Lives of the electricians

by William T. Jeans

PROFESSOR MORSE.

CHAPTER I.

“The sun, the moon, the stars

Send no such light upon the ways of men

As one great deed.”—Tennyson.

The ideas of several men, says Mr. J. L. Ricardo, are set in motion by exactly the same circumstances; and men who are in the habit of putting things together very often have the same ideas at the same time. The history of electrical inventions presents many illustrations of this observation; and at first sight it might appear as if the old world had, in like manner, vied with the new in designing apparatus for applying electricity to useful purposes. The study of electrical phenomena began in America about the same time as in Europe. The story of Franklin’s experiments with lightning has almost become a household tale, and he is justly regarded as one of the patriarchs of electrical science. But his strength lay in the application or explication of electrical phenomena rather than in their initiation, and in that respect subsequent American electricians may be said to have followed in the footsteps of their illustrious ancestor. Hence in the history of electricity America occupies a unique position. Dean Swift said that invention was the talent of youth, and judgment of age; and certain it is that America’s electrical inventions have shown the boldness and novelty of youth, while Europe might be said to have gathered more of the fruits of judgment or experience. In mechanical appliances the new world has seemed to complete the inventions begun in the old world. Such was the case with the recording telegraph, the telephone, and the electric light. But in another class of inventions America did little or nothing. It was Europe that supplied the artificial generators of electricity. The voltaic pile, the thermo-electric pile, the Daniell and Grove batteries, and the dynamo machine were creations of the old world; and curiously enough, while the great inventions made in America for the application of electricity were the work of men who had not passed middle age, the men in the old world who supplied the means of generating electricity did so after they had passed the meridian of life. But if the inventors of generators had no rivals in the new world, they were far from being exempt from rivalry nearer home. The invention of the dynamo machine, almost simultaneously as well as independently, by three different men, as narrated in a previous chapter, is pretty well known. Nor is the pile which bears the name of Volta an exception. In 1793 Professor Robinson, of Edinburgh University, wrote that electricity could be generated by using a number of pieces of zinc of the size of a shilling made into a rouleau with as many real shillings. That was the first suggestion of the pile; but it was not till Volta, writing from Como in 1800, announced, in a more elaborate manner, his discovery that zinc and copper interlaid with wet paper or leather produced electricity, that public attention was directed to its importance. It is worthy of note that nearly all the men who discovered generators of electricity—from Galvani to Sir William Thomson, were natural philosophers, who, as already remarked, made their discoveries at an advanced period of life—a fact which seems to indicate that electrical generators are some of the choicest and ripest fruits of the study of natural philosophy.

The close of the eighteenth century, says Sir John Leslie, was distinguished by the accession of a new branch of electrical science more brilliant and astonishing than even the parent stock; and after describing the discoveries of Galvani and Volta, he says they deservedly commenced a new epoch in physical science and led to the most splendid and wonderful discoveries. The year 1791, when Galvani published at Bologna a complete account of his experiments on animal electricity, in which the leg of a frog played such a memorable part, may therefore be described as the birth-time of modern electricity. In the same year was born the immortal Faraday, whose researches in electricity not only enriched science but silenced the voice of envy; and in the same year was born Samuel F. B. Morse, whose ingenuity and perseverance gave to the world one of the most original and useful methods of conveying intelligence by electricity. Professor Daniell, whose invention of the constant battery gave a marked impulse to the progress of practical electricity, was born in 1790, the same year in which Benjamin Franklin died, who, in the absence of artificial generators, drew his supplies of electricity from the clouds. It has been often said that Franklin was the American who brought electricity from the clouds to the earth, and that Morse made it subservient to the purposes of man.

Samuel Finley Breese Morse was born on April 27, 1791, a little over a mile from where Franklin was born, and a little over a year after Franklin died. Franklin was the youngest son of the youngest son for five successive generations, and he was the fifteenth child of his father. But in the Morse family it was generally the eldest son who displayed ability or attained distinction. The family was of English origin, but had been settled in America a century and a half. Anthony Morse, who was born at Marlborough in Wiltshire in 1606, went to America in 1635. His son had ten children, of whom the eldest, named Jedediah, was born in 1726, and was an active public man. The eighth son of the latter, also named Jedediah, was the father of Samuel Morse. He was an eminent divine and author, whose attainments were considered of such a high order that a Scotch University conferred on him the degree of D.D. His wife was also described as a person of unusual ability and dignity, who was born at New York in a house at the corner of Wall Street and Hanover Street, near to which the first telegraph office was afterwards opened. They were living at the foot of Breeds Hill, Charlestown, Massachusetts, in 1791, when Samuel F. B. Morse was born. He was the eldest of eleven children. In his fourth year he was sent to an old dame’s school, and in his seventh year to the preparatory school of Andover, where he is reported to have studied with ability and assiduity. Like his prototype Franklin, he then read Plutarch’s Lives, and this work is said to have given the first impulse to his mind. At the age of thirteen he wrote a Life of Demosthenes, which was preserved as a memorial of his early powers, and which gave characteristic indications of the excellence that distinguished his literary work in after life. At the age of fourteen he entered Yale College, where he got his first lessons in electricity. Jeremiah Day, who was then Professor of Natural Philosophy, delivered some lectures in 1809 upon the laws of electricity, and illustrated them by experiments. One proposition which Day expounded was that if a circuit be interrupted the electricity will become visible at the point of interruption, and that when it has passed it will leave an impression upon any intermediate object. Day declared many years afterward that he remembered one experiment which consisted in letting the electricity pass through a chain or through any metallic bodies placed at small distances from each other, whereby the current in a dark room became visible between the links or between the metallic bodies. In another experiment he showed that if several folds of paper were placed so as to interrupt a circuit, they would be perforated by the electricity. In after years Morse described these experiments as the acorn which, falling into fruitful soil, eventually spread its boughs far and wide. Another eminent professor at Yale College was Benjamin Silliman, who in later years testified that Morse attended his lectures on chemistry and galvanism between 1808 and 1810, and that the batteries then in use were exhibited and explained in detail. Moreover, Morse himself wrote letters to his parents in 1809 expressing much gratification at the chemical lectures he had heard at Yale College, and an earnest desire to get apparatus for the purpose of illustrating the experiments at home. In his home letters he especially mentioned Professor Day’s lectures on electricity as being most interesting, and as being illustrated by some very fine experiments. Those who knew Morse while at Yale College, where he took his degree in 1810, described him as gentle, refined, studious, and enthusiastic; and as he appeared then to be in love with the science of electricity, it is natural to inquire how he came to forsake it for so many years.

Dr. Johnson states in his Life of Cowley that in the window of his mother’s apartment lay Spenser’s Fairy Queen, in which he very early took delight to read till by feeling the charms of verse, he became, as he relates, irrecoverably a poet. “Such are the accidents which, sometimes remembered and perhaps sometimes forgotten, produce that particular designation of mind and propensity for some certain science or employment, which is commonly called genius. The true genius is a mind of large general powers, accidentally determined to some particular direction. Sir Joshua Reynolds, the great painter, had the first fondness for his art excited by the perusal of Richardson’s treatise.” It was an accidental circumstance of a different kind that directed the attention of Samuel Morse from electricity to art. His father, being a man of small means and having a large family, was unable to supply the enthusiastic student with sufficient funds to complete his college course, and to provide for the deficiency, Samuel betook himself to painting the portraits of such of his companions as could afford to pay him five dollars, and it is said that by this means he partly defrayed the cost of his education. A first success, like a first love, often forms the keynote of a life; and so pleased was young Samuel Morse at the success of his first artistic efforts that he soon determined to make his living by art. He accordingly directed all his energies and resources to the study of art, and became the pupil of a distinguished American artist, Washington Allston, who took a great interest in him and perceiving his fine powers took him to England in 1811. Though only a young man of twenty, Morse got introductions to Copley and West, who in turn, introduced him to Wilberforce, Zachary Macaulay, and other notable men. While in London he lodged with Charles Leslie, who had not then risen to fame, and who was the son of American parents.

While in London his patron was Benjamin West, who was himself a native of Pennsylvania, and whose early career somewhat resembled that of the young protégé who now made him his guide, philosopher, and friend. West not only entertained him with encouraging accounts of how he managed to climb to the heights of fame, but did all he could to initiate him into “the philosophy of his art.” He continued his studies in London from 1811 to 1815, and though his circumstances were humble and unpretending, he regularly associated with several of the greatest men in art and literature of that time, and in his letters and pursuits gave clear indications of a great future. After a year’s study in London he wrote to his mother that his passion for art was so firmly rooted that no human power could destroy it, and that the more he studied it, the greater he thought was its claim to the appellation of divine. His enthusiasm was not quenched by either penury or disappointment. In 1814 he was induced by some friends to visit Bristol, in the hope of getting some employment that would replenish his purse, but he found that empty praise was the only recompense that his labours could command. He accordingly returned to London, where he was encouraged by the approbation of such severe judges as West and Allston.

