Robert Fulton.
Fulton’s mother died during this year, 1799, in the Pennsylvania farm-house, and it is doubtful whether his letter reached her. If it did, the thirty-six guineas, the “pictures of the late King of France,” and the happy letter, with its promise of home-coming, must have gladdened her heart.
Before we take up the story of the submarine torpedo-boat work,—as difficult as that of his later invention of steam navigation,—let us recall another venture which Fulton made, along quite another line. Upon his arrival in Paris he had noticed the gayety and joyousness of the French and he decided to appeal to these happy people with a new form of amusement, a painted panorama.
It is only necessary to remind ourselves of the astounding popularity, in our day, of moving-pictures, to realize how fortunate Fulton was in his plan to amuse the people of Paris. A Scotchman, Robert Barker, had painted a panorama of the city of Edinburgh, to exhibit in London in 1789. Possibly Fulton had seen this exhibit, for it had proved highly successful; at any rate, he applied for a French patent, which was granted in April, 1799, to “Robert Fulton of the United States” for a term of ten years.
Fulton’s panorama was almost twice as large as the Scotchman’s. He secured a plot of ground in a central part of the city, and built a loft, in circular shape, upon it. The queer-looking building attracted immediate attention. In it Fulton hung the huge canvas, and his industrious hand painted the startling scene, “The Destruction of Moscow,” a scene of pillage and devastation, such as Benjamin West had taught him to depict. The subject was attractive to the people, who were considering rumors of war, and they flocked in crowds to view the fiery representation. The entrance fee was a franc and a half, so money began to pour into Fulton’s empty purse. So noted did the panorama become that a popular song of the day was sung in the streets extolling its excellence. One cannot but wonder whether Fulton himself, perhaps at Barlow’s suggestion, wrote the words to advertise the new amusement.
We can almost fancy that we see and hear the care-free crowd, strolling through the street, where now an arcade called “Passage des Panoramas” marks the place, singing the popular air as they crowded to the door of entrance, just as people flock to-day to an inexpensive and novel entertainment. Fulton was indeed a clever man to have adapted Barker’s London success to the people of the French capital. Here is one verse of the song, with its translation:
“Paris pas plus grand que cela
Jouit de succès légitime
Un savant vous le montrera