The second of the two disasters referred to, occurred on the 16th of August, 1865, upon the Housatonic road of Connecticut. A new engine was out upon an experimental trip, and in rounding a curve it ran into the rear of a passenger train, which, having encountered a disabled freight train, had coupled on to it and was then backing down with it to a siding in order to get by. In this case the impetus was so great that the colliding locomotive utterly destroyed the rear car of the passenger train and penetrated some distance into the car preceding it, where its boiler burst. Fortunately the train was by no means full of passengers; but, even as it was, eleven persons were killed and some seventeen badly injured.
CHAPTER XVI.
NOVEL APPLIANCES.
The great peculiarity of the Revere accident, and that which gave a permanent interest to it, lay in the revelation it afforded of the degree in which a system had outgrown its appliances. At every point a deficiency was apparent. The railroads of New England had long been living on their early reputation, and now, when a sudden test was applied, it was found that they were years behind the time. In August, 1871, the Eastern railroad was run as if it were a line of stage-coaches in the days before the telegraph. Not in one point alone, but in everything, it broke down under the test. The disaster was due not to any single cause but to a combination of causes implicating not only the machinery and appliances in use by the company, but its discipline and efficiency from the highest official down to the meanest subordinate. In the first place the capacity of the road was taxed to the utmost; it was vital, almost, that every wheel should be kept in motion. Yet, under that very exigency, the wheels stopped almost as a matter of necessity. How could it be otherwise?—Here was a crowded line, more than half of which was equipped with but a single track, in operating which no reliance was placed upon the telegraph. With trains running out of their schedule time and out of their schedule place, engineers and conductors were left to grope their way along as best they could in the light of rules, the essence of which was that when in doubt they were to stand stock still. Then, in the absence of the telegraph, a block occurred almost at the mouth of the terminal station; and there the trains stood for hours in stupid obedience to a stupid rule, because the one man who, with a simple regard to the dictates of common sense, was habitually accustomed to violate it happened to be sick. Trains commonly left a station out of time and out of place; and the engineer of an express train was sent out to run a gauntlet the whole length of the road with a simple verbal injunction to look out for some one before him. Then, at last, when this express train through all this chaos got to chasing an accommodation train, much as a hound might course a hare, there was not a pretence of a signal to indicate the time which had elapsed between the passage of the two, and employés, lanterns in hand, gaped on in bewilderment at the awful race, concluding that they could not at any rate do anything to help matters, but on the whole they were inclined to think that those most immediately concerned must know what they were about. Finally, even when the disaster was imminent, when deficiency in organization and discipline had done its worst, its consequences might yet have been averted through the use of better appliances; had the one train been equipped with the Westinghouse brake, already largely in use in other sections of the country, it might and would have been stopped; or had the other train been provided with reflecting tail-lights in place of the dim hand-lanterns which glimmered on its rear platform, it could hardly have failed to make its proximity known. Any one of a dozen things, every one of which should have been but was not, ought to have averted the disaster. Obviously its immediate cause was not far to seek. It lay in the carelessness of a conductor who failed to consult his watch, and never knew until the crash came that his train was leisurely moving along on the time of another. Nevertheless, what can be said in extenuation of a system under which, at this late day, a railroad is operated on the principle that each employé under all circumstances can and will take care of himself and of those whose lives and limbs are entrusted to his care?
There is, however, another and far more attractive side to the picture. The lives sacrificed at Revere were not lost in vain. Seven complete railroad years passed by between that and the Wollaston Heights accident of 1878. During that time not less than two hundred and thirty millions of persons were carried by rail within the limits of Massachusetts. Of this vast number while only 50, or about one in each four and a half millions, sustained any injury from causes beyond their own power to control, the killed were just two. This certainly was a record with which no community could well find fault; and it was due more than anything else to the great disaster of August 26, 1871. More than once, and on more than one road, accidents occurred which, but for the improved appliances introduced in consequence of the experience at Revere, could hardly have failed of fatal results. Not that these appliances were in all cases very cheerfully or very eagerly accepted. Neither the Miller platform nor the Westinghouse brake won its way into general use unchallenged. Indeed, the earnestness and even the indignation with which presidents and superintendents then protested that their car construction was better and stronger than Miller's; that their antiquated handbrakes were the most improved brakes,—better, much better, than the Westinghouse; that their crude old semaphores and targets afforded a protection to trains which no block-system would ever equal,—all this certainly was comical enough, even in the very shadow of the great tragedy. Men of a certain type always have protested and will always continue to protest that they have nothing to learn; yet, under the heavy burden of responsibility, learn they still do. They dare not but learn. On this point the figures of the Massachusetts annual returns between the year 1871 and the year 1878 speak volumes. At the time of the Revere disaster, with one single honorable exception,—that of the Boston & Providence road,—both the atmospheric train-brake and the Miller platform, the two greatest modern improvements in American car construction, were practically unrecognized on the railroads of Massachusetts. Even a year later, but 93 locomotives and 415 cars had been equipped even with the train-brake. In September, 1873, the number had, however, risen to 194 locomotives and 709 cars; and another twelve months carried these numbers up to 313 locomotives and 997 cars. Finally in 1877 the state commissioners in their report for that year spoke of the train-brake as having been then generally adopted, and at the same time called attention to the very noticeable fact "that the only railroad accident resulting in the death of a passenger from causes beyond his control within the state during a period of two years and eight months, was caused by the failure of a company to adopt this improvement on all its passenger rolling-stock." The adoption of Miller's method of car construction had meanwhile been hardly less rapid. Almost unknown at the time of the Revere catastrophe in September, 1871, in October, 1873, when returns on the subject were first called for by the state commissioners, eleven companies had already adopted it on 778 cars out of a total number of 1548 reported. In 1878 it had been adopted by twenty-two companies, and applied to 1685 cars out of a total of 1792. In other words it had been brought into general use.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE AUTOMATIC ELECTRIC BLOCK SYSTEM.
