The stormy administration of Andrew Jackson, which began in 1829, and the vigorous foreign policy which he inaugurated, or which devolved upon him to follow up, promised activity if not glory for the navy. The boundary question with England, and the long-standing claims for French spoliations prior to 1801, also pressed for solution.

The pacific name of at least one of the vessels selected to bear our flag, and our envoy, John Randolph of Roanoke, into Russian waters, suggested the olive branch, rather than the arrows, held in the talons of the American eagle. The Concord, which was to be put under Perry’s command, was named after the capital of the state in which she was built. She was of seven hundred tons burthen and carried eighteen guns. She was splendidly equipped, costing $115,325; and was destined, before shipwreck on the east coast of Africa in 1843, to the average life of fifteen years, and thirteen of active service.

Perry was offered sea-duty April 1. Accepting at once, he received orders, April 21, to command the Concord. By May 15, he had settled his accounts at the recruiting station, and was on the Concord’s deck. He wrote asking the Department for officers. He was especially anxious to secure a good school-master and chaplain. In those days, before naval academies on land existed, the school was afloat in the ship itself, and daily study was the rule on board. Mathematics, French and Spanish were taught, and Perry took a personal interest in the pupils. In this respect he was the superior even of his brother Oliver, whose honorable fame as a naval educator equals that as a victor.

Leaving Norfolk, late in June, a run of forty-three days, including stops for visits to London and Elsineur, brought the Concord under the guns of Cronstadt, August 9. Mr. Randolph spent ten days in Russia, and then made his quarters in London.

The honors of this first visit on an American ship-of-war, in Russian waters, were not monopolized by the minister. While at Cronstadt, the Czar Nicholas came on board and inspected the Concord, with unconcealed pleasure. In return, Perry and a few of his officers received imperial audience at the palace in St. Petersburg, and were shown the sights of the city—the “window looking out into Europe”—which Peter the Great built. Being invited to come again, with only his interpreter and private secretary, Chaplain Jenks, Perry acceded, and this time the interview was prolonged and informal. The Autocrat of all the Russias, and this representative officer of the young republic, talked as friend to friend. At this time, Alexander, who in 1880 was blown to pieces by the glass dynamite bombs of the Nihilists, was a boy twelve years old. Nicholas complimented Perry very highly on his naval knowledge; remarked that the United States was highly favored in having such an officer, and definitely intimated that he would like to have Perry in the Russian service. The chaplain-interpreter gives a pen sketch of the scene. Both Captain Perry and the Czar were tall and large; both were stern; Captain Perry was abrupt, so was the Czar. They all stood in the great hall of the palace (the same which was afterwards dynamited by the Nihilists). The Czar asked a great many questions about the American navy, and Captain Perry answered them. Professor Jenks translated for both, using his own phrases; and, to quote his own description, “sweetening up the conversation greatly.”

These interviews made a deep impression upon the young chaplain. As he said: “The Czar had very remarkable eyes, and he had such a very covetous look when he fixed them on Captain Perry and myself, that I was very anxious to get out of his kingdom.” The young linguist felt in the presence of the destroyer of Poland, very much as the “tender-foot” traveller feels when invited to dine with the border gentleman who has “killed his man.” The professor politely declined the Czar’s invitation to become his superintendent of education, as did Perry the proposition to enter the Russian naval service.

Nicholas I., one of the best of despots, was the grandson of Catharine II. By this famous Russian queen, had been laid the foundation of that abiding friendship between Russia and the United States. To this foundation, Nicholas added a new tier of the superstructure. King George III. of Great Britain had, in 1775, attempted to hire mercenaries in Russia to fight against his American subjects. Queen Catharine refused the proposition with scorn, replying that she had no soldiers to sell. While this act compelled the gratitude of Americans to Russia, it forced King George to seek among the shambles of petty princes in Germany. Another friendly act which touched the heart of our young republic was the liberal treaty of 1824, the first made with the United States. This instrument declared the navigation and fisheries of the Pacific free to the people of both nations. Indirectly, this was the cause of so many American sailors being wrecked in Japan, and of our national interest in the empire which Perry opened to the world.

The warm sympathy existing between Europe’s first despotism and the democratic republic in America, is a subject profoundly mysterious to the average Englishman. He wonders where Americans, who are antipodal to Russians in political thought, find points of agreement. In Catharine’s refusal to help Great Britain in oppressing her colonies, in liberal diplomacy, in the emancipation of her bondmen, and the abolition of slavery and serfdom, in the sympathy which covered national wounds, and in mutual sorrow from assassination and condolence in grief, the relation is clearly discerned. The cord of friendship has many strands.

These interviews, and the honors shown the captain of the Concord, by the personal presence of the Czar on his ship, did not serve in allaying the invalid envoy’s jealous temper. The mainmast of the vessel needed repairs, and she lay at anchor six days—long enough for Randolph to indite despatches homeward, one of which was a spiteful letter to the President, blaming Captain Perry. These were brought by Lieutenant Williamson on Sunday night, and at 4 a. m. sail was made for Copenhagen. After much heavy weather, and a boisterous passage, Copenhagen was reached September 6.

