THE CONQUEST OF EUROPE
By 1850 Cyrus H. McCormick was ready for new business. He now had a
factory of his own, and the assistance of his brothers, William and
Leander. He had a score of busy agents and a few thousand dollars in the
bank. He had fought down the ridicule of the farm-hands. It was only six
years since he had set out from his Virginian farm with $300 in his belt
and the Idea of the Reaper in his brain; but in those six years he had
worked mightily and succeeded. His Reapers were now clicking merrily in
more than three thousand American wheat-fields. So, it was a natural
thing that in the first flush of victory, he should look across the sea
for "more worlds to conquer."
There was at that time no general demand for Reapers in any European
country. Labor was plentiful and cheap--forty cents a day in Great
Britain and about half as much in Germany and France. In Austria and
Russia the farm laborers received no wages at all. They were serfs.
There was no economic reason why serfs should be replaced by machinery.
They had first to become free and expensive to employ, before this
Reaper, this product of a free republic, could set them free from the
drudgery of the harvest.
England had been the first European country to abolish this serfdom.
Several centuries before, the ravages of the Black Death had made farm
laborers so scarce that their rights had begun to be respected. Also,
the upgrowth of the factory system and the development of English
shipping had called thousands of men away from the fields, and raised
the wages of those who were left behind. And the falling off in profits
was compelling many English land-owners to study better methods of
farming, and to favor the introduction of farm machinery.
Fortunately for McCormick, he had no sooner begun to think of foreign
trade than there came the famous London Exposition of 1851. This mammoth
Exhibition was to Great Britain what the Chicago World's Fair of 1893
was to the United States--magnificent evidence of industrial progress.
Its main promoter had been Prince Albert, the husband of Queen Victoria,
and its success gave the keenest pleasure to the young Queen. In a
letter written to the King of the Belgians, she thus describes her
impressions upon the opening day:
"My dearest Uncle," she writes, "I wish you could have witnessed the 1st
May, 1851, the _greatest_ day in our history, the _most beautiful_ and
_imposing_ and _touching_ spectacle ever seen, and the triumph of my
beloved Albert. Truly it was astonishing, a fairy scene. Many cried, and
all felt touched and impressed with devotional feelings. It was the
_happiest, proudest_ day in my life, and I can think of nothing else.
You will be astounded at this great work when you see it. The beauty of
the building and the vastness of it all!"
The crowning jewel of this Exposition was the priceless Koh-i-noor
diamond, which the Queen had received from India the previous year, and
had loaned to the Exposition managers. For five thousand years, so the
legend ran, this diamond had been one of the most precious treasures of
Asia. It had been worn by the hero Karna. And it had been so often the
most coveted prize in war that there was a Hindoo saying--"Whoever
possesses the Koh-i-noor has conquered his enemies."
Most of the courts of Europe had sent some dazzling treasure. There were
tapestries from the Viceroy of Egypt, and rugs from the Sultan of
Turkey, and silks from the King of Spain. There were marbles from Paris,
and paintings from Dresden, and embroideries from Vienna. And in the
midst of this resplendent Exposition, surrounded and outshone by the
exhibits of Russia, Austria, and France, lay a shabby collection of odds
and ends from the United States.
For three weeks the American department was the joke of the Exposition.
It was nicknamed the "Prairie Ground." It had no jewels, nor silks, nor
golden candelabra. There were only such preposterous things as Dick's
Press, Borden's Meat Biscuit, St. John's Soap, and McCormick's Reaper.
This last contraption was the most preposterous of all. It was said to
be "a cross between an Astley chariot, a wheelbarrow, and a
flying-machine." It was unlike anything else that English eyes had ever
seen, and by all odds the queerest and most ungainly thing that lay
under the glass roof of the Crystal Palace. Undeniably it was the "Ugly
Duckling" of the American exhibit.
But one day there came to the Reaper booth a remarkable Anglo-Italian
named John J. Mechi. His father had been the barber of George III., and
he himself, by the invention of a "Magic Razor Strop," had made a
fortune. His hobby was scientific farming, and he was hungry for new
methods and new ideas. At the time of the Exposition, his farm, which
lay not far from London, had become the most famous experimental ground
in England. Therefore, when he spied this new contrivance called a
Reaper, he proposed that it be taken out to his farm and put to the
test.
This was done on July twenty-fourth. In spite of a pouring rain, there
were present a group of judges and two hundred farmers. Lord Ebrington
was there, and Prince Frederick of Holstein, and several other titled
agriculturists. One other machine was to be tested, besides McCormick's.