A realizing sense of the necessity of ultimately adopting some system of protection against the danger of rear-end collisions was, above all else, brought directly home to American railroad managers through the Revere disaster. In discussing and comparing the appliances used in the practical operation of railroads in different countries, there is one element, however, which can never be left out of the account. The intelligence, quickness of perception and capacity for taking care of themselves—that combination of qualities which, taken together, constitute individuality and adaptability to circumstance—vary greatly among the railroad employés of different countries. The American locomotive engineer, as he is called, is especially gifted in this way. He can be relied on to take care of himself and his train under circumstances which in other countries would be thought to insure disaster. Volumes on this point were included in the fact that though at the time of the Revere disaster many of the American lines, especially in Massachusetts, were crowded with the trains of a mixed traffic, the necessity of making any provision against rear-end collisions, further than by directing those in immediate charge of the trains to keep a sharp look out and to obey their printed orders, seemed hardly to have occurred to any one. The English block system was now and then referred to in a vague, general way; but it was very questionable whether one in ten of those referring to it knew anything about it or had ever seen it in operation, much less investigated it. A characteristic illustration of this was afforded in the course of those official investigations which followed the Revere disaster, and have already more than once been alluded to. Prior to that disaster the railroads of Massachusetts had, as a rule, enjoyed a rather exceptional freedom from accidents, and there was every reason to suppose that their regulations were as exact and their system as good as those in use in other parts of the country. Yet it then appeared that in the rules of very few of the Massachusetts roads had any provision, even of the simplest character, been made as to the effect of telegraphic orders, or the course to be pursued by employés in charge of trains on their receipt. The appliances for securing intervals between following trains were marked by a quaint simplicity. They were, indeed, "singularly primitive," as the railroad commissioners on a subsequent occasion described them, when it appeared that on one of the principal roads of the state the interval between two closely following trains was signalled to the engineer of the second train by a station-master's holding up to him as he passed a number of fingers corresponding to the number of minutes since the first train had gone by. For the rest the examination revealed, as the nearest approach to a block system, a queer collection of dials, sand-glasses, green flags, colored lanterns and hand-targets. The climax in the course of that investigation was, however, reached when some reference, involving a description of it, was made to the English block. This was met by a protest on the part of one veteran superintendent, who announced that it might work well under certain circumstances, but for himself he could not be responsible for the operation of a road running the number of trains he had charge of in reliance on any such system. The subject, in fact, was one of which he knew absolutely nothing;—not even that, through the block system and through it alone, fourteen trains were habitually and safely moved under circumstances where he moved one. This occurred in 1871, and though eight years have since elapsed information in regard to the block system is not yet very widely disseminated inside of railroad circles, much less outside of them. It is none the less a necessity of the future. It has got to be understood, and, in some form, it has got to be adopted; for even in America there are limits to the reliance which, when the lives and limbs of many are at stake, can be placed on the "sharp look out" of any class of men, no matter how intelligent they may be.
The block system is of English origin, and it scarcely needs to be said that it was adopted by the railroad corporations of that country only when they were driven to it by the exigencies of their traffic. But for that system, indeed, the most costly portion of the tracks of the English roads must of necessity have been duplicated years ago, as their traffic had fairly outgrown those appliances of safety which have even to this time been found sufficient in America. There were points, for instance, where two hundred and seventy regular trains of one line alone passed daily. On the London & North-Western there are more than sixty through down trains, taking no account of local trains, each day passing over the same line of tracks, among which are express trains which stop nowhere, way trains which stop everywhere, express-freight, way-freight, mineral trains and parcel trains. On the Midland road there are nearly twice as many similar trains on each track. On the Metropolitan railway the average interval is three and one-third minutes between trains. In one case points were mentioned where 270 regular trains of one line alone passed a given junction during each twenty-four hours,—where 470 trains passed a single station, the regular interval between them being but five-eighths of a mile,—where 132 trains entered and left a single station during three hours of each evening every day, being one train in eighty-two seconds. In 1870 there daily reached or left the six stations of the Boston roads some 385 trains; while no less than 650 trains a day were in the same year received and despatched from a single one of the London stations. On one single exceptional occasion 1,111 trains, carrying 145,000 persons, were reported as entering and leaving this station in the space of eighteen hours, being rather more than a train a minute. Indeed it may well be questioned whether the world anywhere else furnishes an illustration so apt and dramatic of the great mechanical achievements of recent times as that to be seen during the busy hours of any week-day from the signal and interlocking galleries which span the tracks as they enter the Charing Cross or Cannon street stations in London. Below and in front of the galleries the trains glide to and fro, coming suddenly into sight from beyond the bridges and as suddenly disappearing,—winding swiftly in and out, and at times four of them running side by side on as many tracks but in both directions,—the whole making up a swiftly shifting maze of complex movement under the influence of which a head unaccustomed to the sight grows actually giddy. Yet it is all done so quietly and smoothly, with such an absence of haste and nervousness on the part of the stolid operators in charge, that it is not easy to decide which most to wonder at, the almost inconceivable magnitude and despatch of the train-movement or the perfection of the appliances which make it possible. No man concerned in the larger management of railroads, who has not passed a morning in those London galleries, knows what it is to handle a great city's traffic.
Perfect as it is in its way, however, it may well be questioned whether the block system as developed in England is likely to be generally adopted on American railroads. Upon one or two of them, and notably on the New Jersey Central and a division of the Pennsylvania, it has already been in use for a number of years. From an American point of view, however, it is open to a number of objections. That in itself it is very perfect and has been successfully elaborated so as to provide for almost every possible contingency is proved by the results daily accomplished by means of it.[13] The English lines are made to do an incredible amount of work with comparative few accidents. The block system is, however, none the less a very clumsy and complicated one, necessitating the constant employment of a large number of skilled operators. Here is the great defect in it from the American point of view. In this country labor is scarce and capital costly. The effort is always towards the perfecting of labor-saving machines. Hitherto the pressure of traffic on the lines has not been greater than could be fairly controlled by simpler appliances, and the expense of the English system is so heavy that its adoption, except partially, would not have been warranted. As Barry says in his treatise on the subject, "one can 'buy gold too dear'; for if every possible known precaution is to be taken, regardless of cost, it may not pay to work a railway at all."
It is tolerably safe, therefore, to predict that the American block system of the future will be essentially different from the present English system. The basis—electricity—will of course be the same; but, while the operator is everywhere in the English block, his place will be supplied to the utmost possible degree by automatic action in the American. It is in this direction that the whole movement since the Revere disaster has been going on, and the advance has been very great. From peculiarities of condition also the American block must be made to cover a multitude of weak points in the operation of roads, and give timely notice of dangers against which the English block provides only to a limited degree, and always through the presence of yet other employés. For instance, as will presently be seen, many more accidents and, in Europe even, far greater loss of life is caused by locomotives coming in contact with vehicles at points where highways cross railroad tracks at a level therewith than by rear-end collisions; meanwhile throughout America, even in the most crowded suburban neighborhoods, these crossings are the rule, whereas in Europe they are the exception. The English block affords protection against this danger by giving electric notice to gatemen; but gatemen are always supposed. So also as respects the movements of passengers in and about stations in crossing tracks as they come to or leave the trains, or prepare to take their places in them. The rule in Europe is that passenger crossings at local stations are provided over or under the tracks; in America, however, almost nowhere is any provision at all made, but passengers, men, women and children, are left to scramble across tracks as best they can in the face of passing trains. They are expected to take care of themselves, and the success with which they do it is most astonishing. Having been brought up to this self-care all their lives, they do not, as would naturally be supposed, become confused and stumble under the wheels of locomotives; and the statistics seem to show that no more accidents from this cause occur in America than in Europe. Nevertheless some provision is manifestly desirable to notify employés as well as passengers that trains are approaching, especially where way-stations are situated on curves.
