The most popular name in aerostation during the Revolution and the Consulate in France is, without doubt, that of Blanchard. We have already referred to him in the chapter which treats of experiments made prior to the discovery of Montgolfier, and we now have to speak of his famous ascent from the Champ de Mars, on the 2nd of March 1784, and of the ascents which followed.
We have seen that he constructed a sort of flying boat, a machine furnished with oars and rigging, with which he managed to sustain himself some moments in the air at the height of eighty feet. This curious machine was exhibited in 1782 in the gardens of the great hotel of the Rue Taranne. But a little time afterwards Montgolfier’s discoveries quite altered the conditions under which the aerostatic art was to be pursued. It had no sooner become known than it became public property. The idea was too simple in its grandeur, and was of too easy a kind not to call up a host of imitators. Of these Blanchard was one of the first; but this mechanician was anxious to incorporate his own invention with that of Montgolfier, and he arranged that on the 2nd of March, 1784, he should make an ascent in what he still called his “flying vessel,” which he furnished with four wings.
Blanchard and his companion, Pesch, a Benedictine priest, were prevented from going up in the balloon, as represented in our illustration, which was drawn before the event it was intended to commemorate. A certain Dupont de Chambon persisted in accompanying the voyagers. Pushed back by them, he drew his sword, leaped into the car or boat, wounded Blanchard, cut the rigging, and broke the oars or wings. The aeronaut was consequently compelled to have his machine partly re-fitted in great haste, and in the course of a few hours he made the ascent alone in the usual way. Blanchard should have known the uselessness of oars, though he did not abandon their employment in subsequent ascents. The Brothers Montgolfier had dreamed of the employment of oars as a means of guidance, but had ultimately rejected the idea. Joseph wrote to his brother Etienne, about the end of the year 1783:
“For my sake, my good friend, reflect; calculate well before you employ oars. Oars must either be great or small; if great, they will be heavy; if small, it will be necessary to move them with great rapidity. I know no sufficient means of guidance, except in the knowledge of the different currents of air, of which it is necessary to make a study; and these are generally regulated by the elevation.” The two brothers often recurred to this idea.
The pictures of the first ascent of Blanchard from the Champ de Mars on the 2nd of March, 1784, in the presence of a vast multitude, show us the oars and the mechanism of his flying-machine fitted to a balloon. The design which we here give seems to us deserving of being considered only as one of the caricatures of the time, especially when we look at the personage dressed in the fool’s head-gear, who sits behind and accompanies the triumphant ascent of the aeronaut with music.
It was not with this apparatus that Blanchard effected his ascent, for we have seen that the gearing of his vessel was broken by the infuriated Dupont de Chambon. Yet the aeronaut pretends to have been, to some extent, assisted by his mechanical contrivances. The following is his narrative:—
“I rose to a certain height over Plassy, and perceiving Villette, which I did not despair of reaching in spite of the misfortune that had happened to me, I attached a rope of my rigging to my leg, not being able to make use of my left hand, which I had wrapped in my handkerchief on account of the sword-wound it had received. I fixed up a piece of cloth, and thus made a sort of sail with which I hugged the wind. But the rays of the sun had so heated and rarefied the inflammable air that soon I forgot my rigging in thinking of the terrible danger that threatened me.”
Going on to narrate the dangers that beset him, Blanchard describes a number of most extraordinary experiences, which would be better worthy of a place here if they were more like the truth. His curious narrative is thus brought to a close:—
“Escaped from these impetuous and contrary winds, during which I had felt a great degree of cold, I mounted perpendicularly. The cold became excessive. Being hungry I ate a morsel of cake. I wished to drink, but in searching the car nothing was to be seen but the debris of bottles and glasses, which my assailant had left behind him when we were about to depart. Afterwards all was so calm that nothing could be seen or heard. The silence became appalling, and to add to my alarm I began to lose consciousness. I now wished to take snuff, but found I had left my box behind me. I changed my seat many times; I went from prow to stern, but the drowsiness only ceased to assail me when I was struck by two furious winds, which compressed my balloon to such an extent that its size became sensibly diminished to the eye. I was not sorry when I began to descend rapidly upon the river, which at first seemed to me a white thread, afterwards a ribbon, and then a piece of cloth. As I followed the course of the river, the fear that I should have to descend into it, made me agitate the oars very rapidly. I believe that it is to these movements that I owe my being able to cross the river transversely, and get above dry land. When I saw myself upon the plain of Billancourt, I recognised the bridge of Sevres, and the road to Versailles. I was then about as high as the towers above the plain, and I could hear the words and the cries of joy of the people who were following me below. At length I came to a plain about 200 feet in extent. The people then assisted me and brought my vessel to anchor. Immediately I was surrounded by gentlemen and foot passengers who had run together from all parts.”
