The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 57, July, 1862

The basis, then, of any sufficient doctrine of literature and literary production is found in two statements:—

First, that the perfect truth of the universe issues, by vital representation, into the personality of man.

Secondly, that this truth tends in every man, though often in the obscurest way, toward intellectual and artistic expression.

Now just so far as by any man's speech we feel ourselves brought into direct relationship with this ever-issuing fact, so far the impressions of originality are produced. That all his words were in the dictionary before he used them,—that all his thoughts, under some form of intimation, were in literature before he arrived at them,—matters not; it is the verity, the vital process, the depth of relationship, which concerns us.

Nay, in one sense, the older his truth, the more do the effects of originality lie open to him. The simple, central, imperial elements of human consciousness are first in order of expression, and continue forever to be first in order of power and suggestion. The great purposes, the great thoughts and melodies issue always from these. This is the quarry which every masterly thinker or poet must work. Homer is Homer because he is so simply true alike to earth and sky,—to the perpetual experience and perpetual imagination of mankind. Had he gone working around the edges, following the occasional détours and slips of consciousness, there would have been no "Iliad" or "Odyssey" for mankind to love and for Pope to spoil. The great poets tell us nothing new. They remind us. They bear speech deep into our being, and to the heart of our heart lend a tongue. They have words that correspond to facts in all men and women. But they are not newsmongers.

Yesterday, I read in a prose translation of the "Odyssey" the exquisite idyl of Nausicaa and her Maids, and the discovery of himself by Ulysses. Perhaps the picture came out more clearly than ever before; at any rate, it filled my whole day with delight, and to-day I seem to have heard some sweetest good tidings, as if word had come from an old playmate, dear and distant in memory, or a happy and wealthy letter had arrived from a noble friend. Whence this enrichment? There was nothing in this idyl, to which, even on a first reading, I could give the name of "new truth." The secret is, that I have indeed had tidings of old playmates, dear and distant in memory,—of those bright-eyed, brave, imaging playmates of all later ages, the inhabitants of Homer's world. And little can one care for novelties of thought, in comparison with these tones from the deeps of undying youth. Bring to our lips these cups of the fresh wine of life, if you would do good. Bring us these; for it is by perpetual rekindlings of the youth in us that our life grows and unfolds. Each advancing epoch of the inward life is no less than this,—a fresh efflux of adolescence from the immortal and exhaustless heart. Everywhere the law is the same,—Become as a little child, to reach the heavenly kingdoms. This, however, we become not by any return to babyhood, but by an effusion or emergence from within of pure life,—of life which takes from years only their wisdom and their chastening, and gives them in payment its perfect renewal.

This, then, is the proof of originality,—that one shall utter the pure consciousness of man. If he live, and live humanly, in his speech, the speech itself will live; for it will obtain hospitality in all wealthy and true hearts.

But if the most original speech be, as is here explained, of that which is oldest and most familiar in the consciousness of man, it nevertheless does not lack the charm of surprise and all effects of newness. For, in truth, nothing is so strange to men as the very facts they seem to confess every day of their lives. Truisms, I have said, are the corpses of truths; and they are as far from the fact they are taken to represent as the perished body from the risen soul. The mystery of truth is hidden behind them; and when next it shall come forth, it will bring astonishment, as at first. Every time the grand old truths are livingly uttered, the world thinks it never heard them before. The news of the day is hardly spoken before it is antiquated. For this an hour too late is a century, is forever, too late. But truth of life and the heart, the world-old imaginations, the root-thoughts of human consciousness,—these never lose their privilege to surprise, and at every fresh efflux are wellnigh sure to be persecuted by some as unlawful impositions upon the credence of mankind. Nay, the same often happens with the commonest truths of observation. Mr. Ruskin describes leaves and clouds, objects that are daily before all eyes; and the very artists cry, "Fie upon him!" as a propounder of childish novelties: slowly they perceive that it was leaves and clouds which were novel. Luther thunders in the ears of the Church its own creed; the Pope asks, "Is it possible that he believes all this?" and the priesthood scream, "To the stake with the heretic!" A poet prints in the "Atlantic Monthly" a simple affirmation of the indestructibility of man's true life; numbers of those who would have been shocked and exasperated to hear questioned the Church dogma of immortality exclaim against this as a ridiculous paradox. Once in a while there is grown a heart so spacious that Nature finds in it room to chant aloud the word God, and set its echoes rolling billowy through one man's being; and he, lifting up his voice to repeat it among men from that inward hearing, invariably astounds, and it may be infuriates his contemporaries. The simple proposition, GOD IS, could it once be wholly received, would shake our sphere as no earthquake ever did, and would leave not one stone upon another, I say not merely of some city of Lisbon, but of entire kingdoms and systems of civilization. The faintest inference from this cannot be vigorously announced in modern senates without sending throbs of terror over half a continent, and eliciting shrieks of remonstrance from the very shrines of worship.

