The Atlantic cable was dead! That word fell heavy as a stone on the hearts of those who had staked so much upon it. What a bitter disappointment to their hopes! In all the experience of life there are no sadder moments than those in which, after years of anxious toil, striving for a great object, and after one glorious hour of triumph, the achievement that seemed complete becomes a total wreck. Vain is all human toil and endeavor. The years thus spent are fled away; the labor that was to have brought such a reward of "riches and honor," is lost; and the prolonged tension of the mind by the excitement of hope and ambition, and the temporary success, reacts to plunge it into a deeper depression. So was it here. Years of labor and millions of capital were swept away in an hour into the bosom of the pitiless sea.

Of course the reaction of the public mind was very great. As its elation had been so extravagant before, it was now silent and almost sullen. People were ashamed of their late enthusiasm, and disposed to revenge themselves on those who had been the objects of their idolatry. It is instructive to read the papers of the day. As soon as it was evident that the Atlantic cable was a dead lion, many hastened to give it a parting kick. There was no longer any dispute as to who was the author of the great achievement. Rival claimants quietly withdrew from the field, content to leave him alone in his glory.

Many explanations were offered of this sudden suspension of life. One writer argued that the Telegraphic Plateau was only a myth; that the bottom of the ocean was jagged and precipitous; that the cable passed over lofty mountain chains, and hung suspended from the peaks of submarine Alps, till it broke and fell into the tremendous depths below.

But others found a readier explanation. With the natural tendency of a popular excitement to rush from one extreme to the other, many now believed that the whole thing was an imposition on public credulity, a sort of "Moon hoax." An elaborate article appeared in a Boston paper, headed with the alarming question, "Was the Atlantic cable a humbug?" wherein the writer argued through several columns that it was a huge deception. A writer in an English paper also made merry of the celebration in Dublin, where a banquet was given to Sir Charles Bright, in an article bearing the ominous title: "Very like a whale!" This writer proved not only that the Atlantic cable was never laid, but that such a thing was mathematically impossible. But since he turned out to be a crazy fellow, whom the police had to take into custody, his "demonstrations" did not make much impression on the public. The difficulty of finding a motive for the perpetration of such a stupendous fraud, did not at all embarrass these ingenious writers. Was it not enough to make the world stare? to furnish something to the gaping crowd, even though it were but a nine days' wonder? Those who thus reasoned seemed not to reflect that such deceptions are always sure to be found out; that one who goes up like a rocket comes down like a stick; and that if by false means he has made himself an object of popular idolatry, he is likely to become the object of popular indignation.

But others there were—sharp, shrewd men—who thought they could see through a mill-stone farther than their neighbors, who shook their heads with a knowing air, and said: "It was all a stock speculation." One writer stepped before the public with this solemn inquiry: "Now that the great cable glorification is over, we should like to ask one question: How many shares of his stock did Mr. Field sell during the month of August?" This he evidently thought was a question which could not be answered, except by acknowledging a great imposition on the public. If this brilliant inquirer after truth really desired to be informed, we could have referred him to Messrs. George Peabody & Co., of London, with whom was deposited all of Mr. Field's stock at the time, and who, during that memorable month of August, sold just one share, and that at a price below the par value, which had been paid by Mr. Field himself. Whether this was an object sufficiently great to set two hemispheres in a blaze, we leave him to judge.

To those who have followed this narrative, all these conjectures and suspicions will appear very absurd. The personal reflections of course deserved and received only the contempt with which a man of character always scorns an imputation on his personal honor. But while these anonymous scribblers might be despised, many honest people not disposed to think evil were sorely perplexed. That the cable should continue to work for three or four weeks, and then stop the very day of the celebration, was certainly a singular, if not a suspicious circumstance; and it was not to be wondered at that it should excite a painful feeling of doubt. The distrust is quite natural, and ought not to be matter either of offence or surprise. On the contrary, those who are fully satisfied of the facts, ought rather to be glad of the opportunity which such questions afford, to present the amplest vindication.

