The Man Without a Country, and Other Tales

  THE DOT AND LINE ALPHABET.

  [This sketch was originally published in the Atlantic Monthly forOctober, 1858, just at the time that the first Atlantic Cable, whosefirst prattle had been welcomed by the acclamations of a continent,gasped its last under the manipulations of De Sauty. It has since beencopied by Mr. Prescott in his valuable hand-book of the electrictelegraph.

  The war, which has taught us all so much, has given a brilliantillustration of the dot and line alphabet, wholly apart from theelectric use of it, which will undoubtedly be often repeated. In themovements of our troops under General Foster in North Carolina, Dr. J.B.Upham of Boston, the distinguished medical director in that department,equally distinguished for the success with which he has led forward themusical education of New England, trained a corps of buglers to conversewith each other by long and short bugle-notes, and thus to carryinformation with literal accuracy from point to point at any distancewithin which the tones of a bugle could be heard. It will readily beseen that there are many occasions in military affairs when such meansof conversation might prove of inestimable value. Mr. Tuttle, theastronomer, on duty in the same campaign, made a similar arrangementwith long and short flashes of light.]

  * * * * *

  Just in the triumph week of that Great Telegraph which takes its namefrom the Atlantic Monthly, I read in the September number of thatjournal the revelations of an observer who was surprised to find that hehad the power of reading, as they run, the revelations of the wire. Ihad the hope that he was about to explain to the public the more generaluse of this instrument,--which, with a stupid fatuity, the public has asyet failed to grasp. Because its signals have been first applied bymeans of electro-magnetism, and afterwards by means of the chemicalpower of electricity, the many-headed people refuses to avail itself, asit might do very easily, of the same signals for the simplertransmission of intelligence, whatever the power employed.

  The great invention of Mr. Morse is his register and alphabet. Hehimself eagerly disclaims any pretension to the original conception ofthe use of electricity as an errand-boy. Hundreds of people had thoughtof that and suggested it: but Morse was the first to give the errand-boysuch a written message, that he could not lose it on the way, normistake it when he arrived. The public, eager to thank Morse, as hedeserves, thanks him for something he did not invent. For this heprobably cares very little; nor do I care more. But the public does notthank him for what he did originate,--this invaluable and simplealphabet. Now, as I use it myself in every detail of life, and see everyhour how the public might use it, if it chose, I am really sorry forthis negligence,--both on the score of his fame, and of generalconvenience.

  Please to understand, then, ignorant Reader, that this curious alphabetreduces all the complex machinery of Cadmus and the rest of thewriting-masters to characters as simple as can be made by a dot, aspace, and a line, variously combined. Thus, the marks .-- designate theletter A. The marks --... designate the letter B. All the other lettersare designated in as simple a manner.

  Now I am stripping myself of one of the private comforts of my life,(but what will one not do for mankind?) when I explain that this simplealphabet need not be confined to electrical signals. _Long_ and _short_make it all,--and wherever long and short can be combined, be it inmarks, sounds, sneezes, fainting-fits, canes, or children, ideas can beconveyed by this arrangement of the long and short together. Only lastnight I was talking scandal with Mrs. Wilberforce at a summer party atthe Hammersmiths. To my amazement, my wife, who scarcely can play "TheFisher's Hornpipe," interrupted us by asking Mrs. Wilberforce if shecould give her the idea of an air in "The Butcher of Turin." Mrs.Wilberforce had never heard that opera,--indeed, had never heard of it.My angel-wife was surprised,--stood thrumming at the piano,--wonderedshe could not catch this very odd bit of discordant accord at all,--butchecked herself in her effort, as soon as I observed that her long notesand short notes, in their tum-tee, tee,--tee-tee, tee-tum tum, meant,"He's her brother." The conversation on her side turned from "TheButcher of Turin," and I had just time on the hint thus given me by Mrs.I. to pass a grateful eulogium on the distinguished statesman whom Mrs.Wilberforce, with all a sister's care, had rocked in hisbaby-cradle,--whom, but for my wife's long and short notes, I shouldhave clumsily abused among the other statesmen of the day.

