettable that a punitive policy was adopted in framing the terms
of peace, because a few years hence, it will be possible for nations to fight without
armies, ships or guns, by weapons far more terrible, to the destructive action and
range of which there is virtually no limit. Any city, at a distance, whatsoever, from
the enemy, can be destroyed by him and no power on earth can stop him from doing
so. If we want to avert an impending calamity and a state of things which may
transform the globe into an inferno, we should push the development of flying
machines and wireless transmission of energy without an instant’s delay and with
all the power and resources of the nation.

40.