Robert Fulton.
It is almost beyond belief that Fulton had been able, in so short a time, to bring to such perfection an invention of such great importance, yet fraught with so much danger. The recital of his voyage on the high seas, at war-time, together with his plunging experiments, proves that he possessed real heroism. The navy of England had received private news of the invention and the sailors were on their guard, so it is easy to realize why the brigs “set sail and were quickly at a distance.” Fulton had become well known in both warring countries and was accounted a power to be reckoned with.
Fulton offered personally to command the Nautilus and to teach the French navy the art of the new warfare, as well as to build such submarine boats as Napoleon would authorize. He asked that he might employ as co-workers the three men he had already taught; and they, by the way, must have been courageous indeed to engage in so novel and dangerous an enterprise.
But the contract “backed and filled” in tantalizing delay to the ardent inventor. Fulton had a personal interview with Napoleon and tried to persuade him to adopt the new plan; but no immediate response resulted; finally, after hope long deferred and repeated letters and visits to the embassy, Fulton received a letter from the Minister of the Marine, bearing the good news that Napoleon had accepted Fulton’s proposition; that 10,000 francs had been placed to his credit to repair the Nautilus, build auxiliaries, and convey his unusual fleet, at his own expense, to Brest, where he could engage in warfare against the enemy.
From that time, March 28th, 1801, to May, Fulton was busy with the novel enterprise. The Nautilus was overhauled and conveyed to Brest, mounted on a long cart drawn by horses. How the boys and girls of the villages through which the queer boat passed must have gazed and wondered! Finally it reached the dockyard at Brest, and after two months of fitting Fulton was ready to attempt an attack on the enemy. But again the English seamen were too wary to be surprised. Fulton spent an anxious summer but could find no vessel within reach of possible attack.
However, he conducted a series of successful experiments, and, in the presence of several influential officials, he blew up a large sloop, destroying it so completely that nothing was left but the buoy and cable. He was able to report that he had proved his boat could
- Sail like a common boat,
- Obtain air and light,
- Plunge and Rise perpendicular,
- Turn to the right and left at pleasure,
- Steer by the compass under water,
- Renew the common volume of air with ease
- And add the respirable air, by a reservoir, which may be obtained at all times.
Although the invention proved successful, it was exercised for only eight months. On the first of October the Minister of the Marine resigned his office, and his successor, a French admiral of the old-school, declined to listen to or forward any new-fangled ideas. How disappointed Fulton must have been after his three years of hard work and his unquenchable faith in the power of his project. The Treaty of Peace, signed at Amiens in 1802, brought a welcome end to warfare, and Fulton realized that the nations had no present need for his weapon of naval destruction.
But Fulton did not forget France and the interest Napoleon had shown, even after his return to his own country. In 1811, the Boston Weekly Messenger, of Friday, November 15th, contained the following amusing letter in rhyme, addressed to Napoleon’s infant son, the King of Rome. Perhaps it was a diplomatic move to interest Bonaparte through a recognition of his tiny heir; perhaps it was merely written in jest and never crossed the seas. But here it is, in part, for our amusement.
Great King, two years ago I wrote