The ancient perpetual truths prove, at each fresh enunciation, not only surprising, but incredible. The reason is, that they overfill the vessels of men's credence. If you pour the Atlantic Ocean into a pint basin, what can the basin do but refuse to contain it, and so spill it over? Universal truths are as spacious and profound as the universe itself; and for the cerebral capacity of most of us the universe is really somewhat large!

But as the major numbers of mankind are too little self-reverent to dispense with the services of self-conceit, they like to think themselves equal, and very easily equal, to any truth, and habitually assume their extempore, off-hand notion of its significance as a perfect measure of the fact. As if a man hollowed his hand, and, dipping it full out of Lake Superior, said, "Lake Superior just fills my hand!" To how many are the words God, Love, Immortality just such complacent handfuls! And when some mariner of God seizes them with loving mighty arms, and bears them in his bark beyond sight of their wonted shores, what wonder that they perceive not the identity of this sky-circled sea with their accustomed handful? Yet, despite egotism and narrowness of brain and every other limitation, the spirit of man will claim its privilege and assert its affinity with all truth; and in such measure as one utters the pure heart of mankind, and states the real relationships of human nature, is he sure of ultimate audience and sufficing love.

ERICSSON AND HIS INVENTIONS

No events of the present war will be longer remembered, or will hold a more prominent place in History, than those which took place on the eighth and ninth of March in Hampton Roads, when the Rebel steamer Merrimack attacked the Federal fleet. We all know what havoc she made in her first day's work. When the story of her triumphs flashed over the wires, it fell like a thunderbolt upon all loyal hearts.

The Cumberland, manned by as gallant a crew as ever fought under the Stars and Stripes, had gone down helplessly before her. The Congress, half-manned, but bravely defended, had been captured and burnt. Sailing frigates, such as were deemed formidable in the days of Hull and Decatur, and which some of our old sea-dogs still believed to be the main stay of the navy, were found to be worse than useless against this strange antagonist. Our finest steam-frigates, though accidentally prevented from getting fairly into action, seemed likely, however skilfully handled, to have proved almost as inefficient; for all our batteries and broadsides had produced no effect on this iron-clad monster. She had gone back to her lair uninjured. What was to prevent her from coming out again to break the blockade, bombard our seaports, sink and destroy everything that came in her way?

But we had only seen the first act of the drama. The curtain was to rise again, and a new character was to appear on the stage. The champion of the Union, in complete armor, was about to enter the lists. When the Merrimack steamed out defiantly on Sunday morning, the Monitor was there to meet her. Then, for the first time in naval warfare, two iron-clad vessels were pitted against each other. The Merrimack was driven back disabled. We breathed freely again at this dénouement, and congratulated ourselves that the nation had been saved from enormous damage and disgrace. We did not foresee that the great Rebel monster, despairing of a successful encounter with her antagonist, was to end her career by suicide. We thought only of the vast injury which she might have done, and might yet be capable of doing, to the Union cause, but from which we had so providentially escaped. It was indeed a narrow escape. Nothing but the opportune arrival of the Monitor saved us; and for this impregnable vessel we are indebted to the genius of Ericsson.

This distinguished engineer and inventor, although a foreigner by birth, has long been a citizen of the United States. His first work in this country—by which, as in the present instance, he added honor and efficiency to the American navy—was the steam-frigate Princeton, a vessel which in her day was almost as great a novelty as the Monitor is now. The improvements in steam machinery and propulsion and in the arts of naval warfare, which he introduced in her, formed the subject of a lecture delivered before the Boston Lyceum by John O. Sargent, in 1844, from which source we derive some interesting particulars concerning Ericsson's early history.

John Ericsson was born in 1803, in the Province of Vermeland, among the iron mountains of Sweden. His father was a mining proprietor, so that the youth had ample opportunities to watch the operation of the various engines and machinery connected with the mines. These had been erected by mechanicians of the highest scientific attainments, and presented a fine study to a mind of mechanical tendencies. Under such influences, his innate mechanical talent was early developed. At the age of ten years, he had constructed with his own hands, and after his own plans, a miniature sawmill, and had made numerous drawings of complicated mechanical contrivances, with instruments of his own invention and manufacture.

In 1814 he attracted the attention of the celebrated Count Platen, who had heard of his boyish efforts, and desired an interview with him. After carefully examining various plans and drawings which the youth exhibited, the Count handed them back to him, simply observing, in an impressive manner, "Continue as you have commenced, and you will one day produce something extraordinary."