  You will see, in an instant, awakening Reader, that it is not thebusiness simply of "operators" in telegraphic dens to know this Morsealphabet, but your business, and that of every man and woman. If ourschool committees understood the times, it would be taught, even beforephonography or physiology, at school. I believe both these sciences nowprecede the old English alphabet.

  As I write these words, the bell of the South Congregational strikesdong, dong, dong,--dong, dong, dong, dong,--dong,--dong. Nobody hasunlocked the church-door. I know that, for I am locked up in the vestry.The old tin sign, "In case of fire, the key will be found at theopposite house," has long since been taken down, and made into the noseof a water-pot. Yet there is no Goody Two-Shoes locked in. No one exceptme, and certainly I am not ringing the bell. No! But, thanks to Dr.Channing's Fire Alarm,[M] the bell is informing the South End thatthere is a fire in District Dong-dong-dong,--that is to say, DistrictNo. 3. Before I have explained to you so far, the "Eagle" engine, with agood deal of noise, has passed the house on its way to that fateddistrict. An immense improvement this on the old system, when theengines radiated from their houses in every possible direction, and thefire was extinguished by the few machines whose lines of quest happenedto cross each other at the particular place where the child had beenbuilding cob-houses out of lucifer-matches in a paper warehouse. Yes, itis a very great improvement. All those persons, like you and me, whohave no property in District Dong-dong-dong, can now sit at home atease;--and little need we think upon the mud above the knees of thosewho have property in that district and are running to look after it. Butfor them the improvement only brings misery. You arrive wet, hot/orcold, or both, at the large District No. 3, to find that thelucifer-matches were half a mile away from your store,--and that yourown private watchman, even, had not been waked by the working of thedistant engines. Wet property holder, as you walk home, consider this.When you are next in the Common Council, vote an appropriation forapplying Morse's alphabet of long and short to the bells. Then they canbe made to sound intelligibly. Daung ding ding,--ding,--dingdaung,--daung daung daung, and so on, will tell you as you wake in thenight that it is Mr. B.'s store which is on fire, and not yours, or thatit is yours and not his. This is not only a convenience to you and arelief to your wife and family, who will thus be spared your excursionsto unavailable and unsatisfactory fires, and your somewhat irritatedreturn,--it will be a great relief to the Fire Department. How placidthe operations of a fire where none attend except on business! Thevarious engines arrive, but no throng of distant citizens, men and boys,fearful of the destruction of their all. They have all roused on theirpillows to learn that it is No. 530 Pearl Street which is in flames. Allbut the owner of No. 530 Pearl Street have dropped back to sleep. Healone has rapidly repaired to the scene. That is he, who stands in theuncrowded street with the Chief Engineer, on the deck of No. 18, as sheplays away. His property destroyed, the engines retire,--he mentions theamount of his insurance to those persons who represent the daily press,they all retire to their homes,--and the whole is finished as simply,almost, as was his private entry in his day-book the afternoonbefore.[N]

  This is what might be, if the magnetic alarm only struck _long_ and_short_, and we had all learned Morse's alphabet. Indeed, there isnothing the bells could not tell, if you would only give them timeenough. We have only one chime, for musical purposes, in the town. But,without attempting tunes, only give the bells the Morse alphabet, andevery bell in Boston might chant in monotone the words of "HailColumbia" at length, every Fourth of July. Indeed, if Mr. Barnard shouldreport any day that a discouraged 'prentice-boy had left town for hiscountry home, all the bells could instantly be s
et to work to speakarticulately, in language regarding which the dullest imagination neednot be at loss,

  "Turn again, Higginbottom, Lord Mayor of Boston!"