This voyage lasted one hour and a quarter. The most important incident of it was that the balloon was very nearly burst by the expansion of the hydrogen gas. No balloon, as we have already seen, should be entirely inflated at the beginning of a journey. Blanchard had a narrow escape from being the victim of his ignorance of physics, and it is a wonder he was not left to the mercy of fate in a burst balloon, at several thousand feet above the earth.
Biot, the savant, who had watched the experiment, declared that Blanchard did not stir himself, and that the variations of his course are alone to be attributed to the currents of air that he encountered. As he had inscribed upon his flags, his balloons, and his entrance tickets, from which he realised a considerable sum, the ambitious legend, Sic itur ad astra, the following epigram was produced respecting him:—
What is most important to examine in each of the great aerial voyages that have been made, is the special character which distinguishes them from average experiments. All our great voyages are rendered special and particular by the ideas of the men who undertook them, and the aims which they severally meant to achieve by them. The early ascents of Montgolfier had for their aim the establishment of the fact that any body lighter than the volume of air which it displaces will rise in the atmosphere; those of Roziers were undertaken to prove that man can apply this principle for the purpose of making actual aerial voyages; those of Robertson, Gay-Lussac, &c., were undertaken for the purpose of ascertaining certain meteorological phenomena; those of Conte Coutelle applied aerostation to military uses. A considerable number were made with the view of organising a system of aerial navigation analogous to that of the sea-steerage in a certain direction by means of oars or sails—in a word, to investigate the possibility of sailing through the air to any point fixed upon. It was with this object that the experiments at Dijon took place, and these were the most serious attempts down to our times that have been made to steer balloons.
At the middle of the globe of the balloon were placed four oars, two sails, and a helm and these were under the management of the voyagers, who sat in the car and worked them by means of ropes. The car was also furnished with oars. The report of Guyton de Morveau to the Academy at Dijon informs us that these different paraphernalia were not altogether useless. The following extracts are from this report:—
“The very strong wind which arose immediately before our departure, had driven us down to tee ground many times, making us fear for the safety of our oars, &c., when we resolved to throw over as much ballast as would enable us to rise against the wind. The ballast, including from 70 to 80 lbs. of provisions, was thrown over, and then we rose so rapidly that all the objects around were instantly passed and were very soon lost to view. The swelling form of our balloon told us that the gas inside had expanded under the heat of the sun and the lessening density of the surrounding air. We opened the two valves, but even this outlet was insufficient, and we had to cut a hole about seven or eight inches long in the lower part of the balloon, through which the gas might escape. At five minutes past five we passed above a village which we did not know, and here we let fall a bag filled with bran, and carrying with it a flag and a written message to the effect that we were all well, and that the barometer was recording 20 inches 9 lines, and the thermometer one degree and a half below zero.”
Very keen cold attacked the ears, but this was the only inconvenience experienced, until the voyagers were lost in a sea of clouds that shut them out from the view of the earth. The sun at length began to descend, and they then perceived, by a slackening in the lower part of the balloon, that it was time for them to think of returning to the earth. Judging from the compass that they were not far from the town of Auxonne, they resolved to use all their endeavours to reach that place. The sailing appliances had been considerably damaged by the rough weather at starting. The rigging being disarranged, one of the oars had got broken, another had become entangled in the rigging, so that there remained only two of the four oars, and these, being on the same side, were absolutely useless during the greatest part of the voyage. The adventurers, however, assert that they made them work from eight to nine minutes with the greatest ease, making use of them to tack to the south-east.
“We hoped then to be able to descend near where we judged Auxonne to be,” the writer continues, “but we lost much gas by the opening in the balloon, and descended more rapidly than we expected or wished. We looked to our small stock of ballast with anxiety, but there was no need of it, and we came very softly down upon a slope.”
When the aeronauts arrived at Magny-les-Auxonne, the inhabitants gazed upon them in terror, and two men and three women fell down on their knees before them.
Here is an extract from the report of the experiment of the 12th of June, the principal object of which was the attempt to discover the means of steering in a certain direction:—
“M. de Verley and myself mounted in the balloon,” says Guyton de Morveau, “at seven o’clock. We rose rapidly and in an almost perpendicular direction. The fall of the mercury in the barometer was scarcely perceptible when the dilation of the hydrogen gas in the balloon had become considerable. The globe swelled out, and a light vapour around the mouth announced to us that the gas was commencing to escape by the safety-valve. We assisted its escape by pulling the valve-string.
“Having reduced the dilation sufficiently for our purposes, we resolved to attempt the working of the balloon before the whole town and to turn it from the east to the north. We saw with pleasure that our machinery answered By the working of the helm, the prow of our air-boat was turned in the direction we desired. The oars, working only on one side, supported the helm, and altogether we got on as we wished. We described a curve, crossing the road from Dijon to Langres. The mercury had descended to 24 inches 8 lines, which announced that we were gradually rising. We attempted for some time to follow the route to I Langres, but the wind drove us off our course in spite of all our efforts. At nine o’clock our barometer informed us that we had ascended to the height of 6,000 feet. M. de Verley took advantage of this elevation to put some touch wood to a burning-glass 18 lines in diameter, and the touch wood lighted immediately.”