Again, it is well known that, next to collisions, the greatest source of danger to railroad trains is due to broken tracks. It is, of course, apparent that tracks may at any time be broken by accident, as by earth-slides, derailment or the fracture of rails. This danger has to be otherwise provided for; the block has nothing to do with it further than to prevent a train delayed by any such break from being run into by any following train. The broken track which the perfect block should give notice of is that where the break is a necessary incident to the regular operation of the road. It is these breaks which, both in America and elsewhere, are the fruitful source of the great majority of railroad accidents, and draw-bridges and switches, or facing points as they are termed in the English reports, are most prominent among them. Wherever there is a switch, the chances are that in the course of time there will be an accident.
Four matters connected with train movement have now been specified, in regard to which some provision is either necessary or highly desirable: these are rear collisions, tracks broken at draw-bridges or at switches, highway grade crossings, and the notification of agents and passengers at stations. The effort in America, somewhat in advance of that crowded condition of the lines which makes the adoption of something a measure of present necessity, has been directed towards the invention of an automatic system which at one and the same time should cover all the dangers and provide for all the needs which have been referred to, eliminating the risks incident to human forgetfulness, drowsiness and weakness of nerves. Can reliable automatic provision thus be made?—The English authorities are of opinion that it cannot. They insist that "if automatic arrangements be adopted, however suitable they may be to the duties which they have to perform, they should in all cases be used as additions to, and not as substitutions for, safety machinery worked by competent signal-men. The signal-man should be bound to exercise his observation, care and judgment, and to act thereon; and the machine, as far as possible, be such that if he attempts to go wrong it shall check him."
It certainly cannot be said that the American electrician has as yet demonstrated the incorrectness of this conclusion, but he has undoubtedly made a good deal of progress in that direction. Of the various automatic blocks which have now been experimented with or brought into practice, the Hall Electric and the Union Safety Signal Company systems have been developed to a very marked degree of perfection. They depend for their working on diametrically opposite principles: the Hall signals being worked by means of an electric circuit caused by the action of wheels moving on the rails, and conveyed through the usual medium of wires; while, under the other system, the wires being wholly dispensed with, a continuous electric circuit is kept up by means of the rails, which are connected for the purpose, and the signals are then acted upon through the breaking of this normal circuit by the movement of locomotives and cars. So far as the signals are concerned, there is no essential difference between the two systems, except that Hall supplies the necessary motive force by the direct action of electricity, while in the other case dependence is placed upon suspended weights. Of the two the Hall system is the oldest and most thoroughly elaborated, having been compelled to pass through that long and useful tentative process common to all inventions, during which they are regarded as of doubtful utility and are gradually developed through a succession of partial failures. So far as Hall's system is concerned this period may now fairly be regarded as over, for it is in established use on a number of the more crowded roads of the North, and especially of New England, while the imperfections necessarily incident to the development of an appliance at once so delicate and so complicated, have for certain purposes been clearly overcome. Its signal arrangements, for instance, to protect draw-bridges, stations and grade-crossings are wholly distinct from its block system, through which it provides against dangers from collision and broken tracks. So far as draw-bridges are concerned, the protection it affords is perfect. Not only is its interlocking apparatus so designed that the opening of the draw blocks all approach to it, but the signals are also reciprocal; and if through carelessness or automatic derangement any train passes the block, the draw-tender is notified at once of the fact in ample time to stop it.
In the case of a highway crossing at a level, the electric bell under Hall's system is placed at the crossing, giving notice of the approaching train from the moment it is within half a mile until it passes; so that, where this appliance is in use, accidents can happen only through the gross carelessness of those using the highway. When the electric bell is silent there is no train within half a mile and the crossing is safe; it is not safe while the bell is ringing. As it now stands the law usually provides that the prescribed signals, either bell or whistle, shall be given from the locomotive as it approaches the highway, and at a fixed distance from it. The signal, therefore, is given at a distance of several hundred yards, more or less, from the point of danger. The electric system improves on this by placing the signal directly at the point of danger,—the traveller approaches the bell, instead of the bell approaching the traveller. At any point of crossing which is really dangerous,—that is at any crossing where trees or cuttings or buildings mask the railroad from the highway,—this distinction is vital. In the one case notice of the unseen danger must be given and cannot be unobserved; in the other case whether it is really given or not may depend on the condition of the atmosphere or the direction of the wind.
Usually, however, in New England the level crossings of the more crowded thoroughfares, perhaps one in ten of the whole number, are protected by gates or flag-men. Under similar circumstances in Great Britain there is an electric connection between a bell in the cabin of the gate-keeper and the nearest signal boxes of the block system on each side of the crossing, so that due notice is given of the approach of trains from either direction. In this country it has heretofore been the custom to warn gate-keepers by the locomotive whistle, to the intense annoyance of all persons dwelling near the crossing, or to make them depend for notice on their own eyes. Under the Hall system, however, the gate-keeper is automatically signalled to be on the look out, if he is attending to his duty; or, if he is neglecting it, the electric bell in some degree supplies his place, without releasing the corporation from its liability. In America the heavy fogs of England are almost unknown, and the brilliant head lights, heavy bells and shrill high whistles in use on the locomotives would at night, it might be supposed, give ample notice to the most careless of an approaching train. Continually recurring experience shows, however, that this is not the case. Under these circumstances the electric bell at the crossing becomes not only a matter of justice almost to the employé who is stationed there, but a watchman over him.
This, however, like the other forms of signals which have been referred to, is, in the electric system, a mere adjunct of its chief use, which is the block,—they are all as it were things thrown into the bargain. As contradistinguished from the English block, which insures only an unoccupied track, the automatic blocks seek to insure an unbroken track as well,—that is not only is each segment into which a road is divided, protected as respects following trains by, in the case of Hall's system, double signals watching over each other, the one at safety, the other at danger,—both having to combine to open the block,—but every switch or facing point, the throwing of which may break the main track, is also protected. The Union Signal Company's system it is claimed goes still further than this and indicates any break in the track, though due to accidental fracture or displacement of rails. Without attempting this the Hall system has one other important feature in common with the English block, and a very important feature, that of enabling station agents in case of sudden emergency to control the train movement within half a mile or more of their stations on either side. Within the given distance they can stop trains either leaving or approaching. The inability to do this has been the cause of some of the most disastrous collisions on record, and notably those at Revere and at Thorpe.
