These complex issues being satisfactorily settled the exploitation of the erstwhile waste, or rubbish, is energetically pursued. It has now become a potentially valuable by-product, and, accordingly, must be worked for all it is worth. Firmly entrenched upon the market development is vigorously pursued, often to culminate in the quondam waste, now an established by-product, being lifted to such a position of commercial eminence as to dispute premier recognition with the staple in the production of which it is incurred. In more than one instance the by-product has even eclipsed the primary product, or at least attained a level of equal importance, while occasionally the staple has even suffered virtual deposition to rank as little else but a by-product. There are even some cases on record where the manufacture of the staple has been abandoned, at all events for a time, because the by-product, the former incubus of the industry has become invested with such far-reaching importance as to demand the concentration of effort upon its production. Waste—by-product—staple: such constitutes the brief evolution of more than one of the world’s leading lines of trading.
Many instances of remarkable topsy-turvydom in this connection might be cited. Possibly one of the most impressive illustrations in this respect, although the transposition is not yet quite complete, is offered by coal-gas. When Clayton first demonstrated the practicability of extracting illuminating gas from coal commercialism feverishly set to work to exploit the gas, and gas only. But the gas proved to be associated with a variety of substances which threatened the very future of Clayton’s discovery. Ammonia fumes poisoned the atmosphere of the room in which the gas was burned to the grave danger of the health—even lives—of the occupants according to the cynics, critics, and caricaturists of the day. The tar carried in suspension in the gas was every whit as exasperating because it condensed in the mains to choke them. Ammonia and tar became the bane of life to the gas-engineers of the period, harassing them to the verge of endurance, while the elimination of the two deleterious substances involved the expenditure of enormous sums of money and prodigious thought.
What is the position to-day. Gas, the staple product from the distillation of coal three-quarters of a century ago, now, to all intents and purposes, is the by-product. The world could roll along very comfortably without it. Indeed, we may have to do so in the near future when the gas is stripped of every other marketable constituent, leaving only a mixture of methane and hydrogen gases to be burned under boilers to raise steam for the generation of electricity in enormous bulk. The ammonia which formerly jeopardized health and lives, and to remove and to throw away which the pioneer engineers strained every nerve, is now trapped to be converted into fertilizer. Then the tar which likewise nearly drove the engineers frantic is now carefully drawn off, collected and resolved into a host of wonderful articles to furnish a diversity of indispensable materials. It would be wearisome to recite the list. It is so lengthy. But it would seem as if the by-products of coal touch every other industry, ranging from dyes to chemicals, flavourings to disinfectants, perfumes to therapeutics and soporifics.
As with coal so with oil. Forty years ago the boring of a well was followed with mixed feelings by the indefatigable driller. A “strike,” while devoutly to be desired, was just as likely to bring dreadful disaster swift and sudden, even death, as wealth untold. The driller probed the earth animated by one idea. This was to tap the subterranean lake of crude petroleum. But in driving his bore the driller invariably crashed through the roof of an underground reservoir of petroleum gas. Ignorant of the value of this product, though painfully aware of its danger if allowed to break away and to get beyond control, the early seekers for oil led this gas through a pipe to a point some distance away. There the flow from the open end was ignited and the gas allowed to burn merrily in the open air. The driller knew no peace of mind until the flame flickered and expired as a result of the exhaustion of the subterranean gasometer. Then, and not until, he could resume his boring for the precious liquid with complacency.
But with passing years and progress came enlightenment. The gas is no longer wasted; it is trapped. In some instances it is led through piping for hundreds of miles to feed hungry furnaces engaged in the making of steel and other products. The earth is even being drilled, not for petroleum, but for its huge supplies of natural gas, and the huge reservoirs thus discovered are being harnessed to the thousand wheels of industry. We even find trains fitted with cylinders carrying natural gas stored under high pressure to furnish light for the convenience of passengers, and to enable dainty meals to be cooked in the kitchens of the dining-cars.