The aeronauts decided to direct their course for Dijon. After re-setting the helm with this intention, they worked their oars, and proceeded in that direction more than 1,000 feet. But heat and fatigue obliged them to suspend their endeavours, and the current drove them upon Mirebeau, where, throwing out the last of their ballast and regulating their descent, they came softly down upon a corn-field.
The adventurers were cordially welcomed by the ecclesiastics and the magistrates of the place, and after a time they, with their balloon, were carried back on men’s shoulders to Dijon.
The longest course travelled by Montgolfiere balloons, and the highest elevation reached by them, were achieved by Roziers and Proust with the Montgolfiere la Marie Antoinette, at Versailles, on the 23rd of June, 1784. Roziers himself has left us a picturesque narrative of this excursion from Versailles to Compiegne. He says:—
“The Montgolfiere rose at first very gently in a diagonal line, presenting an imposing spectacle. Like a vessel which has just been precipitated from the stocks, this astonishing machine hung balanced in the air for some time, and seemed to have got beyond human control. These irregular movements intimidated a portion of the spectators, who, fearing that, should there be a fall, their lives would be in danger, scattered away with great speed from under us. After having fed my fire, I saluted the people, who answered me in the most cordial manner. I had time to remark some faces, in which there was a mixed expression of apprehension and joy. In continuing our upward progress, I perceived that an upper current of air made the Montgolfiere bend, but on increasing the heat, we rose above the current. The size of objects on the earth now began perceptibly to diminish, which gave us an idea of the distance at which we were from them. It was then that we became visible to Paris and its suburbs, and so great was our elevation that many in the capital thought we were directly over their heads.
“When we had arrived among the clouds, the earth disappeared from our view. Now a thick mist would envelop us, then a clear space showed us where we were, and again we rose through a mass of snow, portions of which stuck to our gallery. Curious to know how high we could ascend, we resolved to increase our fire and raise the heat to the highest degree, by raising our grating, and holding up our fagots suspended on the ends of our forks.
“Having gained these snowy elevations, and not being able to mount higher, we wandered about for some time in regions which we felt were now visited by man for the first time. Isolated and separated entirely from nature, we perceived beneath us only enormous masses of snow, which, reflecting the sunshine, filled the firmament with a glorious light. We remained eight minutes at this elevation, 11,732 feet above the earth. This situation, however agreeable it might have been to the painter or the poet, promised little to the man of science in the way of acquiring knowledge; and so we determined, eighteen minutes after our departure, to return through the clouds to the earth. We had hardly left this snowy abyss, when the most pleasant scene succeeded the most dreary one. The broad plains appeared before our view in all their magnificence. No snow, no clouds were now to be seen, except around the horizon, where a few clouds seemed to rest on the earth. We passed in a minute from winter to spring. We saw the immeasurable earth covered with towns and villages, which at that distance appeared only so many isolated mansions surrounded with gardens. The rivers which wound about in all directions seemed no more than rills for the adornment of these mansions; the largest forests looked mere clumps or groves, and the meadows and broad fields seemed no more than garden plots. These marvellous tableaux, which no painter could render, reminded us of the fairy metamorphoses; only with this difference, that we were beholding upon a mighty scale what imagination could only picture in little. It is in such a situation that the soul rises to the loftiest height, that the thoughts are exalted and succeed each other with the greatest rapidity. Travelling at this elevation, our fire did not demand continual attention, and we could easily walk about the gallery. We were as much at peace upon our lofty balcony as we should have been upon the terrace of a mansion, enjoying all the pictures which unrolled themselves before us continually, without experiencing any of the giddiness which has disturbed so many persons. Having broken my fork in my exertions to raise the balloon, I went to obtain another one. On my way to get it, I encountered my companion, M. Proust. We ought never to have been on the same side of the balloon, for a capsize and the escape of all our hydrogen gas might have been the result. As it was, so well was the machine ballasted, that the only effect of our being on the one side made the balloon incline a little in that direction. The winds, although very considerable, caused us no uneasiness, and we only knew the swiftness of our progress through the air by the rapidity with which the villages seemed to fly away from under our feet; so that it seemed, from the tranquillity with which we moved, that we were borne along by the diurnal movement of the globe. Often we wished to descend, in order to learn what the people were crying to us the simplicity of our arrangements enabled us to rise, to descend, to move in horizontal or oblique lines, as we pleased and as often as we considered necessary, without altogether landing.”