Having been allowed to witness West working at some of his historic pictures, he determined to design and execute a large painting of his own, and selected as his subject The Dying Hercules. Allston, who was then engaged on his Restoration of the Dead Man to Life, told him that he had first modelled his subject in clay, and suggested that Morse should do likewise. The advice was followed. A model of Hercules was made, and West, on accidentally seeing it, praised its vigour and finish, remarking to his son that it showed that a true painter is a sculptor also. The Society of Arts, Adelphi, was then offering a gold medal for the best specimen of sculpture, and Morse was advised to finish his model and send it to the Society for competition. In the few days that remained before the competition began he finished the model, and it succeeded in winning the prize, which was presented by the Duke of Norfolk, then President of the Society. When his picture of The Dying Hercules was ready he went with it to West, who examined it very carefully. In after years Morse was accustomed to tell his friends that he had worked hard at the picture, and was so satisfied with it that he expected to receive commendation from West. “Very good, very good,” said West, as he handed it back, “go on and finish it.” Somewhat taken aback, Morse, in a hesitating manner, said it was finished. “Oh no, no,” said West, “see there, and there, and there, the finish is imperfect; there’s much work to be done yet, go on and finish it.” Morse quickly appreciated the defects pointed out by West; and accordingly spent another week in perfecting his drawing. He then took it to West with a feeling of confidence that it was finished. West was more profuse than ever with his praise, but concluded by repeating his former advice, “Go on and finish it.” “Is it not finished?” inquired the almost discouraged student. “See,” replied West, “you have not marked that muscle, nor the articulation of the finger joints.” A few days more were spent in supplying the deficiencies pointed out by this exacting critic. When it was again presented for examination, West first praised it and then said, “Go on and finish it, young man,” to which the young man in despair replied, “I cannot finish it.” West, no doubt observing that patience has its limits, patted him on the shoulder, and good-humouredly said: “Well, I have tried you long enough; but you have learned more by this drawing than you would have done in double the time by a dozen half finished beginnings.” He went on to explain the importance of careful attention to the most minute details, and to impress on him the value of thorough work as the secret of success and fame, declaring that it was not numerous drawings but the character of one that made a thorough painter. The picture in question received much praise at the Royal Academy.

Encouraged by these results, Morse next painted a picture of the Judgment of Jupiter in the case of Apollo, Marpessa, and Idas, which was intended to compete for the gold medal and fifty-guinea prize offered by the Royal Academy in 1814. But an untoward event frustrated this design. When he left America it was with the intention of being away only three years. It was now his fourth year of absence; and his circumstances were so pressing and his means so scanty that he left England at once, offering the picture to the Royal Academy for exhibition through West. The Royal Academy, however, refused to admit it because the artist did not present it personally. West, who had urged Morse to remain in England, and who was then President of the Academy, afterwards wrote to him that if he had remained he had no doubt that the picture would have taken the prize.

If these early efforts did not replenish the artist’s purse, they probably enriched his mind. Fénelon says that “the mind of a great painter teems with the thoughts and sentiments of the heroes he is to represent; he is carried back to the ages in which they lived, and is present to the circumstances they were placed in; but, with this fervid enthusiasm, he possesses also a judgment that restrains and regulates it: so that his whole work, however bold and animated, is perfectly consonant to propriety and truth.” While therefore Morse was zealously prosecuting an art which he was destined eventually to abandon for a new and untrodden avenue to fame and fortune, his early labours, by their reflex action, may have tended to mould those moral and intellectual qualities which were needed to carry him through the trials of after years, and which in the end won for him “heroic honours.”

Returning to America in the autumn of 1815 full of hope in his success as an artist, he opened rooms in Boston where he exhibited his Judgment of Jupiter and other pictures; but though many visitors came to view it and the people of the town treated him in a hospitable manner, no one made an offer for the great picture,—a disappointment which he keenly felt. Pressure of circumstances thus led him to return to his first essay—portrait painting, which he practised with some success in New England in 1817. Next year he went to Charlestown where his uncle Dr. Finley resided, and where he soon obtained lucrative employment. On October 1st, 1818, he married Lucretia P. Walker, of Concord, New Hampshire, who was described as the beauty of the town. He resided in Charlestown four years. During these years his reputation as a painter continued to rise, but it did not enrich him. In 1821-2 he was engaged in painting a celebrated picture of the House of Representatives at Washington. It measured eight feet by nine feet, and contained eighty portraits. Though showing much artistic merit, it was not a pecuniary success. The first purchaser of it was an English gentleman. In 1825 the New York Corporation gave him an order to paint a portrait of General Lafayette, that “veteran of liberty,” whom Lamartine afterwards painted in words as “tall in stature, noble, pale, cold in aspect with a reserved look, which appeared to veil mysterious thoughts; with few gestures, restrained and caressing; a weak voice without accent, more accustomed to confidential whisperings than oratorical explosions; with a sober, studied, and elegant elocution wherein memory was more conspicuous than inspiration; he was neither a statesman, nor a soldier, nor an orator, but an historical figure, without warmth, without colour, without life, but not without prestige; detached from the midst of a picture of another age, and reappearing in a new one.” The acquaintance of Morse with this remarkable man ripened into friendship. This full-length portrait, for which he was to be paid liberally, filled him with joyful anticipations, but scarcely had he begun the work when he received news of his wife’s death. This was a crushing blow to him; and although the portrait satisfied the General, the artist declared that it was finished under such unfavourable circumstances that it was not a just specimen of his work. In 1826 he organised in New York the National Academy of the Arts of Design—an association of artists which proved a lasting success, and of which he was elected president in 1827. At the New York Athenæum he delivered the first course of lectures in America on the fine arts.

While thus assiduously pursuing his favourite vocation, his mind was by no means so absorbed in it as to exclude all other subjects. He even tried other avenues to fortune. In 1817 he, along with his brother, Sidney, took out patents for three machines which they had invented for the pumping of water, and upon which they had bestowed much labour in the expectation of reaping a profitable return. They did not, however, succeed. Undeterred by disappointment, he next invented in 1823 a machine for carving marble, of which he formed high hopes which again were doomed to disappointment. Both as a mechanical inventor and as an artist the coveted prize of fortune seemed to elude his grasp.

CHAPTER II.

“A man may turn whither he pleases, and undertake anything whatsoever, but he will always return to the path which nature has once prescribed for him.”—Goethe.

“It is well that the beaten ways of the world get trodden into mud: we are thus forced to seek new paths and pick out new lines of life.” Of this saying the life of Professor Morse affords a striking illustration, and we are now approaching the time when observation should be taken of the circumstances that led to his leaving the beaten track in which he had hitherto been endeavouring to attain distinction and fortune. In 1822 he took a residence near that of his old college friend, Professor Benjamin Silliman, whose lectures he had attended in 1808-10, and with whom he had since continued on very friendly terms. Being now neighbours, they were in the habit of communicating to each other the latest news in science and art. Professor Morse was often in the laboratory of Professor Silliman, and there witnessed the latest experiments in electrical science. Professor Silliman has stated that at that time he possessed Dr. Robert Hare’s “splendid galvanic calorimeter,” by means of which he exhibited many interesting and beautiful results. Another friend was Professor James F. Dana, with whom he was also on intimate terms. Professor Dana was accustomed to visit Morse’s room, and to give him accounts of his experiments in electricity, which at that time was his favourite theme. In the winter of 1826-7 Professor Morse attended a course of lectures on electro-magnetism given by Professor Dana in the New York University. In these lectures not only were the latest discoveries in science described, but experiments were performed with apparatus constructed for the purpose. Among other things Professor Dana stated that “a spiral placed round a piece of soft iron bent into the form of a horseshoe renders it strongly and powerfully magnetic when an electric charge is passing through it.” This experiment he illustrated; and when in after years the early knowledge of Professor Morse in reference to electricity was challenged, he was able to produce the apparatus then used and to describe the experiments of Professor Dana, who died in 1827.

