Part 3
But Ericsson had a friend who stood him in good stead. This friend was an American, Francis B. Ogden, our counsul at Liverpool, after whom Ericsson’s first vessel was named. Ogden was not an engineer, but he recognized in the Swedish inventor a man of sincerity and genius, and to his friendship Ericsson owed much in the way of advice and assistance.
In 1838 Ericsson built and launched a larger steamship, the Robert F. Stockton which sailed from Gravesend, England, on April 13, 1839, and made a successful passage to New York City, the first screw-driven steamship ever to cross the Atlantic. As the result of this remarkable achievement Ericsson was assured that the government of the United States would try out his invention on a large scale, and persuaded him to go to America.
Ericsson was not reluctant. For years he had struggled under the old-world conservatism. With his energy and ambition, he realized that only in the great land of opportunity beyond the sea could lie his hope of recognition. In November, 1839, he sailed for the United States.
There were no steam vessels in our navy when Ericsson reached our shores, and it was not until 1842 that the building of the Princeton gave him the opportunity to display his great invention. The Princeton was a small iron warship of six hundred tons, and to her construction Ericsson contributed not only his screw-propeller, but also a new construction for the gun-carriage, and, of even greater importance, a cannon reinforced by steel hoops shrunk on to the breech of the gun. This reinforcing of the breech of a cannon may be said to have established the recognized construction of the modern high-power naval guns of the present day.
The Princeton marked a new advance in naval construction. Her speed, the location of her machinery below the water-line and hence out of danger from an enemy’s guns, her novel screw-propulsion, and her powerful armament made her the centre, not only of national, but of world interest.
For a number of years following, Ericsson continued his development of the science of naval engineering, and in 1843 applied for the first time twin-screw engines to the steamship Marmora. During these years recognition began to bring to the great inventor the financial rewards which he had long deserved. In the year 1844 his receipts from his inventions and contracts amounted to almost $40,000, and the following year he received almost $85,000. But the road to wealth and glory contains many obstacles, and the successes that crowned the work of these few years were in a large measure balanced by reverses, although in the end triumph out-balanced all.
For several years Ericsson devoted his energies to the perfection of a model type of warship, but his untiring efforts received scant recognition from the government. October 28, 1848, was, however, a day memorable, not only in the life of Ericsson, but in the history of the United States, for on that day he became a naturalized citizen. Born in a foreign land, a sojourner in European countries, it was but natural that the Swedish genius should find in this young nation of opportunity the field which he needed for the expression of his wonderful faculties. By his naturalization, Ericsson brought to the United States the fine inheritance of an ancient nation, and infused into the blood of the new republic additional strength and virility. Save for the native Indian, there is no true American; but in the mingled blood of the people of many lands may be found to-day a race that combines the best of the nations of the earth, a composite people, free, prosperous, and masters of their own glorious destiny.
For many years Ericsson had held faith in the theory of a hot-air engine in which heated air would produce the effect of steam, but with greater economy. With characteristic confidence he carried his experiments to their completion, and expended practically his entire capital on the necessary models and machines which the working-out of his plans required. Success crowned his efforts, and the hot-air, or caloric, engine was generally conceded to be a success.
As the result of these experiments a number of New York capitalists supplied the necessary money to construct a large steamship, the paddle-wheels of which were operated by caloric engines designed by Ericsson. The vessel was named after the inventor and was a most novel and radical departure from any vessel up to that time designed. Her cost exceeded half a million dollars: an investment which showed the high esteem in which her designer was held. The Ericsson was launched in September, 1852, and made her trial trip on January 4, 1853. Never had so strong or fine a ship been built; the newspapers of the day were filled with praise, and her designer received from every quarter the most extravagant congratulations for the mechanical marvel which he had created.
But unexpected disaster destroyed in a few seconds the product of these months of thought and energy. Within a few weeks of her launching the Ericsson encountered a tornado, and capsized and sank a few miles off New York Light. Although she was believed by many to mark the end of the use of steam-power and the beginning of a new era of hot-air dynamics, it is now recognized that this invention reached its maximum development in the Ericsson; and it is in connection with a later and far greater invention that history has accorded recognition to the designer’s great mechanical genius.
Long before Ericsson left England he had thought out the plans for a strange kind of vessel, protected with iron, which would be able to fight and defeat any warship of any size. In 1854, the year in which he perfected the plan for his new type of warship, the navies of all the great nations were composed, in large part, of huge wooden vessels, usually sailing-ships, but a few combining sails and steam. For a number of years the use of iron-plating, or armor, on the sides of battleships had been discussed, and in 1845 R. L. Stevens, an American engineer, actually began the construction of a vessel, or “floating battery,” encased in metal.
