Part 15

Says Prof. E. N. Horsford of Cambridge, Mass., in the admirable life of Morse written by Dr. Samuel Irenaeus Prime: "He knew generally, when he stepped on board the Sully, in 1832, that a soft-iron horseshoe-shaped bar of iron could be rendered magnetic while a current of galvanic electricity was passing through a wire wound round it; and he knew that electricity had been transmitted, apparently instantaneously, through wires of great length, by Franklin and others.... In the leisure of ship-life the idea of a _recording_ electric telegraph seized Professor Morse's mind, and he gave expression to his conviction that it was _possible_. As it was possible to _dispatch_ and to _arrest_ the current, he conceived that some device could be found for compelling it to manifest itself by this intermittent action, and produce a record.

"He knew, for he had witnessed it years before, that by means of a battery and an electro-magnet reciprocal motion could be produced. He knew that the force which produced it could be transmitted along a wire. He _believed_ that the battery current could be made, through an electro-magnet, to produce physical effects at a _distance_. He saw in his mind's eye the existence of an agent and a medium by which reciprocal motion could be not only produced, but _controlled_, at a _distance_. The question that addressed itself to him at the outset was naturally this: 'How can I make use of the simple up-and-down motion of opening and closing a circuit to write an intelligible message at one end of a wire, and at the same time print it at the other?'...

"Like many a kindred work of genius, it was in nothing more wonderful than in its simplicity. First, he caused a continuous ribbon or strip of paper to move under a pencil by clock-work, that could be wound up. The paper moved horizontally. The pencil moved only up and down; when resting on the paper it made a mark--if for an instant only, a dot; if for a longer time, a line. When lifted from the paper it left a blank.... The grandeur of this wonderful alphabet of dots, lines, and spaces has not been fully appreciated....

"Not one of all the brilliant scientific men who have attached their names to the history of electro-magnetism had brought the means to produce the practical registering telegraph. Some of them had ascended the tower that looked out on the field of conquest. Some of them brought keener vision than others. Some of them stood higher than others; but the genius of invention had not recognized them. There was needed an inventor."

As soon as Morse left the ship Sully, and met his brothers Richard and Sidney, he told them that he had made an important invention, "one that would astonish the world, and of the success of which he was perfectly sanguine." He became an inmate of Richard's house, living there several months.

From this time onward for twelve years he labored to give his telegraph to mankind; labored in the midst of distressing poverty, the ridicule of acquaintances, and the indifference of the world. Three motherless children were dependent upon him, but he could do little for them.

On the corner of Nassau and Beekman Streets, in the newspaper building erected by his brothers,--they were the editors and proprietors of the "New York Observer,"--in the fifth story, a room was assigned to him which he used for studio, sleeping-room, kitchen, and workshop. On one side was his cot, on the other his tools and crude machine. He whittled the models, and then made the moulds and castings. Here, from day to day, the simplest food was brought him, he preparing his own tea.

In the year 1835, having been appointed professor of the Literature of the Arts of Design in the New York City University, he took rooms in the third story of the university building. "There," he says, "I immediately commenced, with very limited means, to experiment upon my invention. My first instrument was made up of an old picture or canvas frame fastened to a table; the wheels of an old wooden clock, moved by a weight to carry the paper forward; three wooden drums, upon one of which the paper was wound and passed over the other two; a wooden pendulum suspended to the top piece of the picture or stretching-frame, and vibrating across the paper as it passes over the centre wooden drum; a pencil at the lower end of the pendulum, in contact with the paper; an electro-magnet fastened to a shelf across the picture or stretching-frame, opposite to an armature made fast to the pendulum; a type rule, and type for breaking the circuit, resting on an endless band, composed of carpet-binding, which passed over two wooden rollers, moved by a wooden crank, and carried forward by points projecting from the bottom of the rule downward into the carpet-binding; a lever, with a small weight on the upper side; and a tooth, projecting downward at one end, operated on by the type; and a metallic fork, also projecting downward over two mercury-cups; and a short circuit of wire, embracing the helices of the electro-magnet connected with the positive and negative poles of the battery, and terminating in the mercury-cups."

Morse was now so poor that he bought his food in small quantities from some grocery, and prepared it himself. He says, "To conceal from my friends the stinted manner in which I lived, I was in the habit of bringing my food to my room in the evenings, and this was my mode of life for many years."

In this year, 1835, says Professor Horsford, "Morse made his discovery of the _relay_, the most brilliant of all the achievements to which his name must be forever attached. It was the discovery of a means by which the current, which through distance from its source had become feeble, could be reenforced or renewed. This discovery, according to the different objects for which it is employed, is variously known as the registering magnet, the local circuit, the marginal circuit, the repeater, etc. It made transmission from one point on a main line through indefinitely great distances, and through an indefinite number of branch lines, and to an indefinite number of way-stations, and registration at all, possible and practicable, from a single act of a single operator."