When they came to Luzarche, the delighted aeronauts resolved to land. Already the people were testifying their pleasure at seeing them. Men came running together from all directions, while all the animals rushed away with equal precipitation, no doubt taking the balloon for some wild beast. Finding that their course would lead them straight against certain houses, the aeronauts again increased their fire, and, slightly rising, escaped the buildings that had been in their way. Shortly afterwards they safely landed forty miles from the spot from which they had started.
It was not only the man of science or the mechanician that devoted himself to the task of taking possession of the new empire, but the nobles gave their hands to the aeronauts, and humbly asked the favour of an ascent. The king had addressed letters to the Brothers Montgolfier, and the marvellous invention had become an affair of state. The princes of the blood and the nobles of the court considered it an honour to count among the number of their friends a celebrated aeronaut.
The Count d’Artois, afterwards Charles X., and the Duke de Chartres, father of Louis Philippe, made experiments in aerial navigation. The chemists Alban and Vallet made a magnificent balloon for the Count, who went up many times in it, with several persons of all ranks.
Already at St. Cloud, the Duke of Chartres, afterwards Philippe Egalite, had, on the 15th of July, 1784, made, with the Brothers Robert, an ascent which put their courage to terrible tests. The hydrogen gas balloon was oblong, sixty feet high and forty feet in diameter, and it had been constructed upon a plan supplied by Meunier. In order to obviate the use of the valve, he had placed inside the balloon a smaller globe, filled with ordinary air. This was done on the supposition that, when the balloon rose high, the hydrogen being rarefied would compress the little globe within, and press out of it a quantity of ordinary air equal to the amount of its dilation.
At eight o’clock, the Brothers Robert—Collin and Hullin—and the Duke of Chartres, ascended in presence of an immense multitude. The nearest ranks kneeled down to allow those behind to have a view of the departure of the balloon, which disappeared among the clouds amid the acclamations of the prostrate multitude. The machine, obedient to the stormy and contrary winds which it met, turned several times completely round. The helm, which had been fitted to the machine, and the two oars, gave such a purchase to the winds that the voyagers, already surrounded by the clouds, cut them away. But the oscillations continued, and the little globe inside not being suspended with cords, fell down in such an unfortunate manner as to close up the opening of the large balloon, by means of which provision had been made for the egress of the gas now dilated by the heat of the sun, which poured down its rays, a sudden gust having cleared the space of the clouds. It was feared that the case of the balloon would crack, and the whole thing collapse, in spite of the efforts of the aeronauts to push back the smaller balloon from the opening. Then the Duke of Chartres seized one of the flags they carried, and with the lance-head pierced the balloon in two places. A rent of about nine feet was the consequence, and the balloon began to descend with amazing rapidity. They would have fallen into a lake had they not thrown over 60 lbs. of ballast, which caused them to rise a little, and pass over to the shore, where they got safely to the earth.
The expedition lasted only a few minutes. The Duke of Chartres was rallied by his enemies, who accused him of cowardice; and Monjoie, his historian, making allusion to the combat of Ouessant, says that he had given proofs of his cowardice in the three elements—earth, air, and water.
M. Gray, professor at the seminary of Rodez, presented us some years ago with the following letter from the Abbe Carnus, upon the aerial voyage which he undertook, August 6th, 1784:—
“The progress of the Montgolfiere was so sudden that one might almost have believed that it arose all inflated and furnished out of some chasm in the earth The air was calm, the sky without clouds, the sun very strong. Our fuel and instruments were put into the gallery, my companion, M. Louchet, was at his post, and I took mine. At twenty minutes past eight the cords were loosened, we waved a farewell to the spectators, and while two cannon-shots announced our departure, we were already high above the loftiest buildings.
“To the general acclamations of the crowd succeeded a profound silence. The spectators, half in fear, half in admiration, stood motionless, with eyes fixed, and gazing eagerly at the superb machine, which rose almost vertically with rapidity and also with grandeur. Some women, and even some men, fainted away; others raised their hands to heaven; others shed tears; all grew pale at the sight of our bright fire.
“‘We have quitted the earth,’ said I to my companion.
“‘I compliment you on the fact,’ he answered; ‘keep up the fire!’
“A truss of hay, steeped in spirits of wine accelerated the swiftness of our ascent. I cast my glance upon the town, which seemed to flee rapidly from under our feet. Terrestrial objects had already lost their shape and size. The burning heat which I felt at first now gave place to a temperature of the most agreeable kind, and the air which we breathed seemed to contain healthful elements unknown to dwellers on the lower earth.
“‘How well I am!’ I said to Louchet; ‘how are you?’
“‘As well as can be. Would that I could dispatch a message to the earth!’
“Immediately I threw over a roll of paper on which I had written the words, ‘All well on board the City of Rodez.’
“At thirty-two minutes past eight our elevation was at least 6,000 feet above sea level. A flame from our fire, rising from eighteen to twenty feet, sent us up another 1,000 feet. It was then that our machine was seen by every spectator within a circuit of nine miles, and it appeared to be right over the heads of all of them.
