FULTON’S HOME AND FULTON’S HONORS
We have followed Fulton through widely different works,—art, canal
navigation, the invention of the submarine torpedo and the steamboat. In
1814 he had reached almost the end of his busy and useful life.
Robert Fulton lived to be only fifty years old,—not the allotted “three
score and ten” named by the Psalmist; yet during his half-century he
accomplished infinitely more than many another does in a life full of
years. To labor incessantly was his habit and pleasure. As he had written
to Joel Barlow, “I cannot exist without a project, or projects, and
I have two or three of the first order of sublimity.” Herein lay the
secret, if such an openly admitted fact can be so termed, of his valuable
life. He looked upon work as sublime; he exalted it to dignity; and its
product to him was world-wide fame because of his world-wide service to
humanity.
After his marriage, on January 7th, 1808, to Miss Harriet Livingston, to
whom you will remember his engagement was announced on the _Clermont_,
they made their home in New York City, first at 100 Reade Street, then
at 133 Chambers Street, where they moved in 1811, and the succeeding
year, at Marketfield Place, opposite the Battery. The street now known as
Battery Place was then called Marketfield Street; the Hudson River then
flowed in as far as Washington Street and Battery Park extended only as
far as Greenwich Street. Castle Garden occupied a tiny island connected
with the mainland by a foot-bridge.
The foregoing addresses are given from the New York directories of those
years, and some confusion regarding Fulton’s last residence has arisen
from the fact that Cadwallader Colden, who knew him well, says that
he lived at number 1 State Street. In either case, his home commanded
a superb outlook upon the harbor and river, and became a gathering
place for his many distinguished friends. The outlook upon the dancing,
sunny waters of the harbor must have been an inspiration and joy to
the inventor of boats,—of this we may be sure. Works of art, in accord
with Fulton’s taste, abounded; and in the dining-room, the scene of
much pleasant hospitality, was spread the dinner service of fine china,
embossed with the coat of arms of the United States, presented to Fulton
by Thomas Jefferson.
[Illustration: HARRIET LIVINGSTON, WIFE OF ROBERT FULTON.
TWO OF FULTON’S CHILDREN.
Miniatures owned by C. Franklin Crary.]
Mrs. Fulton was an accomplished harpist and when quiet evening hours
closed the busy days, we may fancy her graceful form, with high-carved
tortoise-shell comb surmounting her slender head, as she sat in the
mellow light of the drawing-room, playing sweet melodies to the master
of the house and their four little children,—Robert Barlow Fulton (named
for Joel Barlow whose affection for Fulton never lessened) and the three
daughters, Julia, Mary, and Cornelia Livingston Fulton,—bright, happy,
companionable children who delighted the hearts of their parents.
Several excellent portraits exist of Robert Fulton, for he made a
striking model for the many artists who were his friends; but in addition
to that depicted, let us briefly consider his character, learned from
those who knew and loved him in life; and from them we may gain the true
likeness of the soul and mind of the man.
First we may think of Fulton as a good son, ever loyal and kind to his
mother, providing a home for her old age and sending her gifts of money
from time to time through many years, to provide her with comforts. His
generosity included all who were of kin, for the letters quoted prove him
mindful of the welfare of his brother and sisters, though circumstances
had carried him far from their sight.
He was a good friend as well, choosing his companions for their real
worth, and his affection for them was faithful throughout his life.
He hated sham and falsehood and was brave enough to expose any
make-believe in science. An example of this is shown in the following
story. A man named Redheffer had earned much money in Philadelphia by
exhibiting a machine which he claimed was run by perpetual motion. In
1813 one of these contrivances was brought to New York and advertised as
a modern wonder. Crowds of people flocked to see it and paid a dollar
entrance-fee.
The problem of perpetual motion had vexed the minds of scientists for
many years. Fulton was unwilling to believe that its solution had been
discovered, but his friends persuaded him to visit the house in the
outskirts of the city where the machine was set up. He had not been long
in the room when he exclaimed, “This machine has a crank motion.”
The alarmed showman hastened forward with explanations, but Fulton,
convinced he was right, openly denounced the affair as a fraud. His
trained ear, as it listened to the wheels of the mechanism, detected
an uneven motion and he proclaimed to the audience that the thing was a
cheat and he could prove it. He knocked away some woodwork concealing a
string of catgut, which led along an upper wall to a distant attic where
a poor old man, unkempt and half-starving, sat upon a stool and patiently
turned, with weary hand, a crank.