Poor, longing for money to carry forward his plans, despondent lest some one think out a kindred machine and supplant him, Morse was also suffering from injustice in his art work. Our government having offered to American artists commissions to paint pictures for the panels in the Rotunda of the Capitol, the friends of Morse urged that he, as the president of the National Academy of Design, be one of the artists chosen by the committee. John Quincy Adams, ex-President of the United States, and one of the committee, urged that foreign artists be allowed to compete, stating that no American artists were competent for the work. This, of course, gave offence, and James Fenimore Cooper wrote a severe article, in the "New York Evening Post," upon Mr. Adams's remarks. The article was attributed to Morse, and his name was rejected by the committee. This was a great disappointment.

He said, years afterward, "The blow I received from Congress ... has almost destroyed my enthusiasm for my art.... I have not painted a picture since that decision.... When I applied to paint one of the Rotunda pictures, I was in my full vigor. I had just returned from three years' hard study in Italy, ... and felt a consciousness of ability to execute a work creditable to my country. I hazarded everything almost for this single object. When so unexpectedly I was repelled, I staggered under the blow. I have endeavored in every way to prevent its effects upon my mind; but it is a thorn which perpetually obtrudes its point, and would goad me to death were it not for its aspect in the light of God's overruling providence. Then all is right."

From time to time prominent men came to the university, to see the telegraph. They saw, thought it wonderful, doubted its practicability, and did not offer to invest any money in the enterprise. Finally, in 1837, Mr. Alfred Vail, a young graduate of the University of the City of New York, became interested, helped to construct an improved machine at his father's brass-works at Speedwell, N. J., for Morse to take to Washington for exhibition, and provided the means for his going.

After five long years, Morse had finally found some one ready to help. Arriving at Washington, he obtained the use of the room of the Committee on Commerce, to show his telegraph. Congressmen came, wondered, and went away doubting.

He now caused a respectful memorial to be presented to Congress, asking an appropriation of thirty thousand dollars, to test the telegraph between two cities. The petition was referred to a committee, quietly ignored, and Morse heard no more concerning it.

He sailed for Europe in 1838, to take out a patent for his work, but could obtain none in England, as Wheatstone and Cooke had already patented a magnetic-needle telegraph, entirely unlike that of Morse, invented four years later, says Professor Horsford, but brought before the public about the same time, 1837. In point of active use, Wheatstone's preceded Morse's telegraph by six years, on account of the indifference of Congress in helping the inventor.

In Paris, Morse submitted his telegraph to the Institute, and Arago, Humboldt, and others were delighted with it. As Morse was sending a word from one room to the other, Robert Walsh said to him, "The next word you may write is 'IMMORTALITY,' for the sublimity of this invention is of surpassing grandeur. I see now that all physical obstacles, which may for a while hinder, will inevitably be overcome. The problem is solved; MAN MAY INSTANTLY CONVERSE WITH HIS FELLOW-MAN IN ANY PART OF THE WORLD."

Morse returned to New York after eleven months, disappointed that Congress had done nothing, "without," as he said, "a farthing in my pocket, and have to borrow even for my meals." In Paris, having learned from M. Daguerre, the inventor of the daguerreotype, the process, Morse introduced it in this country, and earned enough by taking pictures to reimburse him for his European journey. Many crowded to his rooms to be taught, and he cheerfully imparted the knowledge he possessed.

As the months went by and Congress did nothing, Morse became despondent. He had not the means even to pay postage on letters. He said, "I am sick at heart.... I feel at times almost ready to cast the whole matter to the winds, and turn my attention forever from the subject." The Vails were unable to help the enterprise further, at present. Morse was still teaching a few pupils at the university. Gen. Strother, of Virginia, "Porte Crayon," thus tells of Morse's pecuniary condition: "He was very poor. I remember that when my second quarter's pay was due, my remittance from home did not come as expected; and one day the professor came in, and said, courteously:

"'Well, Strother, my boy, how are we off for money?'

"'Why, professor,' I answered, 'I am sorry to say I have been disappointed; but I expect a remittance next week.'

"'Next week,' he repeated, sadly; 'I shall be dead by that time.'

"'Dead, sir?'

"'Yes, dead by starvation!'

"I was distressed and astonished. I said, hurriedly: 'Would ten dollars be of any service?'

"'Ten dollars would save my life; that is all it would do.'