To relieve all doubts, it is only necessary to give a very brief history of the working of the Atlantic cable. It was landed on both sides of the ocean on the fifth of August. The last recorded message passed over it on the first of September, one day short of four weeks. Within that time there were sent exactly four hundred messages, of which two hundred and seventy-one were from Newfoundland to Ireland, and one hundred and twenty-nine from Ireland to Newfoundland. Of these, the greater part were merely between the operators themselves, respecting the adjustment of instruments, and working the telegraph, which, while they furnished decisive evidence to them, were of no force to the public. Of course an operator, working with a battery on the shore at Valentia, or at Trinity Bay, watching his instrument, and seeing the little tongue of light reflected from the moving mirror of the galvanometer, needed no other evidence of an electric current that had passed through the cable. He saw it, and knew, as if he saw the flash of a gun on the coast of Ireland, that it was a light which had come from beyond the sea. But these private assurances were nothing to the outside world. What they needed was public messages, conveying news from one hemisphere to the other. Of these, there were not a great number, for obvious reasons. The cable, during the four weeks of its existence, never worked perfectly—that is, as a land line works, transmitting messages freely and rapidly, and with perfect accuracy. It was subject to frequent interruptions for reasons which may satisfy any one that the wonder is, not that it did so little, but that it did so much.

1st. To begin with, the cable was not constructed in the most perfect manner. Its makers, though the best then in the world, had had but little experience in making deep-sea cables. No line over three hundred miles long had ever been laid. 2d. It had been made more than a year before. After it was finished, part of it had been coiled out of doors, where it was exposed to a burning sun, by which, as was afterward found, the gutta-percha had been melted in many places till the insulation was nearly destroyed. 3d. It had been put on board the ships in 1857, and after the first failure, had been taken out and coiled on the dock at Plymouth, and then re-shipped in 1858. Thus it had been twisted and untwisted, some portions of it as many as ten times. Then the Agamemnon was so shaken in the terrible gale of June, that the cable on board of her was seriously injured, and some portions were cut out and condemned. Taking all these things together, the wonder is, not that the cable failed after a month, but that it ever worked at all!

Owing to this impaired state of the cable, it did not work perfectly. Probably it would not have worked at all with ordinary instruments. But the galvanometer of Professor Thomson, that instrument of marvellous delicacy, drew faint whispers from its muttering lips. Signals came and went, which showed that the electric current passed from shore to shore, and gave promise that with delicate handling it could be taught to speak plainly. But for the present it spoke slowly and with difficulty. It often took hours to get through a single despatch of any length. Witness the delay in transmitting the Queen's message! These frequent interruptions were ascribed to various causes. Sometimes it was earth-currents; at others, a thunderstorm was raging. Thus, on the morning of Thursday, the twenty-sixth of August, there was a violent storm in Newfoundland, heavy rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning. At three o'clock, the lightning was so intense that for an hour and a half the end of the cable had to be put to the earth for protection. After that the storm cleared away, and at seven o'clock the weather was reported as very fine. But aside from these local and temporary causes, the real difficulty was in the cable itself, whose insulation had been fatally impaired, and which was now wearing out its life on the rocks of the sea. These causes made its speech difficult and broken. Yet sometimes it flashed up with sudden power. In one case, a message was sent from the office at Trinity Bay to Ireland and an answer received back in two minutes! Such incidents excited the liveliest hopes that all difficulties would be speedily overcome, and justified the messages which were sent to the New York papers from day to day, that the instruments were being adjusted, by which it was expected that the line would soon be put in perfect working order, and be thrown open to the public. But these flashes of light proved to be only the flickering of the flame, that was soon to be extinguished in the eternal darkness of the waters.

But the question which perplexed not only skeptics, but the truest friends, was not whether the cable worked fast or slow, but whether it ever worked at all. Happily, this is a question which can easily be settled, since it is one simply of facts and dates, which can be ascertained by referring to the files of the English and American papers. Of course the only proof must be in messages containing news. Mere congratulations between the Queen and the President, or the Mayor of New York and the Mayor of London, prove nothing, for these might have been prepared beforehand, if we suppose a design to impose on the credulity of the public. But the decisive test is this: Was there at any time within that month published in the English or American journals news which could not be matter of guess or conjecture, and within a time too short for its possible transmission in any other way? If this can be proved beyond all doubt, even in a few instances, the question is decided, for the argument is just as strong with a dozen cases as with a thousand. We give, therefore, a few dates, the accuracy of which can be tested by any one who will take the trouble to examine the English and American papers:

