where a large crowd had gathered at the railroad
depot. The names were announced to the crowd, and were confirmed when the first train arrived from Baltimore sixty-four minutes
later-forcing even the staunchest skeptics to eat their words.
The line was soon completed to Baltimore, and on May 24, 1844, Morse officially inaugurated it by transmitting a message from
the Supreme Court chamber in Washington to Vail in Baltimore: "WHAT HATH GOD WROUGHT." The wonders of the electric telegraph
were written up in the newspapers, and Morse's success seemed assured.
Yet after a while he realized that everybody still thought of the telegraph as a novelty, as nothing more than an amusing
subject for a newspaper article, rather than the revolutionary new form of communication that he envisaged.
I N BRITAIN, Cooke had by this time licensed the use of the Paddington-Slough line to a promoter, Thomas Home, who opened it
up for public demonstration. The poster printed to advertise this new attraction says a lot about the way it was perceived:
"Despatches sent instantaneously to and fro with the most confiding secrecy," it proclaimed. "Post Horses and Conveyances
of every description may be ordered by the electric telegraph to be in readiness on the arrival of a train, at either Paddington
or Slough Station." The Morning Post declared that the exhibition was "well worthy of a visit from all who love to see the wonders of science." Sending messages
to and fro was merely thought of as a scientific curiosity; the telegraph was evidently not regarded as a useful form of communication.
As the small print of the poster pointed out, "Messengers in constant attendance, so that communications received by telegraph
would be forwarded, if required, to any part of London, Windsor, Eton, & c." But this was seen as incidental to the main attraction.
The fame of the telegraph took a giant leap when it was used to announce the birth of Queen Victoria's second son, Alfred
Ernest, at Windsor on August 6, 1844. The Times was on the streets of London with the news within forty minutes of the announcement, declaring itself "indebted to the extraordinary
power of the Electro-Magnetic Telegraph" for providing the information so quickly. Three trainloads of assorted lords and
gentry then left London for a celebratory banquet at Windsor, and the telegraph proved its use once again. The Duke of Wellington
forgot his dress suit, so he telegraphed London and asked for it to be sent on the following train. Fortunately, it arrived
in time for the royal banquet.
Another milestone for the telegraph was when it was used to apprehend Fiddler Dick, a notorious pickpocket, and his gang.
Their modus operandi involved robbing the crowds at a busy railway station and then escaping from the scene by train. Before
the telegraph, there was no way to send information faster than a speeding train, so their getaway was assured. However, the
presence of the telegraph alongside the Paddington-Slough line meant it was now possible to alert the police at the other
end before the train's arrival.
More famous still was the arrest of John Tawell on January 3, 1845, thanks to the telegraph. Tawell had murdered his mistress
in Slough, and when his crime was discovered he made a run for it and headed for London. He was dressed in a brown, unusual-looking
greatcoat. His description, "DRESSED LIKE A KWAKER" (since Cooke and Wheatstone's telegraphic alphabet had no " Q "), was
sent to London, where the police were able to meet the train and arrest Tawell before he had time to melt into the crowds.
"It may be observed," reported the Times, "that had it not been for the efficient aid of the electric telegraph, both at Slough and Paddington, the greatest difficulty
as well as delay would have occurred in the apprehension of the party now in custody." Tawell was subsequently convicted and
hanged, and the telegraph wires gained further notoriety as