To France however, probably belongs the credit for the construction of the first ironclads, consisting of these floating batteries, the Lave, Devastation, and Tonnante, protected by 4.25-inch iron plates, which were used during the Crimean War. The following year France began the construction of four ironclad steam frigates, and England immediately followed, with the construction of a number of similar vessels.
But the warship of John Ericsson in no way resembled the huge ironclads of France or England. With characteristic disregard for precedent he designed a ship which rested so low in the water that only about three feet of its sides would be exposed. The sides and deck were protected by heavy plates of iron, and in the centre of the deck was a circular heavily armored turret which revolved in either direction and contained powerful guns. These vessels, or monitors, as Ericsson named them, were to be propelled by steam. The particular advantages of the type were that so little of the craft showed above the water that it afforded an exceedingly small target to an enemy; that the heavy plating protected it from hostile shot, and the revolving target enabled the crew to fire in any direction without manœuvring the vessel, while such shot as might strike the turret would glance harmlessly from its circular side.
During the Crimean War Ericsson offered the plans for this remarkable vessel to the French Emperor; but they were politely declined as impractical in much the same way in which, some years earlier, the British Admiralty had declined to consider the screw-propeller as little more than an amusing experiment.
When war was declared in 1861 between the Northern States and the Confederate States of the South, Ericsson was fifty-eight years old. In this national calamity in which brother was armed against brother, and the fate of the country seemed hanging by a thread, Ericsson unhesitatingly cast himself with those who sought the preservation of the Union and the abolition of slavery from the United States. Never before had his adopted country needed so vitally his tremendous services. With superb health derived from a normal life of conservative habits, and a brain trained by long years of engineering experiment, Ericsson found himself ready and able to meet the call for his greatest service to the nation.
The United States navy at the beginning of the war was composed entirely of wooden vessels. Early in 1861 the Confederates began the construction of a floating battery heavily armored with iron. For this purpose the old United States frigate Merrimac, which had been burned and sunk in the Norfolk Navy Yard, was raised, and the work of encasing her with armor plates was begun.
Meanwhile, in the North, Congress had called for proposals for ironclad steam vessels, and less than a month later, Ericsson addressed to President Lincoln a letter in which he offered to submit the plans of a monitor, and described the advantages of its unique design. On September 13, Ericsson went to Washington and personally laid before the Navy Department his plans and received a contract to proceed with the construction of the Monitor.
The keel was laid on October 25, and on January 30, she slid down the ways into the water. A month later she was commissioned. The Monitor was 172 feet in length and displaced 776 tons. In the centre of her low flat deck was the revolving turret, twenty feet in diameter, protected by eight inches of iron-plating. Two heavy guns were mounted in the turret. The vessel was operated entirely by steam-engines, placed well below the water-line, which propelled a screw beneath the overhanging stern.
Rushed to completion in the brief period of three months, the Monitor was barely commissioned in time to render, at Hampton Roads, the tremendous service which in a few brief hours revolutionized naval warfare, made obsolete the navies of the world, rescued the Union navy from crushing disaster, and immortalized the name of John Ericsson, her designer and constructor.
The Monitor had been intended to serve with Admiral Farragut’s fleet at New Orleans, but a crisis nearer at hand made a sudden change of plans necessary. The Monitor left New York on the afternoon of March 6, 1862, under command of Lieutenant John L. Worden, U.S.N., and arrived at Hampton Roads on the evening of March 8, after a stormy passage.
Meanwhile the armored Confederate ram Merrimac had created havoc with the great wooden warships of the Federal navy. On the seventh, the Merrimac had rammed and sunk the frigate Cumberland, and then destroyed the Congress, vessels powerless to inflict injury on the iron sides of the Confederate ram. The tall frigates, St. Lawrence, Roanoke, and Minnesota, powerless to resist or to escape, awaited their inevitable destruction on the following day.
But on that eventful morning, as the Merrimac steamed out into the stream to complete her work, which would break the blockade the Federal forces had established, the Monitor glided out from under the stern of the Minnesota, looking for all the world like “a barrel-head afloat with a cheese-box on top of it.”
For four hours these two strange vessels fought this greatest duel of naval history, which, on the ships and the shores, was watched by the anxious eyes of soldiers and sailors of North and South to whom the outcome was of such tremendous import. Manœuvring like boxers, the two vessels circled each other, black smoke pouring from their low funnels and the red flame of the great guns spurting from the gun-ports. As she had rammed the Cumberland, so did the Merrimac endeavor to crush the Monitor with her ram; but the Monitor either slipped past her heavier and more ungainly adversary or allowed the Merrimac to push her aside. Round and round the circular turret swung, turning away in order to load the two guns which protruded, and then swinging back to deliver a volley of metal against the plated sloping side of the Merrimac.