"I paid the money, all that I had, and we dined together. It was a modest meal, but good, and, after he had finished, he said: 'This is my first meal in twenty-four hours. Strother, don't be an artist. It means beggary. Your life depends upon people who know nothing of your art, and care nothing for you. A house-dog lives better, and the very sensitiveness that stimulates an artist to work keeps him alive to suffering.'"

Even the janitor of the University building said to a young man who was looking for a studio for himself: "You will have an artist for your neighbor, though he is not here much of late; he seems to be getting rather shiftless, he is wasting his time over some silly invention, a machine by which he expects to send messages from one place to another. He is a very good painter, and might do well if he would only stick to his business; but, Lord!" he added, with a sneer of contempt, "the idea of telling by a little streak of lightning what a body is saying at the other end of it!"

"Judge of my astonishment," says the young man, "when he informed me that the 'shiftless individual,' whose foolish waste of time so much excited his commiseration, was none other than the president of the National Academy of Design,--the most exalted position, in my youthful artistic fancy, it was possible for mortal to attain."

Once more, in some way, Morse obtained the money to go to Washington, and make another effort. December 30, 1842, a bill was at last submitted, asking for the thirty-thousand-dollar appropriation. It received much ridicule from some of the members. One suggested that there should be an appropriation for mesmeric experiments; another suggested the same for Millerism. At last the vote was taken in the House, Morse sitting in the gallery watching the result with feverish anxiety. The vote stood 89 yeas to 83 nays. IT WAS CARRIED.

Would it pass the Senate? The amount of business to be transacted made its coming up improbable. The last day of the session came. Morse sat all the day and evening in the gallery, and finally went to his hotel, nearly prostrated from disappointment.

In the morning, as he came down to breakfast, Annie G. Ellsworth, the daughter of his old friend, the Commissioner of Patents, came toward him with a bright smile, saying: "I have come to congratulate you!"

"For what, my dear friend?"

"On the passage of your bill."

Morse could scarcely believe the good news, that the bill had passed, in the last moments of the session, without opposition. He was nearly overcome with joy, and told the young lady that she should send the first message over the first line.

He at once proceeded to construct the first line of his electric telegraph between Washington and Baltimore. Ezra Cornell, later one of the most successful constructors and largest proprietors of telegraphs, and the founder of Cornell University, was employed at a salary of one thousand dollars a year.

After many perplexities, the line was completed. On May 24, 1844, Morse invited his friends to assemble in the chamber of the United States Supreme Court, where he had his instrument in connection with Baltimore. Annie Ellsworth's mother had suggested to her these words from the Bible, for the first message: "What hath God wrought!" No words could have been more in accordance with Morse's feelings. Taking his seat at the instrument, he spelled out the words, and instantly they were received by Mr. Vail in Baltimore, who resent them the same moment to Washington. The strip of paper on which this message is printed is now in the Athenaeum at Hartford, Conn.

What must have been Professor Morse's feelings at that moment. The day of triumph had come--the twelve weary years of poverty were over. Hereafter he was to be like one of the princes of the world.

A telegraph company was formed which offered to sell the telegraph to the government for one hundred thousand dollars. Congress refused to buy, much to the subsequent profit of the Morse company. In less than thirty years, the Morse telegraph was used in America upon two hundred and fifty thousand miles of wire, and in foreign countries upon six hundred thousand miles of wire, while the telegraph receipts throughout the world were about forty million dollars yearly.

There were many amusing incidents in connection with this early telegraph. "A pretty little girl tripped into the Washington City termination, and, after a great deal of hesitation and blushing, asked how long it would take to send to Baltimore. The interesting appearance of the little questioner attracted Mr. Morse's attention, and he very blandly replied, '_One second!_'

"'Oh, how delightful, how delightful!' ejaculated the little beauty, her eyes glistening with delight. 'One second only; here, send this even _quicker_ if you can.' And Mr. Morse found in his hand a neatly folded, gilt-edged note, the very perfume and shape of which told a volume of love.

"'I cannot send this note,' said Mr. Morse, with some feeling; 'it is impossible.'

"'Oh, do, _do!_' implored the distracted girl. 'William and I have had a quarrel, and I shall die if he don't know that I forgive him in a second. I know I shall.'

"Mr. Morse still objected to sending the note, when the fair one, brightening up, asked, 'You will, then, send _me_ on, won't you?'

"'Perhaps,' said one of the clerks, 'it would take your breath away to travel forty miles in a second.'

"'Oh, no, it won't! no, it won't, if it carries me to William! The cars in the morning go _so slow_ I can't wait for them.'

