After the contract was signed there was no hesitation on the part of Fulton; he plunged at once into the task he had anticipated for many years. As early as 1793 he had written to his friend Lord Stanhope, giving his first thoughts on the subject,—one part of his long letter will be enough to quote here; it is of special interest because it shows that Fulton looked to nature to suggest a practical plan: “In June, ’93 I begun the experiments on the steamship; my first design was to imitate the spring in the tail of a Salmon—for this purpose I supposed a large bow to be wound up by the steam engine and the collected force, attached to the end of a paddle—to be let off which would urge the vessel forward.” This accords with an old newspaper clipping which states that “the first rough model of a steamboat made by Fulton in New York was cut out of a shingle, shaped like a mackerel, with the paddles placed further in front than behind, like the fins of a fish.” Of course these “natural propellers” gave ideas to the inventor; he noticed that a fish with round, unbroken tail is a slow swimmer, while those which have deeply indented tails, like the mackerel, can make far greater speed in swimming. Fulton experimented for nine years before finding the best method; he did not stumble upon the plan, but patiently worked it out, learning through each successive test—all noted and recorded,—the correct ratio to establish between the size of the boat and the power of the machinery. During the early spring the boat was finished and looked so promising that Livingston wrote to friends in America to enact an extension to himself and Fulton, jointly, for the exclusive right to operate steamboats on the waters of New York State for twenty years, provided the boat could be produced within two years. Later this time was extended. Success seemed certain to both Fulton and Livingston. The strange boat was launched upon the river Seine; the borrowed engine of eight-horse power was installed; the copper boiler was in place,—and the partners, disregarding the jeering remarks of ignorant bystanders, were hopeful and happy in anticipation of the trial trip which was set for an early date. Naturally, the new invention was talked over by the wise men of the city who wandered to the dockyard to view the queer-looking boat. It is said that Prince Tallyrand, during a dinner at Mr. Barlow’s home, sat beside Robert Fulton and was charmed by his pleasant manner. Fulton’s topic of conversation—we can imagine his pleasure in the subject—was his invention of the steamboat upon which he was then at work; and his hope that the submarine torpedo-boat would end all naval warfare and bring universal peace. The Prince listened politely but later confessed his sadness in realizing that the agreeable young American was mad or he would not devote his time to such impossible schemes! To many Fulton’s dream seemed utterly vain.