On Saturday, the fourteenth of August, the steamships Arabia and Europa, the former bound for New York and the latter for Liverpool, came into collision off Cape Race. The accident was not known in New York until Tuesday, the seventeenth, since it could not be telegraphed till the Arabia reached Halifax or the Europa St. John's, into which port she put for repairs. As soon as the news reached New York, the agent of the Company, Mr. Nimmo (Mr. Cunard himself being then in England), at once prepared a despatch to be sent to relieve immediate anxiety. This was not forwarded to Newfoundland, as peremptory orders had been given not to transmit any private business messages to go through the cable until the line was fully open to the public. But the next day Mr. Field arrived in New York, and Mr. Nimmo applied to him. Seeing the urgency of the case, he ordered it to be forwarded. It was accordingly sent, and arrived in London on the twentieth, giving the first news that was received of the accident. This was repeatedly stated by the late Sir Samuel Cunard, of London, and confirmed by his son Mr. Edward Cunard, of New York. The message was published in the London papers of the twenty-first, as follows:

"Arabia in collision with Europa, Cape Race, Saturday. Arabia on her way. Head slightly injured. Europa lost bowsprit, cutwater stem sprung. Will remain in St. John's ten days from sixteenth. Persia calls at St. John's for mails and passengers. No loss of life or limb."

This first news message was not only a very decisive one as to the fact of telegraphic communication, but one which showed the relief given by speedy knowledge in dispelling doubt and fear. Mr. William E. Dodge, of New York, says: "I was in Liverpool at the time, and expecting friends by the Europa. Any delay in the arrival of the ship would have caused great anxiety. But one morning, on going down to the Exchange, we saw posted up this despatch received the night before by the Atlantic Telegraph. All then said, if the cable never did any thing more, it had fully repaid its cost." Well may he add with devout feeling: "It seemed as if Divine Providence had permitted the event, to furnish a testimony which could not be denied, to the reality and the benefit of this new means of communication between the two continents."

Passing over all the messages exchanged between the operators at the stations, the congratulations of Queen and President, and of the Mayors of New York and London, we come to another news despatch. August twenty-fifth, Newfoundland reports to Valentia:

"Persia takes Europa's passengers and mails. Great rejoicing everywhere at success of cable. Bonfires, fireworks, feux de joie, speeches, balls, etc. Mr. Eddy, the first and best telegrapher in the States, died to-day. Pray give some news for New York; they are mad for news."

This despatch the writer, who was then in Europe, read first in the London Times. The item which arrested his attention was the death of Mr. Eddy, as he had some acquaintance with that gentleman.

That the news must have come by cable, is clearly shown by an examination of dates. He died suddenly, at Burlington, Vermont, Monday, August twenty-third, 1858, at ten o'clock fifteen minutes a.m. The exact day and hour we learned from his widow, who after his death lived in Brooklyn. The news was telegraphed to New York, and from there sent to Trinity Bay, which it reached the following day, and from which it was forwarded to Valentia, and appeared in the London Times Wednesday morning. Thus not forty-eight hours elapsed after he breathed his last, before it was published in England. If any one wishes to see the despatch, he will find a file of The Times in the Astor Library.

But here appears a slight discrepancy, that, however, when examined, furnishes double proof. The despatch is dated August twenty-fifth, and says Mr. Eddy died to-day, and yet it is published in the London Times of the same date! How is this? It was sent between nine and ten o'clock at night of the twenty-fourth, when the operator at Heart's Content would say this day of a piece of news just received, but in affixing the date, he was governed by Greenwich time, which made it more than three hours later. Accordingly it was published in The Times, dated August twenty-fifth, fifty-three minutes past twelve a.m.!

Those who argued for the theory of collusion and deception, must have been embarrassed by this unexpected intelligence appearing in London, which could only be explained as a false report, unless (more wonderful still!) Mr. Eddy had entered into the plot, and sent the message beforehand, and then offered himself as a sacrifice, to prove it correct!

To the demand for news in the above despatch, a reply was at once returned: "Sent to London for news." And later the same day came the following:

"North American with Canadian, and the Asia with direct Boston mails, leave Liverpool, and Fulton, Southampton, Saturday next. To-day's morning papers have long, interesting reports by Bright. Indian news. Virago arrived at Liverpool to-day; Bombay dates nineteenth July. Mutiny being rapidly quelled."

A despatch of the same date, August twenty-fifth, also announces peace with China. The whole was received at Trinity Bay about nine o'clock p.m., and would have been sent on at once to New York, but that the land lines in Nova Scotia were closed at that hour. It was sent the next morning, and appeared in the evening papers of the twenty-sixth.