But just as the interest in his old study was thus revived, he came within sight of the position he had long coveted. He was now a successful artist. In New York he had many eminent friends and wealthy patrons. Work was abundant, and prices were increasing. All that appeared to him necessary to his continued success was greater proficiency in his art. In order to gain this, he resolved to visit Italy—the land of painters; and on his announcing his intention to do so, a score of influential friends gave him commissions to paint pictures for them there. He accordingly left New York in November, 1829, and proceeded first to England, where he visited his old friend Leslie, now in the sunshine of prosperity, and several other men eminent in art and literature. He then went to Paris, and arrived in Rome in the latter part of February, 1830. After spending a year and a half in Italy, enjoying her art treasures, he returned to Paris, where he renewed his acquaintance with General Lafayette, and exerted himself on behalf of the poor Poles, whose sufferings were then attracting attention. But his chief work in Paris was a painting of the interior of the Louvre, wherein he copied the most remarkable paintings on the walls. In the autumn of 1832 he returned to America, and his voyage back was the turning point in his career, He sailed from Havre for New York on October 1, 1832; and it was during that voyage on board the Sully that he conceived the idea of a recording telegraph.

Among the passengers was Dr. Charles T. Jackson, who was previously a stranger to Morse, but who afterwards claimed some share in the credit of the invention—a claim which Professor Morse repeatedly and emphatically repudiated. In his account of its origin, Professor Morse said:—“I have a distinct recollection of the manner, the place, and the moment when the thought of making an electric wire the means of communicating intelligence first came into my mind and was uttered. It was at the table in the cabin, just after we had completed the usual repast at mid-day. Dr. Jackson was on one side of the table and I upon the other. We were conversing on the recent scientific discoveries in electro-magnetism and the experiments of Ampère with the electro-magnet. Dr. Jackson was describing the length of wire in the coil of a magnet, and the question was asked by one of the passengers whether the electricity was not retarded by the length of the wire. Dr. Jackson replied in the negative, stating that electricity passed simultaneously over any known length of wire, and alluded to the experiment by which Franklin made many miles in circuit to ascertain the velocity of electricity, but could observe no difference of time between the touch at one extremity and the spark at the other. I then remarked that this being so, if the presence of electricity could be made visible in any desired part of the circuit, I saw no reason why intelligence might not be transmitted instantaneously by electricity. Dr. Jackson gave his assent that it was possible. The conversation was not diverted by a remark of mine from the details of the experiments Dr. Jackson was describing for the purpose of obtaining a spark from a magnet, nor was this thought of the telegraph again mentioned till I introduced the subject the next day. While Dr. Jackson’s mind was during the voyage more occupied with other branches of science, of geology, and anatomy, the thought which I had conceived took firm possession of my mind, and occupied the wakeful hours of the night; for I used to report to Dr. Jackson and the other passengers my progress, and to ask questions in regard to the best mode of ascertaining the presence of electricity. I had devised a system of signs and constructed a species of type (which I drew out in my sketch-book) by which to regulate the passage of electricity; but I had not settled the best mode of causing the electricity to mark. Several methods suggested themselves to me, such as causing a puncture to be made in paper by the passage of a spark between two disconnected parts, which I soon discarded as impracticable. I asked Dr. Jackson if there was not some mode of decomposition which could be turned to account. Dr. Jackson suggested an experiment which we agreed should be tried together as soon as possible after landing, but which we never made.” He preserved the pocket-book containing his first crude plan of an alphabet of signs, which became the basis of the Morse alphabet. So absorbed did he become in his designs of the various parts of the scheme that sleep forsook him, and it was after a few days brooding over it that he exhibited and explained his designs to his companions. As the voyage came to a close he said to the Captain: “Well, if you hear of the telegraph one of these days as the wonder of the world, remember that the discovery was made on board the good ship Sully”—a remark which Captain Pell never forgot.

On landing at New York in November, 1832, after a voyage which lasted six weeks, he was met by his two brothers, Richard and Sidney. On the way to the house of Richard C. Morse, who was editor of the New York Observer, he told both his brothers that during the voyage he had conceived an important invention, which, he declared, would astonish the world, and of the success of which he was perfectly sanguine. He told them that he had invented a means of communicating intelligence by electricity, whereby a message could be written down in a permanent manner at a distance from the sender. He also took from his pocket the sketch-book in which he had drawn the kind of characters he intended to make his recording apparatus mark on paper, and he likewise showed them drawings of portions of his electro-magnetic machinery. His brothers were so impressed with his earnestness of purpose that they allowed him the use of an upper room in a house in New York, where he worked, and cooked, and slept. He has stated himself that scarcely a day had passed after his return before he commenced the construction of his invention from the plans and drawings made on board the ship. At that time he thought it necessary to embody the signs to be recorded or printed in a kind of type, which were to regulate the requisite opening and closing of the circuit in order to mark or imprint the points or signs upon a strip of paper at the desired intervals of time. Hence a mould of brass was made and a quantity of type cast before the close of the year 1832. The rest of the machinery, except a single cup battery, a few yards of wire, and a train of wheels of a wooden clock, which he adapted to the service of unrolling the strip of paper, “I was compelled,” he says, “from the necessities of my profession, to leave in the condition of drawings till I found a more permanent resting place. From November, 1832, till the summer of 1835, I had to change my residence three times, and was wholly without the pecuniary means for putting together and embodying the various parts of my invention in one whole.” In 1835 his prospects became more auspicious. He was appointed professor of the literature of the Arts of Design in New York University, and thus obtained a more commodious and more permanent residence. He says that when he took possession of his new home in the new building of New York City University in July, 1835, he lost not a day in collecting the parts of his apparatus and putting into practical form the first rude instrument intended to demonstrate the working of his invention. “I was favoured with a little leisure from the unfinished condition of the university building, which impeded the access of visitors to my apartments for my usual professional duties. With the aid of a single cup battery, I ascertained as early as 1834, previous to my removal to the university, that no visible effect was produced upon numerous salts which I submitted to trial by putting them in simple contact with the wire charged with electricity. I succeeded, however, in 1836 in marking by chemical decomposition when the electricity was passed through the moistened paper or cloth, but the process was attended with so many inconveniences that it was laid aside for the moment, not abandoned, that I might give my attention more directly to an electro-magnetic mode of recording.” In accounting for the slowness in completing his instrument and the rudeness of the one first constructed, he says: “The electro-magnet was not an instrument found for sale in the shops, as it is to-day; insulated wire was nowhere to be obtained except in small quantities, as bonnet wire of iron bound round with cotton thread. Copper wire, which was not in use for that purpose, was sold in the shops by the pound or yard at high prices and also in very limited quantities. To form my electro-magnet, I was under the necessity of procuring from the blacksmith a small rod of iron bent in a horseshoe form; of purchasing a few yards of copper wire, and of winding upon it by hand its cotton thread insulation before I could construct the rude helices of a magnet. I had already purchased a cheap wooden clock, and adapted the train of wheels to the rate of movement required for the ribbon of paper.... At the time of the construction of my first instrument I had not conceived the idea of the present key manipulator dependent on the skill of the operator, but I presumed that the accuracy of imprinting signs could only be secured by mechanical arrangements and by automatic process. Hence the first conception on board the ship of embodying the signs in type mathematically divided into points and spaces. Hence also the construction of the type mould, and the casting of the first type in 1832.” With the imperfect apparatus thus brought together, he was able to satisfy himself that the paper ribbon could be moved at a regular speed, while the requisite motion of a lever that moved a pencil made a succession of marks on the paper.