“‘Send us up out of sight,’ said my adventurous confrere.
“I had to moderate his ardour—a larger fire would have burnt our balloon.
“From our moving observatory the most splendid view developed itself. The boundaries of the horizon were vastly extended. The capital of the Rouergue appeared to be no more than a group of stones, one of which seemed to rise to the height of two or three feet. This was no other than the superb tower of the cathedral. Fertile slopes, agreeable valleys, lofty precipices, waste lands, ancient castles perched upon frowning rocks, these form the endlessly varied spectacle which the Rouergue and the neighbouring provinces present to the view of those who traverse the surface of the earth. But how different is the scene to the aerial voyager! We could perceive only a vast country, perfectly round, and seemingly a little elevated in the middle, irregularly marked with verdure, but without inhabitants, without towns, valleys, rivers, or mountains. Living beings no longer existed for us; the forests were changed into what looked like grassy plains; the ranges of the Cantal and the Cevennes had disappeared; we looked in vain for the Mediterranean, and the Pyrenees seemed only a long series of piles of snow, connected at their bases. Our own balloon, which from Rodez appeared about the size of a marble, was the only object that for us retained its natural dimensions. What wonderful sensations then arose within us! I had often reflected upon the works of nature; their magnificence had always filled me with admiration. In this soul-stirring moment how beautiful did nature seem—how grand! With what majesty did it strike my imagination. Never did man appear to me before such an excellent being His latest triumph over the elements recalled to my mind his other conquests of nature. My companion was animated with the same sentiments, and more than once we cried out, ‘Vive Montgolfier! Vive Roziers! Vivent ceux qui ont du courage et de la constance!’
“In the meantime our fuel was getting near the end. In eighteen minutes we had run a distance of 12,000 feet. ‘Make your observations while I attend to the fire,’ said my companion to me. I examined the barometer, the thermometer, and the compass, and having sealed up a small bottle of the air at this elevation, I asked my companion to reduce the fire. We descended 1,800 feet, and at this height I filled another bottle with air.
“Afterwards we felt the refreshing breath of a slight breeze, which carried us gently toward the south-east. In six minutes we had run 18,000 feet. Then, having only sufficient fuel to enable us to choose the place of our descent, we considered whether we should not bring our aerial voyage to a termination. We had neither lake nor forest to fear, and we were secure against danger from fire, as we could detach the grating at some distance from the earth. At fifty-eight minutes past eight all our fuel was exhausted, except two bundles of straw, of four pounds each, which we reserved for our descent. The balloon came gradually down, and terrestrial objects began again to resume their proper forms and dimensions. The animals fled at the sight of our balloon, which seemed likely to crush them in its fall. Horsemen were obliged to dismount and lead their frightened horses. Terrified by such an unwonted sight, the labourers in the fields abandoned their work. We were not more than 600 feet from the earth. We threw on the two bundles of straw, but still gradually descended. The grating was then detached, and I had no difficulty in leaping to the ground. But now a most surprising and unlooked-for event happened. M. Louchet had not been able to descend at the same moment as myself, and the balloon, now free from my weight, immediately re-ascended with the speed of a bird, bearing away my companion. I followed him with my eyes, and it was to my agreeable surprise that I heard him crying to me, ‘All is well; fear not!’ though it was not without a species of jealousy that I saw him mounting up to the height of 1,400 or 1,500 feet. The balloon, after having run a distance of 3,600 feet in a horizontal direction, began gently to descend at four minutes past nine, at the village of Inieres, after having travelled 42,000 feet from the point of departure. When it had touched the ground it bumped up again two or three feet. M. Louchet jumped out, and seized one of the ropes, but had much difficulty in holding the balloon in hand. He cried to the frightened peasants to come and help him. But they seemed to regard him as a dangerous magician, or as a monster, and they feared to touch the ropes lest they might be swallowed up by the balloon. Soon afterwards I came to the rescue. The balloon was in as thorough repair as when we began our journey. We then pressed out the hot air, folded up the envelope, placed it upon a small cart drawn by two oxen, and drove off with it.”
The discovery like that of balloons could not be made public in France without being travestied, and without offering some comic side for the amusement of the wits of the day. Under some old coloured prints, designed with the intention of satirising such unfortunate aeronauts as had collected their money from the spectators, but had failed in inflating their balloons, is written, “The Infallible Means of Raising Balloons”—the infallible means consisting of ropes and pulleys.
While caricature was thus turning its irony upon the efforts of believers in the new idea, serious pamphlets were being written and published with the same object. One of these declares that the discovery is IMMORAL, I. Because since God has not given wings to man, it is impious to try to improve his works, and to encroach upon his rights as a Creator; 2. Because honour and virtue would be in continual danger, if balloons were permitted to descend, at all hours of the night, into gardens and close to windows; 3. Because, if the highway of the air were to remain open to all and sundry, the frontiers of nations would vanish, and property national and personal would be invaded, &c. We do not wish to gather together here the stones which critics threw against the new discovery, unaware all the time that these stones were falling upon their own heads.