By referring again to the London Times, the reader will see that the news from China was published in London on the twenty-third of August. It was there given as unexpected news, so that it could not have been a shrewd guess on the part of anybody either in England or America. It took the public by surprise, both for the news itself and for the way in which it came—which was not by India and the Red Sea, but by St. Petersburg, where it arrived on the twenty-first, having been brought overland by a courier to Prince Gortchakoff. From there it was telegraphed to the Government at Paris, and thence to London. The Times comments on this roundabout way in which intelligence so important reached England. Yet this news, so unlooked for, announced in London only on the morning of the twenty-third of August, was published in New York on the twenty-sixth.

August twenty-seventh, comes a still longer despatch, which we give in full:

"George Saward, Secretary Atlantic Telegraph Company, to Associated Press, New York. News for America by Atlantic cable. Emperor of France returned to Paris, Saturday. King of Prussia too ill to visit Queen Victoria. Her Majesty returns to England thirtieth of August.—St. Petersburg, twenty-first of August. Settlement of Chinese question. Chinese empire opened to trade; Christian religion allowed; foreign diplomatic agents admitted; indemnity to England and France.—Alexandria, August ninth. The Madras arrived at Suez seventh inst. Dates Bombay to the nineteenth; Aden, thirty-first. Gwalior insurgent army broken up. All India becoming tranquil."

This despatch embodies about a dozen distinct items of news, not one of which could be known without a telegraphic communication. The whole was received in New York, and published in the evening papers the same day.

Not to be outdone in giving news, the next day, Saturday, August twenty-eighth, Newfoundland thus replies to Valentia:

"To the Directors: Take news first, Saward. Sir William Williams, of Kars, arrived Halifax Tuesday. Enthusiastically received. Immense procession—welcome address—feeling reply. Held levee—large number presented. Niagara sailed for Liverpool at one this morning. The Gorgon arrived at Halifax last night. Yellow fever in New Orleans, sixty to seventy deaths per day. Also declared epidemic, Charleston. Great preparations in New York and other places for celebration, to be held the first and second of September. New Yorkers will make it the greatest gala-day ever known in this country. Hermann sailed for Fraser's River; six hundred passengers. Prince Albert sailed yesterday for Galway. Arabia and Ariel arrived New York; Anglo Saxon, Quebec; Canada, Boston. Europa left St. John's this morning. Splendid aurora Bay of Bulls to-night, extending over eighty-five degrees of the horizon."

Let any one read this despatch, sentence by sentence, noting the minuteness of the details—which could not be known or conjectured—such as the appearance of yellow fever at New Orleans, with the number of deaths a day; the sailing or arrival of seven steamers; the number of passengers for Fraser's River, etc.—and then examine the London Times, in which all these items appeared Monday morning, August thirtieth, and if he does not admit that collusion or deception is out of the question, no amount of evidence could convince him.

We will give but one proof more. On the last day of August, the day before the cable ceased to work, Valentia sent to Newfoundland two messages for the British Government, both signed by "the Military Secretary to the Commander-in-Chief, Horse Guards, London," and addressed—the first to General Trollope, Halifax, which said, "The Sixty-second regiment is not to return to England;" and the other to the General Officer commanding at Montreal, saying: "The Thirty-ninth regiment is not to return to England." The year before (1857) had witnessed the Sepoy Mutiny, which threatened the overthrow of the British Empire in India. The fighting was over, but the country was still agitated, and the Home Government in fear that the rebellion might be renewed, so that it continued to send forward fresh troops. It had sent out orders by mail for these two regiments to embark immediately for home, to be sent to India. But the mutiny being nearly suppressed, this was found not to be necessary, and the prompt countermanding of the order by telegraph saved the British Government, in the cost of transportation of troops, not less than fifty thousand pounds. The despatch to Halifax was received the same day that it was sent from London. The sending of this despatch, and its almost immediate reception, is attested by an official letter from the War Office in London.

This array of proofs of what took place a quarter of a century ago, may seem superfluous now that experience has made despatches from the other side of the ocean one of the familiar things of our daily life. And yet at that date the achievement was so stupendous, and, as some thought, in its very nature so incredible, that men of the greatest intelligence could not be convinced. The late Mr. Charles O'Conor continued for years to quote the fact that some men believed that a message had actually passed across the Atlantic as the most amazing illustration of human credulity! Happily he lived to see and to appreciate to its full value this latest miracle of scientific discovery, applied by human genius and skill.