Count Platen was the intimate personal friend of Bernadotte, the King of Sweden, and was regarded by him with a feeling little short of veneration. It was Count Platen who undertook and carried through, in opposition to the views of the Swedish nobility, and of nearly the whole nation, that gigantic work, the Grand Ship Canal of Sweden, which connects the North Sea with the Baltic. He died Viceroy of Norway, and left behind him the reputation of one of the greatest men of the century. The few words of kind encouragement which he spoke, on the occasion to which we have referred, sank deeply into the mind of the young mechanician, and confirmed him in the career on which he had entered.

Immediately after this interview young Ericsson was made a cadet in the corps of engineers, and, after six months' tuition, at the age of twelve years, was appointed niveleur on the Grand Ship Canal under Count Platen. In this capacity, in the year 1816, he was required to set out the work for more than six hundred men. The canal was constructed by soldiers. He was at that time not tall enough to look through the levelling-instrument; and in using it, he was obliged to mount upon a stool, carried by his attendants for that purpose. As the discipline in the Swedish army required that the soldier should always uncover the head in speaking to his superior, gray-headed men came, cap in hand, to receive their instructions from this mere child.

While thus employed in the summer months, he was constantly occupied during the winter with his pencil and pen; and there are many important works on the canal constructed after drawings made by Ericsson at this early age. During his leisure hours, he measured up and made working-drawings of every implement and piece of machinery connected with this great enterprise; so that at the age of fifteen he was in possession of accurate plans of the whole work, drawn by his own hand.

His associations with military men on the canal had given him an inclination for military life; and at the age of seventeen he entered the Swedish army as an ensign, without the knowledge of his friend and patron, Count Platen. This step excited the indignation of the Count, who tried to prevail upon him to change his resolution; but finding all his arguments useless, he terminated an angry interview by bidding the young ensign "go to the Devil." The affectionate regard which he entertained for the Count, and gratitude for the interest taken by him in his education, caused the circumstances of this interview to make a deep impression upon Ericsson, but were not sufficient to shake his determination.

Soon after the young ensign had entered upon his regimental duties, an affair occurred which threatened to obscure his hitherto bright prospects. His Colonel, Baron Koskull, had been disgraced by the King, about the time that he had recommended Ericsson for promotion. This circumstance induced the King to reject the recommendation. The Colonel was exceedingly annoyed by this rejection; and having in his possession a military map made by the expectant ensign, he took it to his Royal Highness the Crown Prince Oscar, and besought him to intercede for the young man with the King. The Prince received the map very kindly, expressing great admiration of its beautiful finish and execution, and presented himself in person with it to the King, who yielded to the joint persuasion of the Prince and the map, and promoted the young ensign to the lieutenancy for which he had been recommended.

About the time of this promotion, the Government had ordered the northern part of Sweden to be accurately surveyed. It being the desire of the King that officers of the army should be employed in this service, Ericsson, whose regiment was stationed in the northern highlands, proceeded to Stockholm, for the purpose of submitting himself to the severe examination then a prerequisite to the appointment of Government surveyor.

The mathematical education which he had received under Count Platen now proved very serviceable. He passed the examination with great distinction, and in the course of it, to the surprise of the examiners, showed that he could repeat Euclid verbatim,—not by the exercise of the memory, which in Ericsson is not remarkably retentive, but from his perfect mastery of geometrical science. There is no doubt that it is this thorough knowledge of geometry to which he is indebted for his clear conceptions on all mechanical subjects.

Having returned to the highlands, he entered on his new vocation with great assiduity; and, supported by an unusually strong constitution, he mapped a larger extent of territory than any other of the numerous surveyors employed on the work. There are yet in the archives of Sweden detailed maps of upwards of fifty square miles made by his hand.

Neither the great labors attending these surveys, nor his military duties, could give sufficient employment to the energies of the young officer. In connection with a German engineer, Major Pentz, he now began the arduous task of compiling a work on Canals, to be illustrated by sixty-four large plates, representing the various buildings, machines, and instruments connected with the construction of such works. The part assigned to him in this enterprise was nothing less than that of making all the drawings, as well as of engraving the numerous plates; and as all the plates were to be executed in the style of what is called machine-engraving, he undertook to construct a machine for the purpose, which he successfully accomplished. This work he prosecuted with so much industry, in the midst of his other various labors, that, within the first year of its commencement, he had executed eighteen large plates, which were pronounced by judges of machine-engraving to be of superior merit.

While thus variously occupied, being on a visit to the house of his Colonel, Ericsson on one occasion showed his host, by a very simple experiment, how readily mechanical power may be produced, independently of steam, by condensing flame. His friend was much struck by the beauty and simplicity of the experiment, and prevailed upon Ericsson to give more attention to a principle which he considered highly important. The young officer accordingly made sonic experiments on an enlarged scale, and succeeded in the production of a motive power equal to that of a steam-engine of ten-horse power. So satisfactory was the result, from the compact form of the machine employed, as well as the comparatively small consumption of fuel, that he conceived the idea of at once bringing it out in England, the great field for all mechanical inventions.