Unable to damage the Monitor and herself severely pounded by the forty-one shots which the Monitor had fired, the Merrimac finally withdrew, leaving the strange warship of the Swedish-American inventor the victor. The Minnesota, the Roanoke, and the St. Lawrence were saved. The blockade remained unbroken.
In the words of a Confederate who witnessed the battle, “The Monitor was by immense odds the most formidable vessel of war on this planet.”
During the following years of the war, Ericsson devoted his vast energies to the service of his country, and at great financial loss and immeasurable personal sacrifice constructed a large number of vessels of the Monitor type for the navy.
With the close of the war Ericsson continued the marvelous series of inventions which he had given to the world. For a number of years he gave his best thought to the building and mounting of heavy guns; and later he turned his energies to the construction of a practical submarine torpedo. In these later experiments he personally invested over a hundred thousand dollars.
From the United States and foreign countries came recognition of his services to the world. In 1866 the Department of State offered him the appointment of Commissioner to the Universal Exposition at Paris. The previous year he had received a resolution of thanks from the Swedish Parliament. Among other honors conferred upon him were his election to the Franklin Institute of Philadelphia, honorary memberships in the Royal Military Academy of Science of Stockholm and the Royal Military Academy of Sweden, a joint resolution of thanks from the United States Congress, a resolution from the State of New York, the Rumford gold and silver medals, and a gold medal from the Society of Iron Masters of Sweden. In 1863 he received the honorary degree of LL.D. from Wesleyan University; and later he was made a Knight Commander with the Grand Cross of the order of the North Star and a Commander of St. Olaf, two Swedish honors. In later years came many other distinctions, not only from the United States and Sweden, but from Denmark, Spain, and Austria.
In these later years came also many demands on Ericsson’s generosity, and to the near members of his family, and even to his most distant relatives, he invariably responded with a substantial gift. Realizing the tremendous value of education, he gave freely when money was needed to provide schooling for the children of members of his family whom he had never seen. But these benefactions to relatives and friends were invariably made only when Ericsson believed in the true need and the sincerity of the request. Out of the considerable income which came to him from his inventions in later years he gave also with a liberal hand whenever public or private distress was brought to his attention.
Ericsson’s own wants were few. His temperate habits, his love of physical exercise, and his simple tastes made but slender demands on his income. Vigorous by inheritance, and possessing a fine physique from his early activities, he preserved his splendid vigor throughout his long life. Rarely has been given to the world a finer example of health and character contributing to a career of splendid usefulness.
On the eighth of March, 1889, John Ericsson died in his New York house, where for a quarter of a century he had lived his active and solitary existence. The significance of his death was recognized, not only by his native Sweden and the United States, the land of his adoption, but by the entire civilized world, in which his inventions had brought such revolutionizing changes. But the story of his achievements can never die, and in the history of his useful life is an inspiration to every succeeding generation to whom the United States unfolds an ever-increasing opportunity.
III
LOUIS AGASSIZ
_Born in Motier, Switzerland, 1807_ _Died in Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1873_
When men first received the names which they have handed down through succeeding generations there was undoubtedly an appropriate reason for the name which each man bore. The Smiths quite probably worked with iron, the Carpenters labored with saw and hammer, and the son of John became Johnson to his friends. But centuries have passed, and it rarely happens to-day that a man’s name describes his vocation or his characteristics.
Occasionally, however, there is an exception, and the name of Agassiz is one of these. Lover of nature, and particularly of the living things which have for hundreds of thousands of years inhabited the earth, Louis Agassiz bore a name that suggested his ruling interests; for Agassiz, or Aigasse as it was written in old French, is the name of the magpie, a lovable, friendly bird that was known to every peasant in the beautiful countryside of La Sarraz.
Louis Agassiz was a naturalist and a geologist. Wise in all departments of these wide fields of nature study, and the leading teacher in his time, he will always be remembered for his discoveries in two particular departments of his great subject. Agassiz was an ichthyologist and a palæontologist. These are hard Latin names, but they are easily understood, for an ichthyologist is a man who studies fishes, and a palæontologist is one who is a student of the ancient life of the globe as it may be seen in the fossil remains deep buried in the earth. Moreover, to the science of geology Agassiz contributed a great discovery which revolutionized the thought of scientists of his day; for it was he who proved beyond all doubt that at one time, far back in the world’s history, great moving glaciers covered a huge part of the earth’s surface, and where now the summer sunshine warms green fields, at one time, in an arctic temperature, these same lands were deep buried under grinding, creeping fields of ice.