The one essential thing, however, in every perfect block system, whether automatic or worked by operators, is that in case of accident or derangement or doubt, the signal should rest at danger. This the Hall system now fully provides for, and in case even of the wilful displacement of a switch, an occurrence by no means without precedent in railroad experience, the danger signal could not but be displayed, even though the electric connection had been tampered with. Accidents due to wilfullness, however, can hardly be provided for except by police precautions. Train wrecking is not to be taken into account as a danger incident to the ordinary operation of a railroad. Carelessness or momentary inadvertence, or, most dangerous of all, that recklessness—that unnecessary assumption of risk somewhere or at some time, which is almost inseparable from a long immunity from disaster—these are the great sources of peril most carefully to be guarded against. The complicated and unceasing train movement depends upon many thousand employés, all of whom make mistakes or assume risks sometimes;—and did they not do so they would be either more or less than men. Being, however, neither angels nor machines, but ordinary mortals whose services are bought for money at the average market rate of wages, it would certainly seem no small point gained if an automatic machine could be placed on guard over those whom it is the great effort of railroad discipline to reduce to automatons. Could this result be attained, the unintentional throwing of a lever or the carelessness which leaves it thrown, would simply block the track instead of leaving it broken. An example of this, and at the same time a most forcible illustration of the possible cost of a small economy in the application of a safeguard, was furnished in the case of the Wollaston disaster. At the time of that disaster, the Old Colony railroad had for several years been partially equipped on the portion of its track near Boston, upon which the accident occurred, with Hall's system. It had worked smoothly and easily, was well understood by the employés, and the company was sufficiently satisfied with it to have even then made arrangements for its extension. Unfortunately, with a too careful eye to the expenditure involved, the line had been but partially equipped; points where little danger was apprehended had not been protected. Among these was the "Foundry switch," so called, near Wollaston. Had this switch been connected with the system and covered by a signal-target, the mere act of throwing it would have automatically blocked the track, and only when it was re-set would the track have been opened. The switch was not connected, the train hands were recklessly careless, and so a trifling economy cost in one unguarded moment some fifty persons life and limb, and the corporation more than $300,000.
One objection to the automatic block is generally based upon the delicacy and complicated character of the machinery on which its action necessarily depends; and this objection is especially urged against those other portions of the Hall system, covering draws and level crossings, which have been particularly described. It is argued that it is always liable to get out of order from a great multiplicity of causes, some of which are very difficult to guard against, and that it is sure to get out of order during any electric disturbance; but it is during storms that accidents are most likely to occur, and especially is this the case at highway grade-crossings. It is comparatively easy to avoid accidents so long as the skies are clear and the elements quiet; but it is exactly when this is not the case and when it becomes necessary to use every precaution, that electricity as a safeguard fails or runs mad, and, by participating in the general confusion, proves itself worse than nothing. Then it will be found that those in charge of trains and tracks, who have been educated into a reliance upon it under ordinary circumstances, will from force of habit, if nothing else, go on relying upon it, and disaster will surely follow.
This line of reasoning is plausible, but none the less open to one serious objection; it is sustained neither by statistics nor by practical experience. Moreover it is not new, for, slightly varied in phraseology, it has been persistently urged against the introduction of every new railroad appliance, and, indeed, was first and most persistently of all urged against the introduction of railroads themselves. Pretty and ingenious in theory, practically it is not feasible!—for more than half a century this formula has been heard. That the automatic electric signal system is complicated, and in many of its parts of most delicate construction, is undeniable. So also is the locomotive. In point of fact the whole railroad organization from beginning to end—from machine-shop to train-movement—is at once so vast and complicated, so delicate in that action which goes on with such velocity and power, that it is small cause for wonder that in the beginning all plain, sensible, practical men scouted it as the fanciful creation of visionaries. They were wholly justified in so doing; and to-day any sane man would of course pronounce the combined safety and rapidity of ordinary railroad movement an utter impossibility, did he not see it going on before his eyes. So it is with each new appliance. It is ever suggested that at last the final result has already been reached. It is but a few years, as will presently be seen, since the Westinghouse brake encountered the old "pretty and ingenious" formula. Going yet a step further, and taking the case of electricity itself, the bold conception of operating an entire line of single track road wholly as respects one half of its train movement by telegraph, and without the use of any time table at all, would once have been condemned as mad. Yet to-day half of the vast freight movement of this continent is carried on in absolute reliance on the telegraph. Nevertheless it is still not uncommon to hear among the class of men who rise to the height of their capacity in themselves being automaton superintendents that they do not believe in deviating from their time tables and printed rules; that, acting under them, the men know or ought to know exactly what to do, and any interference by a train despatcher only relieves them of responsibility, and is more likely to lead to accidents than if they were left alone to grope their own way out.
Another and very similar argument frequently urged against the electric, in common with all other block systems by the large class who prefer to exercise their ingenuity in finding objections rather than in overcoming difficulties, is that they breed dependence and carelessness in employés;—that engine-drivers accustomed to rely on the signals, rely on them implicitly, and get into habits of recklessness which lead inevitably to accidents, for which they then contend the signals, and not they themselves, are responsible. This argument is, indeed, hardly less familiar than the "pretty and ingenious" formula just referred to. It has, however, been met and disposed of by Captain Tyler in his annual reports to the Board of Trade in a way which can hardly be improved upon:—
It is a favorite argument with those who oppose the introduction of some of these improvements, or who make excuses for the want of them, that their servants are apt to become more careless from the use of them, in consequence of the extra security which they are believed to afford; and it is desirable to consider seriously how much of truth there is in this assertion. * * * Allowing to the utmost for these tendencies to confide too much in additional means of safety, the risk is proved by experience to be very much greater without them than with them; and, in fact, the negligence and mistakes of servants are found to occur most frequently, and generally with the most serious results, not when the men are over-confident in their appliances or apparatus, but when, in the absence of them, they are habituated to risk in the conduct of the traffic. In the daily practice of railway working station-masters, porters, signalmen, engine-drivers or guards are frequently placed in difficulties which they have to surmount as best they can. The more they are accustomed to incur risk in order to perform their duties, the less they think of it, and the more difficult it is to enforce discipline and obedience to regulations. The personal risk which is encountered by certain classes of railway servants is coming to be more precisely ascertained. It is very considerable; and it is difficult to prevent men who are in constant danger themselves from doing things which may be a source of danger to others, or to compel them to obey regulations for which they do not see altogether the necessity, and which impede them in their work. This difficulty increases with the want of necessary means and appliances; and is diminished when, with proper means and appliances, stricter discipline becomes possible, safer modes of working become habitual, and a higher margin of safety is constantly preserved.[14]
In Great Britain the ingenious theory that superior appliances or greater personal comfort in some indefinable way lead to carelessness in employés was carried to such an extent that only within the last few years has any protection against wind, rain and sunshine been furnished on locomotives for the engine-drivers and stokers. The old stage-coach driver faced the elements, and why should not his successor on the locomotive do the same?—If made too comfortable, he would become careless and go to sleep!—This was the line of argument advanced, and the tortures to which the wretched men were subjected in consequence of it led to their fortifying nature by drink. They had to be regularly inspected and examined before mounting the foot-board, to see that they were sober. It took years in Great Britain for intelligent railroad managers to learn that the more protected and comfortable a man is the better he will attend to his duty. And even when the old argument, refuted by long experience, was at last abandoned as respected the locomotive cab, it, with perfect freshness and confidence in its own novelty and force, promptly showed its brutal visage in opposition to the next new safeguard.