Yet though he was confident that his invention had in it the elements of success, he wanted to do with it what Benjamin West repeatedly told him to do with his picture of Hercules—“finish it”—before exhibiting it. He was conscious that it was in too rude a form to be seen by the public; and he has himself recorded that his means were too limited to admit of his constructing such a finished instrument as would insure success if he ventured to invite public attention to it. He was still painting for his living; and in order to economise both his means and his time he continued to work, eat, and sleep in the same room. He purchased his provisions in small quantities, and in order to conceal his poverty he generally went for his food in the evening as well as cooked it for himself. During the year 1837 his prospects began to brighten. In the early part of that year he succeeded in solving the problem of working his apparatus at a greater distance than he expected a single current to be effective. He says that “between 1835, when the first instrument was completed, and 1837 I had devised a means of providing against a foreshadowed exigency when the conductors were extended, not to a few hundred feet in length in a room, but to stations many miles distant. I was not ignorant of the possibility that the electro-magnet might be so enfeebled, when charged from a great distance, as to be inoperative for direct printing. This possibility was a subject of much thought and anxiety long previous to the year 1836. I had before then conceived and drawn a plan for obviating it; but the plan was so simple that it scarcely needed a drawing to illustrate it; a few words sufficed to make it comprehended. If the magnet, say at twenty miles distant, became so enfeebled as to be unable to print directly, it yet might have power sufficient to close and open another circuit of twenty miles further, and so on till it reached the required station. This plan was often spoken of to my friends previous to the year 1836, but early in January, 1836, after showing the original instrument in operation to my friend and colleague, Professor Gale, I imparted to him this plan of a relay battery and magnet to resolve his doubts regarding the practicability of my producing magnetic power sufficient to write at a distance.” In like manner Professor Gale says: “From April to September, 1837, Professor Morse and myself were engaged together in the work of preparing magnets, winding wire, constructing batteries, &c., in the university for an experiment on a larger but still very limited scale in the little leisure which we each had to spare. We were both at that time much cramped for funds. The labours of Professor Morse at this period were mostly directed to modifications of his instrument for marking, contriving the best modes of marking, varying the pencil or pen, using plumbago and ink, and varying also the form of paper from a slip to a sheet. In the latter part of August, 1837, the operation of the instruments was shown to numerous visitors at the university. It was early a question between Professor Morse and myself what was the limit of the magnetic power to move a lever. I expressed a doubt whether the lever could be moved by this power at a distance of twenty miles; and my settled conviction was that it could not be done with sufficient force to mark characters on paper at a hundred miles distant. To this Professor Morse was accustomed to reply, ‘If I can succeed in working a magnet ten miles, I can go round the globe.’ He often said to me: ‘It matters not how delicate the movement may be, if I can obtain it at all, it is all I want.’ He always expressed his confidence of success in propagating magnetic power through any distance of electric conductors which circumstances might render desirable. This plan was often explained to me. Suppose, said Professor Morse, that in experimenting on twenty miles of wire, we should find the power of magnetism so feeble that it will move a lever with certainty but a hairs breadth; that might be insufficient, it may be, to write or print, yet it would be sufficient to close and break another or second circuit twenty miles further on, and a second circuit could be made in the same manner to break and close a third circuit twenty miles further, and so on round the globe. This general statement of the means to be resorted to was shown to me more in detail early in the spring of the year 1837.” The plan as explained to Professor Gale was that the current on reaching the end of one conducting wire, round which wire was wound so as to form that end into an electro-magnet, could attract to it an armature (or movable hand) of a contiguous wire, and the hand thus moved being connected with a fresh battery, it both continued the circuit and replenished the current. After a few weeks of trial the use of metal blocks or types to regulate the recording marks was abandoned, and although the construction of the handle, called the manipulator, for regulating the transmission at intervals of sufficient electricity to produce the marks, was a later improvement, he ever afterwards declared that his first rude instrument had the leading features that characterised the more perfect apparatus of later years; or to use his own appropriate words, “It lisped its first accents and automatically recorded them in New York. It was a feeble child indeed, ungainly in its dress, stammering in its speech. But the maladies of its unfledged infancy were mainly the results of its parents struggles against poverty.”

Here let us pause and see him as others saw him. Let us see how some of his own friends viewed his labours as an artist and inventor during those times of adversity which the gods are said to view with complacency. One of his pupils, Mr. Daniel Huntington, who afterwards became President of the Academy of Fine Arts, says: “The studio of Professor Morse was indeed a laboratory. Vigorous, life-like portraits, poetic and historic groups, occasionally grew upon his easel; but there were many hours—yes, days—when, absorbed in study among galvanic batteries and mysterious lines of wire, he seemed to us like an alchemist of the middle ages in search of the philosopher’s stone. I can never forget the occasion when he called his pupils together to witness one of the first, if not the first, successful experiment with the electric telegraph. It was in the winter of 1835-6. I can see now that rude instrument constructed with an old stretching frame, a wooden clock, a home-made battery, and the wire stretched many times round the walls of the studio. With eager interest we gathered about it, as our master explained its operation, while with a click, click, click, the pencil, by a succession of dots and lines, recorded the messages in cipher. The idea was born, but we had little faith. To us it seemed a dream of enthusiasm. We grieved to see the sketch upon the canvas untouched.” In like manner, Mr. William Cullen Bryant, who had become acquainted with Morse some years before the telegraph entered his mind, says: “He was then an artist, devoted to a profession in which he might have attained high rank had he not, fortunately for his country and the world, left it for a pursuit in which he has risen to more peculiar eminence. Even then in the art of painting, his tendency to mechanical invention was conspicuous. His mind, as I remember, was strongly impelled to analyse the processes of his art—to give to them a certain scientific precision, to reduce them to fixed rules, to refer effects to clearly defined causes, so as to put it in the power of an artist to produce them at pleasure and with certainty, instead of blindly groping for them, and in the end owing them to some happy accident or some instinctive effort of which he could give no account. The mind of Morse was an organising mind. He showed this in a remarkable manner when he brought together the artists of New York, then a little band mostly of young men whose profession was far from being honoured as it now is, reconciled the disagreements which he found existing among them, and founded an association to be managed solely by themselves—the Academy of the Arts of Design, which has since grown to such noble dimensions, and which has given to the artists a consideration in the community far higher than that before conceded to them.... It was not till 1835 that Morse found means to demonstrate to the public the practicability of his invention by the telegraph constructed on an economical scale and set up at the New York University. The public, however, still seemed indifferent. There was none of the loud applause, none of that enthusiastic reception which it now seems natural should attend the birth of so brilliant a discovery. I confess I was not without my share in the general misgiving, and although the processes employed were exceedingly curious and highly creditable to the inventor, I had my fears that the new telegraph might prove little more than a most ingenious scientific pastime easily getting out of order in consequence of the delicacy of its construction, not capable of being used to advantage for great distances, and for short ones only suitable for messages in their most abbreviated form. The inventor, however, saw further than we all, and I think never lost courage. Yet I remember that some three or four years after this, he said to me with some disappointment, ‘Wheatstone in England and Steinheil in Bavaria, who have their electric telegraphs, are afforded the means of bringing forward their methods, while to my invention of earlier date than theirs my country seems to show no favour.’”

An incident which began in 1835 and extended into 1836 throws some light on the character and sympathies of the disappointed inventor. In August of the latter year he published a little book entitled: The Proscribed German Student: being a Sketch of some interesting Incidents in the Life and melancholy Death of the late Lewis Clausing; to which is added a treatise on the Jesuits: the posthumous work of Lewis Clausing. In the Introduction, Professor Morse stated that in the autumn of 1835 a stranger and foreigner came to his house and introduced himself to him, apologising for his interruption, and asking whether he was the author of a work on Foreign Conspiracy.[9] On Professor Morse replying in the affirmative, Clausing asked him as a favour to peruse a manuscript with a view to recommending it to a publisher. Asked why he had selected Morse to pass an opinion on the book, Clausing replied that in his own country, Heidelberg, he had incurred the enmity of the Jesuits because he did not raise his cap when the procession of the Host was passing in the street. In consequence of that offence an ecclesiastic left the procession and struck off his cap in a passionate manner. Clausing afterwards went to the ecclesiastic’s house, and shot him in the face, but not fatally. After being in prison awaiting sentence for eleven months, he escaped in 1833, and since then the Jesuits had pursued him wherever he went, in France, Brussels, and London, and now in America. Having in the West met with Morse’s work on Foreign Conspiracies against the United States, he found out the author, “for,” he said “if there is a man in the world who I can be sure is not a Jesuit, it is the writer who signs himself Brutus.”

Professor Morse gives an interesting and sympathetic account of the way he treated this poor young man, who called on him one evening at the New York University, but not finding him at home, wrote a letter to him in which he construed the most ordinary circumstances into plots, and concluded by saying that he saw daily more and more that nothing was so dangerous as to be an honest man among rogues; yet he never had done and never would do anything of which he could have the remotest reason to be ashamed. The letter ended “with true admiration for your noble character.” The young man, an accomplished scholar, aged twenty-five years, afterwards shot himself with a pistol while walking on a public promenade. His work on the Jesuits displayed great research and a considerable acquaintance with the literature and literary characters of his day. Professor Morse said of him that “he conversed in English fluently, with less foreign accent than was usually met with in foreigners of twenty years residence in the country, and he wrote a clear, fair, and neat hand. In his manners he was retiring and modest, and in his address he had that peculiar courtesy which belongs to well-educated Germans. He had a fine countenance, a steady expression, with a remarkable dark eye, which fixed itself steadily upon yours without winking, yet without severity; it was mild, and, in the last interviews with me, melancholy. He seemed particularly sensitive to kindness, and when, in the last interview, I urged him freely to call upon me at all times and unburden his bosom of its troubles, and endeavoured to cheer him by sympathy, he wept like a child.” The treatise on the Jesuits, which Professor Morse published immediately after the death of its author, filled nearly 200 small pages, and it was preceded by an account of its author’s career from the pen of the Professor; who thus showed that at the most trying period of his life, when absorbed himself in secret cares and beset by chilling poverty, he could freely spend his time and money in promoting the last wishes of a poor foreigner.