We may dismiss in a paragraph this whole matter of Randolph’s connection with the Concord. After his return home he lapsed into his speech-making habits. He indulged in slanders and falsehoods, asserting that the condition of the sailors was worse than that of his own slaves, and the discipline, especially flogging, severer than on the plantation. Perry and his officers heard of this, and on February 16, 1832, sent an exact report of the correction administered, proving that Randolph’s assertions were unfounded. Supported by his own officers, who voluntarily made flat contradiction of Mr. Randolph’s assertions, Perry convicted the erring Virginian of downright falsehood. Perry was careful to set this matter in its proper light, and two sets of his papers are now in the naval archives. No censure was passed upon him. His conduct was approved, for Randolph in addition to his disagreeable behavior, had exceeded his authority. It would be idle to deny, what it is an honor to Perry to declare, that the discipline on the Concord was very strict.

Flogging for certain offences was the rule of the service, not made by Perry but a custom fixed long before he was born. As a loyal officer, Captain Perry had no choice in the matter. Whenever possible, by persuasion, by the substitution of a reprimand for the cat, he avoided the, then, universal method of correction. At all the floggings, every one who could be spared from duty was obliged to be present. The logs of the Concord and of all the vessels commanded by Perry show that under his discipline less, and not more, than the average of stripes were administered. Perry went to the roots of the matter and was more anxious to apply ounces of prevention than pounds of cure. The cause of the offences which brought the cat to the sailors’ back was ardent spirits. He, therefore, used his professional influence to have this ration abolished to minors, and by his persistence finally succeeded. By the law of August 29, 1842, the spirit ration was forbidden to all under twenty-one years old—money being paid instead of grog. As a man, he personally persuaded the sailors to give up liquor and live by temperance principles. In this noble work he was remarkably successful, and the Concord led the squadron in the number of her crew who voluntarily abandoned the use of grog. Hence, fewer floggings and better discipline.

From Copenhagen the run was made to Cowes, Isle of Wight, September 22, and thence to the Mediterranean. At Port Mahon the Concord joined the squadron. The autumn and early winter were spent in active cruising, and in February we find Perry at Syracuse. Ever mindful of an opportunity to add stores of science, he made a collection of the plants of Sicily and forwarded it to the Massachusetts Horticultural Society. A box of other specimens was sent to the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

Leaving Syracuse, February 27, for Malta, and touching at this island, Captain Perry sailed, March 13, for Alexandria, having on board the Reverend and Mrs. Kirkland and Lady Franklin and her servants. Her husband, Sir John Franklin, afterwards world-renowned as an Arctic explorer, was at this time taking an active part in the Greek war of liberation. Perry’s acquaintance with the noble lady deepened into a friendship that lasted throughout his life. It was, most probably, through her admiration of the discipline and ability of the American officers and crews, that she, in after years, appealed to them as well as to Englishmen to rescue her husband. Nevertheless, as Chaplain Jenks noticed, the rose had its thorn. “Captain Perry had a trial of his patience with Lady Franklin, whom he took on board when he went to the Mediterranean. Lady Franklin was full of her husband; and, of course, at each meal the whole company had to hear theories and successes and memories repeated on the one theme. Captain Perry bore it all with great gentleness.”

Arriving at Alexandria, March 26, the Concord remained until April 23. The officers of the ship were invited to dine with Mehemet, the Viceroy of Egypt, afterwards the famous exterminator of the Mamelukes and of the feudal system which they represented and upheld. He had conquered Soudan, built Khartoum, and founded the Khedival dynasty. The officers were splendidly entertained by this latest master of the “Old House of Bondage.” The thirteen swords, presented to the party, were afterwards sent to Washington and placed in the Department of State. These weapons, still to be seen in the section devoted to curiosities, are of exquisite workmanship. The “Mameluke grip” was afterwards adopted on the regulation navy swords.

The Concord, raising anchor, April 3, sailed for Milo, where the famous statue of Venus had been found a few weeks before, and passed Candia, going thence to Napoli, the capital of Greece, saluting the British, French and Russian fleets, and the Greek forts. On his way to Smyrna, a rich American vessel received convoy. Another was met which had been robbed the night before by a party of fifty pirates in a boat.

In hopes of catching the thieves, and naturally enjoying a grim joke, Perry put a number of sailors and marines in hiding on the richly-laden merchantman, hoping to lure the pirates to another attack. The vessel, however, got safely to Paros without special incident of any kind. He then visited a number of the robbers’ haunts and scoured the coasts with boat parties, but without securing any prizes. The Concord then went to Athens to bring away the Rev. Mr. Robertson, an American missionary there, together with the property of the American Episcopal Mission, which had been broken up by the war.

In accordance with the excellent naval policy of President Jackson, our flag was shown in every Greek and Turkish port. Wool, opium and drugs were the staples of export carried in American vessels, and most of those met with were armed with small cannon and muskets. Arriving at Port Mahon, the home of our military marine, June 25, 1832, Perry reported a list of the vessels convoyed. It was found that in the eighty-two days from Alexandria, the Concord had visited twelve islands, anchored in ten ports, and that the ship had lain in port only sixteen days, being at sea sixty-four days. As strict sanitary regulations had been enforced, the health of the crew was unusually good.