  I have suggested the propriety of introducing this alphabet into theprimary schools. I need not say I have taught it to my ownchildren,--and I have been gratified to see how rapidly it made head,against the more complex alphabet, in the grammar schools. Of course itdoes;--an alphabet of two characters matched against one oftwenty-six,--or of forty-odd, as the very odd one of the phonotypistsemploy! On the Franklin-medal day I went to the Johnson-Schoolexamination. One of the committee asked a nice girl what was the capitalof Brazil. The child looked tired and pale, and, for an instant,hesitated. But, before she had time to commit herself, all answering wasrendered impossible by an awful turn of whooping-cough which one of myown sons was seized with,--who had gone to the examination with me.Hawm, hem hem;--hem hem hem;--hem, hem;--hawm, hem hem;--hem hemhem;--hem, hem,--barked the poor child, who was at the opposite extremeof the school-room. The spectators and the committee looked to see himfall dead with a broken blood-vessel. I confess that I felt no alarm,after I observed that some of his gasps were long and some very_staccato_;--nor did pretty little Mabel Warren. She recovered hercolor,--and, as soon as silence was in the least restored, answered,"_Rio_ is the capital of Brazil,"--as modestly and properly as if shehad been taught it in her cradle. They are nothing but children, any ofthem,--but that afternoon, after they had done all the singing the cityneeded for its annual entertainment of the singers, I saw Bob and Mabelstart for a long expedition into West Roxbury,--and when he came back, Iknow it was a long featherfew, from her prize school-bouquet, that hepressed in his Greene's "Analysis," with a short frond of maiden's hair.

  I hope nobody will write a letter to "The Atlantic," to say that theseare very trifling uses. The communication of useful information is nevertrifling. It is as important to save a nice child from mortification onexamination-day, as it is to tell Mr. Fremont that he is not electedPresident. If, however, the reader is distressed, because theseillustrations do not seem to his more benighted observation to belong tothe big bow-wow strain of human life, let him consider the arrangementwhich ought to have been made years since, for lee shores, railroadcollisions, and that curious class of maritime accidents where onesteamer runs into mother under the impression that she is a lighthouse. Imagine the Morse alphabet applied to a steam-whistle, which isoften heard five miles. It needs only _long_ and _short_ again. "_StopComet_," for instance, when you send it down the railroad line, by thewire, is expressed thus:

  ... -- . . ....,... . . -- --- . --

  Very good message, if Comet happens to be at the telegraph station whenit comes! But what if Cornel has gone by? Much good will your trumperymessage do then! If, however, you have the wit to sound your long andshort on an engine-whistle, thus;--Scre scre, scre; screeee; scre scre;scre scre scre scre scre; scre scre scre,--scre scre; screeeee screeeee;scre; screeeee;--why, then the whole neighborhood, for five milesaround, will know that Comet must stop, if only they understand spokenlanguage,--and among others, the engineman of Comet will understand it;and Comet will not run into that wreck of worlds which gives theorder,--with the nucleus of hot iron and his tail of five hundred tonsof coal.--So, of the signals which fog-bells can give, attached tolight-houses. How excellent to have them proclaim through the darkness,"I am Wall "! Or of signals for steamship-engineers. When our friendswere on board the "Arabia" the other day, and she and the "Europa"pitched into each other,--as if, on that happy week, all the continentswere to kiss and join hands all round,--how great the relief to thepassengers on each, if, through every night of their passage, collisionhad been prevented by this simple expedient! One boat would havescreamed, "Europa, Europa, Europa," from night to morning,--and theother, "Arabia, Arabia, Arabia,"--and neither would have been mistaken,as one unfortunately was, for a light-house.

