In 1826, at the age of twenty-three, he went to England to introduce a flame or gas-engine which he had invented. He remained there for eleven years, and then a fortunate chance won him for the United States. He had been experimenting with a screw or propeller for steamboats, instead of the paddle-wheels as used by Fulton, and finally, equipping a small boat with two propellers, offered the invention to the British admiralty. But the admiralty was skeptical. The United States consul in Liverpool happened to be Francis B. Ogden, a pioneer in steam navigation on the Ohio river. He was impressed with Ericsson's invention, introduced him to Robert F. Stockton, of the United States navy, and on their assurance that the invention would be taken up in the United States, closed up his affairs in England and sailed for this country.
His first experiment was disastrous—though through no fault of his. A ship-of-war called the Princeton was ordered by the government and completed. She embodied, besides screw propellers, many other features which made her a nine days' wonder. A distinguished company boarded her for her trial trip, and it was decided also to test her big guns. But at the first discharge, the gun burst, killing the secretary of state, the secretary of the navy, the captain of the ship, and a number of other well known men. As a consequence, the experiment was stopped and Ericsson was twelve years in securing from the government the $15,000 he had spent in equipping the Princeton.
However, he was soon to render the country a service which will never be forgotten. In 1861, he appeared before the navy department with a plan for an iron-clad consisting of a revolving turret mounted upon an armored raft. He secured an order for one such vessel, to be paid for only in the event that it proved successful. The majority of the board which gave the order doubtless laughed in their sleeves as the inventor withdrew, for what chance of success had such a vessel? There were some who even doubted whether she would float—among them her builders, who took the precaution of placing buoys under her before they launched her four months later.
Of the voyage of the little craft from New York to Hampton Roads, and of her epoch-making battle with the Merrimac we have already told. Ericsson had asked that she be named the "Monitor," as a warning to the nations of the world that a new era in naval warfare had begun, and that she was well-named no one could doubt after that momentous ninth of March, 1862. Honors were showered upon the inventor, whose great service to the nation could not be questioned. The following ten years of his life were devoted to the construction of his famous torpedo-boat, the "Destroyer," which, he believed, would annihilate any vessel afloat—the predecessor of all the torpedo-boats, past and present, which have played so important a part in naval warfare. He lived for more than twenty years in a house in Beach street, New York, where he died, in 1889.
The Monitor's attack upon the Merrimac would have been ineffective but for the remarkable guns with which the little craft was armed—two eleven-inch rifled cannon, the invention of John Adolph Dahlgren. Dahlgren had been connected with the ordnance department of the navy at Washington for many years, and his inventions had revolutionized United States gunnery.
Dahlgren was born at Philadelphia, where his father was Swedish consul, a position which he held until his death in 1824. The boy, from his earliest years, had been ambitious to enter the navy, and finally, at the age of seventeen, received his midshipman's warrant. In 1847, he was assigned to ordnance duty at Washington, and began that career of extraordinary energy, which lasted for sixteen years. He saw almost at once the many defects in the cannon which were at that time being manufactured, and soon offered a design of his own, which proved a vast advance over old guns. The Dahlgren gun, as it was called, was of iron, cast solid, with a thick breech adjusted to meet varying pressure strains. The invention of the rifled cannon followed, and it was this weapon which caused even the great armored Merrimac to tremble. Admiral Dahlgren's career was a distinguished one, but no service he rendered his country was more noteworthy than this.
But there are triumphs of peace, as well as of war, and one of the most notable of these was won by Cyrus Hall McCormick when he invented the automatic reaper which bears his name. In 1859, it was estimated that the reaper was worth $55,000,000 a year to the United States; William H. Seward remarked that, "owing to Mr. McCormick's invention, the line of civilization moves westward thirty miles each year"; and the London Times declared, after it had been tested at the great international exhibition of 1851, that it was "worth to the farmers of England the whole cost of that exhibition." To few men is it given to confer such benefits upon mankind, and the career of this one is well worth dwelling upon.
Cyrus McCormick was born in 1809, in a little house at the hamlet of Walnut Grove, Virginia. His father was a farmer, and was also something of a mechanical genius, and as early as 1816, had tried to build a mechanical reaper. His son inherited this aptitude, and helped his father in mechanical experiments, soon quite outstripping him. As a farmer's boy, his day's work in the fields began at five o'clock in the morning, and in the harvesting season even earlier. But in the harvest field, he found himself unable to keep up with grown men in the hard work of swinging the scythe, and so devised a harvesting-cradle, which made the work so much easier that he was able to do his share. At the age of twenty-two he invented a plough, which threw alternate furrows on either side, and two years later, a self-sharpening plough, which proved a great success.
Then he turned his attention to a mechanical reaper, though his father warned him against wasting time and money on so impracticable a project. But the possibility of making a machine do the hot hand-work of the harvest field fascinated the young man, and he set to work upon the problem. It was not an easy one, for the machine, to be successful, must not only work in fields where the wheat stood straight, but also where it had become tangled and beaten down by wind and rain. In 1831, he produced his first practicable machine, making every part of it himself by hand. Its three essential features have never been changed—a vibrating cutting-blade, a reel to bring the grain within reach of the blade, and a platform to receive the falling grain. The problem had been solved.
Three years, however, were spent in perfecting the minor working parts, then another was built and tested. It worked well, but McCormick was still not satisfied with it, and not until 1840, was it perfected sufficiently to make him willing to put it on the market. This self-restraint was remarkable, but it had this good effect, that when the machine was finally offered to the public, it was not an experiment. So there were no failures, but a steady increase in demand from the very first, until the great factory, which McCormick early located at Chicago, now turns out nearly two hundred thousand machines a year. The whir of these machines is heard around the world—everywhere the McCormick reaper is doing its share toward lightening man's labor.