At the transfer of the few invalids and of those whose terms of service had expired, the bugler struck up the then new, but now old, strain of “Home, Sweet Home,” which brought tears to many of the sailors’ eyes. The sight, so unusual, of a crying sailor, suggested to a visitor on board that these tears were of sorrow for leaving the Concord, than of joy for returning home. The surrounding cliffs sent back the notes in prolonged and saddened echoes. The heart-melting Sicilian air, without whose consecrating melody, the stanzas of John Howard Payne might long since have sunk into the ooze of oblivion, seemed then, as now, the immortal soul of a perishable body.

In his next cruise which we are now to describe, Perry was to take a hand directly in diplomacy, and rehearse for the more brilliant drama of Japan twenty years later.

It was part of the foreign policy of Jackson’s administration to compel the payment of the long standing claims for spoliations on American commerce by the great European belligerents. During the years from 1809 to 1812, the Neapolitan government under Joseph Bonaparte and Murat, kings of Naples, had confiscated numerous American ships and cargoes. The claims filed in the State Department at Washington amounted to $1,734,993.88. They were held by various Boston and Philadelphia insurance companies and by citizens of Baltimore. The Hon. John Nelson of Frederic, Md. was appointed Minister to Naples, and ordered to collect these claims. Even before the outbreak of the war in 1812, contrary to the general opinion, the amount of direct spoliations upon American commerce inflicted by France and the nations then under her influence exceeded that experienced from Great Britain. The demands from our government, upon France, Naples, Spain and Portugal had been again and again refused. Jackson, in giving the debtors of the United States an invitation to pay, backed it by visible arguments of persuasion. He selected to co-operate with Mr. Nelson and to command the Mediterranean squadron, Commodore Daniel Patterson who had aided him in the defense of New Orleans in 1815. This veteran of the Tripolitan campaigns, who in the second war with Great Britain had defended New Orleans, and aided Jackson in driving back Packenham, was now 61 years old. He was familiar with the western Mediterranean from his service as a Midshipman of over a quarter of a century before. At Port Mahon, August 25th, 1832, he received the command from Commodore Biddle. The squadron there consisted of the Brandywine, Concord and Boston.

This was “the Cholera year” in New York, and pratique, or permission to enter, was refused to the American ships at some of the ports. For this reason, an early demonstration at Naples was decided upon. Patterson’s plan was that one American ship should appear at first in the harbour of Naples, and then another and another in succession, until the whole squadron of floating fortresses should be present to second Mr. Nelson’s demands. The entire force at his command was three fifty-gun frigates and three twenty-gun corvettes. This sufficed, according to the programme, for a naval drama in six acts. Commodore Biddle was to proceed first with the United States, then the Boston and John Adams with Commodore Patterson were to follow.

This plan for effective negotiation succeeded admirably, though great energy was needed to carry it out. To take part in it, Perry was obliged to sacrifice not only personal convenience, but also to make drafts upon his purse for which his salary of $1200 per annum poorly prepared him. Returning from convoying our merchant vessels and chasing pirates in the Levant, he had to endure the annoyance of a quarantine at Port Mahon during thirty days; and this, notwithstanding all on board the Concord were in good health. Such was the effect of the fear of cholera from New York. Despite the urgency of the business, and the preciousness of time, the Concord, was moored fast for a month of galling idleness by Portuguese red tape.

Even upon quarantine—one of the growths and fruits of science—fasten the parasites of superstition. Besides the annoyance and loss of moral stamina, which such unusual confinement produces, it may be fairly questioned whether quarantine as usually enforced does not do, if not as much as harm as good, a vast amount of injury. Cut off from regular habits, and immured in unhygienic surroundings, the seeds of disease are often sown in hardy constitutions.

After thirty days of imprisonment on board, the officers of the Concord were ready to hail a washerwoman as an angel of light. They were all looking forward to such an interview with lively expectation, but such a privilege was to be enjoyed by all but the Captain.

At the last hour, Commodore Biddle fell ill. Unable to proceed, as ordered by the Department, to Naples, Perry was directed by order of Commodore Patterson to assume command of the flag-ship Brandywine, a frigate of forty-four guns. This ship, which recalls the name of a revolutionary battle-field, was named in honor of Lafayette, even as the Alliance had long before signalized, by her name, the aid and friendship of France in revolutionary days. She had been launched at Washington during his late visit to America, after the Marquis had visited the scenes of the battle in which he had acted as Washington’s aid.

To the trying duty of taking a new ship and forcing her with all speed night and day to the place needed, Perry was called before he could even get his clothes washed. Yet within an hour after his release, on a new quarterdeck, he ordered all sails set for Naples. For several days, until the goal was in sight, with characteristic vigor and determination to succeed, he was on deck night and day enduring the fatigue and anxiety with invincible resolution.

Mr. Nelson’s demands were at first refused by Count Cassaro, the Secretary of State. Why should the insolent petty government of the Bourbon prince Ferdinand II. notorious for its infamous misgovernment at home, pay any attention to an almost unknown republic across the ocean? No! The Yankee envoy, coming in one ship, was refused. King Bomba laughed.