It is only fair to state that after the first ascents the public were often duped by pretending aeronauts, whose single aim was to sell their tickets, and who disappeared when the time came for ascending. The result of these frauds was that sometimes honest men were made to suffer as rogues. Even in our own day, when an ascent, seriously intended, fails to succeed, owing to some unforeseen circumstances, the public frequently manifests a decided ill-will to the aeronaut, who is perfectly honest, and only unfortunate.
The famous ascent of the Abbes Miolan and Janninet, at the Luxembourg, may be cited as among the failures which suffered most from the satire of the time. Their immense balloon, constructed at great expense at the observatory, was expected to rise beyond the clouds, and a multitude, each of whom had paid dearly for his ticket, had assembled at the Luxembourg. The morning had been occupied in removing the balloon from the observatory to the place of ascent, and at midday the inflation of it began. The rays of a burning July sun—and one knows what that is in the Luxembourg in Paris—streamed down on the heads of the thousands of spectators. From six in the morning till four in the evening they had waited to see the unheard-of wonder; the ascent, however, was to be so imposing, that nothing could be lost by waiting for it.
But at five in the afternoon the heavy machine was still motionless—inert upon the ground. We need not attempt to describe the scene which took place as the impatience of the multitude increased. Sneers of derision made themselves heard on all sides. A universal murmur, rapidly developing into a clamour, arose amongst the multitude; then, wild with disappointment, the frenzied populace threw themselves upon the barricade, broke it, attacked the gallery of the balloon, the instruments, the apparatus, trampling them under foot, and smashing them in bits. They then rushed upon the balloon and fired it. There was then a general melee. Far from fleeing the fire, every one struggled to seize and carry off a bit of the balloon, to preserve as a relic. The two abbes escaped as they best could, under protection of a number of friends.
After this there fell a perfect shower of lampoons and caricatures. The Abbe Miolan was represented as a cat with a band round its neck, while Janninet appeared as a donkey; and in a coloured print the cat and the ass are shown arriving in triumph upon their famous balloon at the Academy of Montmartre, and are received at the hill of Moulins-a-Vent by a solemn assembly of turkey-cocks and geese in different attitudes. Numerous songs and epigrams, of which the unfortunate abbes were the subjects, also appeared at this time. The letters which composed the words “l’Abbe Miolan” were found to form the anagram, Ballon abime—“the balloon swallowed up.”
The most extravagant balloon project was that of Robertson, who published a scheme for making a tour of the world. He called it “La Minerva, an aerial vessel destined for discoveries, and proposed to all the Academies of Europe, by Robertson, physicist” (Vienna, 1804; reprinted at Paris, 1820), Robertson dedicated his project to Volta, and in his dedication he does not scruple to say: “In our age, my friendship seeks only one gratification, that we should both live a sufficiently long time together to enable you to calculate and utilise the results of this great machine, while I take the practical direction of it.” The following is this aeronaut’s prospectus:—
“There is no limit to the sciences and the arts, which cultivation does not overstep. We have everything to hope and to expect from time, from chance, and from the genius of man. The difference which there is between the canoe of the savage and the man-of-war of 124 guns is perhaps as great as that of balloons as they now are and as they will be in the course of a century. If you ask of an aeronaut why he cannot command the motions of his balloon, he will ask of you in his turn why the inventor of the canoe did not immediately afterwards construct a man-of-war. It must be recollected that there have not yet elapsed forty years since the discovery of the balloon, and that to perfect it would be a work of difficulty, as much from the increased knowledge which such a work would demand, as from the pecuniary sacrifices and the personal devotion which it would involve.
“Thus this invention, after having at first electrified all savants from the one end of the world to the other, has suffered the fate of all discoveries—it was all at once arrested. Did not astronomy wait long for Newton, and chemistry for Lavoisier, to raise them to something like the splendour they now enjoy? Was not the magnet a long time a toy in the hands of the Chinese, without giving birth to the idea of the compass? The electric fluid was known in the time of Thales, but how many ages did we wait for the discovery of galvanism? Yet these sciences, which may be studied in silent retreats, were more likely to yield fruit to the discoverer than aerostatics, which demand courage and skill, and of which the experiments, which are always public, are attended with great cost.”