  The long and short of it is, that whoever can mark distinctions of timecan use this alphabet of long-and-short, however he may mark them. It istherefore within the compass of all intelligent beings, except those whoare no longer conscious of the passage of time, having exchanged itslimitations for the wider sweep of eternity. The illimitable range ofthis alphabet, however, is not half disclosed when this has been said.Most articulate language addresses itself to one sense, or at most totwo, sight and sound. I see, as I write, that the particularillustrations I have given are all of them confined to signals seen orsignals heard. But the dot-and-line alphabet, in the few years of itshistory, has already shown that it is not restricted to these twosenses, but makes itself intelligible to all. Its message, of course, isheard as well as read. Any good operator understands the sounds of itsticks upon the flowing strip of paper, as well as when he sees it As helies in his cot at midnight, he will expound the passing message withoutstriking a light to see it But this is only what may be said of anywritten language. You can read this article to your wife, or she canread it, as she prefers; that is, she chooses whether it shall addressher eye or her ear. But the long-and-short alphabet of Morse and hisimitators despises such narrow range. It addresses whichever of the fivesenses the listener chooses. This fact is illustrated by a curious setof anecdotes,--never yet put in print, I think,--of that criticaldespatch which in one night announced General Taylor's death to thiswhole land. Most of the readers of these lines probably read thatdespatch in the morning's paper. The compositors and editors had readit. To them it was a despatch to the eye. But half the operators at thestations _heard_ it ticked out, by the register stroke, and knew itbefore they wrote it down for the press. To them it was a despatch tothe ear. My good friend Langenzunge had not that resource. He had justbeen promised, by the General himself (under whom he served at PaloAlto), the office of Superintendent of the Rocky Mountain Lines. He wasreturning from Washington over the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, on afreight-train, when he heard of the President's danger. Langenzungeloved Old Rough and Ready,--and he felt badly about his own office, too.But his extempore train chose to stop at a forsaken shanty-village onthe Potomac, for four mortal hours, at midnight. What does he do, butwalk down the line into the darkness, climb a telegraph-post, cut awire, and applied the two ends to his tongue, to _taste_, at the fatalmoment, the words, "Died at half past ten." Poor Langenzunge! he hardlyhad nerve to solder the wire again. Cogs told me that they had justfitted up the Naguadavick stations with Bain's chemical revolving disk.This disk is charged with a salt of potash, which, when the electricspark passes through it, is changed to Prussian blue. Your despatch isnoiselessly written in dark blue dots and lines. Just as the diskstarted on that fatal despatch, and Cogs bent over it to read, hisspirit-lamp blew up,--as the dear things will. They were besidethemselves in the lonely, dark office; but, while the men were fumblingfor matches, which would not go, Cogs's sister, Nydia, a sweet blindgirl, who had learned Bain's alphabet from Dr. Howe at South Boston,bent over the chemical paper, and _smelt_ out the prussiate of potash,as it formed itself in lines and dots to tell the sad story. Almostanybody used to reading the blind books can read the embossed Morsemessages with the finger,--and so this message was read at all themidnight way-stations where no night-work is expected, and where thecompanies do not supply fluid or oil. Within my narrow circle ofacquaintance, therefore, there were these simultaneous instances, wherethe same message was seen, heard, smelled, tasted, and felt. Souniversal is the dot-and-line alphabet,--for Bain's is on the sameprinciple as Morse's.

  The reader sees, therefore, first, that the dot-and-line alphabet can beemployed by any being who has command of any long and short symbols,--bethey long and short notches, such as Robinson Crusoe kept his accountswith, or long and short waves of electricity, such as these whichValentia is sending across to the Newfoundland bay, so prophetically andappropriately named "The Bay of Bulls." Also, I hope the reader seesthat the alphabet can be understood by any intelligent being who has anyone of the five senses left him,--by all rational men, that is,excepting
the few eyeless deaf persons who have lost both taste andsmell in some complete paralysis. The use of Morse's telegraph is by nomeans confined to the small clique who possess or who understandelectrical batteries. It is not only the torpedo or the _Gymnotuselectricus_ that can send us messages from the ocean. Whales in the seacan telegraph as well as senators on land, if they will only note thedifference between long spoutings and short ones. And they can listen,too. If they will only note the difference between long and short, theeel of Ocean's bottom may feel on his slippery skin the smooth messagesof our Presidents, and the catfish, in his darkness, look fearless onthe secrets of a Queen. Any beast, bird, fish, or insect, which candiscriminate between long and short, may use the telegraph alphabet, ifhe have sense enough. Any creature, which can hear, smell, taste, feel,or see, may take note of its signals, if he can understand them. A tiredlistener at church, by properly varying his long yawns and his shortones, may express his opinion of the sermon to the opposite gallerybefore the sermon is done. A dumb tobacconist may trade with hiscustomers in an alphabet of short-sixes and long-nines. A beleagueredSebastopol may explain its wants to the relieving army beyond the lineof the Chernaya, by the lispings of its short Paixhans and its longtwenty-fours.