Of the various kinds of velocipedes, four, three, two, and one wheeled,
the bicycle seems to be considered the most artistic, is altogether
the most in favor, and steadily maintains its ground against all
rivals. Whether it will be the model velocipede of the future remains
to be seen. The various experiments now being tried will, no doubt,
eventually result in a nearly perfect machine, but it will require
a season’s experience fully to develop the ingenuity of our American
artisans.
Many have expressed doubts as to the real utility of the velocipede,
and the permanency of its use. They seem to think it a frivolous
invention only calculated to serve purposes of amusement, and soon
to be superseded by some other ephemeral claimant for popularity.
Most of these have based their opinions upon the disuse into which
rude machines have fallen in former times. But the difference in the
construction of the modern velocipede from the primitive one has
entirely changed the character of the vehicle. It is no longer a draft
vehicle, but a locomotive, and as much superior to the original bar on
wheels, as the improved steam locomotive is to the old time stage-coach.
We believe in the utility, convenience, and economy of the innovation,
as well as in its capacity for affording amusement, and developing
strength and skill; and believe as now improved, it is destined to mark
an era in the history of vehicles. It has passed the period of being
a mere toy, and although as the novelty wears away, there may be less
enthusiasm, it will continue to be used, and in an increasing degree,
for street locomotion. With those who live in the cities and require
a daily exercise, exhilarating, pleasant, healthful, and free from
expense; with those who reside in the country and have long distances
to traverse daily in reaching the scene of their labors, or with those
who have leisure and wealth at their command, but love such exercises
as afford an opportunity for the display of grace, agility, and skill,
the velocipede has already become as great a favorite in this country
as it is in France and England.
Its want of adaptability to the roughly paved road-ways of our cities,
is already, in a great measure, overcome, and experience has proved its
facility _in rure_. We have seen the bicycle run with ease on country
roads, and dashing with full speed through city streets, totally
regardless of curbstones or crossings. In New York, no matter where
you go, a velocipede is sure to whiz past you. The school-boy rides up
Fifth Avenue in the morning, with his books strapped before him. In
Broadway, where stages, wagons, carts, trucks, and carriages, clog the
street from morning till night, the iron steed may be seen gracefully
cutting its way among the larger vehicles.
The exercise is not tiresome, except to the beginner. We have found
twelve miles on a country road no more fatiguing than a brisk walk of
two. We believe a man may ride and drive one at the rate of ten miles
an hour, with less fatigue than he could walk one quarter of that
distance. Some people ride easier than others, as some skate easier.
Some people make hard work of anything. Lazy people will never fall in
love with the bicycle, because to ride one requires all the faculties
to be alive and in action. To keep one’s balance, however, does not
require that constant labor and exertion which novices suppose.
“Familiarity breeds contempt,” the old adage says. Familiarity with the
bicycle becomes a sort of second nature, and a velocipedean, after a
fair amount of experience, finds himself almost as perfectly at home
astride his two-wheeler, as he does on his feet.
When John Brent rode his horse across the plains in search of
adventure, the era of the two-wheeled velocipede had not come upon
us. We think the bicycle an animal, which will, in a great measure,
supersede the horse. It does not cost as much; it will not eat, kick,
bite, get sick, or die. It requires no stabling, no feed, no water, no
curry-comb. It never “balks,” or “rares up.” It never needs a halter
or a harness. It is light, and little, and leans lovingly against you
for support. Its gait is uniform and easy, beautiful and exhilarating
to see, and simple to analyze. It glides along with smooth grace, as
though it were alive.
Young America is pictured coming in on a velocipede. Henry Ward Beecher
thinks the coming man will ride one, and we shall not be surprised
to see his prediction fulfilled, and devout worshippers propelling
themselves to church on Sunday with all due gravity and decorum.
Velocipeding is a hopeful sign of progress. If that man is a benefactor
who makes two blades of grass grow where but one grew before, he should
come in for a share of praise, who teaches a man to go ten miles as
easily and as quickly as he previously went one. “Time is money;” and
whatever of it is saved is often so much cash. As the velocipede serves
its purpose in this direction, it may be regarded as a good savings
institution.
We think that decided good will grow out of this invention. Riding
the velocipede affords pleasurable excitement, which is what most men
drink liquor for, and it leaves no sting behind. It takes men from the
bar-rooms out into the pure air, into God’s light and sunshine, and
braces their lungs with the very breath of Heaven. It stimulates them
to save what they would otherwise spend foolishly, that they may invest
it in a machine which is a source of health and pleasure, as well as of
utility. It is an inducement to young men who work in close apartments
to spend more time in the open air, and furnishes them a means of
healthful, invigorating, and, at the same time, pleasant exercise, such
as nothing else can possibly afford.
Serious accidents on the velocipede are almost unheard of, and the
predictions that these machines would prove dangerous have not been
verified. It will fall down, but the rider need not fall with it
unless he chooses. It is no more dangerous than a horse and carriage,
under any circumstances, and not nearly so much so, with ordinary
caution.