The angry audience destroyed the machine, and the dishonest proprietor
disappeared quickly. This ended Redheffer’s false theory.
Mrs. Barlow, than whom none could know Fulton better, wrote to Mr.
Colden, in reply to his question about Fulton’s early life:
“Agreeable to your request I shall endeavor to give you the best
information in my power respecting the early life of our excellent
friend, Mr. Fulton. What is previous to 1797, when we became acquainted
with him, was related by himself. He chose to have it known that he was
self-educated and author of his own fortune, if I may so express it.
During the summer of 1797, Mr. Fulton came to Paris to introduce his
system (of canals) and get it patented. He came to lodge at a hotel
where Mr. Barlow and myself were boarders. There commenced that strong
affection and devoted friendship which subsisted between them in the
most extraordinary degree as long as they lived. We went into our own
house soon after, when my husband invited Mr. Fulton to reside with us as
long as we should remain in Paris. He resided in our family as a brother
for seven years. During this period he learned the French language and
something of the Italian and German; studied the higher mathematics, the
sciences, physics, chemistry and perspective, and in short completed his
education as far as it related to his useful elegant pursuits.”
Mrs. Barlow quaintly says that Fulton’s “genteel manners, companionable
and amiable qualities, acquired him many valuable friends among the
nobility and gentry.” We may readily infer that not only did he choose
his friends, but they chose him, because they found pleasure and profit
in his company.
Mr. Colden describes him in these words: “Mr. Fulton was about six
feet high; his person was slender but well proportioned and well
formed. Nature had made him a gentleman and bestowed upon him ease and
gracefulness. He had too much good sense for the least affectation; and a
modest confidence in his own worth and talents gave him an unembarrassed
deportment in all companies. His features were strong and of a manly
beauty. He had large dark eyes and a projecting brow, expressive of
intelligence and thought. His temper was mild, and his disposition
lively. He was fond of society, which he always enlivened by cheerful,
cordial manners and instructed or pleased by his sensible conversation.
He expressed himself with energy, fluency, and correctness, and as he
owed more to his own experience and reflections than to books, his
sentiments were often interesting from their originality.
“In his home he was kind, generous, and affectionate, and he gave freely
of his money to charity, to entertaining friends at home, and to further
his scientific plans. But conspicuous among his virtues were his calm
constancy, his industry, and the untiring perseverance which helped him
to overcome all difficulties.”
Another friend wrote: “Among a thousand individuals you might readily
point out Robert Fulton. He was conspicuous for his gentlemanly
bearing and freedom from embarrassment, for his extreme activity, his
height,—somewhat over six feet,—his slender yet energetic form and well
accommodated dress, for his full and curly dark brown hair, carelessly
scattered over his forehead and falling around his neck. His complexion
was fair, his forehead high, his eyes dark and penetrating, and revolving
in capacious orbs of cavernous depths; his brow was thick and evinced
strength and determination; his nose was long and prominent, his mouth
and lips were beautifully proportioned, giving the impress of eloquent
utterance. Trifles were not calculated to impede him or damp his
perseverance.”
A story is told by a writer in the National Portrait Gallery about the
establishment of the first ferry-boat across the East River to Brooklyn,
and of a painful accident which happened during the second or third trip.
Some trouble occurred with the machinery, and in an attempt to start the
boat the chief engineer was caught in the wheels and so injured that he
died from his wounds the following day. He was carried to the house next
to the home of the writer, who recalled the conversation between Mr.
Fulton and the attending surgeon. Fulton exclaimed, “Sir, I will give
all I am worth to save the life of that man.” When the doctor said his
recovery was hopeless, Fulton turned aside, completely unmanned, and
wept like a child. The neighbor truly observed that while no personal
misfortune ever seemed to disturb Fulton’s calm manner, yet his feeling
toward other people was sensitive and tender.
Paul Sabbaton, who was chief engineer in Fulton’s employ, wrote in later
years, “I was so constantly with Mr. Fulton, saw him at his occupation,
at his family fireside, and in almost every situation, that I have to
this day a most distinct and strongly impressed likeness on my mind. He
had all the traits of a man with the gentleness of a child. I never heard
him use ill words to any one of those employed under him no matter how
strong the provocation might be, and I do know there was enough of that
at times; and ever and anon, my mind recurs to the time when his labors
were severe. His habit was, cane in hand, to walk up and down for hours.
I see him now, in my mind’s eye, with his white, loosely-tied cravat,
his waistcoat unbuttoned, his ruffles waving from side to side, as his
movements caused their movements; he, all the while in deep thought,
scarcely noticing anything passing.”