"Mr. Morse now comprehended the mistake which the petitioner was laboring under, and attempted to explain the process of conveying important information along the wires. The letter-writer listened a few moments, impatiently, and then rolled her burning epistle into a ball, in the excitement under which she labored, and thrust it into her bosom.

"'It's too slow!' she finally exclaimed; 'it's too slow! and my heart will break before William knows I forgive him; and you are a cruel man, Mr. Morse,' said the fair creature, the tears coming into her eyes, 'that you won't let me travel by the telegraph to see William.' And, full of emotion, she left the office."

All these years Morse was longing for a home. In 1845 he wrote his daughter, who was now married and living in Porto Rico, in the West Indies, "I do long for the time, if it shall be permitted, to have you, with your husband and little Charles, around me; I feel my loneliness more and more keenly every day. Fame and money are, in themselves, a poor substitute for domestic happiness: as means to that end, I value them. Yesterday was the sad anniversary (the twentieth) of your dear mother's death, and I spent the most of it in thinking of her."

Two years later he purchased two hundred acres on the Hudson River, near Poughkeepsie, calling it "Locust Grove," and built a handsome and spacious Italian villa for his residence. With the telegraph in his library, he could now converse with men in all parts of the world. Here he gathered his children and grandchildren around him. He was now fifty-six years old. Fame and money had come late in life. The next year he married Miss Sarah E. Griswold, the daughter of his cousin, a lady thirty years his junior.

His life here was peaceful and happy, most of the day being spent in reading and writing. He was very fond of nature. One of his daughters writes: "He loved flowers. He would take one in his hand, and talk for hours about its beauty, its wonderful construction, and the wisdom and love of God in making so many varied forms of life and color to please our eyes. In his later years he became deeply interested in the microscope, and purchased one of great excellence and power. For whole hours, all the afternoon or evening, he would sit over it, examining flowers, or the animalcula in different fluids. Then he would gather his children about him, and give us a sort of _extempore_ lecture on the wonders of creation, invisible to the naked eye, but so clearly brought to view by the magnifying power of the microscope.

"He was very fond of animals, cats and birds in particular. He tamed a little flying-squirrel, and it became so fond of him that it would sit on his shoulder while he was at his studies, and would eat out of his hand, and sleep in his pocket. To this little animal he became so much attached that we took it with us to Europe, where it came to an untimely end, in Paris, by running into an open fire."

In New York he bought a large house, No. 5 West Twenty-second Street, for his winter residence, and, on a vacant lot adjoining, erected an elegant building for his library and study. What a contrast between this and the time when "Porte Crayon" gave him ten dollars, which Morse said would save his life!

Honors now poured in upon him. In 1835 he had been elected a member of the Historical Institute of France.

In 1837, a member of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts of Belgium.

In 1839 the Great Silver Medal of the Academy of Industry of Paris was voted him.

In 1841, a corresponding member of the National Institution for the Promotion of Science at Washington.

In 1842, the gold medal of the American Institute.

In 1845, a corresponding member of the Archaeological Society of Belgium.

In 1846, Doctor of Laws by Yale College.

In 1848, the first decoration ever bestowed by the Sultan of Turkey upon a citizen of the United States, _Nishan Iftikar_, in diamonds; he was also made a member of the American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia.

In 1849, a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Boston.

In 1851, a golden snuff-box containing the Prussian golden medal for scientific merit.

In 1852, the Great Gold Medal of Arts and Sciences from the King of Wuertemberg.

In 1855, the Great Gold Medal of Science and Art from the Emperor of Austria.

In 1856, the brevet and decoration as Chevalier of the Imperial Order of the Legion of Honor, from the Emperor of France.

In 1856, the Cross of the Order of Dannebrog from the King of Denmark.

In 1858, a member of the Royal Academy of Sciences in Sweden.

In 1859, the order of knighthood and Commander of the First Class of the Royal Order of Isabella the Catholic, from Isabella II. of Spain.

In 1860, Knight of the Tower and Sword, from the King of Portugal.

In 1864, Chevalier of the Royal Order of Saints Lazaro and Mauritio, from Victor Emmanuel II., King of Italy.

In 1866, honorary member of the Societe de Physique et d'Histoire Naturelle of Geneva, Switzerland.

In 1857, Morse aided in the attempt to lay the Atlantic cable, being made electrician of the company. This was eminently fitting, as he had laid the first submarine cable, in 1842, October 18; one moonlight night in the harbor of New York City, between Castle Garden and Governor's Island.

In 1858, France, Austria, Belgium, the Netherlands, Piedmont, Russia, the Holy See, Sweden, Tuscany, and Turkey presented Mr. Morse with an honorary gratuity of four hundred thousand francs, "as a reward, altogether personal, of your useful labors."