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Paschal Plant was born on 18 May 1832 in Sorel, southern Quebec. Largely self-educated, he possessed an innate gift for invention. It was this love of tinkering, combined with a distaste for farming, that made him decide, at the age of 24, to emigrate to the United States in pursuit of a career as an inventor. He could not have foreseen, as he set his feet southward in 1856 that, six years later, one of his inventions, a rocket- propelled torpedo, would sink an American ship and purportedly endanger an American president.
Having lived briefly in Chicago, Pascal—as he rechristened himself to avoid mispronunciation—Plant settled in Washington, D.C. where, immediately upon the outbreak of the Civil War, he volunteered for duty in the Union Army. He enlisted as a private in Company C of the 5 th Battalion, Washington, D.C. Volunteer Infantry. His unit was one of the first raised by the Union and enjoyed the honor of being reviewed on 13 May 1861, along Pennsylvania Avenue, by newly sworn-in President Lincoln and other dignitaries. The Canadian was to see Lincoln again—when the American President sent for him.
Plant, his three-month enlistment up, was discharged on 17 July 1861, before the Union offensive was mounted. He now sought to aid the Federals in another, more ingenious way.
He gained the government’s official ear through Senator Preston King of New York. The Senator was particularly well known to Canadians at that time because of his impassioned support of the Canadian rebellion for independence in 1837-38. He was also one of the most vigorous advocates of President Lincoln’s war policies.
Four days after the spectacular fight of the ironclads Monitor and Virginia (Merrimack) on 9 March 1862, Plant took with him to Lincoln’s office a small wooden model weapon he hoped would revolutionize naval warfare, a rocket-propelled submarine. Lincoln, who possessed an inventive and mechanical turn of mind- in 1849 he had been granted a patent for a means of
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buoying vessels over shoals—was much taken with the Canadian’s model.
The President sent Plant to the Navy Ordnance Bureau for a professional evaluation. In a few days, Lieutenant Henry Wise and his Board of Navy examiners concluded that Plant’s submarine, though interesting, was "altogether speculative, and his explanations are not such as to induce the Board to recommend it for adoption or even trial.” Plant was not deterred, and set to work on another project.
He next appeared in the offices of the War Department in October 1862, carrying plans for a rocket- propelled torpedo. Plant’s latest idea was submitted directly to the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Gus- tavus Vasa Fox. Fox, in turn, ordered two or three specimens to be made at the Naval Ordnance Yard by the famous Swedish-American inventor John Adolphus Dahlgren, who was then director of the Yard. The Navy believed the torpedoes to be practical and waited to see a trial.
In the meantime, anticipating success, Pascal took out a U. S. patent for his design. Entitled "Improved Apparatus for Discharging Torpedoes Under Water,” the patent appears to have been the first issued in the United States for a rocket torpedo. Plant’s idea was to fire his "winged” torpedoes through a maneuverable ball-and-socket jointed tube, the tube projecting from the hull of a warship. Rocket torpedoes had been designed and constructed earlier, but to anybody’s knowledge they had never before been launched against teal targets. It was left to Plant to construct his own rocket-driven torpedo, and to have it tested against a real vessel.
The test was made on 9 December 1862, with utmost caution, lest the news break prematurely. The two trial, cigar-shaped missiles were brought out of the Navy Yard down to the edge of the Anacostia River 2nd gently lifted onto a specially outfitted scow. Serving as a simulated torpedo-armed war ship, this boat was moored about 40 feet from the dock so as to present a clear launching area.
The dignitaries took their viewing positions ashore. Abraham Lincoln was amongst them, though he so commonly attended experiments at the Yard and other departments that it is scarcely mentioned in the official records. Also present at the trial were Secretary of the Navy Gideon Wells, and Assistant-Secretary Gustavus Fox.
The first rocket was fired. The projectile hissed and puffed to life. Its propelling forces gaining strength, it slowly departed the firing tube and sailed off on its own momentum at a constant velocity. The torpedo continued on a straight course until it struck its target, a nearby mudbank. Upon impact, a percussion cap detonated a small explosive charge within the warhead with "quite a shock.” The first trial was deemed to have given "entirely satisfactory results.”