In 1837 circumstances occurred which hastened his preparations for the public display of his telegraph. In February of that year the House of Representatives resolved to instruct the Secretary to the Treasury to report next session upon the propriety of establishing a system of telegraphs in the United States. A copy of the circular making inquiries on the subject was sent to Professor Morse, who in reply gave a detailed estimate of the cost of his telegraph and a history of its invention. In April of the same year it was announced in the newspapers that a wonderful telegraph had been invented by two Frenchmen; and Professor Morse and his friends took alarm lest the invention of his electro-magnetic telegraph had become known and appropriated by other hands. It turned out afterwards that the announcement in question referred to a visual telegraph and was of no importance, but it had the useful effect of rousing Professor Morse to more energetic steps for the purpose of bringing his invention creditably before the public. He also consented to a public announcement of the existence of his invention in the New York Observer, and from April to September, 1837, he and Professor Gale were busy preparing magnets, winding wire, and constructing batteries, with the view of making public experiments on a larger scale.

No sooner had news of the successful operation of his telegraph, as exhibited privately to his friends, begun to spread about than a fresh source of perplexity arose from an unexpected quarter. Dr. Jackson, a chemist and geologist of Boston, now came forward and publicly claimed to be a joint inventor of the telegraph, alleging that he had suggested it to Professor Morse on board the Sully in 1832. He said that during the voyage he had “the pleasure of becoming acquainted with S.F.B. Morse, a distinguished American artist, who is very ingenious in mechanical inventions. I was enthusiastically describing the various wonderful properties of electricity and electro-magnetism before Professor Morse, Mr. Rivers, Mr. Fisher, and others at the table after dinner while the company were listeners, and, as it appeared to me, were somewhat incredulous, for they knew little or nothing on the subject. I mentioned among many other things that I had seen the electric spark pass instantaneously, without any appreciable loss of time, four hundred times round the great lecture room at the Sorbonne. This evidently surprised the company, and I then asked if they had not read of Dr. Franklin’s experiments in which he had caused electricity to go a journey of twenty miles by means of a wire stretched up the Thames, the water being a portion of the circuit. The answer was from Professor Morse that he had not read it. After a short discussion as to the instantaneous nature of the passage, one of the party, Mr. Rivers or Mr. Fisher, said it would be well if we could send news in the same rapid manner; to which Professor Morse replied, ‘Why cannot we?’ I then proceeded to inform Professor Morse in reply to his questions, how it might be done. First, I observed that electricity might be made visible in any part of a circuit by dividing the wire, when a spark would be seen at the intersection. Secondly, that it could be made to perforate paper, if interposed between the disconnected wires. Thirdly, that saline compounds might be decomposed so as to produce colours on paper. The second and third projects were finally adopted for future trial, since they could be made to furnish permanent records.... I observed that it would be easy to devise a method of reading the markings. Here the conversation changed for a while, and was resumed by Professor Morse next day after breakfast. Professor Morse then questioned me again on every point of the invention, and said he had been thinking much about it. With pencil in hand, he proposed a method of deciphering the markings, the dots and marks being made regularly. This was a subject of discussion, and we both took part in it, but I acknowledge that Professor Morse did most in planning the numeration of the marks.” It is evident that even if the accuracy of the above version of the conversations was unquestionable, the information which Dr. Jackson professed to give to Professor Morse was substantially the same that Morse had learned previously.

To the claim thus set up by Dr. Jackson Professor Morse gave an instant and categorical denial. He said: “The discovery belongs to me, and it must of necessity belong exclusively to one. If by an experiment which we proposed to try together, we had mutually fixed upon a successful mode of conveying intelligence, then might we with some propriety be termed mutual or joint inventors; but as we have neither tried any experiment together, nor has the one proposed to be tried by Dr. Jackson been adopted by me, I cannot see how we can be called mutual inventors. Dr. Jackson is not aware perhaps that the mode I have carried into effect, after many and various experiments, with the assistance of my colleague, Professor Gale, was never mentioned either by him or to him. The plan of marking by my peculiar type, and the use which I make of the electro-magnet, were entirely original with me. All the machinery has been elaborated without a hint from Dr. Jackson of any kind in the remotest degree. I am the sole inventor. It is to Professor Gale that I am most of all indebted for substantial and effective aid in many of my experiments; but he prefers no claim of any kind.” Dr. Jackson, on the 17th of September, 1837, admitted that the telegraph he had suggested would require twenty-four wires for conductors. Professor Morse replied that his telegraph was adapted to the use of one wire, or a single circuit, a method which Dr. Jackson had declared to be impracticable. Dr. Jackson admitted that among those who heard his conversations with Professor Morse was William Pell, the Captain of the Sully, who on being asked to give his version of the matter wrote to the Professor as follows:—“I am happy to say I have a distinct remembrance of your suggesting as a thought newly occurred to you the possibility of a telegraphic communication being effected by electric wires. As the passage progressed and your idea developed itself, it became frequently a subject of conversation. Difficulty after difficulty was suggested as obstacles to its operation, which your ingenuity still laboured to remove till your invention, passing from its first crude state through different grades of improvement, was in seeming matured to an available instrument.” In a subsequent letter Captain Pell said it was a matter of great astonishment to him that a fellow-passenger on the Sully from Havre in October, 1832, should attempt to contest with Professor Morse the claim of having been the inventor of the electric telegraph; the impression rested on his mind with the freshness and force of conviction that Professor Morse alone was the originator of the invention. Other witnesses who were on board the Sully gave equally emphatic testimony in support of his originality. When the question of originality was afterwards investigated in a court of law, Mr. Justice Woodbury, after examining all the authorities on the subject, stated that from 1832 forward Professor Morse was entitled to the high credit of making attempts to construct a practical machine for popular and commercial use, which would communicate at a distance by electro-magnetism, and would record quickly and cheaply what was communicated, and that among sixty-two competitors to the discovery of the electric telegraph up to 1838, Professor Morse alone in 1837 seemed to have reached the most perfect result desirable for public and practical use.