For the reasons which Captain Tyler has so forcibly put in the extracts which have just been quoted, the argument against the block system from the increased carelessness of employés, supposed to be induced by it, is entitled to no weight. Neither is the argument from the delicacy and complication of the automatic, electric signal system entitled to any more, when urged against that. Not only has it been too often refuted under similar conditions by practical results, but in this case it is based on certain assumptions of fact which are wholly opposed to experience. The record does not show that there is any peculiar liability to railroad accidents during periods of storm; perhaps because those in charge of train movements or persons crossing tracks are under such circumstances more especially on the look out for danger. On the contrary the full average of accidents of the worst description appear to have occurred under the most ordinary conditions of weather, and usually in the most unanticipated way. This is peculiarly true of accidents at highway grade crossings. These commonly occur when the conditions are such as to cause the highway travelers to suppose that, if any danger existed, they could not but be aware of it. In the next place, the question in regard to automatic electric signals is exactly what it was in regard to the Westinghouse brake, with its air-pump, its valves and connecting tubes;—it is the purely practical question,—Does the thing work?—The burden of proof is properly on the inventor. The presumption is all against him. In the case of the electric signals they have for years been in limited but constant use, and while thus in use they have been undergoing steady improvement. Though now brought to a considerable degree of comparative perfection they are, of course, still in their earlier stage of development. In use, however, they have not been found open to the practical objections urged against them. At first much too complicated and expensive, requiring more machinery than could by any reasonable exertions be kept in order and more care than they were worth, they have now been simplified until a single battery properly located can do all the necessary work for a road of indefinite length. As a system they are effective and do not lead to accidents; nor are they any more subject than telegraph wires to derangement from atmospheric causes. When any disturbance does take place, until it can be overcome it amounts simply to a general signal for operating the road with extreme caution. But with railroads, as everywhere else in life, it is the normal condition of affairs for which provision must be made, while the dangers incident to exceptional circumstances must be met by exceptional precautions. As long as things are in their normal state, that is, probably, during nineteen days out of twenty, the electric signals have now through several years of constant trial proved themselves a reliable safeguard. It can hardly admit of doubt that in the near future they will be both further perfected and generally adopted.
CHAPTER XVIII.
INTERLOCKING.
In their management of switches, especially at points of railroad convergence where a heavy traffic is concentrated and the passage of trains or movement of cars and locomotives is unceasing, the English are immeasurably in advance of the Americans; and, indeed, of all other people. In fact, in this respect the American managers have shown themselves slow to learn, and have evinced an indisposition to adopt labor-saving appliances which, considering their usual quickness of discernment in that regard, is at first sight inexplicable. Having always been accustomed to the old and simple methods, just so long as they can through those methods handle their traffic with a bearable degree of inconvenience and expense, they will continue to do so. That their present method is most extravagant, just as extravagant as it would be to rent two houses or to run two steam engines where one, if properly used, could be made to suffice, admits of demonstration;—but the waste is not on the surface, and the necessity for economy is not imperative. The difference of conditions and the difference in results may be made very obvious by a comparison. Take, for instance, London and Boston—the Cannon street station in the one and the Beach street station in the other. The concentration of traffic at London is so great that it becomes necessary to utilize every foot of ground devoted to railroad purposes to the utmost possible extent. Not only must it be packed with tracks, but those tracks must never be idle. The incessant train movement at Cannon street has already been referred to as probably the most extraordinary and confusing spectacle in the whole wide circle of railroad wonders. The result is that in some way, at this one station and under this single roof, more trains must daily be made to enter and leave than enter and leave, not only the Beach street station, but all the eight railroad stations in Boston combined.[15]
During eighteen successive hours trains have been made to enter and leave this station at the rate of more than one in each minute. It contains four platforms and seven tracks, the longest of which is 720 feet. As compared with the largest station in Boston (the Boston & Providence), it has the same number of platforms and an aggregate of 1,500 (three-fifths) more feet of track under cover; it daily accommodates about nine times as many trains and four times as many passengers. Of it Barry, in his treatise on Railway Appliances (p. 197), says: "The platform area at this station is probably minimised but, the station accommodates efficiently a very large mixed traffic of long and short journey trains, amounting at times to as many as 400 trains in and 400 trains out in a working day.[16]"
The American system is, therefore, one of great waste; for, being conducted in the way it is—that is with stations and tracks utilized to but a fractional part of their utmost capacity—it requires a large number of stations and tracks and the services of many employés. Indeed it is safe to say that, judged by the London standard, not more than two of the eight stations in Boston are at this time utilized to above a quarter part of their full working capacity; and the same is probably true of all other American cities. Both employés and the travelling public are accustomed to a slow movement and abundance of room; land is comparatively cheap, and the pressure of concentration has only just begun to make itself felt. Accordingly any person, who cares to pass an hour during the busy time of day in front of an American city station, cannot but be struck, while watching the constant movement, with the primitive way in which it is conducted. Here are a multiplicity of tracks all connected with each other, and cars and locomotives are being passed from one to another from morning to night. A constant shifting of switches is going on, and the little shunting engines never stand still. The switches, however, as a rule, are unprovided with signals, except of the crudest description; they have no connection with each other, and during thirty years no change has been made in the method in which they are worked. When one of them has to be shifted, a man goes to it and shifts it. To facilitate the process, the monitor shunting engines are provided with a foot-board in front and behind, just above the track, upon which the yard hands jump, and are carried about from switch to switch, thus saving the time they would occupy if they had to walk. A simpler arrangement could not be imagined; anyone could devise it. The only wonder is that even a considerable traffic can be conducted safely in reliance upon it.
