PARIS--PROFESSIONAL BALLOONISTS--AUTOMOBILES
In 1891 it was decided that our family should make a trip to Paris, and
I rejoiced doubly at the prospect. All good Americans are said to go to
Paris when they die. But to me, with the bias of my reading, France--the
land of my father's ancestors and of his own education as an engineer
at the École Centrale--represented everything that is powerful and
progressive.
In France the first hydrogen balloon had been let loose and the first
air-ship had been made to navigate the air with its steam-engine, screw
propeller, and rudder. Naturally I figured to myself that the problem
had made marked progress since Henry Giffard in 1852, with a courage
equal to his science, gave his masterly demonstration of the problem of
directing balloons.
I said to myself: "I am going to Paris to see the new things--steerable
balloons and automobiles!"
[Illustration: HENRIQUES SANTOS-DUMONT
FATHER OF A. SANTOS-DUMONT AND
FOUNDER OF THE COFFEE PLANTATIONS IN BRAZIL]
On one of my first free afternoons, therefore, I slipped away from the
family on a tour of exploration. To my immense astonishment I learned
that there were no steerable balloons--that there were only spherical
balloons, like that of Charles in 1783! In fact, no one had continued
the trials of an elongated balloon driven by a thermic motor begun by
Henry Giffard. The trials of such balloons with an electric motor,
undertaken by the Tissandier brothers in 1883, had been repeated by two
constructors in the following year, but had been finally given up in
1885. For years no "cigar-shaped" balloon had been seen in the air.
This threw me back on spherical ballooning. Consulting the Paris city
directory I had noted the address of a professional aeronaut. To him I
explained my desires.
"You want to make an ascent?" he asked gravely. "Hum! hum! Are you sure
you have the courage? A balloon ascent is no small thing, and you seem
too young."
I assured him both of my purpose and my courage. Little by little he
yielded to my arguments. Finally he consented to take me "for a short
ascent." It must be on a calm, sunny afternoon, and not last more than
two hours.
"My honorarium will be 1200 francs," he added, "and you must sign me a
contract to hold yourself responsible for all damages we may do to your
own life and limbs and to mine, to the property of third parties, and
to the balloon and its accessories. Furthermore, you agree to pay out
railway fares and transportation for the balloon and its basket back to
Paris from the point at which we come to the ground."
I asked time for reflection. To a youth eighteen years of age 1200
francs was a large sum. How could I justify the spending of it to my
parents? Then I reflected:
"If I risk 1200 francs for an afternoon's pleasure I shall find it
either good or bad. If it is bad the money will be lost. If it is good I
shall want to repeat it and I shall not have the means."
This decided me. Regretfully I gave up ballooning and took refuge in
automobiling.
Automobiles were still rare in Paris in 1891, and I had to go to the
works at Valentigny to buy my first machine, a Peugeot three-and-a-half
horse-power roadster.
It was a curiosity. In those days there were no automobile licenses,
no "chauffeurs'" examinations. We drove our new inventions through
the streets of the capital at our own risks and perils. Such was
the curiosity they aroused that I was not allowed to stop in public
places like the Place de l'Opéra for fear of attracting multitudes and
obstructing traffic.
Immediately I became an enthusiastic automobilist. I took pleasure in
understanding the parts and their proper interworking; I learned to care
for my machine and to repair it; and when, at the end of some seven
months, our whole family returned to Brazil I took the Peugeot roadster
with me.
Returning to Paris in 1892, with the balloon idea still obsessing me,
I looked up a number of other professional aeronauts. Like the first,
all wanted extravagant sums to take me up with them on the most trivial
kind of ascent. All took the same attitude. They made a danger and a
difficulty of ballooning, enlarging on its risks to life and property.
Even in presence of the great prices they proposed to charge me they did
not encourage me to close with them. Obviously they were determined to
keep ballooning to themselves as a professional mystery. Therefore I
bought a new automobile.
I should add that this condition of things has changed wonderfully since
the foundation of the Paris Aéro Club.
Automobile tricycles were just then coming to the fore. I chose one,
and rejoiced in its freedom from breakdowns. In my new enthusiasm for
the type, I was the first to introduce motor-tricycle races in Paris.
Renting the bicycle track of the Parc des Princes for an afternoon
I organised the race and offered the prizes. "Common-sense" people
declared that the event would end disastrously; they proved to their
own satisfaction that the tricycles, going round the short curves of
a bicycle track, would overturn and wreck themselves. If they did not
do this the inclination would certainly cause the carburator to stop
or not to work so well, and the stoppage of the carburator round the
sharp curve would upset the tricycles. The directors of the Vélodrome,
while accepting my money, refused to let me have the track for a Sunday
afternoon, fearing a fiasco! They were disappointed when the race proved
to be a great success.
Returning again to Brazil I regretted bitterly that I had not
persevered in my attempt to make a balloon ascent. At that distance,
far from ballooning possibilities, even the high prices demanded by the
aeronauts seemed to me of secondary importance. Finally, one day in
1897, in a Rio book-shop, when making my purchases of reading matter for
a new voyage to Paris, I came on a volume of MM. Lachambre and Machuron,
"Andrée--Au Pôle Nord en Ballon."
The reading of this book during the long sea voyage proved a revelation
to me, and I finished by studying it like a text-book. Its description
of materials and prices opened my eyes. At last I saw clearly. Andrée's
immense balloon--a reproduction of whose photograph on the book cover
showed how those who gave it the final varnishing climbed up its sides
and over its summit like a mountain--cost only 40,000 francs to fully
construct and equip!
I determined that on arriving in Paris I would cease consulting
professional aeronauts and would make the acquaintance of constructors.
I was particularly anxious to meet M. Lachambre, the builder of the
Andrée balloon, and M. Machuron, who was his associate and the writer of
the book. In these men I will say frankly that I found all I had hoped
for. When I asked M. Lachambre how much it would cost me to take a short
trip in one of his balloons his reply so astonished me that I asked him
to repeat it.
"For a long trip of three or four hours," he said, "it will cost you 250
francs, all expenses and return of balloon by rail included."
"And the damages?" I asked.
"We shall not do any damage!" he replied, laughing.
I closed with him on the spot, and M. Machuron agreed to take me up the
next day.