Before proceeding to explain the proposed system, let me exhibit for one moment the necessity of change, as illustrated by weights and measures in the past.
Language is coeval with man as a social being. Weights and measures are hardly less early in origin. They are essential to the operations of society, and are naturally common to all who belong to the same social circle. At the beginning, each people had a system of its own; but as nations gradually intermingle and distant places are brought together by the attractions of commerce, the system of one nation becomes inadequate to the necessities of the composite body. A common system becomes important just in proportion to the community of interests. Next to diversity of languages, discordant weights and measures attest the insulation of nations.
The earliest measures were derived from the several parts of the human body. Such was the cubit, which was the distance between the elbow and the end of the middle finger, being about twenty-two inches. Such also were the foot, the hand, the span, the nail, and the thumb. These measures were derived from Nature, and they were to be found wherever a human being existed. But they partook of the uncertainty in the proportions of the human form. When Selden, in his “Table-Talk,” wittily likened Equity, so far as it depended on the Chancellor, to a measure determined by the length of the Chancellor’s foot, he exposed not only the uncertainty of Equity, but also the uncertainty of such a measure.
Even in Greece, where Art prevailed in the most beautiful forms, the famous stadium was none the less uncertain. It was the distance that Hercules could run without taking breath, being six hundred times the length of his foot.
Our own standards, derived from England, are of an equally fanciful character. The unit of length is the barley-corn, taken from the middle of the ear and well dried. Three of these in a straight line make an inch. The unit of weight is a grain of wheat, taken, like the barley-corn, from the middle of the ear and well dried. Of these, twenty-four are equal to a pennyweight. Twenty pennyweights make an ounce, and twelve ounces make a pound. The unit of capacity is derived from the weight of grains of wheat. Eight pounds of these make one gallon of wine measure.
Nor are the extreme vagueness and instability of these standards the only surprise. There is no principle of science or convenience in the progression of the different series. Thus we have two pints to a quart, three scruples to a dram, four quarts to a gallon, five quarters to an ell, five and a half yards to a perch, six feet to a fathom, eight furlongs to a mile, twelve inches to a foot, sixteen ounces to a pound, twenty units to a score.
Then, as if the only ruling principle governing the selection were discord, we have different measures bearing the same name, such as the wine pint and the dry pint, the ounce Troy and the ounce avoirdupois. Take these last two measures as illustrating the prevailing confusion. Both seem to come from France. The Troy weight is supposed to derive its name from the French town of Troyes, where a celebrated fair was once held. The term “avoirdupois” is French, and seems to have been part of a statute which declared how weights should be determined. But Troy and avoirdupois are different measures.
These measures, having constant differences, had accidental differences also, in different parts of England, and also in different parts of our own country. Even where the names are alike, the measures are often unlike. In England the diversity was almost infinite, so that these same measures differed in different counties, and sometimes in different towns of the same county. Latterly in the United States the standard has been regulated by law, but the confusion from the measures still continues. The question naturally arises, why such confusion has been allowed so long without correction. The answer is easy. Except in rare instances, the triumphs of science are slow and gradual. Traditional prejudice must be overcome. Each nation is attached to its own imperfect system, as to its own language. Even though inferior to another, it has the great advantage of being known to the people that use it. To this constant impediment it is proper to add the intrinsic difficulty of establishing a uniform system of weights and measures which shall satisfy the demands of civilization in scientific precision, in immediate practical applicability, and in nomenclature.
Take, for instance, the application of the decimal system, which seems at first sight simple and complete. It is unquestionably an immense improvement on the old confusion; but even here we encounter a difficulty in the circumstance, long since recognized by mathematicians, that our scale of decimal arithmetic is more the child of chance than of philosophy. I know not if any better reason can be given for its adoption than because man has everywhere reckoned by his ten fingers. On this account it is often called “natural.” But, considering whether the number ten possesses any intrinsic excellence, convenience, or fitness, as a ratio of progression, good authorities have answered in the negative. It is the duplication of an odd number, which can furnish neither a square nor a cube, and which cannot be halved without departure from the decimal scale. In this scale we seem to see always those early days when “wild in woods the noble savage ran,” and for arithmetic used fingers or toes. An octaval system, founded on the number eight, would have been better adapted to the divisions of material things. Among us the decimal system is adopted for money; but you all know that we are not able to carry it into rigid practice. Thus convenience, if not necessity, requires the half-dollar, the quarter-dollar, the half-dime, and the three-cent piece. In fact, eight divisions to the dollar, as prevailed in Spain, are more available in the business of life than the decimal division. The number eight is capable of indefinite bisection. The progression beginning with two would proceed to four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four, and so on.