The Brandywine cast anchor, and the baffled envoy waited patiently for a few days, when another American flag and floating fortress sailed into the harbor. It was the frigate United States. The demands were reiterated, and again refused.

Four days slipped away, and another stately vessel floating the stars and stripes appeared in the bay. It was the Concord. The Bourbon government, now thoroughly alarmed, repaired forts, drilled troops and mounted more cannon on the castle. Still withholding payment, the Neapolitans began to collect the cash and think of yielding.

Two days later still another war-ship came in. It was the John Adams.

When the fifth ship sailed gallantly in, the Neapolitans were almost at the point of honesty, but three days later Mr. Nelson wrote home his inability to collect the bill.

Just as the blue waters of the bay mirrored the image of the sixth sail, king and government yielded.^[6]

The demands were fully acceded to, and interest was guaranteed on instalments. Mr. Nelson frankly acknowledged that the success of his mission was due to the naval demonstration. Admiral Patterson wrote, “I have remained here with the squadron as its presence gave weight to the pending negotiations.” The line of six frigates and corvettes, manned by resolute men under perfect discipline, and under a veteran’s command, carried the best artillery in the world. Ranged opposite the lava-paved streets of the most densely peopled city of Europe, and in front of the royal castle, they formed an irresistible tableau. Neither the castle d’Oro, nor the castle St. Elmo, nor the forts could have availed against the guns of the Yankee fleet.

The entire squadron remained in the Bay of Naples from August 28, to September 15. As the ships separated, the Brandywine went to Marseilles, and the John Adams to Havre. The Concord was left behind to take home the successful envoy. This compelled Perry’s residence in Naples, at considerable personal expense. The welcome piping of the boatswain’s orders to lift anchor for the home run was heard October 15. The ocean crossed, Cape Cod was sighted December 3, and anchor cast at Portsmouth December 5. Mr. Nelson departed in haste to Washington to deck the re-elected President’s cap with a new diplomatic feather, which greatly consoled him amid his nullification annoyances.

Writing on the twenty-first of December, Perry stated that the Concord was dismantled. On the next day he applied for the command of the recruiting station at New York, as his family now made its home in that city.

This cruise of thirty months was fruitful of experience of nature, man, war, diplomacy, and travel. He had visited the dominions of nine European monarchs besides Greece, had anchored in and communicated with forty different ports, had been three hundred and forty-five days at sea, and had sailed twenty-eight thousand miles. No officer had appeared as prisoner or witness at a court-martial, and on no other vessel had a larger proportion of men given up liquor. Ship and crew had been worthy of the name.

During all the cruise, Perry showed himself to be what rear-admiral Ammen fitly styled him, “one of the principal educators of our navy.” He directed the studies of the young midshipmen, advised them what books to read, what historical sites to visit, and what was most worth seeing in the famous cities. He gave them sound hints on how to live as gentlemen on small salaries. He infused into many of them his own peculiar horror of debt. He sought constantly to elevate the ideal of navy men. The dogma that he insisted upon was: that an officer in the American Navy should be a man of high culture, abreast of the ideas of the age, and not a creature of professional routine. He heartily seconded the zeal of his scholarly chaplain, Professor Jenks, who was the confidential secretary of Commodore Perry, and so became very intimate with him during the cruise of several years. He was the interpreter to Captain Perry, and conducted the interviews with the various crowned heads.

Rear-Admiral Almy says of his commander Matthew Perry at this time that: “He was a fine looking officer in uniform, somewhat resembling the portraits of his brother the hero of Lake Erie, but not so handsome, and had a sterner expression and was generally stern in his manner.”

For the expenses incurred during this cruise in entertaining the Khedive Mehemet Ali, in performing duties far above his grade, his extra services on the Brandywine, and shore residence in Naples, Perry was reimbursed to the amount of $1,500, by a special Act of Congress passed March 3, 1835.

An English writer^[7] in the Naval College at Greenwich thus compares the life on shore of British and American officers.

“The officers of the United States navy have one great advantage which is wanting to our own; when on shore they are not necessarily parted from the service, but are employed in their several ranks, in the different dockyards, thus escaping not only the private grievance and pecuniary difficulties of a very narrow half-pay, but also, what from a public point of view is much more important, the loss of professional aptitude, and that skill which comes from increasing practice.”

When on the 7th of January 1833, Captain Perry received orders to report to Commodore Charles Ridgley at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, his longest term, ten years, of shore duty began. Being now settled down with his family, and expecting henceforth to rear his children in New York, he gave notice April 24, to the Navy Department that his name should go on record as a citizen of the Empire State. He at once began the study and mastery of the steam engine, with a view of solving the problem of the use of steam as a motor for war vessels.

That Perry was “an educator of the Navy,” and that he left his mark in whatever field of work he occupied was again signally shown. He organized the Brooklyn Naval Lyceum. This institution which still lives in honorable usefulness is a monument of his enterprise.