The oil refineries, upon receiving the crude petroleum, set out to recover as much paraffin as they could. This was the primary product, because a brilliant British chemist, Young, had discovered how to distil paraffin from petroleum for lighting, heating, and cooking. It represented a huge advance upon the lamp dependent upon whale oil and the tallow dip. But before the refiners could reach the paraffin they were called upon to wrestle with a lighter spirit which sorely harassed and perplexed them. It was extremely volatile, and highly inflammable—even explosive in the vapour form when mixed with air—and accordingly was construed into a menace to the refinery. It was carefully drawn off and dumped into large pits, where it was burned merely to get rid of it. Its commercial value was set down as nil. A certain quantity was used by laundries and dry-cleaners because of its striking cleansing qualities, but it was used sparingly and cautiously owing to its dangerous character. It could be purchased only with difficulty, and in small quantities by the members of the public, the retailers for the most part being chemists and druggists. If one were glib of tongue and a master of the persuasive art, one might succeed in obtaining as much as half-a-pint in a single purchase.
Suddenly a creative mind evolved the high-speed internal combustion engine, which heralded the coming of the motor-car, the submarine, and more recently the aeroplane and airship. The volatile spirit which hitherto had been spurned and burned wastefully by the refineries was immediately discovered to be invested with a value which had heretofore escaped attention. It formed the ideal fuel for the new motor. Forthwith wanton destruction of the volatile spirit was abandoned. Every drop was carefully collected, and, as time went on and the demand for the light liquid fuel increased, the refiners put forth greater effort to wring every possible dram of petrol from the crude petroleum. Paraffin, which had hitherto been regarded as the staple, was ignored. It even dropped in commercial estimation as a by-product and became a drug on the market, although, fortunately, the refineries hesitated from repeating the practice they had honoured in regard to petrol—summary destruction by fire.
So insistent and overwhelming has grown the demand for petrol that the producers are hard put to it to keep pace with the requirements. A petroleum boom has reverberated around the world, eclipsing in intensity any stampede identified with the search for gold. To these islands the petroleum age has contributed very little wealth, although it has been responsible for revived interest in the exploitation of our shale—another form of waste—but to Russia, the United States of America, Mexico, and the East, where the earth reeks with petroleum, it has brought wealth untold. It has completely transformed the economic outlook of certain nations, and in some instances has served to rescue a country from bankruptcy. To us it is of appreciable significance because, so far, we have been compelled to draw upon distant sources for our requirements and so have to contribute to the national wealth of others, some of whom are our most spirited rivals in trade.
In 1913 our imports of petroleum products aggregated 488,106,963 gallons, valued at £10,856,806—$54,284,030—the contribution from Greater Britain being 22,172,701 gallons, valued at £829,868—$4,149,340. Of this enormous volume 100,858,017 gallons represented petrol for our motors—the waste product of forty years ago at the refineries—for which we had to pay £3,803,397—$19,016,985. In the year when mechanical road propulsion was ushered in petrol could be obtained for about 4d.—8 cents—a gallon: in 1918 it commanded 3s. 6d.—84 cents—a gallon. An increase of over 900 per cent. in value within approximately 35 years represents no mean achievement in commercial expansion, but when it relates to an erstwhile waste product the record is far more sensational.
To relate all the fortunes which have been amassed from the commercialization of what was once rejected and valueless would require a volume. Yet it is a story of fascinating romance and one difficult to parallel in the whole realm of human activity. It was the waste energy of water which laid the foundations of Lord Armstrong’s fortune and the enormous fabric of the huge firm on Tyneside. Sir Hiram Maxim revolutionized warfare by harnessing the wasted kick or recoil to reload and fire his machine-gun, thereby introducing one of the most formidable small arms ever devised to conduct the gentle art of killing. Lord Masham established a new industry and became a millionaire by taking the “chassum” or silk waste—a refuse which had even suffered rejection as a manure because it took such a long time to rot—and utilizing it as a raw material for the production of a new and wonderful range of beautiful fabrics in velvet and plush. It was another textile wizard, Sir Titus Salt, who perfected the process for turning the wool sheared from the back of a member of the camel family roaming the heights of the Andes, and which was classed as sheer rubbish, into the soft glossy fabric known as alpaca.