While rival claims were being made to the invention of the telegraph, Professor Morse succeeded in securing protection by patent in his own country. He had filed his caveat in the United States on October 6, 1837, and six months afterwards applied for a patent, which he obtained in 1840. Just before taking proceedings to obtain patent rights, some friends of the right sort came to his assistance. In September, 1837, he showed his apparatus and explained his designs to Professor Torrey, Mr. Alfred Vail, and others; and their approbation had a stimulating effect. Mr. Alfred Vail and his brother, after making a thorough examination of it, became so enthusiastic about its success that they offered to supply the impecunious inventor with the means requisite to try experiments on a larger scale. This ready assistance when he was in need he never ceased to praise. Many years after his telegraph was in universal use, and when he was being crowned with the highest honours of his life, he stated that the inventor must seek and employ the skilled mechanician in his workshop to put his invention into a practical form, and for this purpose some pecuniary means are required as well as mechanical skill. Both these he received from Messrs. Vail. These gentlemen came to the help of “the unclothed infant, and with their funds and mechanical skill put it into a condition creditable to appear before the nation.” For this valuable assistance Professor Morse assigned to Mr. Vail one fourth share in the patent; and they continued to work together with the greatest good will. The first really good Morse instrument was made by Mr. Vail, assisted by his father and brother, and their first experiment was made with three miles of copper wire placed round a room of Vail’s factory at the Speedwell ironworks, Morristown, New Jersey, on January 6, 1838. Encouraged by its success, the inventor and his partners invited a number of prominent citizens to witness the performances of the telegraph in the Geological Cabinet of the University in Washington Square, New York, on January 24, 1838; and so much interest was excited by its achievements on that occasion that a fortnight later the Committee of Sciences and Arts of the Franklin Institute inspected it. As an authoritative and permanent record of its stage of development at that time their report is instructive. They stated that “the instrument was exhibited to them in the Hall of the Institute, and every opportunity given by Mr. Morse and his associate, Mr. Alfred Vail, to examine it carefully and to judge of its operation. The instrument may be briefly described as follows: (1) There is a galvanic battery of sixty pairs of plates, set in action by a solution of sulphate of copper. (2) The poles of this battery can be connected at pleasure with a circuit of copper wire, which in the experiments we witnessed was ten miles in length. The greater part of the wire was wound round two cylinders, and the coils insulated from one another by being covered with cotton thread. (3) In the middle of this circuit of wire,—that is, at what was considered virtually a distance of five miles from the battery, was the register. In this there is an electro-magnet, made of a bar of soft iron bent in the form of a horseshoe, and surrounded by coils of the wire which forms the circuit. The keeper of this magnet is at the short arm of a bent lever, at the end of the longer arm of which is a fountain-pen. When the keeper is drawn against the magnet, the pen comes in contact with a roll of paper wound round a cylinder, and makes a mark with ink upon this paper. While the telegraph is in operation, the cylinder which carries the paper is made to revolve slowly upon its axis, by an apparatus like the kitchen jack, and is at the same time moved forward, so that the pen if constantly in contact with the paper would describe a spiral or helix upon its surface. (4) Near the battery, at one of the stations, there is an interruption in the circuit, the ends of the separated wire entering into two cups, near to each other, containing mercury. Now if a small piece of bent wire be introduced, with an end in each cup, the circuit will be completed, the electro-magnet at the other station will be set in action, the keeper will be drawn against it, and the pen will make a mark upon the revolving paper. On the other hand, when the bent wire is removed from the cups, the circuit will be interrupted, the electro-magnet will instantly cease to act, the keeper will, by its weight, recede a small distance from the magnet, the other end of the lever will rise and lift the pen from the paper, and the marking will cease. (5) The successive connections and interruptions of the circuit are executed by means of an ingenious contrivance for depressing the arch of copper wire into the cups of mercury, and raising it out of them. This apparatus could not be described intelligibly without a figure; but its action was simple and very satisfactory. (6) Two systems of signals were exhibited, one representing numbers, the other letters. The numbers consist of nothing more than dots made on the paper, with suitable spaces intervening. Thus ...   ..   ..... would represent 325, and may either indicate this number itself, or a word in a dictionary, prepared for the purpose, to which the number is attached. The alphabetical signals are made up of combinations of dots and of lines of different lengths. There are several subsidiary parts of this telegraph which the Committee have not thought it necessary to mention particularly. Among these is the use of a second electro-magnet at the register, to give warning by the ringing of a bell, and to set in motion the apparatus for turning the cylinder. The operation of the telegraph as exhibited to us was very satisfactory. The power given to the magnet at the register, through a length of wire of ten miles, was abundantly sufficient for the movements required to mark the signals. The communication of this power was instantaneous. The time required to make the signals was as short, at least, as that necessary in the ordinary telegraphs. It appears to the Committee therefore that the possibility of using telegraphs upon this plan in actual practice is not to be doubted, though difficulties may be anticipated which could not be tested by the trials made with the model. One of these relates to the insulation and protection of the wires, which are to pass over many miles of distance to form the circuits between the stations. Mr. Morse has proposed several plans,—the last being to cover the wires with cotton thread, then varnish them thickly with gum-elastic, and inclose the whole in leaden tubes. Doubts have been raised as to the distance to which the electricity of an ordinary battery can be made efficient; but the Committee think that no serious difficulty is to be anticipated as to this point. The experiment with the wire wound in a coil may not indeed be deemed conclusive; but one of the members of the Committee assisted in an experiment in which a magnet was very sensibly affected by a battery of a single pair through an insulated wire of two miles and three quarters in length, of which the folds were four inches apart; and when a battery of ten pairs was used water was freely decomposed. An experiment is said to have been made with success on the Birmingham and Manchester railroad through a circuit of thirty miles in length. It may be proper to state that the idea of using electro-magnetism for telegraphic purposes has presented itself to several different individuals, and that it may be difficult to settle among them the question of originality. The celebrated Gauss has a telegraph of this kind in actual operation for communicating signals between the University at Göttingen and the magnetic observatory in the vicinity. Mr. Wheatstone of London has also been for some time engaged in experiments on an electro-magnetic telegraph. But the plan of Professor Morse is, so far as the Committee are informed, entirely different from any of those devised by other individuals, all of which act by giving different directions to magnetic needles, and would therefore require several circuits of wires between all the stations.”

A month later the Committee of Commerce drew up their report to Congress. They stated that, among the suggestions that had been submitted, the electro-magnetic telegraph of Professor Morse was pre-eminently interesting and wonderful; and that in addition to being examined and confidently recommended by the Select Committee of the Franklin Institute, it had been exhibited to the President of the United States, to several heads of departments, members of Congress, and a vast number of scientific and practical men from all parts of the Union. All concurred, without a dissenting doubt, in admiration of the ingenious and scientific character of the invention, and appeared to be convinced as to “its great and incalculable practical importance and usefulness to the country and ultimately to the world.” The Committee also stated that Professor Morse concurred in saying that it would be presumptuous to calculate or hold out promises as to what its whole capacity for usefulness might be in either a political, commercial, or social point of view if the electrical power on which its action depended proved inefficient over long distances; but it was obvious, they thought, that the influence of the invention among the people of such a widely extended country, would, in the event of its success, amount to “a revolution unsurpassed in moral grandeur by any discovery that has been made in the arts and sciences from the most distant period to which authentic history extends to the present day.” Such was the language applied to the first experimental working of the telegraph over ten miles of wire; nor did the Committee’s first impressions end there. Our familiarity with the telegraph has divested it of novelty, but it suggested to them thoughts which are still impressive and beautiful. They said that, “with the means of almost instantaneous communication between the most distant points of the country and simultaneously between any given number of intermediate points, which this invention contemplates, space for all purposes of information will be completely annihilated between the States of the Union. The citizens will be invested with and will reduce to daily and familiar use an approach to the high attribute of ubiquity in a degree that the human mind till recently had hardly dared to contemplate seriously as belonging to human agency, from an instinctive feeling of religious reverence and reserve of a power of such awful grandeur.” The Committee concluded by recommending Congress to grant 30,000 dollars for the making of an experiment on a much larger scale, say 100 miles.

To Professor Morse, who had toiled at the invention now and then for fully five years amid many discouragements, everything now looked encouraging. “I see nothing now,” he said, “but an unclouded prospect, for which let us pay to Him who shows it to us the homage of grateful and obedient hearts, with most earnest prayers for grace to use prosperity aright.”

The next step thought necessary to insure the wide success anticipated was the taking out of foreign patents; and for that purpose the sanguine inventor and Mr. F. O. J. Smith, who had become a warm friend of his, paid a visit to Europe. Mr. Smith was a member of the House of Representatives, and as Chairman of the House Committee of Commerce, he had in April, 1838, recommended Congress to grant 30,000 dollars for the purpose of testing the telegraph over many miles. In after years Professor Morse gave him “the credit of a just appreciation of the new invention and of the zealous advocacy of an experimental essay, as well as of inditing an admirably written report in its favour which was signed by every member of the Committee, when in 1838 the telegraph appeared in Washington a suppliant for the means to administer its power.” This friend now accompanied the inventor to England, where they applied for a patent. In England Messrs. Wheatstone and Cooke had already obtained a patent for their needle telegraph; but as the Morse telegraph was essentially different from theirs, he unhesitatingly paid the usual fees and went through the preliminary formalities. To his dismay, however, he found his application objected to before the Attorney-General, whose sanction was requisite, on the ground that his telegraph was not new. The arguments were heard on the 12th of July, 1838, when Morse produced his instrument in order to show the Attorney-General how different it was from the English telegraph; but the Attorney-General held that it was unnecessary to examine it, because the London Mechanics’ Magazine for the previous February had published an article from Silliman’s (American) Journal for October, 1837, giving a description of the invention. This publication was considered a valid reason for refusing a patent. Another hearing was obtained, but it only confirmed the previous decision. While in London on this business Morse was a spectator of the coronation of Queen Victoria in Westminster Abbey.

In France a better reception was accorded to the inventor, who not only got a patent without difficulty, but was loaded with compliments. Arago brought his telegraph before the French Institute, where the greatest men of the time, such as Humboldt and Guy Lussac, were profuse in their admiration of it. But to make the patent valid in France it was necessary that it should be worked there within two years; and this it was found impossible to do. An agreement was made with the St. Germain Railway Company to erect a line of telegraph upon their railroad, but the Government having refused their permission, the project was dropped.

