And now Fulton began to build his submarine torpedo-boat and named it Nautilus, meaning a sea-shell. He wrote a letter to the French Directory and offered to submit his plan and explain his engine to Napoleon, whom he had heard was “a good engineer.”

The emperor was at the height of his power. With France and England at war, disturbed conditions prevailed throughout Europe and the unrest hindered all progress. Fulton offered to the French nation, through its governing body, his original weapon to secure their supremacy upon the seas throughout the world.

His letters on the subject, which must have seemed like fairy-tales, fortunately are preserved in the archives of France. In one he asked to be authorized to build the engine he had invented and to try it against the English fleet. He himself promised to make the trial and asked no other compensation for labor extending over eighteen months than “the happiness of having contributed to the re-establishment of peace, the freedom of the seas and of commerce, and the consolidation of the Republic.”

The Directory appointed a committee to consider Fulton’s novel plan; they made a fairly favorable report, for, they said, “the inventor is no charlatan, for he proposes to captain his engine himself and thus gives his head as a hostage for his success.”

But after several years of experiment and trial, Fulton was still far from finding acceptance of his plan. In 1797, when he began to devise it, he was possibly inspired by the work of an American, David Bushnell, of Connecticut, who had built a turtle-shaped boat to dive under water and attach an explosive to an enemy’s boat. The device met with scant success in America, so Bushnell crossed to France, where he also failed to arouse interest.

Fulton’s invention was far more powerful and agile, if we may use the word. It could sail like a common boat on the water, then dive below and remain under the water at any depth for more than six hours at a time; guided by a compass, it could move about with ease, and plant torpedoes where desired. Small wonder that the Frenchmen were slow to believe all the astonishing statements made in its favor by the enthusiastic inventor.

But Fulton stood ready to prove them. During the years 1799 and 1800 he was busy demonstrating the accomplishments of his novel craft. He launched it in July, 1800, and proceeded to make a series of experiments in the middle of the Seine where he could plunge twenty-five feet. He took two persons down with him and his tests were encouraging although the swift currents of the tide made him decide to remove the boat to Havre on the coast, where he could attempt feats in the open sea.

His queer-looking boat, six feet wide and twenty feet long, was towed on two barges to Havre, where four days later it arrived and Fulton proceeded to put her through all sorts of “paces.” The vessel responded to his every wish and he imagined that universal peace would result from the use of the new subduing agent, the torpedo.

Great ideas move slowly,—their very immensity hinders quick progress. Fulton was under heavy expense in the building and testing of his strange boat. Barlow, who remained in Paris, wrote frequent letters of encouragement and forwarded drafts of money, profits which were Fulton’s share in the earnings of the panorama. Repeated entreaties to the Directory finally gained attention, and Napoleon showed enough interest to appoint a committee to examine the queer-looking vessel.

To this committee Fulton eagerly explained his invention. He tells the story in simple language and it is so thrilling that a copy will prove interesting. He writes:

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.