The New York Naval Station in the Wallabout, or Boght of the Walloons, which to-day lies under the shadow of the great Suspension Bridge, is easily accessible by horse-cars, elevated railways, and various steam vehicles on land and water. In those days, it was isolated, and ferry-boats were inferior and infrequent. Hence officers were compelled to be longer at the Yard, and had much leisure on their hands. Desirous of professional improvement for himself and his fellow-officers, Perry was alert when the golden opportunity arrived. Finding this at hand, he first took immediate steps to form a library at the Yard. He then set about the organization of the Lyceum, whose beginnings were humble enough. About this time, money had been appropriated to construct a new building for the officers of the commandant and his assistants. It was originally intended to be only two stories in height. Perry suggested that the walls be run up another story for extra rooms. He wrote to the Department. He personally pressed the matter. Permission was granted. A third floor was added. It was to be used for Naval courts-martial, Naval Boards, and the Museum, Library, and Reading Room.

The Lyceum organized in 1833, had now a home. It was incorporated in 1835, and allowed to hold $25,000 worth of property. The articles of union declared the Lyceum formed “In order to promote the diffusion of useful knowledge, to foster a spirit of harmony and a community of interests in the service, and to cement the links which unite us as professional brethren.”

The blazon selected was a naval trophy decorated with dolphins, Neptune, marine and war emblems, eagle and flag, with the motto, “Tam Minerva quam Marte,” (as well for Minerva, as for Mars.) A free translation of this would be, “For culture as well as for war.”

Commodore C. G. Ridgley was chosen President, as was befitting his rank. Perry assumed an humbler office, though he was the moving spirit of this, the first permanent American naval literary institution. He presided at its initial meeting. He was made the first curator of the museum, in 1836 its Vice President; and later, its President. Officers and citizens employed by, or connected with the navy came forward in goodly numbers as members. Soon a snug little revenue enabled the Lyceum to purchase the proper furniture and cases for the specimens which began to accumulate, as the new enterprise and its needs began to be known. Publishers and merchants made grants of books, pictures and engravings. Other accessions to the library were secured by purchase. From the beginning, and for years afterwards, the Lyceum grew and prospered. “Although other officers rendered valuable service in the organization, yet the master spirit was Captain Matthew C. Perry, United States Navy. From that day to this, the Naval Lyceum has been a fertile source of professional instruction and improvement.” Among the honorary members were four captains in the British navy, three of whose names, Parry, Ross and Franklin, are imperishably associated with the annals of Arctic discoveries.

Out of the Lyceum grew the Naval Magazine, an excellent bi-monthly, full of interest to officers. Of this Perry was an active promoter, and to it he contributed abundantly, though few or none of the articles bear his signature. Always full of ideas, and able to express them tersely, the editor could depend on him for copy, and he did. The Naval Magazine was edited by the Rev. Charles Stewart. The Advisory Committee consisted of Commodore C. G. Ridgley, Master Commandant M. C. Perry, C. O. Handy, Esq., Purser W. Swift, Esq., Lieutenant Alexander Slidell Mackenzie, Professor E. C. Ward, and passed Midshipman B. I. Moller. Its subscription price was three dollars per annum. Among the contributors were J. Fenimore Cooper, William C. Redfield, Esq., Chaplain Walter C. Colton and Dr. Usher Parsons. In looking over the bound volumes of this magazine—one of the mighty number of the dead in the catacombs of American periodical literature—we find some articles of sterling value and perennial interest. It was fully abreast of the science of the age, and urged persistently the creation of a Naval Academy.

The magazine died, but the Lyceum lived on to do a good work for many years, notably during our great civil war. It is still flourishing and is visited by tens of thousands of persons from all parts of our country.

Perry had already made his reputation as a scientific student. His motto was “semper paratus.” He was ever in readiness for work. The British Admiralty and the United States government were desirous of fuller information about the tides and currents of the Atlantic ocean, especially those off Rhode Island and in the Sound. Chosen for the work, Perry received orders, June 1st, to spend a lunar month on Gardiner’s Island. The congenial task afforded a pleasant break in the monotony of life in the navy yard, and revived memories of the war of 1812. The careful observations which he made during the month of June, embodied in a report, were adopted into the United States and British Admiralty charts. He returned home June 29.

Though Commodore Ridgley was officer-in-chief in the yard, upon Perry fell most of the active clerical and superintending work. The frigate, United States, was fitting out for service in the Mediterranean, and one of the young midshipmen ordered to report to her was the gentleman who afterwards became Rear-Admiral George H. Preble, a gallant soldier, fighter of Chinese pirates, and author of the History of the American Flag and of Steam Navigation.

He reported to the Navy Yard, May 1, 1836, in trembling anxiety as to his reception by his superiors. The commandant was absent at the horse-races on the Long Island course, so young Preble returned to New York, to his hotel, and again reported May 3.

His first impressions of Master Commandant Perry are shown in the following doggerel, written in a letter to his sister:

Perry at this time wore whiskers, and for some years afterwards cultivated sides in front of the ear. In later life he shaved his face clean. The fashion in the navy was to wear only sides, as portraits of all the heroes of 1812 show. The younger officers were just beginning to sport moustaches. These modern fashions and “such fripperies” were denounced by the older men, who clung to their antique prejudices. Hawthorne, in his American Note Book, August 27, 1837, gives an amusing instance of this, couched in the language with which he was able to make the commonest subject fascinating.