Though his visit to Paris was not attended with the results he desired, an incident occurred which rendered it memorable and linked his name with another discovery, which probably encouraged him to persevere with his own. The American Consul introduced him to M. Daguerre, who, in conjunction with M. Niepce, had just discovered the art of photography, then known as “the new art.” The discovery of Daguerre was causing a great sensation, but his method was kept a secret. The two inventors agreed to show their inventions to each other, but Professor Morse undertook not to disclose the art of photography just then. Negotiations were going on between M. Daguerre and the French Government with reference to the publication of the process, and the result was that Daguerre agreed to disclose it in consideration of the Government paying him a pension of 250l. a year and Niepce 166l. a year for life. M. Arago took a leading part in guaranteeing the genuineness of the discovery. As soon as a bill conferring the pensions passed the French Chambers, “the new art” was to be made public, and M. Daguerre in January promised to send Professor Morse a copy of his description as soon as published. It was not till September that this took place, but Professor Morse, who had returned to New York in April, 1839, was the first in America to receive a copy of Daguerre’s own account of his discovery illustrated with six diagrams. From these drawings Professor Morse was able to construct the first photographic apparatus used in the United States; and the first photograph taken with it was a view of the tower of the Church of the Messiah on Broadway, as seen from a back-window of New York University. The process was no sooner published than improvements were made in it; and among the earliest improvers in America were Professor Morse and Dr. J. W. Draper, professor of Chemistry in New York University. Experiments which they made in a studio erected on the roof of the University resulted in the publication next year of a paper by Professor Draper, On the Process of Daguerreotype, and its Application to taking Portraits from the Life. This was the announcement of a great improvement. By the process of Daguerre the time of taking a photograph at Paris varied from three to thirty minutes, and the human face could only be photographed with the eyes shut. By Professor Draper’s improvements portraits could be taken with the eyes open, and instead of an average of fifteen minutes, it could be done in one minute or less. Professor Draper stated that in portraits taken by his process “the eye appears beautifully; the iris with sharpness, and the white dot of light upon it with such strength and so much reality and life as to surprise those who have never before seen it. Many are persuaded that the pencil of the painter has been secretly employed to give this finishing touch.” For six months Professor Morse acted as a photographer, and was thus enabled to repay the “great expenses” he had incurred in improving the process. He then abandoned photography for telegraphy.

It thus appears that Professor Morse was the first lecturer on art in America, the first sculptor from America who received foreign honours, the first photographer in America, and the first inventor of the recording telegraph.

The work now set before him was the introduction of the telegraph, and to accomplish this work other five years were necessary. They were five years of poverty and disappointment, occasionally brightened by transient gleams of success. The petition to Congress for money to make an experiment with it on a large scale had been thrown aside among the unfinished business of the session, and it was not till 1842 that the matter was again brought forward. At the close of 1841 the despairing inventor said: “I have not a cent in the world. I am crushed for want of means, and means of so trivial a character, too, that they who know how to ask (which I do not) could obtain in a few hours. One year more has gone for want of means. I have now ascertained that, however unpromising were the times last session, if I could only have gone to Washington, I could have got some aid to enable me to insure success at the next session. As it is, although everything is favourable, although I have no competition and no opposition—on the contrary although every member of Congress, so far as I can learn, is favourable—yet I fear all will fail because I am too poor to risk the trifling expenses which my journey and residence in Washington will occasion me. I will not run in debt if I lose the whole matter; so unless I have the means from some source I shall be compelled, however reluctantly, to leave it. Nothing but the consciousness that I have an invention which is to mark an era in human civilisation, and which is to contribute to the happiness of millions, would have sustained me through so many and such lengthened trials of patience in proof of it.” He even said to one of his art pupils that he was so destitute of money that he would be dead next week from starvation; and on the pupil giving him ten dollars and taking him to dinner, Morse said that was the first meal he had had for twenty-four hours.

This appears to have been the darkest hour before the dawn; for in the midst of his gloom and poverty he determined to make one more experiment. He insulated a wire two miles long with hempen threads saturated with pitch tar and surrounded with india-rubber; and this, which he called the first submarine cable ever made, was laid in New York harbour between Castle Garden and Governor’s Island on October 18, 1842. The wire was wound round a reel and placed in a boat; and in the bright moonshine the Professor unwound and paid out the wire while another man rowed the boat. Several signals passed through the wire; but before he had an opportunity of exhibiting its operation to those whom he wanted to convince, the wire was dragged up by the anchor of another boat and part of it carried off by the sailors. But it was not destroyed till he had satisfied himself that despatches could be transmitted through it. He renewed the experiment two months afterwards in the canal at Washington with complete success; and in after years he ever spoke of these experiments, especially the first, as the birthtime of submarine telegraphy. He received the gold medal of the American Institute for this success.

Encouraged by the success of this experiment, he wrote a letter on December 6, 1842, to the Hon. C. G. Ferris, a member of the House Committee of Commerce, giving a minute account of his invention, and asking that an appeal might be made through the Committee to Congress for a grant to erect an experimental line of telegraph. Mr. Ferris at once took up the subject, and a bill was drawn up appropriating 30,000 dollars for that purpose; but ere it came before Congress the inventor was able to announce another discovery that strengthened his faith in the marvellous power of the telegraph. In a letter dated January 17, 1843, he said: “Professor Fisher and myself made an important discovery just before we left New York, namely, that several currents of electricity will pass upon the same wire without interference either in the same direction or in opposite directions. The discovery I have at once reduced to practice. The wire for the two circuits which I use for my two instruments in the Capitol is composed of three instead of four threads.”

Five weeks after that announcement Mr. John Kennedy moved in Congress to proceed with the bill making the grant for an experimental line. Professor Morse was present in the gallery listening to a debate which, though not very auspicious, was not devoid of humour. An abridged report of the proceedings on the 27th of February, 1843, states that on the motion of Mr. Kennedy, of Maryland, the Committee took up the bill to authorise a series of experiments to be made in order to test the merits of Morse’s Electro-Magnetic Telegraph—a bill appropriating 30,000 dollars, to be expended under the direction of the Postmaster-General. Mr. Cave Johnson said that, as the present Congress had done much to encourage science, he did not wish to see the science of mesmerism neglected and overlooked. He therefore proposed that one-half the appropriation should be given to Mr. Pisk (a gentleman at that time lecturing in Washington on mesmerism) to enable him to carry on experiments as well as Professor Morse. Mr. Houston thought that Millerism should also be included in the benefits of the appropriation. Mr. Stanly had no objection to the appropriation for mesmeric experiments, provided Mr. Cave Johnson would be the subject (Laughter.) Mr. Cave Johnson retorted that he would have no objection provided Mr. Stanly was the operator. (Much laughter.) Several gentlemen having called for the reading of the amendment, the Clerk read thus: “Provided that one half of the said sum shall be appropriated for trying mesmeric experiments, under the direction of the Secretary of the Treasury.” Mr. Mason, rising to order, contended that the amendment was not bonâ fide, and that such a proposal was calculated to injure the character of the House. He appealed to the Chair to rule it out of order; but the Chairman, declining to judge of the motives of members in offering amendments, would not undertake to pronounce it not bonâ fide. He said objections might be raised to it on the ground that it was not sufficiently analogous in its character to the bill under consideration, but in his opinion it would require a scientific analysis to determine how far the magnetism of mesmerism was analogous to that to be employed in telegraphs. (Laughter.) The amendment was rejected, and in the end the bill was carried by a majority of six votes—89 to 83. Professor Morse was accustomed afterwards to remark that a “change of three votes would have consigned the invention to oblivion.” “I was told at the time,” he also said, “by many personal friends in the House, that the bill finally passed more out of deference to my personal standing than from any just appreciation of the importance of the invention, a compliment which, however gratifying to personal pride, was fully set off by perceiving the low estimate of the result of my labours. Other motions disparaging the invention were made, such as proposing to appropriate part of the sum to telegraph to the moon, but the majority of Congress did not concur in this attempt to defeat the measure by ridicule.” In the Senate, however, it was not honoured even by ridicule. It was allowed to lie untouched till the last night of the session. Here also the Professor was an eager but despairing spectator of the fate of his project. He sat listening all day—to him a day of gloom and anxiety, unrelieved by a single ray of hope. The session had to close at midnight, and at ten o’clock one of the senators advised him to go home, as it was useless staying longer—the prospect was hopeless. Morse thought so too, and with a heavy heart left for his hotel, where after paying his bill, he found that on his return to New York he would have thirty-seven and a half cents in his pocket.

