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. Great King, two years ago I wrote To Lord Marbois a civil note, Which he ne’er answered, like a bear, So now I send my modest prayer To your dread throne, or stool, or chair. The plan, my lord, which I have hit on Will quite destroy the pride of Britain; The great torpedoes I prepare Will blow her ships up in the air, And every man-of-war will soon Ascend just like a vast balloon. In half a day one thousand men Would scatter all the ships you ken, Would clear the Channel and do over All between Calais port and Dover; Thus in two years, Sir, might be seen The end of England’s proud marine; And then that Isle, without a doubt, Puffed like a farthing rush-light out, Instead of reigning o’er the waves Would only furnish France with slaves. How glorious then were such a thing To grace your annals, mighty king! And (turn it over in your mind) How happy ’twere for all mankind, And more, (but that’s a thing between us) How worthy of your daddy’s genius; This business will be done—this blow up Take place, great Monarch, ere you grow up. Reflect, Sir, powder was invented: And then, Sir, you must feel contented.