That the regulations should prescribe the exact amount of hair to be worn on the face of both officers and men seems strange, but it is true, and illustrates the rigidity of naval discipline. Evidently inheriting the modern British (not the ancient Brittanic) hatred of French and continental customs, the Americans, in high office, forbade moustaches as savoring of disloyalty. Wellington had issued an order forbidding moustaches, except for cavalry. It was not until the year of grace, 1853, that the American naval visage was emancipated from slavery to the razor. Secretary Dobbin then approved of the cautious regulation: “The beard to be worn at the pleasure of the individual, but when worn to be kept short and neatly trimmed.” What a shame it must have seemed to feminine admirers, and to the possessors of luxuriant beards of attractive color! Both the hairy and hairless were, perforce, placed in the same democracy of homeliness. The ancient orders, in the interest of ships’ barbers, and once made to compensate for the wearing of perukes, were crowned by the famous proclamation of Secretary Graham, dated May 8, 1852, which at this date furnishes, amusing reading:

Our illustrious Admiral Porter shaved only once or twice in his life. During the Mexican War he found it difficult to get Commodore Conner to give him service on account of his full whiskers. The British army wore their beards and now fashionable moustaches in the trenches of Sebastopol, when it was difficult, if not impossible to get shaved, and thus won a hairy victory, the results of which were felt even across the Atlantic.

Another high honor offered to Perry, was the command of the famous U. S. Exploring Expedition to Antarctic lands and seas. This enterprise was the evolution of an attempt to obtain from Congress an appropriation to find “Symmes Hole.” The originator of the “Theory of Concentric Spheres” was John Cleves Symmes, born in 1780, and an officer in the United States army during the war of 1812, who died in 1829. In lectures at Union College, Schenectady, and in other places, he expounded his belief that the earth is hollow and capable of habitation, and that there is an opening at each of the poles, leading to the various spheres inside of the greater hollow sphere, the earth itself. He petitioned Congress to fit out an expedition to test this theory, which had been set forth in his lectures and in a book published at Cincinnati in 1826.

Despite the ridicule heaped upon Symmes and his theories, scientific men believed that the Antarctic region should be explored. Congress voted that a corps of scientific men, in six vessels, should be sent out for four years in the interests of observation and research. This was one of the first of those “peace expeditions,” no less renowned than those in war, of which the American nation and navy may well be proud.

By this time, however, Perry had become interested in the idea of creating a steam navy. He declined the honor, but took a keen interest in the expedition. An ardent believer in Polar research, he was heartily glad to see the boundaries of knowledge extended. He had read carefully the record of the five years’ voyage of the British sloop-of-war Beagle. In this vessel, Mr. Darwin began those profound speculations on the origin and maintenance of animal life, which have opened a new outlook upon the universe and created a fertile era of thought.

The Secretary of the Navy applied to the Naval Lyceum for advice as to the formation of a scientific corps, for recommendation of names of members of said corps, for a series of inquiries for research, and details of the correct equipment of such an expedition. To thus recognise the dignity and status of the Lyceum was highly gratifying to its founder and appreciated by the society. A committee consisting of three officers, C. G. Ridgley, M. C. Perry and C. O. Handy, was appointed to make the report. This, when printed, filled eleven pages of the magazine. It was mainly the work of M. C. Perry. The practical nature of the programme was recognized at once. It was incorporated into the official instructions for the conduct of the expedition. The command was most worthily bestowed on Lieutenant Charles Wilkes.

The success of this, the first American exploring expedition of magnitude is known to all, through the publication entitled The Wilkes Exploring Expedition, as well as by the additions to our herbariums and gardens of strange plants, and the goodly spoils of science now in the Smithsonian Institute.

Matthew Perry was now to be called to a new and untried duty. This was no less than to be pioneer of the steam navy of the United States. When a boy under Commodore Rodgers, he had often seen the inventor, Fulton, busy with his schemes. He had heard the badinage of good-natured doubters and the jeers of the unbelieving, but he had also seen the Demologos, or Fulton 1st, moving under steam. This formidable vessel was to have been armed, in addition to her deck batteries, with submarine cannon. She was thus the prototype of Ericsson’s Destroyer. Fulton died February 24th, 1815, but the trial trip was made June 1st, 1815, and was successful.

Congress on the 30th of June, 1834, had appropriated five thousand dollars to test the question of the safety of boilers in vessels. The next step was to order the building of a “steam battery” at the Brooklyn Navy Yard in 1836. Perry applied for command of this vessel July 28th. His orders arrived August 31st, 1837.

The second Fulton, the pioneer of our American steam navy, was designed as a floating battery for the defense of New York harbor. Her hull was of the best live oak, with heavy bulwarks five feet thick, beveled on the outside so as to cause an enemy’s shot to glance off. She had three masts and was 180 feet long. She had four immense chimneys, which greatly impeded her progress in a head wind. Her boilers were of copper. Like most of those then in use, these, where they connected with iron pipes were apt to create a galvanic action which caused leaks. Thrice was the vessel disabled on this account. The paddle-wheels, with enormous buckets were 22 feet 10 inches in diameter. Her armament consisted of eight forty-two pounders, and one twenty-four pounder. Her total cost was $299,650. She carried in her lockers, coal for two days, and drew 10 feet 6 inches of water.