With this capital, he must again return to his brush and easel, and work for fresh means to enable him to appeal to Congress at a more convenient season. Such were the reflections that perturbed his mind, as, overcome with fatigue, he retired to rest. Little did he dream that night that he was to be an historic illustration of Shakespeare’s remark that “our little life is rounded with a sleep.” Rising at a late hour next morning, he was informed when at breakfast that a lady had called to see him, and upon his entering the parlour, he was met by Miss Annie Ellsworth, daughter of the Commissioner of Patents. With a radiant smile she said, “I have come to congratulate you, Mr. Morse,” who was advancing to shake hands with her, all unconscious that she was a messenger of glad tidings. “To congratulate me,” said the care-worn inventor, “for what?” “Why, upon the passage of your bill, to be sure,” she replied. “Surely you must be mistaken,” said the Professor, who probably thought the announcement too good to be true; “I left at a late hour and its fate seemed inevitable.” “Indeed I’m not,” was the reply; “father remained till the close of the session; and your bill was the very last that was passed. I begged permission to convey the news to you, and I am so glad I am the first to tell you. It was passed without any discussion.” As the Commissioner of Patents was a friend who had taken a warm interest in the fate of the telegraph, the Professor accepted this assurance, and warmly pressing the lady’s hand, expressed unfeigned delight at the news. In the course of some further conversation, he said that as a reward for being the first bearer of the glad tidings, she should be invited to send the first message over the first line of telegraph. The promise was accepted.

He next sought permission to construct his telegraph on the railroad from Baltimore to Washington. Even this simple matter was not settled without some opposition. Happily Professor Morse secured the support of Mr. Latrobe, who was then engineer to the Baltimore and Ohio railway, and who has given an interesting account of his connection with the project. He says that while “calling on Mr. Louis McLane, the president, on some professional matter, I was asked in the course of conversation whether I knew anything about an electric telegraph which the inventor, who had obtained an appropriation from Congress, wanted to lay down on the Washington branch of the road. He said he expected Mr. Morse, the inventor, to call on him, when he would introduce me to him, and would be glad if I took an opportunity to go over the subject with him, and afterwards let him (Mr. McLane) know what I thought about it. While we were yet speaking Mr. Morse made his appearance, and when Mr. McLane introduced me he referred to the fact that, as I had been educated at West Point, I might the more readily understand the scientific bearing of Mr. Morse’s invention. The president’s office being no place for prolonged conversation, it was agreed that Mr. Morse should take tea at my dwelling, when we would go over the whole subject. We met accordingly, and it was late in the night before we parted. Mr. Morse went over the history of his invention from the beginning with an interest and enthusiasm that had survived the wearying toil of an application to Congress, and, with the aid of diagrams drawn on the instant, made me master of the matter, and wrote for me the telegraphic alphabet which is still in use all over the world. Not a small part of what Mr. Morse said on this occasion had reference to the future of his invention, its influence on communities and individuals, and I remember regarding as the wild speculations of an active imagination what he prophesied in this connection, and which I have lived to see more than realised. Nor was his conversation confined to his invention. A distinguished artist, an educated gentleman, an observant traveller, it was delightful to hear him talk, and at this day I recall few more pleasant evenings than the only one I passed in his company.

“Of course my first visit the next morning was to Mr. McLane to make my report. By this time I had become almost as enthusiastic as Mr. Morse himself, and repeated what had passed between us. I soon saw that Mr. McLane was becoming as eager for the construction of the line to Washington as Mr. Morse could desire. He entered warmly into the spirit of the thing, and laughed heartily, if not incredulously, when I told him that although he had been Minister to England, Secretary of State, and Secretary of the Treasury, his name would be forgotten, while that of Morse would never cease to be remembered with praise and gratitude. We then considered the question as to the right of the company to permit the line to be laid in the bed of the road—the plan of construction at that time being to bury in a trench some eight or ten inches deep a half-inch leaden tube containing the wrapped wire that was to form the electric circuit. About this there was, in my opinion, no doubt.” The President accordingly brought the subject before the monthly meeting of the directors held in April, 1843. Just as the meeting was about to adjourn, he said he had almost overlooked an application which he had received from Professor Morse for permission to lay his telegraph line on the railroad from Baltimore to Washington, and which their chief engineer recommended as worthy of encouragement. A resolution was moved and seconded, giving “such facilities as may be requisite to give the invention a proper trial,” provided it could be done without injury to the road or embarrassment to the company. The President pointed out that the company reserved the right of requiring the removal of the telegraph at any time, and the resolution appeared for a moment to command assent; but one of the older directors then rose and stated that, notwithstanding all the precautions suggested, he could not as a conscientious man vote for the resolution without some further examination. He knew that this idea of Mr. Morse, though it appeared plausible to theorists, dreamers, and men of science, was regarded by all practical people as destined to certain failure, and must consequently result in loss and possible ruin to Mr. Morse. He felt conscientious scruples in giving a vote which would tempt a visionary enthusiast to ruin himself. However, Mr. John P. Kennedy now, as in Congress, came to the rescue of Mr. Morse, and the resolution was adopted.

The experimental line from Baltimore to Washington was at once commenced, and Professor Morse was appointed superintendent of the work with a salary of 2,500 dollars. Different accounts have been given of the progress of the work; but for authenticity and importance his own account, given in a letter to the Secretary of the Treasury, is still of historic interest. On August 10, 1843, he said, with reference to his experiments with the prepared wire in one continuous line of 160 miles, that they were attended with perfect success. “I had prepared a galvanic battery of 300 pairs in order to have ample power at command, but, to my great gratification, I found that 100 pairs were sufficient to produce all the effects I desired through the whole distance of 160 miles. It may be well to observe that the 160 miles of wire are to be divided into four lengths, of forty miles each, forming a fourfold cord from Washington to Baltimore. Two wires form a circuit; the electricity, therefore, in producing its effect at Washington from Baltimore, passes from Baltimore to Washington and back again to Baltimore, of course travelling eighty miles to produce its result. One hundred and sixty miles, therefore, give me an actual distance of eighty miles, double the distance from Washington to Baltimore. The result then of my experiments is, that a battery of only 100 pairs at Washington will operate a telegraph on my plan eighty miles distant with certainty, and without requiring any intermediate station! Some careful experiments on the decomposing power at various distances were made, from which the law of propulsion has been deduced, verifying the results of Ohm and those which I made in the summer of 1842. The practical inference from this law is that a telegraphic communication on the electro-magnetic plan may, with certainty, be established across the Atlantic ocean! Startling as this may now seem, I am confident the time will come when this project will be realised. The wire is now in its last process of preparation for enclosing in the lead tube, which will be commenced on Tuesday the 15th of August.” It thus appears that he had no sooner begun the construction of the first land line in America than he had conceived the greatest submarine achievement in telegraphy. This was the first authoritative proposal of an Atlantic telegraph.

The idea of enclosing insulated wires in pipes was taken from the accounts published in America of Wheatstone’s first telegraph in England; but this method when tried proved unsuccessful, and was at once abandoned, the wires being henceforth placed on poles. About a year was occupied in completing the first practical line; and then Professor Morse sent for Miss Ellsworth, and asked her to supply the first message. This she did, giving the memorable words: “What hath God wrought!” The Professor himself worked the transmitter, which was in the chamber of the United States Supreme Court at Washington; the date was the 24th of May, 1844; and the message was received at Baltimore in the signs which were henceforth to be known as the Morse Alphabet, as follows:

WHAT HATH GOD WROUGHT

An incident soon occurred which brought the telegraph into notoriety. Three days after the transmission of the first message the National Democratic Convention, then sitting in Baltimore, nominated James K. Polk as president; and as vice-president Silas Wright, who was at that time in the Senate at Washington. Mr. Vail sent the news of the nomination by telegraph from Baltimore to Professor Morse, and he communicated it to Mr. Wright, who immediately declined the nomination. The rapidity with which the messages had passed between Baltimore and Washington surprised the Convention, who are said to have been so incredulous on the subject that they sent a Committee to Washington to confer with Mr. Wright, and adjourned till the desired confirmation was received. The incident caused a sensation. The telegraph became the latest “wonder.” Professor Morse’s long winter of despondency and anxious struggle seemed now to be made glorious summer. The hill of difficulty appeared to have been surmounted. His invention answered expectations, and the experimental line worked well. Now his buoyancy seemed to rise to poetic flights; for in March, 1845, he wrote that while travelling on the Rhine some years previously he saw on a sundial at Worms the motto Horas non numero nisi serenas; the beauty of its sentiment appeared to him to be so well sustained in the euphony of its syllables that he placed it in his note-book, and he now ventured to expand it into the following stanzas which he dedicated “To my young friend A——, sincerely praying that the dial of her life may ever show unclouded hours.”

TO MISS A. G. E.

THE SUNDIAL.

Horas non numero nisi serenas.

I note not the hours except they be bright.

The sun when it shines in a clear, cloudless sky

Marks the time of my disc in figures of light.

If clouds gather o’er me, unheeded they fly,

I note not the hours except they be bright.

So when I review all the scenes that have passed

Between me and thee, be they dark, be they light,

I forget what was dark, the light I hold fast,

I note not the hours except they be bright.