Turning from Beach to Cannon street, it is apparent that the train movement which has there to be accommodated would fall into inextricable confusion if it was attempted to manage it in the way which has been described. The number of trains is so great and the movement so rapid and intricate, that not even a regiment of employés stationed here and there at the signals and switches could keep things in motion. From time to time they would block, and then the whole vast machine would be brought to a standstill until order could be re-established. The difficulty is overcome in a very simple way, by means of an equally simple apparatus. The control over the numerous switches and corresponding signals, instead of being divided up among many men stationed at many points, is concentrated in the hands of two men occupying a single gallery, which is elevated across the tracks in front of the station and commanding the approaches to it, much as the pilot-house of an American steamer commands a view of the course before it. From this gallery, by means of what is known as the interlocking system, every switch and signal in the yard below is moved; and to such a point of perfection has the apparatus been carried, that any disaster from the misplacement of a switch or the display of a wrong signal is rendered impossible. Of this Cannon street apparatus Barry says, "there are here nearly seventy point and signal levers concentrated in one signal house; the number of combinations which would be possible if all the signal and point levers were not interlocked can be expressed only by millions. Of these only 808 combinations are safe, and by the interlocking apparatus these 808 combinations are rendered possible, and all the others impossible."[17]
It is not proposed to enter at any length into the mechanical details of this appliance, which, however, must be considered as one of the three or four great inventions which have marked epochs in the history of railroad traffic.[18] As, however, it is but little known in America, and will inevitably within the next few years find here the widest field for its increased use, a slight sketch of its gradual development and of its leading mechanical features may not be out of place. Prior to the year 1846 the switches and signals on the English roads were worked in the same way that they are now commonly worked in this country. As a train drew near to a junction, for instance, the switchman stationed there made the proper track connection and then displayed the signal which indicated what tracks were opened and what closed, and which line had the right of way; and the engine-drivers acted accordingly. As the number of trains increased and the movement at the junctions became more complicated, the danger of the wrong switches being thrown or the wrong signals displayed, increased also. Mistakes from time to time would happen, even when only the most careful and experienced men were employed; and mistakes in these matters led to serious consequences. It, therefore, became the practice, instead of having the switch or signal lever at the point where the switch or signal itself was, as is still almost universally the case in this country, to connect them by rods or wires with their levers, which were concentrated at some convenient point for working, and placed under the control of one man instead of several. So far as it went this change was an improvement, but no provision yet existed against the danger of mistake in throwing switches and displaying signals. The blunder of first making one combination of tracks and then showing the signal for another was less liable to happen after the concentration of the levers under one hand than before, but it still might happen at any time, and certainly would happen at some time. If all danger of accident from human fallibility was ever to be eliminated a far more complicated mechanical apparatus must be devised. In response to this need the system of interlocking was gradually developed, though not until about the year 1856 was it brought to any considerable degree of perfection. The whole object of this system is to render it impossible for a switchman, whether because he is weary or agitated or actually malicious or only inexperienced, to give contrary signals, or to break his line in one way and to give the signal for its being broken in another way. To bring this about the levers are concentrated in a cabin or gallery, and placed side by side in a frame, their lower ends connecting with the switch-points and signals by means of rods and wires. Beneath this frame are one or more long bars, extending its entire length under it and parallel with it. These are called locking bars; for, being moved to the right or left by the action of the levers they hold these levers in certain designated positions, nor do they permit them to occupy any other. In this way what is termed the interlocking is effected. The apparatus, though complicated, is simplicity itself compared with a clock or a locomotive. The complication, also, such as it is, arises from the fact that each situation is a problem by itself, and as such has to be studied out and provided for separately. This, however, is a difficulty affecting the manufacturer rather than the operator. To the latter the apparatus presents no difficulty which a fairly intelligent mechanic cannot easily master; while for the former the highly complicated nature of the problem may, perhaps, best be inferred from the example given by Mr. Barry, the simplest that can offer, that of an ordinary junction where a double-track branch-road connects with its double-track main line. There would in this case be of necessity two switch levers and four signal levers, which would admit of sixty-four possible combinations. "The signal might be arranged in any of sixteen ways, and the points might occupy any of four positions, irrespective of the position of the signals. Of the sixty-four combinations thus possible only thirteen are safe, and the rest are such as might lure an engine-driver into danger."
Originally the locking bar was worked through the direct action of certain locks, as they were called, between which the levers when moved played to and fro. These locks were mere bars or plates of iron, some with inclined sides, and others with sides indented or notched. At one end they were secured on a pivot to a fixed bar opposite to and parallel with the movable locking bar, while their other ends were made fast to the locking bar; whence it necessarily followed that, as certain of the levers were pushed to and fro between them, the action of these levers on the inclined sides of the locks could by a skilful combination be made to throw other levers into the notches and indentations of other locks, thus securing them in certain positions, and making it impossible for them to be in any other positions.