Robertson’s proposed machine was to be 150 feet in diameter, and would be capable of carrying 150,000 lbs. Every precaution was to be taken in order to make the great structure perfect. It was to accommodate sixty persons to be chosen by the academics, who should stay in it for several months should rise to all possible elevations, pass through all climates in all seasons, make scientific observations, &c. This balloon, penetrating deserts inaccessible by other means of travel, and visiting places which travellers have never penetrated, would be of immense use in the science of geography: and when under the line, if the heat near the earth should be inconvenient, the aeronauts would, of course, easily rise to elevations where the temperature is equal and agreeable. When their observations, their needs, or their pleasures demanded it, they could descend to within a short distance of the earth, say ninety feet, and fix themselves in their position by means of an anchor. It might, perhaps, be possible, by taking the advantage of favourable winds, to make the tour of the world. “Experience will perhaps demonstrate that aerial navigation presents less inconvenience and less dangers than the navigation of the seas.”
The immensity of the seas seemed to be the only source of insurmountable difficulties; “but,” says Robertson, “over what a vast space might not one travel in six months with a balloon fully furnished with the necessaries of life, and all the appliances necessary for safety? Besides, if, through the natural imperfection attaching to all the works of man, or either through accident or age, the balloon, borne above the sea, became incapable of sustaining the travellers, it is provided with a boat, which can withstand the waters and guarantee the return of the voyagers.”
Such were the ideas promulgated regarding the “Minerva.” The following is the serious description given of the machine. The numbers correspond with those on the illustration.
“The cock (3) is the symbol of watchfulness; it is also the highest point of the balloon. An observer, getting up through the interior to the point at which the watchful fowl is placed, will be able to command the best view to be had in the ‘Minerva.’ The wings at the side (1 and 2) are to be regarded as ornamental. The balloon will be 150 feet in diameter, made expressly at Lyons of unbleached silk, coated within and without with indict-rubber. This globe sustains a ship, which contains or has attached to it all the things necessary for the convenience, the observations, and even the pleasures of the voyagers.
“(a) A small boat, in which the passengers might take refuge in case of necessity, in the event of the larger vessel falling on the sea in a disabled state.
“(b) A large store for keeping the water, wine, and all the provisions of the expedition.
“(cc) Ladders of silk, to enable the passengers to go to all parts of the balloon.
“(e) Closets.
“(h) Pilot’s room.
“(1) An observatory, containing the compasses and other scientific instruments for taking the latitude.
“(g) A room fitted up for recreations, walking, and gymnastics.
“(m) The kitchen, far removed from the balloon. It is the only place where a fire shall be permitted.
“(p) Medicine room.
“(v) A theatre, music room, &c.
“—The study.
“(x) The tents of the air-marines, &c. &c.”
This balloon is certainly the most marvellous that has ever been imagined—quite a town, with its forts, ramparts, cannon, boulevards, and galleries. One can understand the many squibs and satires which so Utopian a notion provoked.
In spite of their known powers of industry and perseverance, the English did not throw themselves with any great ardour into the exploration of the atmosphere. From one cause or another it is the French and the Italians that have chiefly distinguished themselves in this art. The English historian of aerostation gives some details of the first aerial voyage made in this country by the Italian, Vincent Lunardy.
The balloon was made of silk covered with a varnish of oil, and painted in alternate stripes—blue and red. It was three feet in diameter. Cords fixed upon it hung down and were attached to a hoop at the bottom, from which a gallery was suspended. This balloon had no safety-valve—its neck was the only opening by which the hydrogen gas was introduced, and by which it was allowed to escape.
In September, 1784, it was carried to the Artillery Ground and filled with gas. After being two-thirds filled, the gallery was attached with its two oars or wings, and Lunardy, accompanied by Biggin and Madame Sage, took his place; but it was found that the balloon had not sufficient lifting power to carry up the whole three, and Lunardy went up alone, with the exception of the pigeon, the cat, and the dog, that were with him.
The balloon rose to the height of about twenty feet, then followed a horizontal line, and descended. But the gallery had no sooner touched the earth than Lunardy threw over the sand that served as ballast, and mounted triumphantly, amid the applause of a considerable multitude of spectators. After a time he descended upon a common, where he left the cat nearly dead with cold, ascended, and continued his voyage. He says, in the narrative which he has left, that he descended by means of the one oar which was left to him, the other having fallen over; but, as he states that, in order to rise again, he threw over the remainder of his ballast, it is natural to believe that the descent of the balloon was caused by the loss of gas, because, if he descended by the use of the oar, he must have re-ascended when he stopped using it. He landed in the parish of Standon, where he was assisted by the peasants.
He assures us again that he came down the second time by means of the oar. He says:—“I took my oar to descend, and in from fifteen to twenty minutes I arrived at the earth after much fatigue, my strength being nearly exhausted. My chief desire was to escape a shock on reaching the earth, and fortune favoured me.” The fear of a concussion seems to indicate that he descended more because of the weight of the balloon than by the action of the oar.
It appears that the only scientific instrument he had was a thermometer which fell to 29 degrees. The drops of water which had attached themselves to the balloon were frozen.
The second aerial journey in England was undertaken by Blanchard and Sheldon. The latter, a professor of anatomy in the Royal Academy, is the first Englishman who ever went up in a balloon. This ascent was made from Chelsea on the 16th October, 1784.