This agrees with the statement of another employee: “His workmen were
always pleased to see him about the shops. With his rattan cane in hand,
he always appeared to me the counterpart of an English nobleman.”
By gathering these mind-pictures together we can form a composite
likeness of a man who was great in small as well as in large affairs.
Let me add a story of my own recollection. About the year 1890 there came
to Poughkeepsie, New York, a blind Scotch woman ninety years of age. The
infirm old lady was very fond of music and kindly members from the choir
of the Church of the Holy Comforter would go to sing to her, for she was
too feeble to attend church. When she heard the name of the rector of the
church, Fulton’s grandson, the Rev. Robert Fulton Crary, D.D., her face
lighted with pleasure and she exclaimed, “His name, Fulton, is very dear
to me.” When asked the reason, she explained that during her childhood,
her father, a boat-builder, employed at the New York ship-yards,
purchased a small plot of ground adjoining a larger section owned by
Robert Fulton. When the Scotchman came to build his home he found that
his largest and best room could only gain sunshine by opening a window
directly upon the line of Mr. Fulton’s property. With fear and trembling
he plucked up courage to ask this permission, which was so pleasantly
granted that the bright, cheerful living-room was always called, in
memory of that kindness. “Mr. Fulton’s room.” The wrinkled face of the
old Scotch woman was aglow with the pleasure of the recollection, and
the sunshine of that room still lingered even through her blinded eyes
and the long life of many years. How few of us realize the far-reaching
effect of a simple act of kindness.
Never very robust since that early outbreak of lung trouble, Fulton had
worked to the full extent of his strength. When the accident occurred to
his trial boat on the Seine, he imprudently dashed into the water to save
the valuable machinery; and the labor of twenty-four hours, with neither
rest nor refreshment, caused a constitutional weakness from which he
never wholly recovered.
So keen was his interest in his work that when a new idea for some
invention came to him he would pass the whole night in thought, following
the resultant chain of ideas. In February of 1815 he went to Trenton,
New Jersey, to testify in a lawsuit to protect the Livingston-Fulton
rights in steam ferries, and while returning with his friend Mr. Emmet,
a prominent lawyer, and Mr. John R. Livingston, he was obliged to wait a
long time for the ferry-boat. Always eager to make use of spare moments,
he decided to visit his ship-building yards to inspect the work upon his
_Demologus_, the first war-vessel, and also to examine other boats he had
sent there for repairs. He spent three hours at the works, and then with
Mr. Emmet tried to walk across the ice formed at the riverside. Heavy
rain had fallen, and this so weakened the ice that his companion fell
through into the water. Greatly agitated, Mr. Fulton helped his friend
up and out, but both men were wet through by the quantity of water
floating upon the ice. It was a very imprudent exposure and the natural
penalty followed. Fulton took such a severe cold that he was confined to
his room for several days. His great interest in the _Demologus_ tempted
him to venture upon an early carriage drive to the works; he took more
cold, inflammation of the lungs followed, and on the morning of February
23d, 1815, he passed from this world to the life eternal.
Unusual tokens of public esteem followed the announcement. The
legislature in session at Albany resolved that both Houses wear mourning,
a testimonial never before accorded a private citizen. The newspapers of
the day bore black columns; the Corporation of the City of New York, and
literary and scientific associations, assembled to pass resolutions of
sympathy. All members, wearing badges of mourning, attended his funeral
at Trinity Church on the 25th of February. Minute guns were fired from
his steam frigate and the West Battery, while the long procession, in
which were officers of the National and State Governments, the Mayor and
Common Council, and hosts of prominent citizens, wended its way from his
late residence to the historic church, under the shadow of which, in the
vault of the Livingston family, his body was laid to rest.
The lad from Lancaster had earned high honor. He sleeps near the river he
loved so well.
Time-honored son, whose memory we revere,
Around the wondering earth thy lustrous name
Shone in old days, a sudden star of Fame,
Nor is that glamour dimmed. No leaves are sere
Among thy laurels. Greater seems each year
Thy priceless benefaction. Let them crown
Thy rare achievement with deserved renown
Who reap the guerdon of thy rich career!
Long hast thou passed the dark Lethean stream,
Yet who but envies that illustrious sleep?
Though thou art dust, yet vital is thy dream;
The waves of all the world still chant of thee:
Thy soul pervades the Ship and wings the Deep,—
Thy Spirit is immortal on the sea.
LLOYD MIFFLIN.