The apparatus which has been described, though a great improvement on anything which had preceded it, was still but a clumsy affair, and naturally the friction of the levers on the locks was so great that they soon became worn, and when worn they could not be relied upon to move the switch-points with the necessary accuracy. The new appliance of safety had, therefore, as is often the case, introduced a new and very considerable danger of its own. The signals and switches, it was true, could no longer disagree, but the points themselves were sometimes not properly set, or, owing to the great exertion required to work it, the interlocking gear was strained. This difficulty resulted in the next and last improvement, which was a genuine triumph of mechanical ingenuity. To insure the proper length of stroke being made in moving the lever—that is to make it certain in each case that the switch points were brought into exactly the proper position—two notches were provided in the slot, or quadrant, as it is called, in which the lever moved, and, when it was thrown squarely home, and not until then, a spring catch caught in one or other of these notches. This spring was worked by a clasp at the handle of the lever, and the whole was called the spring catch-rod. By a singularly ingenious contrivance, the process of interlocking was transferred from the action of the levers and the keys to these spring catch-rods, which were made to work upon each other, and thus to become the medium through which the whole process is effected. The result of this improvement was that, as the switchman cannot move any lever until the spring-catch rod is fastened, except for a particular movement, he cannot, do what he will, even begin any other movement than that one, as the levers cannot be started. On the other hand, it may be said that, by means of this improvement, the mere "intention of the signal-man to move any lever, expressed by his grasping the lever and so raising the spring catch-rod, independently of his putting his intention in force, actuates all the necessary locking.[19]"
In spite of any theoretical or fanciful objections which may be urged against it, this appliance will be found an indispensable adjunct to any really heavy junction or terminal train movement. For the elevated railroads of New York, for instance, its early adoption proved a necessity. As for questions of temperature, climate, etc., as affecting the long connecting rods and wires which are an essential part of the system, objections based upon them are purely imaginary. Difficulties from this source were long since met and overcome by very simple compensating arrangements, and in practice occasion no inconvenience. That rods may break, and that wires are at all times liable to get out of gear, every one knows; and yet this fact is urged as a novel objection to each new mechanical improvement. That a broken or disordered apparatus will always occasion a serious disturbance to any heavy train movement, may also be admitted. The fact none the less remains that in practice, and daily subjected through long periods of time to incomparably the heaviest train movement known to railroad experience, the rods of the interlocking apparatus do not break, nor do its wires get out of gear; while by means of it, and of it alone, this train movement goes unceasingly on never knowing any serious disturbance.[20]
It is not, however, alone in connection with terminal stations and junctions that the interlocking apparatus is of value. It is also the scientific substitute for the law or regulation compelling trains to stop as a measure of precaution when they approach grade-crossings or draw-bridges. It is difficult indeed to pass from the consideration of this fine result of science and to speak with patience of the existing American substitute for it. If the former is a feature in the block system, the latter is a signal example of the block-head system. As a device to avoid danger it is a standing disgrace to American ingenuity; and, fortunately, as stopping is compatible only with a very light traffic, so soon as the passage of trains becomes incessant a substitute for it has got to be devised. In this country, as in England, that substitute will be found in the interlocking apparatus. By means of it the draw-bridge, for instance, can be so connected with the danger signals—which may, if desired, be gates closing across the railroad tracks—that the one cannot be opened except by closing the other. This is the method adopted in Great Britain not only at draws in bridges, but frequently also in the case of gates at level road crossings. It has already been noticed that in Great Britain accidents at draws in bridges seem to be unknown. Certainly not one has been reported during the last nine years. The security afforded in this case by interlocking would, indeed, seem to be absolute; as, if the apparatus is out of order, either the gates or the bridge would be closed, and could not be opened until it was repaired. So also as respects the grade-crossing of one railroad by another. Bringing all trains to a complete stop when approaching these crossings is a precaution quite generally observed in America, either as a matter of statute law or running regulation; and yet during the six years 1873-8 no less than 104 collisions were reported at these crossings. In Great Britain during the nine years 1870-8 but nine cases of accidents of this description were reported, and in both the years 1877 and 1878 under the head of "Accidents or Collisions on Level Crossings of Railways," the chief inspector of the Board of Trade tersely stated that,—"No accident was inquired into under this head.[21]" The interlocking system there affords the most perfect protection which can be devised against a most dangerous practice in railroad construction to which Americans are almost recklessly addicted. It is, also, matter of daily experience that the interlocking system does afford a perfect practical safeguard in this case. Every junction of a branch with a double track road involves a grade-crossing, and a grade-crossing of the most dangerous character. On the Metropolitan Elevated railroad of New York, at 53d street, there is one of these junctions, where, all day long, trains are crossing at grade at the rate of some twenty miles an hour. These trains never stop, except when signalled so to do. The interlocking apparatus, however, makes it impossible that one track should be open except when the other is closed. An accident, therefore, can happen only through the wilful carelessness of the engineer in charge of a train;—and in the face of wilful carelessness laws are of no more avail than signals. If a man in control of a locomotive wishes to bring on a collision he can always do it. Unless he wishes to, however, the interlocking apparatus not only can prevent him from so doing, but as a matter of fact always does. The same rule which holds good at junctions would hold good at level crossings. There is no essential difference between the two. By means of the interlocking apparatus the crossing can be so blocked at any desired distance from it in such a way that when one track is open the other must be closed;—unless, indeed, the apparatus is out of order, and then both would be closed. The precaution in this case, also, is absolute. Unlike the rule as to stopping, it does not depend on the caution or judgment of individuals;—there are the signals and the obstructions, and if they are not displayed on one road they are on the other. So superior is this apparatus in every respect—as regards safety as well as convenience—to the precaution of coming to a stop, that, as an inducement to introduce an almost perfect scientific appliance, it would be very desirable that states like Massachusetts and Connecticut compelling the stop, should except from the operation of the law all draw-bridges or grade-crossings at which suitable interlocking apparatus is provided. Surely it is not unreasonable that in this case science should have a chance to assert itself.
In any event, however, the general introduction of the interlocking apparatus into the American railroad system may be regarded as a mere question of the value of land and concentration of traffic. So long as every road terminating in our larger cities indulges, at whatever unnecessary cost to its stockholders, in independent station buildings far removed from business centres, the train movement can most economically be conducted as it now is. The expense of the interlocking apparatus is avoided by the very simple process of incurring the many fold heavier expense of several station buildings and vast disconnected station grounds. If, however, in the city of Boston, for instance, the time should come when the financial and engineering audacity of the great English companies shall be imitated,—when some leading railroad company shall fix its central passenger station on Tremont street opposite the head of Court street, just as in London the South Eastern established itself on Cannon street, and then this company carrying its road from Pemberton Square by a tunnel under Beacon Hill and the State-house should at the crossing of the Charles radiate out so as to afford all other roads an access for their trains to the same terminal point, thus concentrating there the whole daily movement of that busy population which makes of Boston its daily counting-room and market-place,—then, when this is attempted, the time will have come for utilizing to its utmost capacity every available inch of space to render possible the incessant passage of trains. Then also will it at last be realized that it is far cheaper to use a costly and intricate apparatus which enables two companies to be run into one convenient station, than it is to build a separate station, even at an inconvenient point, to accommodate each company.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE WESTINGHOUSE BRAKE.
In March, 1825, there appeared in the pages of the Quarterly Review an article in which the writer discussed that railway system, the first vague anticipation of which was then just beginning to make the world restless. He did this, too, in a very intelligent and progressive spirit, but unfortunately secured for his article a permanence of interest he little expected by the use of one striking illustration. He was peculiarly anxious to draw a distinct line of demarcation between his own very rational anticipations and the visionary dreams of those enthusiasts who were boring the world to death over the impossibilities which they claimed that the new invention was to work. Among these he referred to the proposition that passengers would be "whirled at the rate of eighteen or twenty miles an hour by means of a high pressure engine," and then contemptuously added,—"We should as soon expect the people of Woolwich to suffer themselves to be fired off upon one of Congreve's ricochet rockets, as trust themselves to the mercy of such a machine, going at such a rate; their property perhaps they may trust."