Perry took command of the Fulton October 4th, 1837, when the smoke-pipes were up, and the engines ready for an early trial. His work was more than to hasten forward the completion of the new steam battery. He was practically to organize an entirely new branch of naval economy. There were in the marine war service of the United States absolutely no precedents to guide him.

Again he had to be “an educator of the navy.” To show how far the work was left to him, and was his own creation, we may state that no authority had been given and no steps taken to secure firemen, assistant-engineers, or coal heavers. The details, duties, qualifications, wages, and status in the navy of the whole engineer corps fell upon Perry to settle. He wrote for authority to appoint first and second class engineers. He proposed that $25 to $30 a month, and one ration, should be given as pay to firemen, and that they should be good mechanics familiar with machinery, the use of stops, cocks, gauges, and the paraphernalia of iron and brass so novel on a man-of-war.

Knowing that failure in the initiative of the experimental steam service might prejudice the public, and especially the incredulous and sneering old salts who had no faith in the new fangled ideas, he requested that midshipmen for the Fulton should be first trained in seamanship prior to their steamer life. He was also especially particular about the moral and personal character of the “line” officers who were first to live in contact with a new and strange kind of “staff.” It is difficult in this age of war steamers, when a sailing man-of-war or even a paddle-wheel steamer is a curiosity, to realize the jealousy felt by sailors of the old school towards the un-naval men of gauges and stop-cocks. They foresaw only too clearly that steam was to steal away the poetry of the sea, turn the sailor into a coal-heaver, and the ship into a machine.

Perry demanded in his line officers breadth of view sufficient to grasp the new order of things. They must see in the men of screws and levers equality of courage as well as of utility. They must be of the co-operative cast of mind and disposition. From the very first, he foresaw that jealousy amounting almost to animosity would spring up between the line and staff officers, between the deck and the hold, and he determined to reduce it to a minimum. The new middle term between courage and cannon was caloric. He would provide precedents to act as anti-friction buffers so as to secure a maximum of harmony.

“The officers of a steamer should be those of established discretion, not only that great vigilance will be required of them, but because much tact and forbearance must necessarily be exercised in their intercourse with the engineers and firemen who, coming from a class of respectable mechanics and unused to the restraints and discipline of a vessel of war, may be made discontented and unhappy by injudicious treatment; and, as passed midshipmen are supposed to be more staid and discreet I should prefer most of that class.”

“In this organization of the officers of this first American steamer of war, I am solicitous of establishing the service on a footing so popular and respectable, as to be desired by those of the navy who may be emulous of acquiring information in a new and interesting field of professional employment, and I am sure that the Department will co-operate so far as it may be proper in the attainment of the object.”

That was Matthew Perry—ever magnifying his office and profession. He believed that responsibility helped vastly to make the man. He suggested that engineers take the oath, and from first to last be held to those sanctions and to that discipline, which would create among them the esprit so excellent in the line officers.

Out of many applicants for engineer’s posts on the Fulton, Perry, to November 16th, had selected only one, as he was determined to get the best. He believed in the outward symbols of honor and authority. “In order to give them a respectable position, and to encourage pride of character in their intercourse with citizens, and to make them emulous to conduct themselves with propriety, I would respectfully suggest that a uniform be assigned to them.” He proposed the usual suit of plain blue coat with rolling collar, blue trousers, and plain blue cap. The distinction between first and second engineers should be visible, only in the number and arrangement of the buttons; the first assistant to wear seven, and the second assistant six in front, both having one on each collar, and slight variation on the skirts. Later on, the paddle-wheel wrought in gold bullion was added as part of the uniform. “The olive branch and paddle-wheel on the collars of the engineers designated their special vocation, and spoke of the peaceful progress of art and science.”

The sailors, who as a class are too apt to be children of superstition, were somewhat backward about enlisting on a war-ship with a boiler inside ready to turn into an enemy if struck by a shot; but at last after many and unforeseen delays, the Fulton got out into the harbor early in December. Steam was raised in thirty minutes from cold water. Many of the leading engineers and practical mechanics were on board. With ten inches of steam marked on the gauge, and twenty revolutions a minute, she made ten knots an hour, justifying the hope that she would increase her speed to twelve or even thirteen knots. The first assistant-engineers of this pioneer war steamer were Messrs. John Farron, Nelson Burt, and Hiram Sanford.

The Chief Engineer was Mr. Charles H. Haswell, now the veteran city surveyor of New York.

Perry wrote December 17, 1837, “I have established neat and economical uniforms for the different grades.” He also arranged their accommodations on the vessel, and their routine of life was soon established. A trial trip to go outside the bay and in the ocean was arranged for December 28, but the old-fashioned condensing apparatus worked badly. The machinery of the Fulton, though perhaps the best for the time, was of rude pattern as compared with the superb work turned out to-day in American foundries. Even this clumsy mechanical equipment had not been obtained without great anxiety, patience, and delay, and by taxing all the resources of the New York machine shops.