Ericsson accordingly obtained, leave from the King to visit England, where he arrived on the eighteenth of May, 1826. He there proceeded to construct a working engine on the principle above mentioned, but soon discovered that his flame-engine, when worked by the combustion of mineral coals, was a different thing from the experimental model he had tried in the highlands of Sweden, with fuel composed of the splinters of fine pine wood. Not only did he fail to produce an extended and vivid flame, but the intense heat so seriously affected all the working parts of the machine as soon to cause its destruction.

These experiments, it may well be supposed, were attended with no trifling expenditure; and, to meet these demands upon him, our young adventurer was compelled to draw on his mechanical resources.

Invention now followed invention in rapid succession, until the records of the Patent-Office in London were enriched with the drawings of the remarkable steam-boiler on the principle of artificial draught; to which principle we are mainly indebted for the benefits conferred on civilization by the present rapid communication by railways. In bringing this important invention before the public, Ericsson thought it advisable to join some old and established mechanical house in London; and accordingly he associated himself with John Braithwaite, a name favorably known in the mechanical annals of England. This invention was hardly developed, when an opportunity was presented for testing it in practice.

The directors of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, before erecting the stationary engines by which they had intended to draw their passenger and freight carriages, determined to appeal to the mechanical talent of the country, in the hope of securing some preferable form of motor. A prize was accordingly offered, in the autumn of 1829, for the best locomotive engine, to be tested on the portion of the railway then completed. Ericsson was not aware that any such prize had been offered, until within seven weeks of the day fixed for the trial. He was not deterred by the shortness of the time, but, applying all his energies to the task, planned an engine, executed the working-drawings, and had the whole machine constructed within the seven weeks.

The day of trial arrived. Three engines entered the lists for the prize,—namely, the Rocket, by George Stephenson; the Sanspareil, by Timothy Hackworth; and the Novelty, by Ericsson. Both sides of the railway, for more than a mile in length, were lined with thousands of spectators. There was no room for jockeying in such a race, for inanimate matter was to be put in motion, and that moves only in accordance with immutable laws. The signal was given for the start. Instead of the application of whip and spur, the gentle touch of the steam-valve gave life and motion to the novel machine.

Up to that period, the greatest speed at which man had been carried along the ground was that of the race-horse; and no one of the multitude present on this occasion expected to see that speed surpassed. It was the general belief that the maximum attainable by the locomotive engine would not much exceed ten miles. To the surprise and admiration of the crowd, however, the Novelty steam-carriage, the fastest engine started, guided by its inventor Ericsson, assisted by John Braithwaite, darted along the track at the rate of upwards of fifty miles an hour!

The breathless silence of the multitude was now broken by thunders of hurras, that drowned the hiss of the escaping steam and the rolling of the engine-wheels. To reduce the surprise and delight excited on this occasion to the universal standard, and as an illustration of the extent to which the value of property is sometimes enhanced by the success of a mechanical invention, it may be stated, that, when the Novelty had run her two miles and returned, the shares of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway had risen ten per cent.

But how easily may the just expectations of an inventor be disappointed! Although the principle of artificial draught—the principle which gave to the Novelty such decided superiority in speed—is yet retained in all locomotive engines, the mode of producing this draught in our present engines is far different from that introduced by Ericsson, and was discovered by the merest accident; and so soon was this discovery made, after the successful display of the Novelty engine, that Ericsson had no time to derive the least advantage from its introduction. To him, however, belongs the credit of having disproved the correctness of the once established theory, that it was absolutely necessary that a certain extensive amount of surface should be exposed to the fire, to generate a given quantity of steam.

The remarkable lightness and compactness of the new boiler invented by Ericsson led to the employment of steam in many instances in which it had been previously inapplicable. Among these may be mentioned the steam fire-engine constructed by him in conjunction with Mr. Braithwaite, about the same time with the Novelty, and which excited so much interest in London at the time the Argyle Rooms were on fire. A similar engine of greater power was subsequently constructed by Ericsson and Braithwaite for the King of Prussia, which was mainly instrumental in saving several valuable buildings at a great fire in Berlin. For this invention Ericsson received, in 1842, the large gold medal offered by the Mechanics' Institute of New York for the best plan of a steam fire-engine.

In the year 1833 Ericsson brought before the scientific world in London his invention of the Caloric-Engine, which had been a favorite subject of speculation and reflection with him for many years. From the earliest period of his mechanical labors, he had been in the habit of regarding heat as an agent, which, whilst it exerts mechanical force, undergoes no change. The steam in the cylinder of a steam-engine, after having lifted the weight of the piston, contains just as much heat as it did before leaving the boiler,—minus only the loss by radiation. Yet in the low-pressure engine we turn the steam, after having performed its office, into a condensing-apparatus, where the heat is in a manner annihilated; and in the high-pressure engine we throw it away into the atmosphere.