The next torpedo was then fired. A terse memo, hidden for a century in a naval ledger, describes the next few seconds. "Plant’s rocket sank a vessel . . . ,” it exclaims, "rocket fired backwards and endangered the life of President Lincoln”!
A mystery presents itself here. The rocket did indeed veer from its course and strike a small schooner, the Diana, anchored nearby. The explosion of the torpedo at her bow sank her in a few minutes. Fortunately, no one was on board.
However, what of the second half of the memo? How did the rocket endanger the life of the President? Unfortunately, though the sinking of the Diana was well described in the press, no mention was made of the President’s presence at the trial, nor of any threat to his life. The memo contains the only evidence that he did attend the test.
Of the sinking of the Diana, the Washington Evening Star later reported, "The destructive properties of the rocket were certainly proven. It is a fortunate circumstance that it exploded under the schooner, otherwise the large and splendid steamer State of Georgia, which was in range, might have been destroyed.”
Far from expressing consternation over the Canadian’s errant projectile, the Navy was considerably im-
pressed with this incontestable proof of its powers. He was therefore granted permission to proceed with construction and refinement of the design. Thus encouraged, Plant had another torpedo ready for trial by 24 January 1863.
The Navy now took more stringent precautions and ordered all vessels cleared from the test area. Plant likewise took no chances. Sending an invitation to the Chief of Army Ordnance, General James W. Ripley, to see the new test, he cautioned him that, "As the river in front of the Navy Yard is full of mud banks so that we could not send a torpedo any considerable distance, we wish to make the experiment at the Arsenal Wharf.” The wish was granted. The site of the new experiment was shifted to the Wharf, "at the foot of Four-and-a-half Street.” Though there were pilings to contend with, these were used in such a way as to determine the torpedo’s line of "flight.”
President Lincoln chose not to be among the several congressmen, Naval and Army ordnance officials, and one or two patent examiners assembled to witness the test.
Pascal Plant failed to arrive at the appointed time. New adjustments and modifications had taken longer than expected and he was still at the Navy Yard. Just as the spectators’ patience was "nearly exhausted,” Plant appeared offshore in a row boat.
When he stepped ashore, he announced that he would not use his ball-joint launcher, but instead a hastily-rigged contraption consisting of a ponderous 15-foot tube mounted on spindly legs. One of the witnesses called it a "crooked gun” and said that it "looked very rough and was so heavy and unwieldly on the skiff, that one was reminded of an elephant on the legs of a lamb.”
Plant lowered the gun in place by block and tackle. After an interminable wait, he announced that it was ready to fire. This time, because of technical difficulties, only one torpedo would be let off. It would have to work the first time.
The rocket refused to cooperate. Upon ignition it leaped out of the water, glided briefly over the surface, slightly ricochetting about 20 feet and muddying the water, then leaped up again and ended its flight by plunging into the Anacostia about a hundred yards away. "A slight smoke” and some bubbles ended the performance.
The Navy’s interest in Pascal Plant’s torpedo likewise evaporated, though some optimism remained in other quarters. Shortly after, a reporter for the Washington Daily Morning Chronicle praised the inventor and declared that the rocket "bids fair to become a very valuable acquisition to the naval arm of the service long before it shall have had half the experiments that have been bestowed upon the Dahlgren and other guns.” The inventor was less optimistic. He abandoned his rocket torpedo altogether but continued to submit other ideas to the government throughout the remainder of the war. The profession of a wartime inventor was a precarious and ill-paying one, however, and for his livelihood he became a boot maker.
In the late 1870s, he went to California to engage in mining speculation. Plant was no ordinary miner and his inventive mind soon produced a "gold separator” and an "amalgamator.” An outgrowth of his cobbler’s work was a patent for a "Laced Boot and Shoe.” He also invented a "Cork Swimming Suit.”
By the mid-1890s, he returned to Washington and settled there permanently. He lived with his American- born wife and his several children, including his daughter Anna, now 95 and still living in the Capital area. He was "a real gentleman,” says his Civil War pension record, "although at present in such humble circumstances.” But, recalls his daughter, however he made his money, he would spend it on inventions.
Plant died on 29 January 1911, at age 82. At the time of his death he was still trying to perfect his gold separator. Interestingly enough, his son Pascal Plant, Jr., was also an inventor and was later to work for the Navy Department which many years before had come so close to doing business with his father.