Under the circumstances, the criticism was a perfectly reasonable one. The danger involved in going at such a rate of speed and the impossibility of stopping in time to avoid a sudden danger, would naturally suggest themselves to any one as insuperable objections to the new system for any practical use. Some means of preserving a sudden and powerful control over a movement of such unheard of rapidity would almost as a matter of course be looked upon as a condition precedent. Yet it is a most noticeable fact in the history of railroad development that the improvement in appliances for controlling speed by no means kept pace with the increased rate of speed attained. Indeed, so far as the possibility of rapid motion is concerned, there is no reason to suppose that the Rocket could not have held its own very respectably by the side of a passenger locomotive of the present day. It will be remembered that on the occasion of the Manchester & Liverpool opening, Mr. Huskisson after receiving his fatal injury was carried seventeen miles in twenty-five minutes. Since then the details of locomotive construction have been simplified and improved upon, but no great change has been or probably will be effected in the matter of velocity;—as respects that the maximum was practically reached at once. Yet down to the year 1870 the brake system remained very much what it was in 1830. Improvements in detail were effected, but the essential principles were the same. In case of any sudden emergency, the men in charge of the locomotive had no direct control over the vehicles in the train; they communicated with them by the whistle, and when the signal was heard the brakes were applied as soon as might be. When a train is moving at the rate of forty miles an hour, by no means a great speed for it while in full motion, it passes over fifty-eight feet each second;—at sixty miles an hour it passes over eighty-eight feet. Under these circumstances, supposing an engine driver to become suddenly aware of an obstruction on the track, as was the case at Revere, or of something wrong in the train behind him, as at Shipton, he had first himself to signal danger, and to this signal the brakemen throughout the train had to respond. Each operation required time, and every second of time represented many feet of space. It was small matter for surprise, therefore, that when in 1875 they experimented scientifically in England, it was ascertained that a train of a locomotive and thirteen cars moving at a speed of forty-five miles an hour could not be brought to a stand in less than one minute, or before it had traversed a distance of half a mile. The same result it will be remembered was arrived at by practical experience in America, where both at Angola and at Port Jervis,[22] it was found impossible to stop the trains in less than half-a-mile, though in each case two derailed cars were dragging and plunging along at the end of them.
The need of a continuous train-brake, operated from the locomotive and under the immediate control of the engine-driver, had been emphasized through years by the almost regular recurrence of accidents of the most appalling character. In answer to this need almost innumerable appliances had been patented and experimented with both in Europe and in America. Prior to 1869, however, these had been almost exclusively what are known as emergency brakes;—that is, although the trains were equipped with them and they were operated from the locomotives, they were not relied upon for ordinary use, but were held in reserve, as it were, against special exigencies. The Hudson River railroad train at the Hamburg accident was thus equipped. Practically, appliances which in the operation of railroads are reserved for emergencies are usually found of little value when the emergency occurs. Accordingly no continuous brake had, prior to the development of Westinghouse's invention, worked its way into general use. Patent brakes had become a proverb as well as a terror among railroad mechanics, and they had ceased to believe that any really desirable thing of the sort would ever be perfected. Westinghouse, therefore, had a most unbelieving audience to encounter, and his invention had to fight hard for all the favor it won; nor did his experience with master mechanics differ, probably, much from Miller's. His first patents were taken out in 1869, and he early secured the powerful aid of the Pennsylvania road for his invention. The Pullman Car Company, also, always anxious to avail themselves of every appliance of safety as well as of comfort, speedily saw the merits of the new brake and adopted it; but, as they merely furnished cars and had nothing to do with the locomotives that pulled them, their support was not so effective as that of the great railroad company. Naturally enough, also, great hesitation was felt in adopting so complicated an appliance. It added yet another whole apparatus to a thing which was already overburdened with machinery. There was, also, something in the delicacy and precision of the parts of this new contrivance,—in its air-pump and reservoirs and long connecting tubes with their numerous valves,—which was peculiarly distasteful to the average practical railroad mechanic. It was true that the idea of transmitting power by means of compressed air was by no means new,—that thousands of drills were being daily driven by it wherever tunnelling was going on or miners were at work,—yet the application of this familiar power to the wheels of a railroad train seemed no less novel than it was bold. It was, in the first place, evident that the new apparatus would not stand the banging and hammering to which the old-fashioned hand-brake might safely be subjected; not indeed without deranging that simple appliance, but without incurring any very heavy bill for repairs in so doing. Accordingly the new brake was at first carelessly examined and patronizingly pushed aside as a pretty toy,—nice in theory no doubt, but wholly unfitted for rough, every-day use. As it was tersely expressed during a discussion before the Society of Arts in London, as recently as May, 1877,—"It was no use bringing out a brake which could not be managed by ordinary officials,—which was so wonderfully clever that those who had to use it could not understand it." A line of argument by the way, which, as has been already pointed out, may with far greater force be applied to the locomotive itself; and, indeed, unquestionably was so applied about half a century ago by men of the same calibre who apply it now, to the intense weariness and discouragement no doubt of the late George Stephenson. Whether sound or otherwise, however, few more effective arguments against an appliance can be advanced; and against the Westinghouse brake it was advanced so effectively, that even as late as 1871, although largely in use on western roads, it had found its way into Massachusetts only as an ingenious device of doubtful merit. It was in August, 1871, that the Revere disaster occurred, and the Revere disaster, as has been seen, would unquestionably have been averted had the colliding train been provided with proper brake power. This at last called serious attention there to the new appliance. Even then, however, the mere suggestion of something better being in existence than the venerable hand-brakes in familiar use did not pass without a vigorous protest; and at the meeting of railroad officials, which has already been referred to as having been called by the state commissioners after the accident, one prominent gentleman, when asked if the road under his charge was equipped with the most approved brake, indignantly replied that it was,—that it was equipped with the good, old-fashioned hand-brake;—and he then proceeded to vehemently stake his professional reputation on the absolute superiority of that ancient but somewhat crude appliance over anything else of the sort in existence. Nevertheless, on this occasion also, the great dynamic force which is ever latent in first-class railroad accidents again asserted itself. Even the most opinionated of professional railroad men, emphatically as he might in public deny it, quietly yielded as soon as might be. In a surprisingly short time after the exhibition of ignorance which has been referred to, the railroads in Massachusetts, as it has already been shown, were all equipped with train-brakes.[23]