CHAPTER II

THE COMING OF COAL

The making of all the coal in the earth began when the sun hurled the

earth into its orbit. Before there were vertebrates in the sea, or

animals, or plants of any kind on land--fully one hundred and fifty

million years ago--low foldings and depressions appeared on the earth

where the Appalachian Mountains now are. Following the lines of what has

become the Atlantic, vast ridges appeared. Ages later swamp forests grew

in the intervening valleys, bearing and shedding the spores and thick,

somber leaves still traceable in the lower carboniferous strata. In that

time, a shallow sea covered what is now the Mississippi Valley in whose

sludgy shoals more swamp forests grew. Along the inland seas and ocean

beaches of Europe and Asia, the tides, the winds, and rains slowly

spread the clay for still other swamp forests. When the lush plant life

of the carboniferous age came out of the marshy ooze, it spread along

the edges of the land, crept up the long estuaries between the rising

and sinking hills and on into the landlocked seas. The rocks beneath and

about these carboniferous forests rose and sank age through age, cycle

through cycle. When they sank slowly, tangled morasses formed; when they

sank rapidly, the inrushing water killed the plants and buried them

under a covering of silt. When the rocky strata rose again, the swamp

forests crept back to their old places, and again bore and shed their

fernlike leaves, their spores and great scarred trunks upon the oozy

bottom now scores or hundreds of feet above the level on which their

ancestors had stood ages before.

Then, some seventy million years ago, a geographical revolution

convulsed what is now northeastern America. The great trough running

parallel to the Atlantic, where swamp forests had grown and died and

grown again, gave way under the ever-increasing load. The ridges at its

sides pressed in upon it, crumpled it into giant folds, broke it, pushed

its shattered edges out in mighty over-thrusts, released molten rock to

flow up and over its torn surface. The whole titanic mass was racked and

twisted with pressure and heat until what had been a slowly subsiding

sea-bottom, covered with decaying swamp vegetation, rose on the

shoulders of the newborn Appalachian Mountains, then a lofty range of

clean, stark peaks stretching from Newfoundland to Arkansas,--two

thousand miles.

And with this great geographical revolution, the work of making coal in

eastern North America was finished. From the softest bituminous to the

hardest anthracite, that work was done.

But in other parts of the world, the dense carboniferous forests

continued to grow for another fifty or more million years. In the

shallows of the Mississippi Valley, on the shores of the island that is

now Colorado, the coal plants grew and died with the seasonal march of

the sun. In parts of Europe, Russia, and China, coal continued to form.

And then came another geographical revolution, some twenty million years

ago, that raised up the Rockies and the Andes along the western border

of the Americas, tore and twisted and upturned the rocks of Europe and

Asia, until with the exception of a few odd pockets where small swamp

forests lived on for a time, the coal making of the whole earth was

ended.

Twenty million years ago, all the coal we have or shall have had been

packed away beneath the ribs of the earth, in seams varying in height

from sixty feet to the thickness of a blade of grass. In many places the

flat layers in which it was first deposited had been thrown into

overlapping folds. Some of it had been subjected to comparatively little

heat and to the pressure only of the rocky strata above it; this is the

bituminous, which is still rich in oils, gas, tar--unreleased volatile

matter. Some had been crushed by the weight of uplifted mountains,

roasted, fused, and burned by molten lava and volcanic flame; this is

anthracite, which is almost pure carbon and ash. Some had been exposed

to greater pressure still, to intenser heat; this is graphite, which can

no longer be burned at all.

The distribution of coal in the world by quality and quantity has been,

next to climate and the fertility of the soil, the physical fact of most

decisive importance in the history of modern civilization. For countless

ages coal lay practically unused in the earth. Then, sometime between

1750 and 1760, an intricate interlocking of circumstances set coal to

rule the world, not through new discoveries of coal itself but rather

through improvements in spinning and weaving machinery which made

possible the massing of large numbers of spinners and weavers for

large-scale production if power could be found to drive the new machines

for them. The steam engine had already been invented, but it was still a

tentative thing, a primitive type, wondered at and experimented with.