Not far from Lake Neuchâtel, in western Switzerland, is the little village of Motier, a place so small that it is hard to find it on the maps of ordinary atlases. Below the village the blue water of Lake Morat gleams like a bit of sky in the green of hills and fields, and beyond, like a blue wall against the sky, the Bernese Alps look down over the ancient country.
Here on May 28, 1807, was born Jean Louis Rudolph Agassiz. His father was a clergyman and his mother the daughter of a physician, and the boy inherited from them a love of study and a delight in teaching which always distinguished him. From the beautiful country of his birth came also an inheritance of nature that kept him throughout his long life always a boy at heart.
The lakes of Switzerland are among the oldest dwelling-places of mankind since human life began. Beneath the waters of Lake Morat are still found traces of an ancient race that once lived there in huts built over the water; still may be seen, far down in the blue deeps, the earthen vessels which, perhaps, fell from their dwellings; occasionally are found the stumps of piles on which their houses rested. They were a water-loving people, and Agassiz, born on the shores of the same lake as this ancient people, found in the water a natural and congenial element.
He was a normal, wholesome boy, but from the very first his love of nature displayed itself at every turn. He delighted in birds and animals and insects, and he was constantly scouring the vineyard-clad hillsides and the woods and meadows for new specimens. But it was on the waters of the lakes and in their cold clear depths that his insatiate curiosity found its greatest gratification. He was a skilful fisherman and he soon learned the haunts and habits of every kind of fish that dwelt there. With his brother Auguste, the bright summer days fled past in one long excursion. Like the fish which they hunted, the boys found in the lakes a friendly element. They were splendid swimmers, so skilled that they would often abandon entirely the hook and line, and, diving swiftly into the water, catch the gliding fish in their hands.
Like all boys who live in the country, Louis had made collections of every kind, and in the garden near the house he kept constantly increasing families of rabbits, field-mice, guinea-pigs, and birds. These were not merely pets which he loved and cared for; even in his youthful eyes they seemed to have a deeper significance, for he studied them and observed their habits in a way that gave him a basis for the scientific observations of his later life.
It was natural that such a boy should be fearless, and in this respect Louis was far above the average. Strong, alert, and resourceful, he was a splendid swimmer and a strong skater. Many are the tales of boyish fearlessness that are told about him, tales of boating exploits, of long excursions, and particularly of how once he made a bridge of his body across a deep fissure in the ice too wide to jump, that his brother Auguste might creep across.
When he was ten years old, his active schooling began. In the nearby town of Bienne was a public school for boys. The rules were strict and the hours long, for the boys were required to study for nine hours every day. But the father had given Louis a good grounding in the elements of education, and this, combined with his natural aptitude, gave him an advantage over his fellow students.
Vacations, however, were as welcome to Louis and his brother as they are to boys of the present day; and long before dawn on the first day of each vacation, the two boys would be up and homeward bound, swinging along the twenty miles of country road which lay between Bienne and Motier. These were happy days, for although the Agassiz family had but the very small income which the office of a country minister afforded, there was a wealth of good fun and love and wholesome out-of-door happiness in the lives of the young people who made merry in the little town.
Four years were spent at the school at Bienne, and as the end of the fourth year neared, Louis, although only fourteen years old, announced to his parents his desire to become an author. “I wish to advance in the sciences,” he wrote his father. “I have resolved to become a man of letters.” And then he expressed his hope that he might be permitted, after spending a year and a half in commerce at Neuchâtel, to pass four years at a university in Germany, and finally finish his studies at Paris. “Then, at the age of twenty-five,” he concluded, “I could begin to write.” Mature ambitions these, for a boy of fourteen years!
It was fortunate that the elder Agassiz recognized in the boy those qualities which were uppermost, and encouraged his studious desires. The year and a half of business training was abandoned, and in its place Louis was sent for two years of additional study at the College of Lausanne. Already he had felt the charm of study, and his boyish pastimes had now become studious investigations which absorbed his interest and energy. His work was as orderly as his mind; his notebooks, written with remarkable neatness in a small fine handwriting, are excellent examples of clear classification of whatever branch of study he undertook. Everything was arranged and classified; subjects were clearly separated and subdivided under marked headings; nothing was begun that was not completed in every detail.
At Lausanne, Agassiz had access to the first natural history collection that he had ever seen; and there also he found friends who sympathized with his favorite tastes. While he was at Lausanne, it was decided that he should study medicine, a profession which would meet his natural inclinations and at the same time ultimately yield him the income necessary for his support.