It was put into the grain first and was at once seen to be a failure. It
broke down the grain instead of cutting it. Seeing this mishap, several
of the farmers said to Mr. Mechi, "You had better stop this trial,
because it is destroying your grain." Whereupon Mr. Mechi made one of
the noblest replies that can be found in the annals of progress.
"Gentlemen," he said, "this is a great experiment for the benefit of my
country. When a new principle is about to be established, individual
interests must always give way. If it is necessary for the success of
this test, you may take my seventy acres of wheat."
Then came the McCormick Reaper, driven by an expert named Mackenzie. It
swept down the field like a chariot of war, with whirling reel and
clattering blade--seventy-four yards in seventy seconds. It was a
miracle. Such a thing had never before been seen by Europeans. "This is
a triumph for the American Reaper," said the delighted Mechi. "It has
done its work completely; and the day will come when this machine will
cut all the grain in England. Now," he continued, swinging his hat, "let
us, as Englishmen, show our appreciation by giving three hearty English
cheers."
Horace Greeley, who was present on this occasion, described the victory
of the McCormick Reaper as follows:--"It came into the field to confront
a tribunal already prepared for its condemnation. Before it stood John
Bull--burly, dogged, and determined not to be humbugged,--his judgment
made up and his sentence ready to be recorded. There was a moment, and
but a moment, of suspense; then human prejudice could hold out no
longer; and burst after burst of involuntary cheers from the whole crowd
proclaimed the triumph of the Yankee Reaper. In seventy seconds
McCormick had become famous. He was the lion of the hour; and had he
brought five hundred Reapers with him, he could have sold them all."
Suddenly the "Ugly Duckling" had become a swan. The glory of the Reaper
began to rival that of the Koh-i-noor. McCormick was given not only a
First Prize but a Council Medal, such as was usually awarded only to
Kings and Governments. The London _Times_, which had led the jeering,
became now the loudest in the chorus of approval. "The Reaping machine
from the United States," said the _Times_ editor, "is the most valuable
contribution from abroad, to the stock of our previous knowledge, that
we have yet discovered. It is worth the whole cost of the Exposition."
Also, speaking on behalf of the English people, Sir Henry Lytton Bulwer
said, "For all manly and practical purposes, the place of the United
States is at the head of the poll. Where, out of America, shall we get a
pistol like Mr. Colt's, to kill our eight enemies in a second, or a
reaping machine like Mr. McCormick's, to clear out twenty acres of wheat
in a day?"
On the whole, this Exposition gave the United States its first
opportunity to answer the unpleasant questions that Sidney Smith had
asked in 1820. What have the Americans done, he had asked, for the arts
and sciences? Where are their Arkwrights, their Watts, their Davys?
Here he was answered by the McCormick Reaper, the Colt revolver, the
Hobbs lock, the Morse telegraph, the Howe sewing-machine, the Deere
plow, and the Hoe press. And, as if to make the triumph of American
invention complete, it was in this year that the yacht _America_ easily
out-classed the famous yachts of England in a great race at Cowes, and
that the American steamer _Baltic_, of the Collins Line, broke all the
ocean records and became the speediest vessel on the high seas.
This Exposition did much for McCormick. It was the first appreciation of
his work, in a large way, that he had received. It was a welcome change
after twenty strenuous years. It gave him the distinction that a
naturally strong nature craved, and secured the friendship of such
eminent men as Junius Morgan, George Peabody, J. J. Mechi, and Lord
Granville. From a business point of view, also, the Exposition was of
great service to McCormick. It enabled him to draw up a new plan of
campaign for the foreign trade.
In the United States, he had made his appeal directly to the mass of the
farmers. In Europe he could not do this. The vast bulk of the farmers
here were tenants or serfs. But it was also true, he observed, that the
Kings of Europe, and the members of the nobility, were land-owners. Here
was his chance. He would begin at the top. He would sell his Reapers to
the kings.
He noticed that kings and queens were not the remote and inaccessible
personages that he had believed them to be. Prince Albert was plainly
more interested in farm machinery than in the Koh-i-noor. The one prize
which was awarded to him personally was for a model cottage, in which a
workingman's family might live with greater comfort. And one morning,
while McCormick was giving attention to his Reaper, the Queen and her
ten-year-old son (now the King of England) walked past and had a view of
the American Reaping machine that had been so widely ridiculed and
praised.