Coal had been used, but only in a few favored spots where it cropped

out on the earth's surface, or was washed ashore by the sea, and then

only as a domestic fuel. It was at the call of the master weavers and

spinners of England that the steam engine was set to run the machines;

then to furnish a blast so that coal might be used to cheapen the

smelting of iron and steel so that more machines might be made; then to

pump out the deepening mines so that more and more power to keep the

machines running might be won. Steam raising was coal's first great play

for power and it is the work through which it still holds its industrial

supremacy. Between 1800 and 1900 coal-driven engines multiplied until by

the end of the century they were producing energy equivalent to seventy

million horse-power; during the first twenty years of the twentieth

century, their power-producing capacity more than doubled. So coal

wrought the industrial revolution, the greatest revolution in all human

history, which transformed social and economic life as radically as the

geographical revolution transformed the earth's surface.

"It introduced a new race of men," writes H. de B. Gibbins, "men who

work with machinery instead of with their hands, who cluster together in

cities instead of spreading over the land, men who trade with those of

other nations as readily as with those of their own town, men whose

workshops are moved by the great forces of nature and whose market is no

longer the city or country but the world itself."

Measured by the crude standards of gross wealth and numbers, the people

of the earth have flourished mightily since the dominion of coal began.

The aggregate wealth of the world has increased to fabulous proportions.

The average expectation of life among Western peoples has doubled.

Between 1800 and 1910 the world's population rose from approximately

640,000,000 to 1,616,000,000. The population of England, which had

increased only fifteen per cent from 1651 to 1751, increased two hundred

per cent during the next century. Between 1816 and 1910, the population

of France increased fifty per cent, of Germany three hundred per cent,

of the United States seventeen hundred per cent.

Moreover the drive of coal's energy immensely stimulated men's inventive

faculties. It transformed Kay's "flying shuttle" and Hargreaves'

"spinning jenny" from clever toys into instruments of large-scale

production, the crude steam engines of Newcomen and Watt into the great

modern locomotive and the turbine engine; it made possible the

large-scale production of telegraph wires and ocean cables, the cylinder

press and typesetting machines, the electrical dynamo, the

internal-combustion engine, the aeroplane, and even the space-ranging

modern telescope. It lifted the veil from the seven seas, broke down the

physical barriers between the peoples of the earth, forged the steel

framework of national and international government. The commercial and

political primacy which England held for more than one hundred and fifty

years rested upon her abundant fields of easily accessible coal. The

cosmic energy flowing out from her mines spread her trade and her

surplus population to the four corners of the earth and made her

triumphant over Spain and Holland--nations poor in coal. The coal of

Westphalia, associated with the iron ores of Lorraine, welded the States

of Germany into the empire of the latter nineteenth century and hurled

her green-grey armies across her frontiers in the mad adventure of 1914.

The vast, rich coal fields of North America have transformed the United

States from an agricultural appanage of Europe into the foremost

manufacturing and commercial nation in the world. The future of Russia

lies largely in the coal fields of the Donetz basin. The imperfectly

surveyed coal and ore fields of China and Siberia are probably the

strongest of the magnets drawing the Powers into the problem of the

Pacific. Coal and the continuing industrial revolution are still shaping

the destiny of mankind.

But in the history of the human race the fact of transcending

significance is the presence in man of instincts, emotions, mind,

reason, will, conscious hunger, and conscious love of one's

neighbor,--all the constituents of that personality of supreme worth

whose ceaseless struggle for mastery over the forces of nature, for

escape from hunger, want, and war into a world of plenty, beauty, mutual

aid, and service is the epic of civilization. The value of coal, as of

all material things, finds its true measure not in numbers or

horse-power units, but in its effect upon the soul of man, the fullness

of opportunity enjoyed by each individual for self-realization and

service, the progress of the race toward brotherhood. The ultimate

appraisal of the coal age will be determined by the issue of the

struggle between bread hunger and love in the soul of man--the struggle

between his acquisitive instinct and his growing consciousness of kind.

The Coming of Coal · 第 2 / 10 章