The same balloon which Blanchard had used in France served him on this occasion, with the difference that the hoop which went round the middle of it, and the parasol above the car, were dispensed with. At the extremity of his car he had fitted a sort of ventilator, which he was able to move about by means of a winch. This ventilator, together with the wings and the helm, were to serve especially the purpose of steering at will, which he had often said was quite practicable as soon as a certain elevation had been reached.
The two aeronauts ascended, having with them a number of scientific and musical instruments, some refreshments, ballast, &c. Twice the ascent failed, and eventually Sheldon got out, and Blanchard went up again alone.
Blanchard says that, on this second ascent, he was carried first north-east, then east-south-east of Sunbury in Middlesex. He rose so high that he had great difficulty in breathing, the pigeon he had with him escaped, but could hardly maintain itself in the rarefied air of such an elevated region, and finding no place to rest, came back and perched on the side of the car. After a time, the cold becoming excessive, Blanchard descended until he could distinguish men on the earth, and hear their shouting. After many vicissitudes he landed upon a plain in Hampshire, about seventy-five miles from the point of departure. It was observed that, so long as he could be clearly seen, he executed none of the feats with his wings, ventilator, &c., which he had promised to exhibit.
Enthusiasm about aerial voyages was now at its climax; the most wonderful deeds were spoken of as commonplace, and the word “impossible” was erased from the language. Emboldened by his success, Blanchard one day announced in the newspapers that he would cross from England to France in a balloon—a marvellous journey, the success of which depended altogether upon the course of the wind, to the mercy of which the bold aeronaut committed himself.
A certain Dr. Jeffries offered to accompany Blanchard. On the 7th of January the sky was calm, in consequence of a strong frost during the preceding night, the wind which was very light, being from the north-north-west. The arranged meets were made above the cliffs of Dover. When the balloon rose, there were only three sacks of sand of 10 lbs. each in it. They had not been long above ground when the barometer sank from 29.7 to 27.3. Dr. Jeffries, in a letter addressed to the president of the Royal Society, describes with enthusiasm the spectacle spread out before him: the broad country lying behind Dover, sown with numerous towns and villages, formed a charming view; while the rocks on the other side, against which the waves dashed, offered a prospect that was rather trying.
They had already passed one-third of the distance across the Channel when the balloon descended for the second time, and they threw over the last of their ballast; and that not sufficing, they threw over some books, and found themselves rising again. After having got more than half way, they found to their dismay, from the rising of the barometer, that they were again descending, and the remainder of their books were thrown over. At twenty-five minutes past two o’clock they had passed three-quarters of their journey, and they perceived ahead the inviting coasts of France. But, in consequence either of the loss or the condensation of the inflammable gas, they found themselves once more descending. They then threw over their provisions, the wings of the car, and other objects. “We were obliged,” says Jeffries, “to throw out the only bottle we had, which fell on the water with a loud sound, and sent up spray like smoke.”
They were now near the water themselves, and certain death seemed to stare them in the face. It is said that at this critical moment Jeffries offered to throw himself into the sea, in order to save the life of his companion.
“We are lost, both of us,” said he; “and if you believe that it will save you to be lightened of my weight, I am willing to sacrifice my life.”
This story has certainly the appearance of romance, and belief in it is not positively demanded.
One desperate resource only remained—they could detach the car and hang on themselves to the ropes of the balloon. They were preparing to carry out this idea, when they imagined they felt themselves beginning to ascend again. It was indeed so. The balloon mounted once more; they were only four miles from the coast of France, and their progress through the air was rapid. All fear was now banished. Their exciting situation, and the idea that they were the first who had ever traversed the Channel in such a manner, rendered them careless about the want of certain articles of dress which they had discarded. At three o’clock they passed over the shore half-way between Cape Blanc and Calais. Then the balloon, rising rapidly, described a great arc, and they found themselves at a greater elevation than at any part of their course. The wind increased in strength, and changed a little in its direction. Having descended to the tops of the trees of the forest of Guines, Dr. Jeffries seized a branch, and by this means arrested their advance. The valve was then opened, the gas rushed out, and the aeronauts safely reached the ground after the successful accomplishment of this daring and memorable enterprise.
A number of horsemen, who had watched the recent course of the balloon, now rode up, and gave the adventurers the most cordial reception. On the following day a splendid fete was celebrated in their honour at Calais. Blanchard was presented with the freedom of the city in a box of gold, and the municipal body purchased the balloon, with the intention of placing it in one of the churches as a memorial of this experiment, it being also resolved to erect a marble monument on the spot where the famous aeronauts landed.
Some days afterwards Blanchard was summoned before the king, who conferred upon him an annual pension of 1,200 livres. The queen, who was at play at the gambling table, placed a sum for him upon a card, and presented him with the purse which she won.