McCormick had to hurry back to the United States, on account of a
patent suit that was then in full swing; but before he left England he
established an agency in London, and started a vigorous campaign among
the titled land-owners. He prepared a statement, showing that even at
the low rate of wages that were paid on English farms a Reaper would
mean a handsome saving to English wheat-growers. But he did not depend
upon the argument of economy. He placed his reliance also upon the fact
that the Reaper had become the playtoy of kings, and that their fancy
would presently make it the fashion.
Four years later he went with another Reaper to an Exposition at Paris,
won the Gold Medal, and sold his machine to the Emperor. Then, in 1862,
with his wife and young son and daughter, he made his headquarters in
London, and opened up a two-years' campaign in Great Britain, Germany,
and France. Up to this time the foreign trade had grown but slowly. All
European countries combined were not buying more than half a million
dollars' worth of farm machinery a year from Americans--less than we
sell them now in five days. So McCormick exerted himself to the utmost.
He held field tests to awaken the farmers. He advertised and organized.
There were now several dozen other manufacturers in the field, all
making Reapers more or less like McCormick's; and he gave battle to them
at London, Lille, and Hamburg. After the Hamburg contest, Joseph A.
Wright, the United States Commissioner, cabled to New York: "McCormick
has thrashed all nations and walked off with the Gold Medal."
Again, in 1867, McCormick had a notable time at Paris. The Emperor
Napoleon III., then in the last days of his inherited glory, permitted
McCormick to give a sort of Reaper _matinée_ on the royal estate at
Châlons. The Emperor was present, at first on horseback, and then on
foot. The sun was hot, and presently he said to McCormick, "If you will
allow me, I'll come under your umbrella." So the two men, dramatically
different in the tendencies they represented, walked arm in arm behind
the Reaper, and watched it automatically cut and rake off the grain. The
Emperor was delighted. He forgot for the moment his impending troubles,
and at once offered McCormick the Cross of the Legion of Honor. This
was, in all probability, the last time that the coveted Cross was
conferred in France by the hand of a sovereign; and the meeting of the
two men was a highly impressive event, the one man typifying a falling
dynasty that had risen to greatness by the sword, and the other the
founder of a new industry that was destined to bring peace and plenty to
all nations alike.
Two years later, because of the clamor of McCormick's competitors, a
grand Field Test was arranged by the German Government at Altenberg.
Thirty-eight contestants entered the lists, and after a most exciting
tournament the judges awarded the Gold Medal and a special prize of
sixty ducats to McCormick. Such contests, from this time onward, came
thick and fast. Several days later McCormick swept the field at Altona.
In 1873 he was decorated by the Austrian Emperor. And in 1878 the
French Academy of Science elected him a member, for the reason that he
"had done more for the cause of agriculture than any other living man."
[Illustration: CYRUS HALL McCORMICK, 1867
From Painting by Cabanel]
From that time to the present day the making of Reapers and Harvesters
has remained an American business. An American machine must pay twenty
dollars to enter France, and twenty-five to enter Hungary. But try as
they may, other nations cannot learn the secret of the Reaper. They
cannot produce a machine that is at once so complex, so hardy, and so
efficient. When Bismarck, at the close of his life, was inspecting
several American self-binders which he had bought for his farm at
Fredericksruhe, he asked, "Why do they not make these machines in
Germany?" As we have seen, had he wished a complete answer he would have
had to read the history of the United States. He would have seen that
the Reaper can be produced only in countries where labor receives a high
reward, where farmers own their own acres without fear of being
despoiled by invading armies, and where the average of intelligence
and enterprise is as high in the country as in the city.
In 1898 Europe had become so dependent upon America for its reaping
machinery that 22,000 machines were shipped from the McCormick plant
alone--so many that a fleet of twelve vessels had to be chartered to
carry them. There are now as many American Reapers and Harvesters in
Europe as can do the work of 12,000,000 men. Of all American machines
exported, the Reaper is at the head of the list. It has been the chief
pathfinder for our foreign trade. Four-fifths of all the harvesting
machinery in the world is made in the United States; and one-third,
perhaps more, in the immense factory-city that Cyrus H. McCormick
founded in Chicago in 1847.
It was McCormick's most solid satisfaction, in his later life, to see
foreign nations, one by one, adopt his invention and move up out of the
Famine Zone. No news was at any time more welcome to him than the
tidings that a new territory had been entered. And although the foreign
trade has been vastly multiplied in the past five or six years, he
lived long enough to see his catalogue printed in twenty languages, and
to know that as long as the human race continued to eat bread, the sun
would never set upon the empire of the Reaper.