The speed attained by the swifter kind of velocipede on the roads,
averages from twelve to thirteen miles an hour. On a smooth, level
floor, such a speed can be maintained with but little effort on almost
any machine. It is safe to say that a good velocipede rider can travel
a hundred miles as quickly as an ordinary horse with an ordinary load.
Of course, the more a person rides, the easier it becomes, and the less
the fatigue.
In impelling a velocipede, the limbs are not constantly in motion;
for on level ground, when the impetus is at the average rate, or when
the machine is descending an incline, the feet may be removed from
the pedals, and the legs be placed on the bar, fixed in front of the
machine for that purpose. A slight impulsion to the vehicle from time
to time suffices to keep up the speed. When a rider encounters a
formidable hill, he can dismount and lead his bicycle by the hand. He
can do this with almost the same ease that he can carry an ordinary
walking-stick. A hill, to be insurmountable, has to be, however, of
more than average steepness. Though Massachusetts is proverbially
hilly, there is no ascent between Boston and Worcester, a distance
of thirty miles, that cannot be ridden over with the bicycle.
The best speed thus far attained on the road is a mile in a few
seconds over three minutes. A gentleman in New Jersey, a few weeks
since, travelled fifty miles in four hours and a half. A gentleman
residing in 22d Street, New York, goes down town to his business on
his velocipede in twelve minutes. Adepts abroad find no difficulty
whatever in accomplishing fully fifty miles in five hours, without
once alighting from their vehicles. A few months ago, a couple of
amateurs, making a tour through a part of France, challenged each other
as to which could perform the greatest distance in four and twenty
hours. One accomplished eighty-seven miles, the other one hundred and
twenty-three. A party of nine quitted Rouen early in the morning on
their velocipedes, and arrived in Paris in time for dinner the same
evening; having performed the distance of eighty-five miles, exclusive
of stoppages, and at a rate of speed averaging between ten and twelve
miles an hour. An English gentleman travelled the distance from London
to Bristol, one hundred and thirty-five miles, between the hours of
three o’clock, P. M., one day, and ten A. M. the next, stopping some
hours in Reading.
In Paris, the Americans carry off the prizes for slow as well as fast
riding. The slow riding is much the more difficult. It is much easier
for the rider to keep his equilibrium while riding swiftly.
Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes once published an article in the “Atlantic
Monthly,” entitled “The Human Wheel; its Spokes and Felloes;” in which
he treated the act of walking as analagous to the movement of a wheel:
the legs being the spokes and the feet the felloes. Had he postponed
his humorous and instructive essay a year or two, he would have found
himself behind the age.
It is perhaps not generally known to what an extent the bicycle mania
prevails, and how rapidly the idea has germinated, budded, and bloomed,
not only throughout our own country, but in various parts of the world.
In New York some ten thousand pupils are ready to graduate from the
schools and appear upon the roads. In Boston there will soon be nearly
as many more; while Philadelphia, Chicago, St. Louis, and San Francisco
count their experts by the hundred and their novices by the thousand.
We hear of the bicycle in the far West and in Texas. We read that New
Orleans proposes to purchase velocipedes for its fire companies, and
hear of a velocipede military company in Louisville. We play velocipede
music, and in our walks velocipede “Livery Stables” and “Velocipedes to
Let,” greet our eyes. The shop-windows on our fashionable thoroughfares
display Velocipede Hats, Velocipede Gloves, and Velocipede Shoes.
The machines have become so numerous on the sidewalks of Providence,
New Bedford, and other New England towns, that the stunned authorities
contemplated prohibiting their use, as a nuisance. The various merits
of various machines are discussed on the street corners with as much
zeal as were ever the diversified merits of horse-flesh; and experts
are to be heard talking of these new substitutes for legs as jockeys
are wont to talk of the wind, strength, bottom, gait, and “go” of
Eclipses, Dexters, and Ethan Allens.
In France, fashion writers and fashion leaders rack their brains for
the contrivance of velocipede costumes; velocipede clubs are formed;
velocipede championships contested for at velocipede tournaments.
There are not less than ten thousand machines running in the streets
of Paris. They are used by postmen, government employees, students,
messengers, and peddlers; and shopmen send their clerks about on
machines covered with flashy advertisements. All velocipedes there are
required to carry lanterns in the evening, and though we have no such
regulations here, young gentlemen may be seen almost every night, in
our cities, riding their velocipedes with head-lights attached.
In Paris they can be seen driving at break-neck speed along the narrow
stone parapet beside the Seine, and even down the hundred steps of the
Trocadéro, their riders all the time indulging in gymnastic feats that
would seem to invite certain destruction. At Rome, gentlemen practice
the bicycle in the court-yards, and are seen riding on the Piazza de
Spagna. Country trips are taken upon them in Japan, and they are no
longer a novelty in the streets of the larger Chinese cities.