Of her value as a moving fortress, Perry wrote: “The Fulton will never answer as a sea-vessel, but the facility of moving from port to port, places at the service of the Department, a force particularly available for the immediate action at any point.” With the lively remembrance of the efficiency of the British blockade of New York and New London in the war of 1812, he adds, “In less than an hour, after orders are received, the Fulton can be moving in any direction at the rate of ten miles an hour, with power of enforcing the instructions of the government.”

On the 15th of January 1838, Captain Perry received orders to carry out the Act of Congress, and cruise along the coast. Perry wrote pointing out, (1) that the heavy and clumsy Fulton, a veritable floating fortress being unlike ocean steamers, was not likely to prove seaworthy, (2) she was adapted only to bays and harbors, (3) she could carry fuel only for seventy hours consumption; (4), that no deposits of coal were yet made along the coast; (5), that her wheel guards being only twenty inches clear, the boat would be extremely wet and dangerous at sea. Nevertheless he promised to take this floating battery out into the ocean back to the coaling depot, and thence through the Long Island Sound.

Accordingly January 18, the Fulton steamed down to Sandy Hook and anchoring at night, ran out as the wintry weather permitted during the day. In a wind the vessel labored hard. She lay so low in the water, that several of her wheel buckets were lost or injured, and the previous opinion of naval men was confirmed. Nevertheless, Perry was astonished at her power, and her facility of management demonstrated a new thing on board a vessel of war. Having asked for the written opinion of his officers, several interesting replies were elicited. The Acting Master C. W. Pickering noted that the Fulton carried six forty-four pounders, and being a steamer could have choice of position and distance. Two or three of such vessels could cripple a whole enemy’s squadron or destroy it. In case of a calm, she could fight a squadron all day, and not receive a shot. In case of chase, or light winds, she could destroy a squadron one by one, or tow them separately out of sight as was desired. The trial in the Sound proved her one of the fastest boats known. From New London with 9½ inches steam she made twenty-eight miles in one hour and fifty-seven minutes, or one hundred and eighteen miles in little less than nine hours.

Her utility on a blockade was manifest, and her advantage in every point over sailing vessels demonstrated. She would in a fight be equal to any “seventy-four” and in fact to any number of vessels not propelled by steam. Her strength and power were unrivalled in the world.

Lieut. Wm. F. Lynch, afterwards the Dead Sea explorer and later the Confederate Commodore, suggested a better arrangement of her battery. Taking a hint from Jackson’s cotton-bale breastworks of 1815, he pointed out how the Fulton might be made cotton-clad and shot-proof. He carried out his idea in later years, and some of the confederate steamers in the civil war were so armed and made formidable. It is interesting to read now what he wrote in 1838. “The machinery can easily be protected by cotton bales, or other light elastic material between it and the ship’s side.” The idea of protecting armor to war ships was first conceived by Americans.

In fact, all the opinions as to the Fulton’s capacity for the offense or defense were favorable. A glow of enthusiasm pervades the reports of those on board the maiden trip of this the first American war steamer. Perry himself saw her defects, and how they could be remedied. Her machinery and horizontal engines took up too much room. Yet even as she was, her annual expenses would be less than a first-class vessel of war under sail with proportionate crew, provisions, and canvass.

By prophetic insight, Perry saw that the revolution in naval education, tactics and warfare had already dawned. Writing from Montauk Point, February 6, 1838, he suggested that a training school for naval engineers should be established by the government, that firemen apprentices should be enlisted and trained, stating that these had better be sons of engineers and firemen. The Secretary immediately approved of his suggestion in a letter dated February 13, 1838. He directed Commodore Ridgely to place on the Fulton five apprentices to be exclusively attached to the engineer’s department.^[8] What was first suggested by Perry, is now magnificently realized in the Annapolis Naval Academy, with its six years course in engineering, graduating yearly a corps of cadet engineers among the best in the world.

In a further report, written from Gardiner’s Island February 17, 1838, Perry uttered his faith that sea-going war steamers of 1400 or 1500 tons could be built to cruise at sea even for twenty days, and yet be efficient and as safe from disaster as the finest frigates afloat, while the expense would be considerably less. This was a brave utterance at a time when the number of believers in the possibility of the financial success of ocean steam-navigation, or of the practicability of large war vessels propelled by steam, was very few indeed. Perry’s letter was read and re-read by the Naval Commissioners.

In May, he took the Fulton to Washington, where President Jackson and his cabinet enjoyed the sight of a war-ship independent of wind and tide. It was intimated to Perry that he should be sent to Europe to study the latest results in steam, ordnance, and lighthouse illumination.

The year 1837 was a memorable one for Matthew Perry, marking his promotion to a Captaincy in the United States Navy. The emblazoned parchment bearing President Andrew Jackson’s signature is dated February 9, 1837. He ranked number forty-four in the list of the fifty naval captains allowed by law. By the Act of Congress of March 8, 1835, the pay of a captain off duty was $2,500, on duty, $3,500, and in command of a foreign squadron, $4,000.